Warrior Pilgrimage

STREET-SMART MOTORCYCLING

noreply@blogger.com (PinoyApache) — Fri, 09 Mar 2012 10:58:00 +0000

I RECENTLY WENT to Gaas, in the highlands of Balamban, Cebu, Philippines last September 2011 to be reunited with my visiting sister, who just came from the U.S. She is staying temporarily with my cousin. Going there is expensive since there are no bus routes along the Transcentral Highway. There are only two alternatives: the vehicle-for-hire and the motorcycle-for-hire.

It is a Saturday and it is 6:30 PM and I gave up the four-wheeled transport when a lot of passengers are stranded at the Ayala Terminal due to shortage of V-hires. I transferred to JY Square to look for motorcycles. I found many. I negotiated with one and I need to ride without sharing a seat with another and I was charged 250 pesos. Fair enough.

You know why I don't want to share a seat with another? It is for my own safety. The motorcycle run only on two wheels and is already placed at a disadvantage before other bigger vehicles on the road. By wonders brought about by the laws of physics, it could stand on its own on the road provided there is a driver to steer and maintain its balance.

Motorcycles-for-hire are a dime a dozen and they are not strictly regulated. Although it is not classified as a public transport yet people prefer to ride on one. It could access the most remote mountain trails and cross rivers where no four-wheeled vehicle could. It could travel anytime you would wish. It has a following of its own and no government regulations could stop it.

Motorcycles-for-hire are illegal per se. The drivers behind are an ill-disciplined lot and they break every traffic rule as fast as you could type your name on the keyboard. They don't put premium on safety and they deny that as well to their passengers. They are there on the road plying their trade at very long hours. Some took amphetamines to extend their waking time well into the early mornings.

If circumstances forced me to ride on one, then I should be responsible to that risk else I could express my prerogative like not sharing a seat at my expense or insisting to wear a safety helmet to the driver's detriment. I know how to drive a motorcycle and I know where I stand.

Steering a running motorcycle demands great concentration especially if you are negotiating on a mountain road like the Transcentral Highway with a passenger or passengers. The lesser the load the better are your chances of survival. Motorcycle brakes cannot absorb the force during downhill turns at a fast speed and would likely cause wheels to burst or flop the motorcycle forward.

Driving a motorcycle demands great responsibility as well. The word that comes to mind is SAFETY! Safety cannot be compromised or replaced by anything else. The best item to describe this is the safety helmet. It is not something to hang at your steering bars or worn lackadaisically above your head to comply with the law. It should be worn with workable strap locks and do not separate from the wearer during a road accident.

If possible, wear long pants and shoes. Long denims give some protection to your knees and could absorb the heat of the muffler when you keel over to the right with the motorcycle on top of you. The shoes would protect your toes and would complement the brakes anyway as people tend to use their feet when slowing down as if they are riding a bicycle.

Do not race with another or be challenged by one who just overtook you. Survival on the road is not a race. Regulate your speed and enjoy the moment. The slower you are the more inclined are you to control your motorcycle provided you are on the rightmost lane reserved for slow-moving traffic.

Do not overtake at the right especially when you are following a bus, a jitney or a taxi. Drivers of these public modes of transport do not take consideration of who is following them and are more concerned of profits. The rightmost lane is their domain but, most often, they stop at the middle of the road to take in passengers. Their levels of discipline are just as worse with motorcycle-for-hire drivers.

When you do overtake at the right, like taking advantage of a slowdown in traffic or during a stoppage, flash the right signal light and drive slow else you might hit a crossing pedestrian that appear suddenly from amongst vehicles or get snagged by a just-opened door of an expensive SUV. As a rule, I don't tread upon these tight paths that limit my evasive options either only to the curb or to the canal.

Always overtake on the left. Make your intentions known by flashing the left signal light. When I say “make your intentions known”, I mean you do it as early as possible particularly when you are making a left turn or a right turn. (A U-turn is already considered a left turn in the Philippines.) It is very important then that other drivers notice your intent and you should flash the signal lights from 80 meters to 100 meters before a corner.

If possible, refrain from making hand signals unless you just know one of your signal lights is busted or out of order. It is very important then to check your head lights, your tail lights, your brake lights and your signal lights regularly, in that order, before speeding away else keep the motorcycle parked. Complement your visibility by wearing light-colored clothes and switching on the headlights even during daytime.

Do not drive with one hand. I have seen insane drivers speeding on the road using a cellphone, smoking a cigar or even licking a melted ice cream. What's worse is that they got passengers riding behind them, to include children. These kind of drivers are the worst kind of people and are dangerous to commuters. I hope their stupidity would only consume them and exclude other people.

Keep both hands on the steering handles. Concentrate on the road. Glance in a while at your rear-view mirrors to be sure that a vehicle on the loose is behind you and take evasive actions. Use your signal lights when overtaking and changing directions. As much as possible, run on a straight line. Avoid weaving in and out of traffic or blocking other vehicle's path by your constant swerving.

When overtaking a vehicle, do not swerve right away and close the lane of the one you have just overtaken. Chances are the driver behind you would (a) apply an instant brake and get bumped from behind; (b) swerve instantly to avoid hitting you and collide with another; or (c) bump you hard. Be sensible when using the road and think of others.

Be a responsible parent. Do not allow your small child or children ride a motorcycle even if you are the ones driving. What you have overlooked or ignored is that children have short arms to embrace you, small hands to grip you, little strength to offset the natural forces of dynamics and has short attention span where, most likely, would doze off without you knowing. Please, ensure their safety by having them ride a healthy four-wheeled vehicle instead.

Whether you like it or not, driving a motorcycle is very stressful. Take a lot of rest so you could possess an alert body and mind. Avoid taking very long trips. Sitting in one position for a very long time take its toll on the body and that makes you less alert. As much as possible, park the motorcycle when you think you have traveled for an hour-and-a-half, at the least; or feel drowsy and tired.

If you think you feel bored, look for something at the roadside that would attract your attention and replenish your vigor. It may be food, a local cultural festival or something odd and rare. When you do this, catch every moment with a camera. Taking pictures and exercising your lower limbs is an absolute elixir to defeat ennui.

Do not play loud music on your earpiece when driving. It is best that you are aware of your surroundings that is beyond your field of sight. The collective hum of engines is your best indicator that it’s time to go or not else you get a jolt from the collective blare of horns behind you. What you cannot see is best served by hearing. Enjoy music but keep it low.

A motorcycle is a very convenient mode of transportation and consumes less fuel. Starting first a motorcycle at a parking area and then back yourself out by foot before speeding away once you face the road defeats fuel conservation. I have seen many motorcycle owners do that. What you do not know is that the amount of fuel used during that maneuver could already result to about 200-300 meters worth of fuel. That measure would already save you pushing an out-of-gas motorcycle to the next refueling station.

The motorcycle is the only ones I could afford. I do not want to be distracted by any pretty face and any attention-catching gestures from the sidewalks and I do my best to keep my eye on the road. During fuel-crunch time, I am assured that my motorcycle can ply the road because its fuel consumption is very low. If I am astride another motorcycle that I am not driving, I see to it that safety is religiously followed at my behest, of course.

Personally, my being on a motorcycle is the best form of my own interpretation of freedom. My notion of freedom accentuates with the flow of the wind or the lope of a herd of deer. My Native American cousins call this “unimpeded freedom” and I embrace it very much without any reserve. Your freedom is best enjoyed by your own set of parameters and not by wanton or reckless abandon.

BE SAFE ALWAYS and bless each and every journey by saying a short prayer of protection. We Roman Catholics make the sign of the cross just like Manny Pacquiao do before each and every fight. Have a safe journey, my brothers.

Document done in Libre Office 3.3

NAPO TO BABAG TALES XLIX: Professors, Yogis & Crazy Bushmen

noreply@blogger.com (PinoyApache) — Thu, 01 Mar 2012 04:33:00 +0000

THE URGE TO CLIMB Mount Babag again comes knocking at me today, December 11, 2011. While I have mastered the trails going to there, my present companions have not. Most of them are; except Jerry Pescadero who had been climbing mountains here in Cebu and elsewhere since the '90s.

This is another test of endurance for the new Camp Red guys and I aim to bring them there, all four of them: Glenn Pestaño, Jhurds Neo, Lawrence Lozada and Silver Cue. Glenn and Jhurds are bulky but they have mastered and known their body very well since the time they have been bush hiking with me.

Coming along with us are two faculty members from the University of Cebu: Professor Ting and Professor Cathy. A pair of vegetarians from the Yoga Center also came: Brother Siddharta and Brother Paul. Well, here we are, a strange mix-up of the academe, yogis and crazy bushmen.

At the back of my mind, I am looking for ways of how to prepare food for the meat lovers on one setting, and another set of viand for the vegetarians. By the way, I am doing a demonstration today of bushcraft cooking to my guests and to those who have not yet seen me how to cook milled corn inside a bamboo.

Also today, Camp Red will distribute goodies for the children of Kahugan. Lester Padriga of the Circle of Friends and of Green*Point and who is based in the U.S.A., have donated cash for this activity. His son, Myke, used some of the money to buy cookies, chocolates and jellies and pass it all to me the night before at the Persimmon in Mabolo.

As always, just like everyone else when going to the Babag Mountain Range, we meet at the Our Lady of Guadalupe Parish. After finishing our breakfast and securing food provisions for lunch we proceed to Napo, where I give the actual briefing for this activity before crossing the Sapangdaku River.

It had been raining for several days until yesterday but some parts of the trail were still muddy. I have to slow down my pace when I observed Prof. Cathy breathing hard at the first part of the route. I need to let her recover her bearings so I requested Yogi Paul, who was not carrying anything, to carry her backpack and then let Jerry sprint ahead together with Prof. Ting.

We arrive at Lower Kahugan Spring and the shade there is cool: a perfect place to rest and at the same time replenish water needs. For about fifteen minutes, the place is a beehive of pleasant conversations and a getting-to-know-you until I decide that rest time is enough and start the climb to the Roble homestead.

Although the weather is hot, there is enough shade along the route to shield the party from the rays of the sun. By the time, we reach the humble abode of the Roble family, everyone looked for a niche to retrieve their wits. Everyone are found okay and I have to find me a bamboo pole. I found a bamboo grove below and it is encircled with thorns.

I cut at a pole with my tomahawk at a part where I could still reach it and safe from the thorns. These thorns cause wounds that last for months if left untreated. I have experienced those and I am wary now. The pole perched on a high branch of a mango tree and refuse to fall down. The only way to have that bamboo is to climb the tree and cut the pole again at the middle and let it fall.

Shucks, I am tired of the reaching out and hacking the pole with all my strength and I have now little of this to carry my 200-pound weight up a high branch of a tree. Fortunately, Yogi Sidd volunteered to climb the tree for me and cut the pole by himself with Fele Roble's bolo. The blade is sharp and it made short work as the top half of the pole come crashing down.

Elated with this, I chose the best two bamboo segments and cut holes on them. I start to look for firewood and found a dry stump of a Mexican lilac tree which I split into small pieces. This wood make a good fire and gives good heat. Start a fire with wood shavings and split pine wood and the dry firewood easily catch the fire.

I pour water on one chamber and waited for it to boil. Now, I have to retrieve my gifts to the Roble family which consists of two kilos of rice, a kilo of sugar and 500 pesos for Manwel, Juliet and Josel. I request Tonia Roble to cook for me pork adobo and give away all the ingredients to her so I could concentrate on my bushcraft cooking.

I present the goodies to Prof. Cathy and requested her to organize these into groups and distribute it to the children, who came one by one. While I am tinkering with my fire, children's laughter echoed on the hills and is sweet music to my ears and is one good reason why I do not tire coming over and over here.

After the milled corn got cooked, I use the other empty segment for my mixed-vegetable stew. Again, I pour water and wait for it to boil while slicing my gumbos and long green peppers. At the same time, I also cook another set of milled corn inside of a Vietnam-era mess kit on a conventional camping stove. I am totally busy but I could still find time to snap a picture here and there.

Mealtime came at 2:20 PM plus green coconuts for dessert! An hour and 50 minutes late from the itinerary. Too few a moment to spend siesta and too little daylight time left if ever we return to Guadalupe by way of Kalunasan after climbing Mt. Babag. It would be effortless if I have with me swift and fit walkers like Jerry. I have to try and decide when we reach the ridge.

Going to Babag Ridge, I have to choose and take the steep East Ridge Pass. Although much easier of the only two trails direct to Mt. Babag, it is still a difficult route, especially to those who are new to mountain hiking. The trail is beginning to be encroached by swidden farms. Someday it will be obliterated by these farms just like Ernie's Trail.

Slash-and-burn farming here had not still been checked by our lazy bureaucrats. The present mayor is all busy clearing away creeks and sidewalks and making enemies of everybody and forgetting to give other options to the upland settlers here, who chose to follow what they know of from their forebears: gathering charcoal.

I have no beef against people gathering charcoal for a living. It is their way of life. If the present administration sincerely cared about the environment and the plight of the uplands, they could have implemented a good program whereby these mountain people would benefit and keep our forests and trees intact at the same time. Sadly, there's none.

Prof. Cathy, aided by Silver, came in last at Babag Ridge. It is already 3:35 PM and we have a long way to go. Prof. Cathy, along with Jerry, Prof. Ting and Lawrence, decide to part company with us and walk the ridge road to Busay. They have other business to attend to. So are Bro. Sidd and Bro. Paul. Everyone, except Jerry and Lawrence, were spent up with the climb to Babag Ridge.

So that leaves me, Glenn, Jhurds and Silver to complete the circuit. We have to finish the climb by a hundred meters more to reach the shoulder of Mt. Babag before continuing on down the road to the trailhead to Kalunasan. I will take them to the No-Santol-Tree Trail and it is already 4:30 PM when we start for Kalunasan.

The sun is about to set and it glowed an eerie red color on the surroundings which we pass. The shadows are already long and it disorients my familiarity about the route where, for a moment, I thought I have lost it. Eventually, I am able to find the trail and follow its familiar landmarks. As it is almost dark, I arm myself with a walking rod.

Good for Jhurds, Glenn and Silver, they carry with them headlamps. I prefer to navigate in the dark without any light and I move very fast. Lights destroy your natural night vision and limits your sight. Without lights, you could see beyond and your peripheral vision could detect movement or objects close by.

A good-sized bat took a swipe at me when I took a rest at the the first of the many tamarind trees but I have already noticed it from afar. By reflex action, I raise my staff and veer my face away from the bat's path. The bat bump the staff and went on its way after recovering quickly. After that, it made many strange noises.

I pass by “turtle rock” and the bat make another dive but I am ready and use my staff to ward it off. I walk on hurriedly while there is still a very faint light. I hear many strange sounds and I begin to wonder about Jhurds, Glenn and Silver. I shout and call their names but I get no response. Up ahead, I see a copse of tamarind trees and decide to wait for them.

I sit under one of the trees and close my eyes when I notice something in the air coming at me. I open my eyes and I see this bat again attacking me but my stick frighten it away. I stand up and dared the bat to make another try but it disappeared. Later, there were voices shouting from afar down the valley and it echoed in the hills and I thought the trio are in distress.

So I backtrack, half-running, towards them. I may have walked back for more than two hundred meters before I could see a faint trace of light coming from a headlamp upon the foliage and I call their names. I hear a distant reply and that release some worries from me. I assure them that they are on the right path and I will be waiting up ahead.

I went back fast to the tamarind trees and wait for their arrival. The bat fully understood my challenge and never bothered me again. When the trio arrive, they have also been bothered by the same bat, hearing strange noises and hearing me talking to them from a near distance. Strange?

Up ahead in the dark is the Kalunasan circumferential road and it is still about 300 meters away on a steep route. At a bare ridge, I notice a full moon just rising from the horizon. Meanwhile, my natural night vision is decimated by the lights of Jhurds, Glenn and Silver and I clumsily lead them that downhill path to the road.

Jhurds and I take the right going to Napo while Guns and Silver go directly to Guadalupe via Kalunasan. We regroup at the church grounds at about 7:10 PM and we decide to proceed to Summer Kyla for rest and refreshment. There were many people at the church and on the streets for it is the eve of fiesta in Guadalupe.

Along the way, a religious procession is coming from M. Velez Street towards the church and the whole width of the street were thick with the parishioners and devotees of the Our Lady of Guadalupe. Already at Summer Kyla is the outlaw Welshman, Wil Davies, and a couple of Redtrekker members – Boy Toledo and Ernie Salomon. I smoke the peace pipe with Boy and Ernie over endless bottles of Red Horse beer.

Document done in Libre Office 3

GUNS OF OCTOBER

noreply@blogger.com (PinoyApache) — Tue, 21 Feb 2012 12:53:00 +0000

I AM A SELF-STYLED “gunless society” advocate yet I am also skilled with a gun being someone who happen to be trained by an ex-Sayaret Matkal in the early '90s. Why is that? Is it possible to stand in the middle amidst two differing principles? That is a line of thought I could easily live with being someone who has been there at one time or another.

It cannot be denied that more and more people have fell victim to criminality and the police cannot be at certain places all the time to give protection. It cannot also be denied that more and more people have access to guns now than ever before and crime statistics have risen because of that.

Then again, why not make a stand that would benefit the best of both worlds? Teach people about the principles of a gunless society while firing a gun on the side. Double speak? Maybe? But I don't care what you think. If teaching people both would result to a betterment of society then, so be it. I don't care about the politics behind each side.

So, once again, my gun skills will be used for the betterment of certain individuals who, by the nature of their work, are tasked to carry guns, guard private properties and protect the lives of company officers, employees and their visitors. I am talking about the often-neglected and often-ignored private security guards.

This writer under the banner of my personal blog - Warrior Pilgrimage - was tapped by Tactical Security and Detective Agency, Inc. in October to conduct the Basic Gun Safety and Firearms Proficiency Training upon their guards assigned with Oro China Jewelry and with Gateway Motors (Cebu), Inc. at different firing ranges in Metro Cebu.

Security guards from among the different outlets of Oro China Jewelry scattered in the cities of Cebu, Lapulapu and Danao availed of this program on October 2. Firearms used were a 9-millimeter pistol, a caliber .38 revolver and a 12-gauge shotgun. The well-maintained Kamagong Firing Range inside Camp Lapulapu, Cebu City was used as venue.

Participants fire five rounds per position totaling 25 rounds for revolver, 15 rounds for 9mm pistol and two rounds for shotgun. Positions were standing for both pistol and revolver at 10 meters using strong hand and 5 meters for weak hand; kneeling, sitting and prone for revolver only at 10 meters; and a 5-meter draw-and-fire pistol on a selected target. Aside that, familiarization firing for a 12-gauge shotgun is also laid for the firers.

The following week on October 9, sixteen guards comprising the first batch coming from the different areas of Gateway Motors like KIA-Gorordo, KIA-AC Cortes, KIA-Linao, KIA-Tawason and BMW-Nivel Hills were fetched from the agency headquarters in Mandaue City and fired guns at the NS Firing Range, Tawason, Mandaue City.

I had my hands full overseeing the 16 firers on a very hot day until Mr. Zaldy Recla, human resource manager of Gateway Motors, came to assist me. Mr. Recla is also a club member of NS Gun Club whose firing range in Tawason is the ones we used.

I used the same formula as with the previous participants (to include the 14 company officers, employees and security guards from Cebu Grand Hotel that I taught at Aqua City Firing Range, Talisay City on July 23, 2011) and I find it effective and very practical. Also, this is the first opportunity for all the guards to fire different firearms and at dissimilar distances and situations.

On October 23 and at the same NS Firing Range, it was the turn of the second batch of guards from Gateway Motors comprising eleven people. Mr. Recla came again to give support to his wards and, at the middle of the day, both this writer and Mr. Recla test-fired a US M2 Carbine as consolation to release a long drawn urge to tickle this classic assault rifle.

Afterwards, I treated the guards to a late lunch in Upper Canduman while being entertained by our very own Flash Donaire demolishing Omar Narvaez of Argentina on late broadcast TV. Warrior Pilgrimage would like to thank Mr. Recla and to security officers, Fernando Ypil and Robert Unabia of Tactical Security, for valuable support to all my engagements.

For this series of firing range activities of October, Warrior Pilgrimage, in consonance with Tactical Security & Detective Agency, Inc., is happy to give each firer certificates that would enhance their standing in the security industry and I see a smooth relationship in the future.

Document done in Libre Office 3

POEM #7: Budget Backpacking

noreply@blogger.com (PinoyApache) — Wed, 15 Feb 2012 04:15:00 +0000

Hot day on a simmering ridge,

I am almost at the top the hill.

Behind me, are two old men;

lagging a hundred meters and trudging

up a trail in their darnedest best; snorting and wheezing!

Somewhere farther behind,

moving up swift and furious,

are winds spurred on by a storm cloud.

Overtaking the two old beans and me;

in a rare burst of cold shower in the middle of summer!

Thirsty ground and wilted greens;

now, made wet and alive by a passing rain.

Trees danced on the fringes of Buhisan,

underneath is a path that led to the teak forests of Baksan,

where coffee break waited eternally at Starbucks Hill.

Across is Mount Lanipao and a saddle;

beyond is Arcos Ridge and a route down to Sapangdaku River.

You know, Bebut's Trail are full of surprises.

It goes crescent-like from Guadalupe to Napo

where most journeys start

...or end.

WARRIOR REVIEW: Bamboo Millennium Patrol Shoes

noreply@blogger.com (PinoyApache) — Thu, 09 Feb 2012 04:59:00 +0000

LAST JANUARY 2011, DES Footwear, makers of Bamboo Military Shoes, approached me and made known their intention to test their locally-made shoes. This, they believe, would help them upgrade their product and procure the best materials that would give them better confidence to penetrate the market.

Their factory is located in Basak-Pardo, Cebu City, Philippines. Basically, their shoes are MADE IN CEBU; so very distinct from the more popular cheap shoes made in Carcar, which is also a part of Cebu. Their shoes, just like in Carcar, are hand-made and done by skilled local labor and are stitched for long wear and good shape retention.

And so, I was given a free pair of their Millennium Patrol Shoes and another free pair of their Charol Parade Shoes, both Size 10. Their parade shoes are made of shiny black leatherette uppers and locally-made rubber soles. I have worn the pair rarely and these have not seen much abuse unlike that of the patrol shoes.

The patrol shoes are made of genuine leather, dyed black, with local rubber soles. Inside are fully-padded insoles and flexible shank for extra support. It had seen constant pounding through walking and day-to-day use going to the office and on the field and holds all my weight of 95+ kilos. However, by May, the soles start to crack and, in June, water leaked inside.

In July, Bamboo Military Shoes replaced the much-abused pair with another free pair with much better rubber soles that is hard as it is oil-resistant. Aside from the walking and the constant daily use, the shoes have been used regularly to push the motorcycle stand upright which use the left foot and crank-start it with the other foot.

Likewise, the Millennium’s look and feel serve well in very official functions and setting. Although designed for rugged use, its simple design could very well complement any formal attire and the leather is very easy to buff and shine or daubed with commercial-dye solutions.

According to Mr. Fermin Uy, the bulk of their sales are from the Charol Parade Shoes which are bought and used by policemen, security guards and criminology students. Their patrol shoes have not caught on the trend yet but I can’t see any reason why these sturdy shoes would not be worn someday by civilian security forces and the military if it were advertised through conventional means.

Since DES Footwear is a small company, funds to spend for advertisement are very scarce and whatever income collected from sales are diverted instead for production expenses which are increasing every quarter due to an influx of demand. It is for this intention that DES Footwear decided to utilize this person to test and market their products.

This writer is indeed very glad to have DES Footwear as a sponsor to further his passion as an adventure-travel writer. This greatly helped me to possess a sturdy pair of shoes for my journeys which, sometimes, are a part of my day job as an officer of a reputable security company.

Another free pair of Millennium Patrol Shoes did land on my desk this January 2012 compliments of DES Footwear and I am proud to announce (as well as endorse) this in Warrior Pilgrimage. Prouder still I am, to have been given this privilege of wearing a product made by Cebuano hands.

The shoes are now available in the market and, if it interests you to own a pair, the prices are One Thousand Five Hundred Pesos (P1,500.00) for the Millennium Patrol Shoes and One Thousand Two Hundred Pesos (P1,200.00) for the Charol Parade Shoes. These are much cheaper than the cheapest competitor and a quality that is at par with established ones.

If you would like to order a pair or several pairs, I may be contacted at mobile phone number +639237162705 or email me at pinoyapache@yahoo.com.

Document done in Libre Office 3.3

NAPO TO BABAG TALES XLVIII: Knife Care & Safety

noreply@blogger.com (PinoyApache) — Wed, 01 Feb 2012 14:16:00 +0000

IT HAD BEEN QUITE a while since I last visited the Roble family at their humble abode found among the foothills of the Babag Mountain Range. The last time I was there was on July 27, 2011 with Glenn Pestaño of Camp Red and Randell Savior of Tribu Dumagsa. That bush hike gave me an idea instead how to teach and introduce bushcraft and survival to individuals and groups in easy single topics.

Today, November 20, 2011, I will be bringing in the core of Camp Red¹ along with the new would-be bushmen. I am Camp Red and returning home with me is Glenn. Coming along for the first time here are Jhurds Neo, Silver Cue and Lawrence Lozada. Going along also for the first time with the pack are Faith Tannen, Justine Ianne and Ouch Melbourne.

We will just stay at the Roble homestead and cook our noontime meal. The main activity would be the Grassroots Bushcraft Teaching Series which I will discuss with the participants, this time, touching about Knife Care and Safety. It is very important for every bushman worth his salt to learn knife ethics and this would be very helpful especially if you are with another or with a group.

This blog, Warrior Pilgrimage, espouses the proliferation of bushcraft and survival here in the Philippines as an alternative, but very affordable, interest or hobby. You needn't have to travel to far-off places spending huge amounts of money and time just to pass by a place and take pictures. Bushcraft and survival is all about learning wilderness skills and you could do that even at your own backyard!

So we start from Guadalupe and motor to Napo where I give them the final briefing about the main route, the terrain, the evacuation areas, water source and inherent landmarks and scenery. We cross the Sapangdaku River twice over stones placed as paths and rested for a while at Lower Kahugan Spring to recover our breath and to replenish water bottles.

Kahugan Trail present itself as an obstacle for all the first-timers as it slowly ascend towards the Roble homestead via a route that is unknown to most of the outdoors people. The weather is fine and cloudy yet we hike along a covered trail. Once we reach the place, I decide to prepare coffee for everybody before I start the lecture.

People would always link the blade as a weapon and the mere sight of it would make them shudder and became wary of the person holding it. Of course, throughout history, it had been used as an instrument of destruction in early warfare and, even today, it settled personal grudges. Even I, have that penchant to use it as a weapon during solitary hours of shadow fighting and knife throwing.

However, I will partly diminish that thought and give another perspective of the knife as a useful tool for bushcraft and survival. Early man invented the knife for this purpose to aid him and his clan for their day-to-day survival. It metamorphosed itself from stone to animal bones or shell to copper to iron to steel. The steel have perfected the blade in its present state and a wide array of steel alloys are offered in the market.

The carrying of a knife outdoors demands some sense of responsibility though not only towards others but also of your own. Personal safety starts from yourself and the demands of the rugged playgrounds that bushcrafters chose is also a venue that you need to think over of what type of sheath you are to use, how would you carry it and where would you hold this when you unsheath your knife.

I remind them that there is a national law governing the carrying of knives and other bladed instruments applicable here in the Philippines but it does not specify the limit of the length of blade. It only forbids the carrying of knives, concealed or not, in public places without the proper permits. Responsible knife owners find the malls, airports, seaports and random police checkpoints as obstacles.

However, for purposes of not entangling yourself with law enforcers and losing your prized possession, it is best that you declare it openly in a fine and pleasing manner. A smile will do the initial thawing of nerves. Bushmen are not mean people and they also know how to smile. Am I right there?

I also emphasize to everyone to treat their blades like a baby brother and to learn how to sharpen it and keep it spotless of stain and rust. For this purpose, I carry my set of honing stones - coarse, fine and smooth - and demonstrate these how to achieve a sharp edge with a traditional system of sharpening a knife. I show them what stone that you would need water when honing your blade and what stone that you wouldn't need water.

For entertainment, I decide to show them part of my blade collection. My backpack is heavy with these but I am not a bit bothered. Bayonets for the M16, the M14, the Garand and the Japanese Kurasa rifles; native blades; my current knives used in bushcrafting; and my constant companion – the tomahawk.

Our lunch consists of chicken soup from two free-rein chicken and a mixed-vegetable stew cooked by Fele and Tonia Roble for us and desserts of green coconut meat and water. We depart at 2:00 PM and go by the same route from which we came. To add accent to our activity, I opt to bring them down to the hidden waterfalls of Busay Lut-od.

We reach Guadalupe in a happy mood and douse our thirst away with rounds of cold beer at Summer Kyla. This is the third activity of the newly-refurbished Camp Red and I beam with pride with how our unconventional pursuit catch on the interest of people like Faith, Justin and Melbourne.

Document done in Libre Office 3

Photos courtesy of Ouch Melbourne and Silver Cue

Reference materials used were from Andy Beck and Caleb Robert John Musgrave

1A Cebu-based outdoors group dedicated to bushcraft & survival, the only one of its kind in the Philippines south of Subic Bay.

MY SINULOG 2012 PILGRIMAGE

noreply@blogger.com (PinoyApache) — Wed, 25 Jan 2012 10:53:00 +0000

I START LATE FOR my pilgrimage. It is 2:30 PM of a Saturday; January 14, 2012. This will be my fourth appearance for the “fiesta señor” solemn procession held in honor for Cebu's beloved patron – the Señor Santo Niño or the Holy Child Jesus.

Last year, I walked the procession with four other companions but they (and their faith) evaporated as soon as the first drops of rain begun to hit them. I finished the procession together with other persistent devotees despite the strong torrents of rain lashing Metro Cebu. I was fasting then and got poked everywhere by umbrellas but I survived. It was one of my defining points of my faith.

Today, I still fast and I will be alone this time. My starting point will be from my house and I negotiate the back alleys to CJ Cuizon Street and then to GL Lavilles Street. Infront of me is an empty MJ Cuenco Avenue. Streaming along on the shady part of the street like ants are pilgrims going on their way to the Basilica Minore del Sto. Niño.

The sun is shining after several weeks of insistent rains. I am prepared for the worst, rain or shine. I wear my South African leather veldt hat, my grey commemorative PIBC 2011¹ t-shirt, my St. John's Bay dark-blue walking shorts and my tan-colored Rivers hiking boots. I carry an empty wallet, a Sony DSC220 digital camera, a Nokia 2730 and empty plastic for waterproofing.

My familiarity with Cebu, being a descendant of original residents, work to my advantage so I could evade the crowd. I took a right turn to Zulueta Street then take a short cut to Colon Street via the seldom-known Dimasalang Street. I reach D. Jakosalem Street and follow east until the huge crowd converging at the corner of Osmeña Boulevard made it impossible for me to go on.

I join the slow moving mass of devotees but found the sea of umbrellas too tormenting for my comfort. I have to extricate myself from my constricting location and move sideways slowly and courteously for the south side of the line. I find the sidewalks much better for catching up the carroza that carried my dear Sr. Sto. Niño.

On the sidewalks, I found I could work better with my camera; snatching a shot here and a shot there. One of those I enjoyed most is taking a picture at a cameraman poised for a shot – shooting the shooter! There are many I snipe at and I lose count of them. Maybe, one of these cameramen might have returned the favor?

Anyway, the procession cross Colon and continue into the uptown area. I am able to catch up with the carroza as it stop below an overhead pedestrian bridge between Sanciangco and P. del Rosario Street. On the background everywhere as I pass is the song “Batobalani sa Gugma” and I watch with awe of the deep faith shown by the devotees as they raise and wave a hand in homage to the Holy Child Jesus whenever the chorus is sung.

I walk abreast with the carriage on the other unused lane of Osmeña Blvd. until I reach another overhead bridge near Fuente Osmeña. I climb the two flights of stairs and observe the scene from above. The view is quite dramatic and so soul-flexing. The throng of pilgrims are so thick coming from downtown and converge near Robinson's Place where it is joined by a steady stream of more crowds coming from Capitol and B. Rodriguez Street.

As the main body approach the overhead pass, people waved and prayed their petitions before the Holy Child Jesus. Cameras clicked everywhere trying to get the best shot. I go down on the other side to transact money through an ATM as my craving for water became acute. I climb back the bridge and returned to the south side of the line unable to find a drink yet.

I need to evade the heavy crowd at Robinson's. I go the other way of Fuente Osmeña in a half-circle and, fortunately, water were given freely there and I ask for one and thank you very much. I take a short cut to the main route of General Maxilom Avenue passing by an underpass between Elegant Circle Inn and Rajah Park Hotel, Llorente Street and Juana Osmeña Street.

Strangely, the crowd is not that thick here. I assume the main body have not gotten past the bottleneck at Fuente Osmeña. I decide I have to tarry a while infront of St. Therese College and wait for the carroza to arrive. Slowly the crowds began to filter in and I could now hear the AFP Central Command brass band doing its rendition of the “Batobalani sa Gugma”.

Now they come. The green line of criminology interns appear shielding out the rest of the crowd from approaching the carriage with double ropes while a company of volunteers and blue security guards walk ahead of them to make way for the Sr. Sto. Niño's coming. Despite the confusion, there is order. Credit that to the gentle spirit of Catholic Cebuanos.

By now, the pilgrims populate every space along Gen. Maxilom Ave. as the route goes on into the direction of MJ Cuenco Ave. I hold on to the ropes to keep pace with the carroza until I arrive at the bottleneck at the terminus of both lanes wherein I decide to walk ahead instead and stop for a while to chat with friends near the Museo Sugbu.

I walk on and take a quick sip of water as I reach my house. My wife Vilma and grandson Gabriel, join me at the sidewalk, together with most of my relatives and neighbors to greet and wave a hand of the dear Sr. Sto. Niño's passing. Firecrackers are released into the air and everyone shouted at every burst.

I would have finished my quest when I am now in the comforts of my home but I am accustomed of walking the extra mile. There is one more thing to do and that is to escort my dear Sr. Sto. Niño home to the basilica. That means I have to leave all behind, come what may, hunger or not, thirsty or what.

I hold on to the ropes again, trotting when the pace goes quick; bumping and colliding with fellow pilgrims. At this juncture, the route gets ten times more crowd that are a hundred times more devout. I shudder and my hair stood on its end as shouts of “Viva Señor Santo Niño!” are now more intense and the waving of hands more personal. Camera lights flash and blind me momentarily.

The procession make a right turn to Legaspi St. and I am now in a difficult predicament as the flow of the main body of devotees begin to consume even the line of volunteers at the side streets keeping order on the onlookers. I let go of the rope when I saw a slight break in the thick column of crowds near the office of the Department of Tourism.

I move quick among inert standing people; large pots of boiling cooking oil; sidewalk merchandise; tightly-parked vehicles; and mounds of garbage. I reach Lapulapu Street and turn right to the direction of the Basilica Minore del Sto. Niño until I could do no more forward approach. I found myself shoulder to shoulder with the rest of the pilgrims in a stiflingly-hot enclosed sidewalk.

It is the best that I could do. Right infront of me is the carroza and my dear Sr. Sto. Niño exiting D. Jakosalem St., taking a right turn to Osmeña Blvd. before entering the arched gate of the basilica. I wave and sing and supplicate before his divine presence. I am sweating as it is hot and I have not had a regular intake of fluid because I am fasting and I reconsider that journey back home.

I maneuver slowly out and join the long queue of pilgrims streaming out of that narrow location and I welcome the open spaces and fresh air. Even as I and the other devotees help reduce the number of people in and around the basilica, still there are many who take our places and it is still part of the procession. I find myself relegated to the curbs and gutters traveling on the opposite direction.

Finally, I reach home and I want that dinner please. Before me on the dining table are sauteed prawn in spicy-hot tomato sauce, fried chicken and raw anchovies in spiced vinegar. Tomorrow will be the mother of all Philippine feasts – the Sinulog Grand Festival and Mardi Gras. Pit Senyor everyone!

VIVA SEÑOR SANTO NIÑO!

Document done in Libre Office 3

1I organized the first Philippine Independence Bushcraft Camp which was held last June 11-12, 2011 in the Babag Mountain Range.

BUSHCRAFT BUHISAN IX: Traditional Land Navigation

noreply@blogger.com (PinoyApache) — Mon, 16 Jan 2012 11:40:00 +0000

I LOOKED FORWARD TO the day when that “high-ground trail” that I discovered and half-explored last April 2011 would finally be settled for completion. I will share that ecstasy with seven others today, October 30, 2011, and it will be another trophy that Camp Red will relish and be worth hanging on at their “adventure wall”.

I am the guide and principal brain behind this activity. This will not only be an exploration of terra incognita but a venue, as well, to teach people about traditional land navigation and good trail sense, under my Grassroots Bushcraft teaching series which is promoted at the Warrior Pilgrimage blog.

The uncompleted Lensa Trail will be the “live” laboratory for this study and we will start from the south gate of the Our Lady of Guadalupe Parish, climbing over the bare back of the dreaded “heartbreak ridge” by way of Bebut's Trail and then settle for a coffee break at a small community in Baksan before resuming to find “Camp Damazo” in dense jungle.

From there, I will bring them to “Creek Bravo” to prepare, cook and eat our lunch; before climbing up another range and reach “Tango Xray”; where there is a cross-roads of four trails leading north, east, west and south. In April, I found this place from the south direction and decide to take the eastern branch to cut distance between there and Guadalupe as it had been already late in the day.

I aim to take the north route today which, I know, will connect with the Pamutan-Baksan Road – the one I designated as “Tango Yankee”. The western branch would come later at my own pace and time and, perhaps, answer some of my thirst for more exploration.

Trailing behind me are Camp Red regulars Glenn Pestaño, Raymund Panganiban, Silver Cue, Jhurds Neo and Randell Savior (who will take care of the rear) plus two new participants who are out to satisfy their curiosity about bushcraft and survival: Faith Tannen and Justin Ianne. Glenn, Raymund and Randell are no strangers to “Camp Damazo” for they were here during the Philippine Independence Bushcraft Camp in June 11-12.

We leave Guadalupe at 7:30 AM and, true to its promise, the sun is uncompromising at “heartbreak ridge” and choked our muscles tight. Blood that supply oxygen among our body system and gives color to skin seemed to have abandoned almost on everyone's faces giving it a pale variant. Raymund, Faith, Ianne, Jhurds and Glenn have it.

I decide to allow the group to recover their bearings near a cairn and give them two reference points: the sun and Mount Babag. Traditional navigation rely mostly on the celestial bodies like the sun and the stars; shadow analysis; and the natural land formations like rivers, saddles and ridges, from where most routes are found. Mt. Babag, when seen through the compass at our location, always point north and cannot be missed.

A shadow kept following behind me and is uncompromising as well and it belonged to Silver. The same Silver, who learned the ropes of wilderness safety together with Raymund and Glenn at Mount Manunggal in August 23-25 under the aegis of Wil Davies. I throttle up the pace and down goes Glenn far far away behind, who raise both hands in utter surrender.

To counter this difficulty, I instructed him to go down to the primary evacuation area and motor to meet us instead at the second evacuation area in Baksan. The rest followed me and we reach our first resting place at exactly 9:00 PM. At this stretch, a hawk appeared circling the sky and that is a good omen. As promised, I give them the final briefing over coffee before proceeding again and be reunited with Glenn, who seems to be okay now after a long rest.

Lensa Trail start somewhere on the ridge where Freedom Trail pass. It is a hot day but we are in a man-made forest of teak trees. Sooner, we will go down the ridge and follow the route to a low hill that goes down into a low saddle and climb another hill and another much higher hill. From there, the trail goes down into a level ridge and ends in a cul-de-sac. A dead end.

Down that ridge is “Camp Damazo”. I explain to them how I was able to locate the campsite over a trail-less terrain that are steep all around. I showed them a gentle slope that goes down like a tongue into “Creek Alpha” and it is the only sane way to go down there. It is already more than four months since I passed by here and the route now is covered by thick vegetation and what tracks I and my party made then are now obliterated.

After several slips over loose soil, we take a short rest at “Camp Damazo”. The small camp is flat and even and the water hole have vanished. I remind everyone to watch where they piss for we are now inside the Buhisan Watershed Area. Across the campsite crossing the creek is a trail that goes over rolling terrain and where different varieties of tree grow.

This stretch of trail is excellent although many trees are cut indiscriminately by firewood gatherers. I recommend everyone to utilize any wood staff found as aid in hiking. We reach “Creek Bravo” after 30 minutes and, immediately, I announce to everyone that we will rest here and do our cooking. It is a reprieve then for everyone and a good excuse to enjoy a long rest.

I assign the cooking of milled corn to Randell and Raymund, while I do the cooking of pork adobao and mixed-vegetable stew. I dig first a water hole beside the creek for washing purposes before I commence with the food preparation. To enhance my cooking, I bought several green peppers from the roadside market in Guadalupe for this purpose and, likewise, plucked a lot of basil leaves along the trail.

Sadly, I don't use monosodium glutamate in my cooking nor have I the inclination to use those instant “fry mix” into my food ingredients for I know it is just MSG in another package. I would rely instead on balance of taste by natural means with salt and vinegar; and aroma which both pepper and basil could provide.

Silver produce a can of red kidney beans and, just the same, I mix these over both viands, enhancing further my cooking. When the milled corn is about to be completely cooked, I place green gumbos above it and let it be “steamed” by heat coming from the milled corn.

After the meal, we did not tarry long to enjoy our allotted siesta time. I decide that we proceed to our next destination which is “Tango Xray”. Time is precious and I do not know how far “Tango Yankee” is from “Tango Xray”, but I do know that the former intersects the road. I found my trail sign that point to the correct direction to “Tango Xray”. I follow down the trail into a saddle and, this time, we begin ascending steadily.

My pace is very slow so Raymund, Jhurds, Glenn, Faith and Justine would not be inconvenienced. I trust the stamina of both Silver and Randell and both could help me out in pacing with the rest. This is real forest and it is so silent except for the whistle of breeze among leaves and the sentry croaks of a single gecko.

Along the way, I explain to them the circumstances surrounding every abandoned camp used by forest people and why some things are left and for what purpose. I remind them to ration their drinking water as there is no water source from here to “Tango Xray”, much more so on that unknown stretch of territory towards “Tango Yankee”.

I reach “Tango Xray”, at last, and tell them the story of how I was able to discover this place by analyzing the terrain and vegetation and how I was able to reach safety by aid of a compass. I was able to ascertain my location by finding the general direction and extricate my companions from a difficult situation. Anyway, I show to the present group the trails that goes east, west, north, south and the unexplored path that I will share with them today.

The route goes down into a small creek which, I presume, is the same tributary that lead to “Creek Bravo”. There is a jumble of vegetation, now frayed, on the ground beside a huge tree before I reach the creek and I could see a tell-tale sign of somebody 3-4 days ago lying in wait for something edible. Obviously, a hunter would use such camouflage to hide himself from his prey which would manifest itself among the foliage of that tall tree. Perhaps, the prey is a wild rooster.

After crossing the mountain stream, the route goes up abruptly a steep terrain. It had been like that for about 250-300 meters until I notice a series of small water runoffs cross the trail. Up ahead, I see a good-sized spring with a split-bamboo guide used by locals to channel water above the ground. It is a blessing then for our water-depleted party to replenish their drinking water supply. This discovery of a water source would very much help in bringing people here.

The route settled down into an even terrain and I could detect that we are now walking along a saddle where another hiding place by a hunter is found beside a tree. We pass through a “green hole” and cross a lively creek that would, ostensibly, link to “Creek Alpha”. A very huge trunk of a burnt-out dead tree block part of the way after crossing the waterway.

By now, the vegetation seems to be a lot tamer and less dense and I believe we are now approaching “Tango Yankee” which is now very incontrovertible when I hear the distant roar of passing motorcycles. At exactly 2:30 PM, the last of my party reach the road and I am at a loss of how to utilize the rest of our free time for either exercise and enjoyment.

Right across us is a wide path that I always notice for several times when I come down from Pamutan and, maybe, it could answer the question that I am asking myself now: how to make use of our free time? Okay, I will try that route and everyone agreed to try it also. This trail goes down and down until it reach the Lanipao Rainforest Resort. So, I hit two birds with one stone today and I couldn't believe this stroke of fortune.

We end our activity at 4:00 PM and we decide to relish and release our adrenaline at Summer Kyla in V. Rama Street. Everyone are so buoyed up by what they achieved today and resort to old Cebu trivia games amidst rounds of cold Red Horse beer and slices of pizza. The chemistry of this new Camp Red people are beginning to jell well and I am simply elated by this prospect because...

...Camp Red is very capable now in how to effectively range and explore the oft-ignored local mountains that still hide unknown territories and nooks without having to visit well-known places and amassing expensive budgets. Camp Red delights to promote the Babag Mountain Range as the better mountain range for true-blue Cebuanos and local tourists.

Document done in Libre Office 3

Some pictures of last collage courtesy of Raymund Panganiban

PINOYAPACHE GOES TO UBAY

noreply@blogger.com (PinoyApache) — Sun, 08 Jan 2012 03:20:00 +0000

I HAVE NEVER BEEN to Ubay, Bohol but, today, I'm gonna change all that. Yes, the today I mean is the night of October 14, 2011. Tonight, I'm going to board a boat from the Port of Cebu for Talibon, Bohol – my first time. We leave at 10:00 PM but I already slept an hour ahead on a cot too small for my frame.

Yeah, it really is small and I remedy that by changing position: with my head at the bulwark side and my feet hanging at the end. Simple. Improvise and adapt. BTW, I am an “outlaw bushman” and I mean what I write or say.

The boat arrive at Talibon the following day – October 15 – at 2:00 AM. Since it is too early and too dark to find my way through unfamiliar territory, I decide to sleep for another two hours. I wake up to a beautiful red dawn instead after I rubbed sleep from my eyes. Oh yes, give me that camera please!

I walk in the early morning from boat to terminal and sat on an aging public jitney that would take me in the fastest time available on a land known for a creeping sense of time. I don't mind. I am ahead of schedule anyway. My official itinerary says that I would be at Ubay by 7:00 AM and I have already a surplus of one hour!

The jitney did leave at 5:30 AM and it rumble its way along the highway passing by Trinidad and reach Ubay at exactly 7:00 AM. Immediately, I need something to eat and look about Ubay's own distinct taste but found none and gets consoled instead with the biggest “ukoy¹” that I have seen and eaten.

After the meal, I look for the fabled sea produce of Ubay at its wet market. I carry with me a rectangular Tupperware® inside of my Baikal 35-liter backpack for this purpose but I was disappointed. I meet instead a meth-head who signalled to me that he sells amphetamines! Shucks! I could only shake my head of why and how this vice reach this far.

From afar, I see boats secured along the single wharf of Ubay and I understand that this town is the gateway to Bato, Southern Leyte. I'm tempted to go over the waterfront area but I need to go to the National Dairy Authority fast as I am not here for leisure. I hire a motorcycle and am brought to Calanggaman in less than 30 minutes by the driver.

I introduce myself to the farm administrator and commence my work taking pictures of the government-owned dairy farm. The ranch is pure pastureland set on rolling terrain and small catch basins. It hosts a small dairy plant and a milk-storage facility is undergoing construction.

After that, I transfer to Lomangog and visit the Philippine Carabao Center where I am able to drink fresh carabao² milk sold in plastic bottles. I order four more and finally get to use the empty and bulky Tupperware® that I have been carrying all along. Finished with my purpose, I directed the driver back to Ubay to do sightseeing and souvenir hunting.

After taking refreshment at a local bakery, I snuggle myself inside a van-for-hire that is bound for Tagbilaran City at 10:00 AM. The route would pass through the eastern and southern part of Bohol that would host places whose names sounded so sweetly and very familiar from what tales I heard of long ago from my grandparents and their acquaintances. Places that I have not been to and have not seen since.

It is such a treat then to be given an opportunity to cruise by this sun-splayed land of wide open spaces, chocolate hills-like mounds and robust streams that are populated by smiling inhabitants who loved to pronounce the letter “y” as a “j” and the “k” as an “h”.

It's just a shame that I could not use a camera due to the enclosed design of vans that keeps cool air from escaping but does not really cool the passengers at all because all are packed like sardines and air could not circulate freely. Sweat comes down from somebody else's forehead as the cramped space and lack of movement take its toll on the body.

I really hate riding in one. It would have been better if the windows are kept open but women don't like the idea of having windswept hair and caked makeup so it is kept shut. Never mind if the engine is overheating and some foul air from someone's behind is released.

Fortunately, by my location nearest the door, I am able to inhale natural air every time a passenger disembark or going in to ride. Sure, it is taxing to a person of lesser ability in body and mind but I welcome the disturbance. The breeze cools me as well as giving my body the needed blood circulation.

The van arrive at Tagbilaran at 12:30 noon. Since it is too early, I decide to visit again the PhilHealth office in Mansasa which I last went to two years ago then pass by the ThreeSixty Pharmacy in J. Clarin Street to leave a package before ending my time in Bohol reading a book at the fastcraft terminal.

As I was reading, the Apostleship of the Seas in Tagbilaran celebrated a mass inside the terminal and I ditch the book. Assisting the dear priest is another priest from the Archdiocese of Seattle, USA who was with a group of Catholic Americans doing pilgrimage. After that, it's time to leave Bohol again and the vessel leave Tagbilaran for Cebu at 4:10 PM and the in-house movie entertained me so much that I chuck the book again.

By the way, I came to realize at mid-sea that I have completed my circumferential journey of Bohol two years late. In October 2009, I arrive at Tagbilaran and travelled overland to Talibon. This present trip closed this chapter when I arrive at Talibon, thence onwards to Ubay and, from there, Tagbilaran; churning out a distance of more or less, 560 kilometers.

You know what, my complete tour of Bohol Island took two years in the making compared to the twenty-eight years³ I did for the island of Cebu – my home province. Maybe, in the years to come, I would replicate this feat in other island provinces and not just step on one place and brag that I had been there and done that in Lakbayan.

Anyways, this blog ensures its readers and followers that Warrior Pilgrimage is also about adventure travel and it may also try the not-so-travelled circuit routes in the future as in the case of the islands of Palawan, Basilan, Sulu, Tawi-tawi or Sibutu as part of its itinerary. Let's just cross our fingers that PinoyApache will accomplish these and bring goodwill among the inhabitants.

Document done Libre Office 3

1Shrimps or anchovies baked in thin flour and eggs and fried in oil. A local delicacy in the Visayas.

2Swamp buffalo.

3June 28-29, 2009: going south and north and back to Cebu City. One stretch of road is left untravelled though and that is the coastal highway from Bogo to Tabogon to Borbon which I passed on January 4, 2011.

ONCE UPON A TIME IN THE SIERRA MADRE

noreply@blogger.com (PinoyApache) — Sun, 01 Jan 2012 04:25:00 +0000

I STOOD NAKED with 499 other “captives” on a cold and windy early morning of January 1989. My time in Tanay, Rizal is winding out in about two weeks. Infront of us are our sets of fatigue uniforms and combat boots piled high like a mountain on a road junction at the foothills of the Sierra Madre Mountain Range.

I am assigned as pathfinder and I am issued a compass to lead 100 people back to Camp Capinpin during the escape and evasion phase. At a given signal, we are going to break free from our “holding area” in a deep valley and recover our clothes up here. I don't think I could do that in utter confusion. But I marked where my uniforms lay and I don't have to go far. I have to think fast.

Up ahead is a clump of grass surviving in the middle of the road going down to that valley. It is almost shoulder high and I believe no one could imagine that it could hide a big guy in there. But first, I would retrieve what my grandfather taught me many years ago: to sit still like a rock and harness my mind to confuse the “enemy” before I could reunite with my uniform and boots.

Then a rifle shot cracked in the air and everyone stampeded down the road. I ran with the other “captives” and crouched low when I ran past the grass. Stealthily, I eased back into its protection. More shots were heard and more footsteps came hurrying down until there were no more. Then silence.

I bent my head between my knees, closed my eyes and willed my mind to go blank. I heard nothing except the wind and crunch of heavy boots and one of the “enemy” came close. Then the grass danced before a strong breeze and it is reassuring.

I could feel an “enemy” standing just a meter beside me unmindful of my presence. Warm exhaled air lightly touched my skin pores as it is carried by the breeze but I am a rock today and I am invisible. Discovery meant hard butt strokes from an Armalite or from an M14 and indescribable disgrace.

The “enemy” took three steps forward and I heard a loud metallic action as a round is loaded into the firing chamber. Then a burst of gunfire is fired into the air. Warm empty brass shells landed on my head and my back. Another burst is fired again. The “enemy” gave last-minute instructions and I could understand it clearly well.

Once the transport trucks leave, I opened my eyes. I looked around the surroundings and cautiously approach the mound of uniforms in a wide circle and found my boots and my army fatigues. By the time I was tying up the shoe lace for my last shoe, the first “captive” arrived, followed by another until all 499 milled around the mound. Everyone were grabbing for himself clothes and shoes, fitting this and that.

I just could not believe two guys fighting over the same shirt and a sleeve almost got separated. Elbows flew. Raised agitated voices rang in the cold morning. Wrong pairs of shoes scattered everywhere. Pants seesawed back and forth. Discipline learned the hard way evaporated. It took almost an hour before the crowd settled down and donned their uniforms in the best way they can.

I regrouped my 100 and I stifled a laugh at their appearance. Each group is on its own and we are five in all. Then the whole 500 traveled as if it is one group and that is insane. I decide to break away for I know the “enemy” will be waiting and laughing. From here to the camp are “enemy” checkpoints and discovery meant physical humiliation.

Half of my group questioned my logic and it is torn apart. I am left with fellow “captives” from the Visayas and Mindanao regions, to include my Moslem brothers. My ragtag group evaded several checkpoints over a land that I am not familiar with. I led them by studying the terrain and chose where my route would take with a characteristic cunning taught by grandpa.

My group arrived first at half past noon inside Camp Capinpin undetected and I reported to my training officer. Half of my command is found missing during headcount and I bore the brunt of the punishment but that is nothing compared to the ignominy of being “recaptured” at the checkpoints which the rest were, several times.

Really, it is nothing for I found solace in the fact that I have outwitted the veteran Scout Rangers at their own game and turf.

Document done in Libre Office 3

Sketch in ballpoint pen by PinoyApache

POEM #6: Going to Mount Babag

noreply@blogger.com (PinoyApache) — Tue, 27 Dec 2011 02:07:00 +0000

Napo is where I start for the true

path to Mount Babag.

Some say it should be from Busay.

I doubt at the latter and I shrink

at the thought.

I don't like walking on paved roads.

Anyone who walks at a trail

finds meaning and

good exercise.

Listen to the watery laughter

of Sapangdaku river.

Birds flutter by, here and there;

Smile as a ripe mango sways by

as you reach for the sky.

An old spring refreshes you

in Lower Kahugan.

Walk another level and bathe

at the hidden falls

of Busay Lut-od.

Green coconuts tastes sweet

lying idle on a bamboo bench

beneath a Java plum tree.

Freedom pervades in the air.

Take your pick to Babag Ridge:

the difficult East Ridge Pass?

or the easy Babag Ridge Road?

Once you are on the ridgeline

gawk at the sprawling city

and the scattered islands.

Meanwhile, pitch your tent and

spend a night at Manwel's Peak.

THE TIGER WEAKENS BUT THE EAGLE SOARETH

noreply@blogger.com (PinoyApache) — Mon, 19 Dec 2011 09:25:00 +0000

2011 WAS ANOTHER BANNER YEAR for Tactical Security and Detective Agency, Inc. It had maintained its momentum despite some minor setbacks borne out of financial difficulties experienced by some of its clients. It is the year of the rabbit and it favored the eagle. The eagle is our logo and it is two-headed like the mythical Roman deity Janus.

The year 2011 saw Tactical Security more than double its guard strength when the new owners acquired it in January 2008 as it snared juicy contracts from all comers: through connections, by word of mouth or through the Internet. Tactical Security do not maintain a paid subscription though but has a free Multiply account and a Facebook page that is under construction.

So, it boils down to performance, branding and credibility of its existence that people and businesses take notice of. Do you want to know the secret? You know what? Tactical Security takes care of its people – ITS FRONTLINERS – the security guards. We do not do a Houdini upon our payroll nor do we exact unethical and systematic deceptions upon our guards. It is the stronghold of inept and third-rate security agencies.

Tactical Security believes in karma and it owed its existence to the Creator and Beginner of Life. It had ridden the back of a tiger for a long time but it had seen a crossroads wherein the tiger will be weakened and it is a time for Tactical Security to soar higher. It had soared high beyond its wildest dreams and it is intoxicating but we maintain a level head, our history rooted to the ground.

We could not deny that our individual security guards and many detachments are our showcase to the market and we deem it proper that we bestow recognition upon them. It is a tradition that Tactical Security have practiced for three years running: the awarding of Best Detachments; the Best Head Guards and Shifts-in-Charge; and Special Awards for deserving security guards who, in their tour of duty, perform exemplary service.

The day is December 8, 2011 and Tactical Security is up all ears to commend the following detachments and individuals:

CATEGORY A (28+ Guards)

Cebu Provincial Detention and Rehabilitation Center

CATEGORY B (20-27 Guards)

Cebu International Convention Center

CATEGORY C (13-19 Guards)

Province of Cebu comprising of:

Museo Sugbu

DA Compound

Provincial Engineering Office

Fuente Osmeña Property

CATEGORY D (8-12 Guards)

Province of Cebu - Balili Beach Property

BEST HEAD GUARD

HG Rogelio Rojas, Balili Beach Property

HG Joseph Varga, Sugbu-Gawad Kalinga Village

HG Servillano Angcay Jr, Cebu Provincial Capitol

HG Paulino Lacandula, Sacred Heart School-Ateneo de Cebu

HG Noel Villacarlos, Museo Sugbu

BEST SHIFT-IN-CHARGE

SIC Luke Carniga III, Cebu International Convention Center

SIC Ruel Manlosa, Cebu South Bus Terminal

SIC Rene Anduyan, Sacred Heart School-Ateneo de Cebu

SIC Eugene Cinto, Cebu International Convention Center

SIC Ranilo Renedo, Banilad Town Center

SPECIAL AWARDS

SG Samuel Carreon Jr, Cebu Country Club

SG Luke Carniga III, Cebu International Convention Center

SG Marlon Villaganas, ThreeSixty Pharmacy-Legaspi/Colon Branch

SG Lloyd Bernard Ricaplaza, Cebu South Bus Terminal

SG Ruel Manlosa, Cebu South Bus Terminal

SG Julius Abapo, Tactical Security Headquarters

SG James Barazon, Cebu Provincial Detention and Rehabilitation Center

SG Rogelio Lanoy, Gateway Motors (Cebu), Inc.-KIA Talisay

Each element of every detachment and each individual awardee receive prizes for their achievements. Aside that, every guard not mentioned above and detailed in each post spread out in every breadth and reach of Tactical Security receive a small token. Not only that, Tactical Security remembered their fallen comrades and we go out of our way to personally carry gifts to their surviving families north and south of Cebu.

I wonder if other security agencies would do the Tactical way? I know of just a few and Tactical Security appreciate their efforts to treat their frontliners in the same way we do and even more. For our undertakings (and those agencies that care of their security guards), we reap. I hope the rest of the security industry do the same.

As of this writing, the Province of Cebu have reduced 111 guards as part of their austerity measures. Likewise, one of our oldest clients, Total Bulk Corp., decide to end our services due to economic constraints. Our consolation comes from winning the public bidding for the 79-guard strength of the The Philippine Amusement Gaming Corp. (PAGCOR) and retention of the Pag-IBIG Fund after a heated contest and gained for us ten more seats.

In the different fields, PRI Solutions, Inc., have taken trust with our brand of service despite minor setbacks and offers of sub-sea level prices from competitors, as we continue to supply security for each branch opened. Amidst those, other big detachments from the private sectors have cemented and renewed contracts with Tactical Security, as well as yanking out new contracts in our way.

To enhance our service, Tactical Security have contracted independent contractors to teach our people how to properly operate radios which the National Telecommunications Commission handled (complete with license and permits); how to detect and apprehend criminals which the Theft and Robbery Section of the Cebu City Police Office taught; and how to become a responsible gun user which Warrior Pilgrimage have shown in the different firing ranges.

At the end of the day, all the above factors conspire to draw out the good results that you would have desired in your endeavour. We pursued excellence and worked hard for it and it is there pouring. It is a given in every management objective and strategy but we have not realized it coming ten-fold.

You know? Without faith in God, it goes out for naught. Be sensible and make the best of your guards by giving them more than what they deserve. Do not make milking cows of them at their expense and exact undue abuse at them in return of their subservience. Treat your frontliners as your own family. It is the best way and the ONLY way.

Document done in Libre Office 3

ONE HAPPY DAY IN DECEMBER

noreply@blogger.com (PinoyApache) — Wed, 14 Dec 2011 06:41:00 +0000

WHEN DECEMBER COMES, a festive feeling hangs in the air. For us Christians, it ushers in the remembrance of the birth of the child Jesus which we celebrate every December 25th of each year. When December comes here in Cebu City, we love to remember also the Immaculate Conception of the Blessed Virgin Mary on the eighth and partake of the feast of Our Lady of Guadalupe on the twelfth.

When December do come in my place where there is a little chapel by the banks of the Lahug Creek, I and the rest of my small neighborhood prepare something for the coming of the feast of our patron – Saint Lucia. It falls every December 13 and my neighborhood had been observing her day since 1979. So you may know, St. Lucia is patron saint for the blind. Let me tell you a short story:

It is such a special day for me and my family for St. Lucia had been one of the blessed ones that had been petitioned by the mother of my late grandfather – for healing - when he was stricken with German measles as a child that caused him blindness. That was in 1901 when the Americans came to colonize the Philippine archipelago and the native population have no means to protect themselves from the introduced exotic diseases.

Now, back to the present. As is the custom of every Filipino borne out of gratitude and remembrance for the Creator, I decide to prepare food for my guests and of my youngest son's guests. As you see, my son – Cherokee – will celebrate his birthday on December 14 and I resolved to have his birthday celebration be held in advance instead to coincide with the feast of St. Lucia.

My wife, Vilma, did all the cooking of calderetta (tomato-based goat soup), paklay (goat innards), humba (braised pork), fried chicken drumsticks, macaroni salad, spaghetti and rice with some help from daughter, Lovella. My neighbors, Berting and Agnie, meanwhile, did the slaughtering of a live goat right on my backyard in the morning as my grandchild, Gabriel, earnestly watched nearby from a swinging hammock.

My neighbors were preparing some parlor games at the chapel as I was leaving for work at 8:00 AM. When I got back at 6:30 PM, a holy mass done at the chapel is about to end and the priest was now announcing for the baptismal rites of new Christians and is asking for the parents and godparents to come forward. My heart leaped with joy when I heard this and stayed a while to watch the ritual.

When I got home, daughter Laila is already there with husband Chokie and son Kurt and niece Roann. Grandson Jarod is playing a game on my laptop with Gabe beside him. Cherokee arrived shortly with two classmates and they just came from a retreat seminar at the Holy Family Retreat House in Nivel Hills. My sister, Aileen, came alone from work and waited for daughters Denise Gael and Via.

My eldest son, Charlemagne, got home together with girlfriend Christy and presented Cherokee with a cake. My mother Marietta arrived together with Denise Gael and Via; sister Genevieve with daughter Alyanna; sister-in-law Beth with sons Kevin and King Ivan; and all came from Lahug.

After dinner, the talks flowed among the ladies as they watched Amaya on prime time TV while the young 'uns tinker with their gadgets. For me and Chokie, aside from busy shooting pictures, we shared a bottle of local brandy mixed with soda energy drink and ice.

The procession passed by my house and my mother is quite elated to see her former neighbors again. Then the fireworks lit the night sky as me, King Ivan and Gabe stood on a small bridge to watch the spectacle. When the guests leave, I spend the rest of the day with Vilma and Gringo in a lively talk. Lovella, Gabe and Jarod are all upstairs while Cherokee decide to join his neighbors in a disco near the chapel.

Document done in Libre Office 3

MAN-SIZED HIKE SERIES: Lutopan to Guadalupe III

noreply@blogger.com (PinoyApache) — Mon, 05 Dec 2011 12:56:00 +0000

THIS IS THE THIRD TIME that I will be leading men from Lutopan, Toledo City to Guadalupe, Cebu City. This is a cross-country activity over the widest part of Cebu and it will be 36-40 kilometers long and following mainly the Mananga River of over, probably, twelve hours of hiking.

This is the route that I have discovered on February 20, 2011 and which I repeated with six others on April 23. This day in August 25 is different from the first and second episode. First, because it comes at a time when there is a tropical cyclone – Typhoon Ramon – entering the Philippine area of responsibility.

And secondly, this is the initial event for the newly-refurbished Camp Red¹ and the young bloods will be attempting for the first time this man-sized hike with me. Four of the guys have not been on to this kind of activity before and that is a situation that I will give consideration to.

Aside me, guest Jerry Pescadero of ALPS-M have certain experience to approximate mine while the rest are still newbies when you are talking about a long-range day hike. Glenn Pestaño, Raymund Panganiban and Jhurds Neo carry extra weight while Jon Ducay is slight of build but he carries a heavy camera.

I am looking out for the well-being of my party at a time when weather and clime are its worst. My experience and aptitude will be tested once again and, just like before with my other activities, I will tow the party to safety and exhilaration. I have seen this thing before but this is different. I will be the ones who will be excited at this prospect at the end of the trail.

Yes, did I mention a trail? Hopefully, I will name this route soon. What name? That will be the privilege of the discoverer. But, first things first.

I arrive at the assembly area at 4:00 AM. I am a proponent of the “new” Filipino time and I need to be at the place an hour ahead. One by one, the participants arrive until we decide to board a bus for Lutopan at 6:30 AM.

What bad luck! This is the same bus that I have ridden twice before on this trip! The kung fu movie on the small screen and the 20 KPH drag are its trademark. Besides that, it keeps on picking up passengers along the way until people are found on the roofs for lack of standing space inside. Fortunately for me, I chose the front seat and I was not inconvenienced.

We arrive at the Lutopan Public Market at 8:00 AM and we immediately find something to eat for breakfast. After that, we pool money to buy food provisions for lunch. It is a long way and we are already behind schedule so we decide to hire motorcycles-for-hire to close the gap.

We arrive at Camp 7, a mountain village of Minglanilla, and walk our way to Sinsin, a mountain village of Cebu City, via this tree-lined stretch of the Manipis Road. It is very peaceful and the boys are quite excited about the prospect of cutting across the wide breadth of Cebu island.

When we arrive at Sinsin, I brief them about the route and the weather situation. I did not raise their hopes but give them a realistic alternative in case the Mananga River becomes a life-threatening beast. I designated the different escape routes and evacuation areas and everybody agreed to follow my decisions, come what may.

Our next destination would be Buot-Taup, another out-of-the-way village of Cebu City that is found by the banks of the Bonbon and the Mananga. We follow the unpaved road and several runners on training pass by us as we take a right turn on another (but very rough) road that goes down and down.

The road surface is blistered by the recent rains. Deep furrows were dug by water and several stones were unearthed and caused ordinary walking a very exciting activity instead. I don't mind these but I thought about those runners. What if they run here? I'm tempted to run but the better of me objected. I don't want the guys behind me to feel “abandoned”.

Even so, Jerry followed me like a shadow and I have to slow down a couple of times to give the other guys time to catch up. Up ahead is a small stream that pass under the road. There is a switchback trail there that goes all the way to the Mananga River. Jerry and I waited for the others here and it is 10:15 AM.

Walking now in single file, we reach the river and it is not swollen nor it is in brown color. Fine, but I wouldn't trust appearances. Rivers are very deceptive. At any instant, water will surge at you from out of nowhere even on a hot day! I have seen it happen many times.

We walk downstream, crossing several fords. My senses, however, are attuned to the slightest change of sound or current or water level of the river and I keep looking back trying to assure myself that it is alright. The weather is very cloudy but without no trace of rain and quite breezy. A perfect weather!

Then I sense something wrong about the riverscape. Wide craters are found everywhere hiding those sinister shovels and big sand strainers within. Quarrying of sand, gravel and stones are very blatant here and nobody is enforcing environmental laws. A group of three men even have the gall to prop up a 20-foot mountain of sand in the middle of the riverbed!

But the biggest harm to the environment comes from the riverbank-clearing operations of these cockroaches. They are not contented anymore quarrying on the riverbed and have concentrated their illegal work on the banks and hillsides, dislocating and uprooting a number of fully-grown trees and coconuts. Not only that, the river becomes hazardous to human travel because of potential landslides.

This is a problem that needs to be solved fast by the government. The increase in population have taken its toll on the river. Aside from quarrying, human waste and household sewage threatened the life-giving attribute of the Mananga. Then there is the local candle-nut industry whose residues are thrown on the river and it stinks.

We reach a place where there is a water source at 11:15 AM and opt to rest there and do cooking. I'm glad that my companions are all mangeurs de lard and that simplify my menu: pork adobo. It is alright as long as I don't use MSG and those “ginisa mix” on my food. For flavoring, I would rely more on soy sauce and cane vinegar and enhance the taste with green pepper. Aside that, I also cook milled corn on an almost-empty butane tank.

After a very brief siesta, we move once again for our destination. It is 1:00 PM and we have not reached yet the halfway point. Up ahead is Camp 4, a village which is part of Talisay City. I need to reach there before three so I hasten our pace disregarding the scenery for speed. I arrive at 2:20 PM.

At a jumble of large stones underneath an acacia tree, I prepared myself for a change of terrain and scenery by wringing my new Rivers hike boots and my pair of wet socks of water. This place is the halfway point and it stands on the southern edge of the Babag Mountain Range. From hereon, we will be treading on home ground – Cebu City.

But we need to negotiate Cabatbatan Trail so that's why I am ridding myself of excess weight like water on my shoes and socks. It's also the best time to examine each and everyone's feet condition, especially Glenn. He is not wearing a proper pair of shoes for heavy-duty walking and I know our feet have suffered much getting wet walking on the Mananga and inviting lots of sand and tiny pebbles inside.

Exhausted yet excited, the guys seem to get well with and among themselves. Despite having an average weight of 85 kilos, they paced faster than the previous two groups that I have had the honor to lead here. Cabatbatan Trail will change all that as the route start from river level and just climb and climb steeply for about five hundred meters until you reach a ridge.

I lead the climb while Jerry, Jon, Raymund, Jhurds and Glenn follow me in that order. Your rhythm will change complexion here and so will your skin tone. Breathing is very important here and it should be done in consonance with your footsteps so you will maintain your bearing and focus.

This trail is very unkind to burly guys as well as to those that have evaded exercise for so long. By purpose, I make a slow stride to accommodate even contestants for The Biggest Loser² and constantly keep my eye on those that are lagging far behind. I am kind today and I make several stops so everyone could recover their breath.

I need not worry about Raymund, Jhurds and Glenn and the rest of the team for, at the end of this trail, there is a store that sell the only cold drinks between Sinsin and a small community in Bocawe five kilometers ahead. Just the mere mention of it will raise everyone's hope and they will hasten their pace. You will see!

After crossing the last of the Bocawe Creek, I lead them to the store but it is closed. Everyone were dismayed. I just need to raise their hopes a little bit further to offset their thirst and their fatigue especially now that the path we will be following keeps on ascending and ascending although it is a road. Half of it are unpaved and half are concreted but this is home ground and somewhere over every rise lay a little assurance.

When everyone douse their thirst in Bocawe, it is already 4:30 PM. We need to tackle the last rise before taking another rest at Pamutan where there is a lone police outpost. We arrive at the road junction and, this time, we will walk the rest of the distance downhill. It starts to get dark and everyone retrieve their head lamps.

I also retrieve my small old-school flashlight which I lash to a head band made of cord but I prefer my natural night vision for my navigation. When we arrive at Baksan, we abandon the road and use the trail to cut distance between here and Guadalupe. I find no difficulty finding my way around among trails and I look back at the rest of the pack and they're quite excited with their lights bobbing in the dark.

Along the trail, a black object cross my path. Locals use black PVC pipes to divert water from natural springs into their homes but I doubt that the black straight thing is a water pipe. It's just too thick. I switch on my light and I discover a good-sized python travelling in slow-motion unmindful of my close presence. I call Glenn to share with what I just found and leave them all behind.

From my forward position, I could hear agitated voices from behind me and some hurried footsteps. Hahaha. Encountering wildlife at close range is ordinary with bushcraft and survival. It's either the creature escape or it becomes part of your diet. At this time, I am not interested and the snake is free to go.

After a half-hour among the forest trail, the ridge becomes clear and my eyes feasted on the sparkle and glimmer of the metropolitan lights at a different angle. This is my first time to see this spectacle at this point of view and it is beautiful. I needn't need of my flashlight anymore as the city lights reflect on the thick clouds overhead illuminating the path in an eery red tinge.

We finally arrive at Guadalupe at 6:30 PM. The boys were spent out with the long hike and, one by one, they disappear until only Jhurds and me were left to talk about the just-concluded event. These are good guys and some of them will be the new nucleus of Camp Red. I have finally found the right people and the possibilities hereon are endless.

Document done in Libre Office 3

1An Cebu-based outdoor group which specializes in bushcraft & survival.

2A reality-TV show about a weight-reducing contest.

KERYGMA CONFERENCE 2011: Glory 2 Glory

noreply@blogger.com (PinoyApache) — Fri, 02 Dec 2011 13:00:00 +0000

AFTER WAITING FOR a year, the Kerygma Conference (or KCON 2011) had finally arrived again in Cebu. Coming back is Bro. Bo Sanchez and the rest of the Kerygma Preachers. They, and all the rest of the technical staffs from Shepherd's Voice, shall converge in one house that is the Waterfront International Hotel on November 26, 2011.

This year's theme is GLORY TO GLORY. The Light of Jesus Servant Community of Cebu had been moving heaven and earth for this and mobilized all their members to accommodate this special event which happens just once a year besides propping up and serving the Kerygma Feast which is held every month at the Sacred Heart Center.

Celebrating the Holy Mass again is Fr. John Iaccono. During his homily he touched on the preservation of life and spoke out against the proponents of the Reproductive Health Bill as anti-life. I agree with Fr. John.

For the third straight year, I am invited again to attend and serve in KCON as a volunteer. For the years 2009 and 2010, I have been tasked to secure KCON. But, this time, my task is more complex as it is broad. Eight people are under my bidding and supervision. Four at the venue and four following the itinerary of Bro. Bo.

Coming back also to serve and part of my team are Marco Albeza of Camp Red and Eugene Abarquez of Pundok Habagat. Joining them are Camp Red's Laertes Ocampo and Glenn Pestaño. I get my team of volunteers from the outdoors people. However, there are other concerns which need to be addressed and I contracted four guards from Tactical Security & Detective Agency, Inc.

Together with Bro. Boy Dy, I and my four subalterns fetched Bro. Bo from the Mactan-Cebu International Airport at 3:30 PM of November 25 and tailed behind him going to Park Mall for a meet-up with the KCON Marketing Team. After that, we proceed to SM City and then to Ayala Mall where a dinner was served at Cafe Laguna. The day ended at the Waterfront.

KCON formally started at 9:30 AM and ended at 6:00 PM. Bro. Bo took two sessions for the book signing before leaving Cebu for Manila. I did not have a camera this time unlike last year where I am able to document the whole KCON, but, fortunately, my sister-in-law Beth took many shots of me behind Bro. Bo during a book-signing session. I believe it is a blessing to serve in KCON and to shake hands with Bro. Bo.

See you again on the next KCON.

Document done in Libre Office 3

Photos courtesy of Beth de Egurrola

WILDERNESS HEALTH, HYGIENE & SAFETY IN THE FIELD

noreply@blogger.com (PinoyApache) — Wed, 23 Nov 2011 07:30:00 +0000

GO WILD ADVENTURES, through William Rhys-Davies, recently made their presence felt here in Cebu by introducing the Wilderness Health, Hygiene and Safety in the Field to local participants on August 23, 24 and 25, 2011 at Mount Manunggal, Balamban, Cebu. This writer assisted Mr. Rhys-Davies with the preparation, organization and other administrative tasks to make this event successful.

This outdoors course is offered here for the first time and concentrates mainly about personal and campsite safety and hygiene and exposed the participants to the realities of the “big-picture awareness”. The participants were ferried from JY Square, Cebu City to Mt. Manunggal via the Transcentral Highway and the Cambagocboc-Sunog Road courtesy of Mr. Barry Downes.

Fine weather greeted the party on the first day. Mr. Rhys-Davies taught campsite selection and safety; knife safety; and cooking fire management. He further discussed about the option of choosing the right kind of gears and materials for the right season and climate. Tents were set up by each of the participants on the helipad area except Mr. Rhys-Davies and I, who both preferred to sleep outdoors shielded by tarpaulins overhead.

Dinner served were an assortment of canned goods, milled corn and mung bean soup but without monosodium glutamate which is forbidden by Mr. Rhys-Davies and this writer as an ingredient. Mr. Rhys-Davies slept on a bamboo bench while I favored the ground near the Pres. Ramon Magsaysay monument and covered it with dry palm leaves as a cushion so I could elevate a few inches if, in case, it rains and the ground becomes a puddle.

On the second day, the participants were taught how to analyze terrain for travel and how to place “Fred in the red shade” of a compass after breakfast and there was a friendly competition amongst the participants on who gets the perfect spot during the drills. It rained after that and the instructions transferred to the house of Mr. Leopoldo Bonghanoy, which is just located nearby.

Mr. Rhys-Davies continued the lecture which now touched about personal and food hygiene. I complemented the lecture by teaching everyone how to cook canned goods without using cooking oil. After lunch break, Mr. Bonghanoy's daughter showed to all how to process raw abaca fibers into cordage and twirl it into a rope with the use of a simple machine. Everyone tried their best to twirl the fibers and attain some discernible success!

After the rains have stopped in the late afternoon, I gathered a bamboo pole from a small stream and demonstrated to everyone of how to cook milled corn inside of a bamboo. It would have been a success were it not for strong gusts of wind that blew away my cooking fire every now and then and turning my milled corn half-cooked so I decide to cook another batch of milled corn inside of a Vietnam-era mess kit on conventional camp stove for dinner plus different menus.

Everyone retired early as the cold crept into everyone's layer of clothing and the fogs made it more miserable bringing slight drizzle. I worm into my sleeping bag partly exposed from the elements. By early dawn, heavy drops of water sprinkled my face and I'm forced to move into the innermost recesses of my shelter. For more than an hour, I sat and waited out the dawn shower to stop before reclaiming sleep for the rest of the night.

The third day brought forth sunshine and heat dissipating last night's dew and moisture. Mr. Rhys-Davies started the activity very early in the morning and begun giving instructions on first-aid responder duty and lightning-strike drills. More drills were set-up along the stream and along a road even as I prepared a meal of milled corn and cabbage soup on all the three bamboo segments.

The activity ended after lunch with a ceremonial toss of brandy by Mr. Rhys-Davies, this writer, Glenn Pestaño, Silver Cue, Lawrence Lozada and Raymund Panganiban. As scheduled, Mr. Downes arrived with his Suzuki Scrum to transport us back to JY Square.

Document done in Libre Office 3

PINOYAPACHE GOES AGAIN TO THE TWIN CITIES OF ZAMBO NORTE

noreply@blogger.com (PinoyApache) — Thu, 17 Nov 2011 02:49:00 +0000

I AM A PASSENGER OF M/V Georich tonight, May 30, 2011, travelling to the cities of Dipolog and Dapitan in Zamboanga del Norte. The boat is quite small by today's standards and, I think, it's my first time to ride this relic. I have an errand to make and I have to retrieve a package inside Dakak Beach Resort and then bring it back to Cebu.

Oh, the boat cabin is full and I have to make do with a cot on a higher level leaving me no space to place my bag. Besides that, the alleys are blocked with bags and personal cargoes; my feet protrude beyond the cot I'm sleeping on; and the fluorescent light is just a few feet away from my face.

Well, what do you know, M/V Georich is such a small passenger boat. I have to reposition myself and move away from the light. The bag I have to hang on the boat's ceiling with a carabiner. However, the cabin is cool for it is airconditioned. I sleep before the boat depart and wake up at 4:00 AM, the following day. The cabin crowd is silent and, probably, we're still far away. I continue sleeping.

At 7:00 AM, I step on the Port of Pulauan, Dapitan City; after retrieving my deposited blades from the ship's first mate. I need to go to Sicayab, Dipolog City, to secure transport papers for my package. It is a police camp located on a beach and I'm rather too early to transact business so I have to make a little exploration outside and look for something to fill my empty tummy somewhere along the highway.

I found one tended by one elderly woman and feasted on chicken curry, a dish of local pasta and two servings of rice. I just paid all these for 25 pesos. Cheap! Now, back to the seaside camp, I make my intentions clear and I am instructed by a policeman to pay the fees to a government bank in Dipolog City and then come back to the camp in the afternoon and present the receipt as proof of payment.

I have been here in Dipolog a couple of times: the first one in September 2005 and the last time in June 2009. I retrace the location of the restaurant where I eat breakfast with cousin Patrick and aunt Lourdes during my first trip and found it. It is located right across the public market and the food are cooked well. Besides that, a respectful sentry stand guard at the entrance giving you a bit of security.

After taking my lunch, I walk across the market and look for certain food ingredients which I plan to bring to Cebu. I need not look far for it is very common here. I am talking about the “tabon-tabon” (sp. Atuna racemosa) and the “biasong” (sp. Hystrix macroptera). These two when mixed with raw fish makes the latter taste heavenly. Trust my wife. She knows. I buy five pairs.

Just one more thing. I have to look for a cheap place to stay! Not far from the city center and not too close. I found one along Bonifacio Street and it's only 500 pesos; with toilet and bath, cable TV and with an airconditioner. It is of walking distance to the public market yet quite invisible from there. Perfect. I rest for an hour before I make ready to go back to Sicayab to continue my processing.

I am given the run around and told to come back in the morning. Oh, well, that's how bureaucracy works here in far-out places. I go back to Dipolog instead and take a tour of its urban landmarks like the city hall, the monuments and its Catholic church – the Holy Rosary Cathedral. I bring the camera and fired at will.

I return to my room when it becomes already too hot and decide to watch cable TV instead. The travel have strung me out and I sleep, only to find that it is already 7:00 PM when I wake up. Need to look for another out-of-the-way restaurant that might offer local delicacies. Sadly, almost all the shops and stores are already closed and I have to make do with a corner eatery but, still, it is cheap!

In the morning of June 2, I return to Sicayab full of optimism but I got out with opposite feelings. It had not been processed yet. Why not go to Dakak Beach Resort instead? The most difficult process might be the easiest, who knows? I rely so much on getting my way around the camp but found it a bastion of age-old habits that refused to change despite computerization. I have to improvise and race myself to Dapitan City.

I have bad memories of that pebbled road to Dakak. The motorcycle I rode on took a spill there in 2009 that left me with bloody arms and the driver in much worse condition. However, today, it is fully concreted but it is never cheap to travel there on a hired motorcycle. I don't care. As long as my package is with me and damn that transport papers.

After waiting almost an hour, I have now the package in my possession. I need to go back to my room in Dipolog fast and gather my things for departure. For the third time, I miss the chance to take a good tour of this city and take pictures of its most famous landmark – the Jose Rizal National Park. Someday, I will with wife and kids for a whole week. Book me!

I leave Dipolog City and pass by Sicayab just for the heck of it. Expecting the worst, it turn out better this time and I get hold of the transport papers. It is 2:00 PM and my expected departure for Cebu would be 7:00 PM. I decide to go early to Pulauan Port and wait for the departure time.

Good thing that I went early there for I discovered that the 7:00 PM schedule had been cancelled and another boat from a competitor would, instead, leave at 4:00 PM for Dumaguete before steaming on for Cebu. What good timing! I take the beeline to buy my ticket for, I discovered, the returning boat is a bigger one. Ah, good. That means it has much wider alleys and wider cots.

I am at a section near the stern and I found it so damn hot! The windows are wide and open but I can't feel no air or breeze coming in even when it is moving. I willed my eyes to sleep only to be awakened by a crew asking for my boat ticket. Damn! It is really hot and most of the passengers decide to loiter at the port and starboard sides gasping for cool air.

The nearest airconditioned place is the galley but it is full of shrieking people trying to outdo each other on a videoke machine. I while my time at the portside gunwale but I found it disturbing that candy wrappers thrown by passengers from the higher level of the boat find its way and dropping near me. I don't want to get caught by something wet and sticky and I immediately leave the open area. Maybe my cot is a little cooler now?

The hot iron tub arrive at the Port of Dumaguete at 11:00 PM and disgorged itself some of its passengers and cargoes. That left many cots vacant and I chose the middlemost for it is cooler. I slept for an hour, maybe, enjoying a slight change in temperature when another crew shook me awake and asked for my boat ticket. Not again? This boat is insanely designed and full of insane crews. Worse, I am made to vacate this commandeered bed space!

I waited for dawn, half-awake and sweating on the hot leatherette cot, listening to the built-in MP3 of my cellphone. I may have slept, after all, for I discovered the horizon harboring now a paler shade of darkness. A tell-tale sign of light, bluish and dark crimson, streaked out from a flat dark blob. I look at the starboard side and see a dark mass of land five leagues away. It is Cebu, alright, but, still quite far to the harbor.

Meantime, the heat have not dissipated despite dawn's caress. I wished this hot iron tub could travel faster so I could free myself from its dank stranglehold. I spend the rest of dawn outside of the sleeping cabin facing a slight headwind, which is consolation enough. Yonder is the familiar skyline of Dalaguete; the bright power plants of Naga; the seaward point pf land of Talisay City; the racing lights at the SRP; before the slow boat enter the Mactan Channel ready to flush me and the rest into the asphalt jungles of this queen city of the south.

Document done in Libre Office 3

PHILIPPINE INDEPENDENCE BUSHCRAFT CAMP

noreply@blogger.com (PinoyApache) — Wed, 09 Nov 2011 02:37:00 +0000

THIS IS THE FIRST time that had been done in the Philippine Islands. Camp Red, your only Philippine bushcraft and survival guild south of Subic Bay; and Warrior Pilgrimage, a personal blog dedicated for bushcraft and survival; recently introduced the Philippine Independence Bushcraft Camp or PIBC MMXI to fourteen newcomers.

The activity was held at an undisclosed site designated as “Camp Damazo”; found deep in the bosom of the Babag Mountain Range in Cebu City on June 11 and 12, 2011. The party were led by this writer starting from Guadalupe by way of Bebut's Trail on the early morning of the first day after a short prayer of protection and good journey.

After claiming the campsite at midday, the participants chose their spot where to set up their tents and then the preparation for the noontime meal started. Camp Red prefer their meals eaten fresh from the cooking fires and it had been their trademark ever since. A water hole was dug for this purpose from a sandy bank of a free-flowing stream to supply the event's water requirements like washing, cooking and drinking.

In the afternoon, this writer introduced the participants to bushcraft and survival; what is its relation to the environment; and how it affects the individual's psychology. Field manuals and similar handouts were distributed by this writer to everyone to satisfy the demands of their curiosity. In addition, this writer stressed the vital importance of knives or bladed weapons as a part of every bushman's equipment.

Following up is a lecture about the basics of outdoor cooking by a Camp Red member-participant wherein the activity dragged on to preparing the next meal – dinner. During the cooking, this writer demonstrated the participants how to forage food along the stream after dark. All in all, five good-sized fresh-water crabs were added for supper.

A small campfire beside the stream was started and a joyous camaraderie ensued among the participants. “Camp Damazo” have never witnessed such an unusual gathering at this time and date before. There never were lights or sounds of laughter introduced before in this hidden nook and that makes this activity a source of adrenaline.

The following day, June 12, the national flag was raised on a staff secured by cords made from inner bark of trees. Newcomer Nikki Ledesma led the group to the singing of the Philippine National Anthem. Later, another newcomer, Glenn Pestaño – the one who demoed yesterday of how an everyday carry or EDC should look like – led the Oath of Allegiance to the republic.

After that, this writer discussed about the basics of survival-tool making and how to use such skill to ensure your survival. The ability to create something like cordage, digging sticks and cooking utensils from nothing is greatly emphasized by this writer to the participants and highlighted by cooking milled corn inside of a bamboo pole.

The activity ended after lunch and this writer again guided the party to a long river trek that pass over many hidden waterfalls, thick jungle, difficult terrain and back to Guadalupe. The following are the sets of collage that describe this very novel activity:

OBSERVATIONS:

PIBC MMXI taught the participants that bushcraft and survival can complement well with backpacking and mountain climbing.
Bushcraft and survival is an interest or hobby worth trying. Foreigners love to learn survival techniques in the tropics. We live in the tropics yet we rather spend expensive gears and equipment geared for an outdoor activity that is done in high altitude.
A peripheral outdoor activity was held during this date and PIBC MMXI demonstrated that this will be the best alternative in the future.
We are used to following an event tailored for Westerners and we disregard the crafts that our ancestors taught us. All of us have the potential to practice traditional crafts but, somehow, we are ignorant that it exists even if it runs in our veins. It is stored in our subconscious and all we have to do is remember.
Camp Red and Warrior Pilgrimage have espoused the practice of these skills and it is our obligation to transfer these skills to those who would want to learn these.

Document done in Libre Office 3

WARRIOR REVIEW: PinoyApache's Tomahawk

noreply@blogger.com (PinoyApache) — Tue, 01 Nov 2011 07:59:00 +0000

MY LITTLE AXE, which I fondly called as my tomahawk, have been with me since the year 1999. It is one of the items that I have collected or acquired during my “warrior pilgrimage” years. It is very light and it is forged of highly-carbonized steel.

I presumed, it may have been made from a leaf-spring of a European or American-made automobile suspension system of long ago and the “eye” have been arched gracefully whereby the blunt edge kissed the main head at the middle section and securely welded giving it the shape of a teardrop which is good enough to fit a well-sized wooden shaft - about 1.2” x 0.75” thick.

The cutting edge is sharp and very narrow. “Lantip” as we Visayans called it, I have seen it cut through the diameter of an old-school six-inch nail, accidentally dismembering the top from the rest in a cataclysm of one bright spark as fine steel clashed against fine steel! Such power held in my hands is something worth respecting and possessing.

I remember the axe when it was yet in the hands of the original owner. It was just treated as an ordinary tool and used mainly in chopping wood for the earthen hearth then laid on the ground or thrown aside when not used. I noticed the teardrop-shaped “eye” and I immediately concluded that this simple axe is different from the axes that I have seen or held before.

On the spot, I offered to buy the axe for two hundred pesos plus another axe as replacement to save the man the trouble of looking for one. For the woodcutter, it is just like a great bargain which gave him advantage and saved him from wangling a better price. For me, it is like I just found a rare pearl.

Immediately, I set to work on the first wooden shaft. The wood is an exotic kind which I find hard to identify, but I carved it with my own hands. The shaft I designed is not straight, but is gracefully curved imitating the style of early Filipino weapons art. What made it more different is that the axehead is secured in an American Indian fashion.

The shaft is seventeen inches long. The axehead could not hurtle itself out from the top of the shaft and could not slid down the handle for a chord is tightly wound around the foreshaft reinforcing the latter from breakage. Two hawk feathers are tied at one end of the chord to aid its flight when thrown.

The shaft protruded three-fourths of an inch above the axehead and is much thicker than the rest and that already ensured my axehead that it will not dismember itself from the shaft like most axes do when under the pressure of hard use and so is safe to use. I don't either need small iron spikes that are inserted above the shaft so wood and steel would clasp in an unstable Western-style fusion.

The good thing with this axe is that its “eye” is wide as it is long. Meaning, the wooden shaft that held the steel head is thick enough and could withstand the pressures of the strength that drove it or the weight of both hand and steel head that strike wood. Even so, the first shaft broke during a day of cutting felled trees and debris after a typhoon later of that year. It was not a good wood.

I then began to experiment on different types of wood after that and I made carvings on the shaft for aesthetic feel and for secure gripping. Woods used were guava, star apple (sp. Chrysophillium cainito), golden mahogany (sp. Shorea laevis or yakal) and rosewood (narra). All did not stood the hard work I used during the chopping and splitting of wood and during the time when the tomahawk is set free to whirl its way into space and find true target.

The pleasure of steering my tomahawk and make a blood-curdling thud on a wooden target is very exhilarating. It had become my past time then and it came to a point where I experimented on different shaft designs and on different distances. I found a design that enabled the axehead to embed deeply on its target when thrown and another design that could withstand the rigors of hard work.

The shafts are both made from a yellow mahogany wood (sp. Vitex parviflora or tugas). The first design came from a wooden relic. A survivor of a great conflagration in 1989. A wood that had been acquired by my late grandfather forty years earlier of that disaster. It is carved with Zuni patterns and tapered off at the end. The word “Cherokee” is etched on the wood and is named after a great and noble people of the “trail of tears” with which my second son is proudly named after.

The second design is very familiar. I bring it all the time during my bushcrafting sorties on the mountains. It is short – about 11 inches – and curves in one stroke giving me optimum leverage to cut into whatever I chop. The part of the shaft that held the head is angled abruptly from the rest to project an “upright” position and optimize its cutting power. It is also carved with Zuni patterns with an American Indian and headdress to graphically symbolize my woodworking trademark under the name “Cherokee”.

The American Indian image from my tomahawk shafts and on anything that touched wood would become a symbol of remembrance for one noble race that have been obliterated almost into extinction by the perverted values of a different culture that turn a lustful eye upon its land and its resources. I am part of that kind and I harbor solidarity with my brothers across the watery divide.

From that image was born the first bushcraft and survival guild in the Philippine Islands south of Subic Bay – Camp Red! Traditional crafts have been taught by this writer to his brother Filipinos and many have embraced this skill which, after all, are really embedded in the subconscious of every indigenous people, mixed blood or not, and all it does need is just a little “fire” to inflame it.

So, back to my tomahawk, I kept and cared for it like a baby. I sharpen it all the time and apply a thin coat of oil or marrow to keep out rust. I refused to have my tomahawk lay and touch ground. When I finish my work, I embed and kept it erect on wood. When not used, I separate steel and shaft and kept the former in a special case.

Sadly, during the height of my enthusiasm for the throwing 'hawk, there were no ideas yet of what is a YouTube. All my activities with my tomahawk (and those flying blades-mosquito coil stands-machetes-crowbars-heavy axes-Gillette blades-pseudo police badges-and every pointed/sharp objects) were unrecorded.

Not until one day in 2010 did I muster the time to record myself, with the help of Manwel Roble, at the foothills of the Babag Mountain Range in Cebu City throwing my dearly beloved tomahawk and showed to everyone in the Internet that what I write here is really true. I don't know yet of anyone here doing this thing in a “live” video but I welcome their camaraderie if ever one shows up. I waited for this long.

Sad to say, this skill is not for everyone. You have to find your “vision quest” and, once done, you will have the “book of life” at your disposal. It is a path less travelled and very narrow and without the comforts and pleasures that sedentary living could provide.

I have journeyed far, high and wide across the archipelago and I found my true path. My tomahawk is one of the things that I have come to understand as something akin to being a companion. As one esteemed bushman have commented to me in Facebook: it is a bond that is hard to break.

Document done in Libre Office 3 Writer

MAN-SIZED HIKES: Lutopan-Guadalupe II

noreply@blogger.com (PinoyApache) — Mon, 24 Oct 2011 14:42:00 +0000

I FOUND THE LONG route perfect for exercise and it presented itself with a good landscape too. I am again leading six people on a cross-country hike from Lutopan, Toledo City to Guadalupe, Cebu City on April 23, 2011. Aside me, Marco Albeza and Ernie will be repeating this hike that we did last February 20. Both are Camp Red regulars.

Coming with us are two guests from the Cebu Mountaineering Society: Boy Olmedo and Glen Domingo; and Camp Red wannabes Jerome Tan and James Cabajar. We all meet at the Cebu South Bus Terminal at 5:00 AM and leave for Lutopan at 6:30 AM on the same slow bus that I rode on the last time that travel 20 kilometers per hour on the highway.

We arrive at Lutopan at 8:30 AM and proceed to buy food provisions which we will cook somewhere by the banks of the Mananga River. Camp Red prefer to eat their noontime meals hot and just fresh from the cooking fire. We decide to marshal motorcycles-for-hire for Camp 7, Minglanilla to compensate for time lost due to that slow-moving bus.

Upon arrival, we follow the tree-lined road to Sinsin, a mountain village belonging to Cebu City, and found a small store selling taro leaves cooked in coconut milk, which is a local delicacy. I decide to eat breakfast here and everyone followed, unable to restrain their gastronomic yearnings, and settled to eat their second breakfast of the day.

Minutes passed by, a whole army of cyclists arrived and stopped to rest, only to imitate what I have started. Refreshed after a rest and a good meal, I follow an unpaved road which goes down and down into Buot-Taup, another mountain village of Cebu City. I trotted down the road together with Marco and arrive at a small stream crossing underneath the road and waited for the others.

When everyone found their wits, I lead them into a shortcut that bypass the village center and arrive at the Mananga River. The river level is lower than the last time I was here. Blame that to summer. Up ahead are the sinister-looking craters hiding sand strainers and shovels within. Illegal quarrying of sand and gravel have reached this far now and they were not here the last time around.

We passed by a trio of naked little boys cooling in the mud under a very hot sun and my companions were quite entertained eliciting them instant camera shots. After crossing repeatedly the river, we came upon a cool place where there is a water source. We stop and we prepare the ingredients for our meal.

Marco and I took care of the cooking of milled corn while Ernie concentrated on the mixed-vegetable stew and marinated dried fish which Glen D provided. Meanwhile, James and Boy O produce banana leaves which we lay on the ground so we could place all our food there and eat in “boodle-fight” fashion.

After a brief siesta, we proceed on for Camp 4, a village belonging to Talisay City where the trail to the southern end of the Babag Mountain Range is found. Along the way, I see grown-up men fishing catfish with crude spears; boys splashing in the water; women washing clothes; and more of these hideous craters and their quarry.

Up ahead is an acacia trail that marked Cabatbatan Trail. I arrive first and remove my Coleman boots and socks and wring it off of water then the others came. After a 10-minute rest, it's time to move again. We will start the second half of this cross-country trek and it is 2:30 PM.

Cabatbatan Trail is a difficult route and it zigzags its way to a slope three hundred meters up and then the land feature changes into a rolling terrain that lead to Bocawe Creek. After crossing the stream, the trail follow the contour of the small river and cross two rock faces before stopping above the headrock of a small waterfall which end at a small hamlet of Cabatbatan, which really is a part of Pamutan, another mountain village of Cebu City.

The good thing about this route is you get to enjoy from a small store that sells the only cold drinks between Sinsin and in Bocawe, located far ahead, this, after an hour of tackling Cabatbatan Trail! I treat myself to three glasses of cold San Miguel Pale Pilsen to replenish spent electrolytes and shared the rest of the big bottle to Boy O and Ernie. The rest take this opportunity to catch their second wind and enjoy cold soda drinks as well.

After this interlude, we will go down an unpaved road and cross a concrete foot bridge above a small lake and then climb up a concreted road to the small community of Bocawe. I hate this stretch and the only consolation is that it is already 4:00 PM. Jerome and James developed cramps and are unable to go on. The rest of us facilitated to provide them transportation for Guadalupe.

Now that both are safe, we proceed on and arrive at Bocawe at around 5:15 PM and replenish our throats with cold refreshment. Then we proceed again walking the same uphill road that lead to the road junction in Pamutan. There is now a wide bamboo bench constructed and it is a very welcome sight to a tired traveller like me. Again, I waited for the others and the last vestige of light are almost erased from the horizon.

The road after this will go downhill that will pass between the man-mafe forest of Baksan and Lanipao. The road is unpaved and there are no lamp posts to illuminate your way not until you reach the first house located at least two kilometers from here. Everyone donned their head lamps but I prefer to use my night vision.

Marco decide to take this opportunity to run as part of his training for the 60 kilometer run from Cebu to Toledo. I follow and I half-run and half-walk over loose stones and shallow furrows in the dark but I'm accustomed to this. It is agonizing to my feet soles but I have to kill the pain nagging my old knees. When I could not take anymore the pain, I limp to Sapangdaku spillway at 6:30 PM.

We all follow the asphalt road to Guadalupe and arrive there at around 7:30 PM. We then transfer to Summer Kyla, Camp Red's official watering hole and Marco is already there by the time we arrive. We rest our aching bodies and douse our thirst with rounds of very cold beer until the beer case is filled up and the eyes feel the beckonings of Lady Starlight.

Document done in Libre Office 3 Writer

WARRIOR PILGRIMAGE IN CRISIS

noreply@blogger.com (PinoyApache) — Wed, 19 Oct 2011 09:31:00 +0000

SUCH AN UNTIMELY LOSS! Tsk! Tsk! Tsk!

The personal computer that I am using in my workstation got corrupted on September 12, 2011 as I was scanning and cleaning a workmate's USB drive. I had a trial anti-virus that had already expired but, just the same, it didn't detect the legions of worms, Trojan horses, virus and other malware coming from that removable device.

Although the capacity to open my documents and other applications were completely hindered, its ability to view pictures were not. I had volumes of picture albums and collages that are left untouched. The good thing is that it is all saved in Drive D.

Then the computer technician came on September 30 and reformatted the computer. You know what? All my personal files got deleted! Photos, documents, PDF files, videos, etc. The technician recommended a document-recovery application – Photorec – and it got the job done in normal mode. Almost!

What it recovered where archived files and the latest files – the unpublished ones which are the most important – were found missing. I kept opening recovered folder after recovered folder but they are not there anymore. Reconstructing articles by memory is a hard thing to do and it is nothing if you could not emphasize it with images like my specialized collages.

It pains me to see all my original work going down the drain including my just-newly reconstructed bushcraft and survival manual. I could have rallied around with the newer pictures and start building my story around it but it's gone also. It is pointless to go on.

However, I got five articles left which I saved on my USB drive and some important personal documents. I am able to publish the first on October 1 in my personal blog with images to boot and I was also able to upload an album regarding my recent trip to Malabuyoc last July. The rest of the files would have seen me through to November 6.

Then, by quirk of the baddest luck I have ever experienced, the drive got itself unremoved from a PC in a public internet cafe. That was on October 4. I only remembered it only today (October 5). Shucks. I couldn't believe it is happening to me. Then another of my USB drive got misplaced in my home and I am left with a defective one that does not copy images consistently.

But, life is a challenge. The good thing about it is how you cope with such losses and how you are able to recover and drive back your pursuits into square one. It is really a shame and a waste of hard effort on my part. Who wouldn't?

But, but, but...I love challenges. I could have sulked and allow my legendary temper to go out of control but I learned to harness it and use it to my advantage instead as I age and age.

We bloggers are known for our backlogged articles. I got twenty of those. I post articles five to six months late here at Bloggert and I got eight photo albums waiting to be uploaded in Facebook and they're three months stale. I am having problems with these backlogs and you should see my schedule run to July of next year before I could post the first article for 2012! It keeps you outdated.

When the computer got corrupted, it ultimately removed all these backlogs. That should have made me happy. Need to recover some files and work around it and save me some story. The point is, could I finish an article based on those already uploaded at Facebook on time? Warrior Pilgrimage does four articles a month at an interval of seven to nine days average but, right now, two of the articles for October are done ten days of each other already. I am in a crisis!

Wheww! Tried my best to protect the computer. Sometimes you are successful. Sometimes you lose and when you lose, it's like it is the end of the world. Gotta fight back and blog again. It happen sometimes and you have no control over it except owning a Mac. But that is expensive. Perhaps a Linux OS will do and Ubuntu is perfect.

I will finally decide to migrate to Linux for good to get rid of these problems. So goodbye fragile Windows XP2. It has been a stormy weather with you. I could not remember how many times you let me down.

Document done in Libre Office 3.0

NAPO TO BABAG TALES XLIV: Palm Sunday Bushcraft

noreply@blogger.com (PinoyApache) — Mon, 10 Oct 2011 10:15:00 +0000

TODAY IS PALM SUNDAY, April 17, 2011. After fasting for a week, I think I need to do a light bush hike into the foothills of the Babag Mountain Range, Sapangdaku, Cebu City, where the Roble homestead is located. Not only that, I will polish off my bushcraft and survival skills and today is a perfect opportunity.

I will not need my cooking gears and my camp stove and I leave it intentionally behind. I will not be with my usual company. I need to be alone. I need to commune with nature and to be with the mountain folks whom I can connect with very easily. Bushcraft is most perfect when you are alone.

I arrive at the Our Lady of Guadalupe de Cebu Parish at 7:00 PM and I witness the blessing of the palms by the priest. There is an ongoing religious program. I passed by a procession of parishioners in old Jewish garbs coming from San Nicolas and they are now converging at the church grounds.

After that, I decide to eat a light breakfast to see me through to my destination. It is a long way there: almost three kilometers of uphill road and maybe about four kilometers of ever-increasing elevation to that knoll where there is an ancient tamarind tree. I buy my usual fifty-peso worth of bread for Manwel, Juliet and Josel.

It is hot, of course, for this is the middle of summer in the tropics. I walk my usual pace. My old Coleman boots are still around and it may disintegrate soon, but not today. It may still be liveable with my feet. My 35-liter Baikal pack is heavy with five used books but I don't mind. This cargo will make some children smile.

I arrive at Napo in about 45 minutes and greet the locals politely. I did not tarry long and I cross the Sapangdaku River. The stream is still running with water unlike last year where it was dry. Oh, this is good. Blame that to the constant rains in March.

I meet some local folks along the trail carrying vegetables for the market and I give the path to them. Trail courtesy is very essential in your outdoor pursuits and people remember that. It's a good passport for unimpeded access into your playground.

I arrive at Lower Kahugan Springs and she is still gushing drinkable water without let-up. This time, I drink water and filled my bottle. I give all the books to a 10-year old girl and her two small brothers, as well as half of the bread. I stay here for about 10 minutes before proceeding again.

I did not follow the usual route where it will pass by a flower farm. At 8:00 AM it will be hot there and it is almost nine. I take the Kahugan Trail instead which is a much easier route and shaded although rather long. I hear from below the splash of water from the Busay Lut-od Waterfalls but I will not go down there.

I take a switchback to the Roble homestead and arrive there at 9:30 AM. I sit on the cool bamboo benches underneath a Java plum tree to recover my breathe. Little Josel badger me with my hidden stash of bread and I ultimately surrender it to him after a little chit-chat. Manwel is sweating and just came from their little corn farm uphill.

I need to have a bamboo pole and Manwel showed me where to get one. I choose two segments and cut it from the rest with my local Bowie knife. Remove the branches and knobs with my sharp tomahawk. Lay the pole on the bench and start to work opening both segments with either Bowie and 'hawk.

When it was done, I decide to gather dry firewood from dead branches. Manwel found a dry stump of a Mexican lilac tree and I help him carry it up. Wood at the bottom of a tree where the roots meet stump make good fire and so heat efficient although this will take a lot of hard work. I need not worry. I have my sharp hatchet to do that task and a pair of good working hands.

Sweats on my brow, I finish this manly work in about thirty minutes and go on conducting my preparations for my noontime meal. With the firewood, I am able to start a fire with a single matchstick. Dry tinder and a hot day make this possible.

When the fire got going, I balance the bamboo pole above it and place water on the one where it is heated by the flame. The moment I see wisps of steam coming out between lid and pot, I gently pour milled corn into the chamber and stir it with my wooden spoon.

Meanwhile, Manwel offered me three star apple fruits (sp. Chrysophillium cainito) which I eat with relish. While waiting for my cooking, I decide to kill time by working the unfinished wooden spoon which I started last March 13 on this same spot. I bring pieces of broken glass for this occasion so I could scrape off the unwanted thickness.

I pour a little water on the now almost-cooked milled corn for moisture and remove this from the fire, changing positions with an empty chamber which I need to cook with instant noodles. The heat coming from this chamber will transfer to the one where milled corn is found and it will cook on its own heat. I revive the fire and pour water on the empty pot and waited for steam to come out.

Again, I resume my work on the almost-finished spoon. I decide to video myself cooking instant noodles in a bamboo. Open the lid and drop chunks of dry noodles into the steaming water and stir it with my spoon. I leave the noodles to simmer for a few minutes and resume my work. Manwel and Juliet decide to roast cobs of corn beside the embers and I'm eating it as well.

Once again, I return to the cooking and add flavoring ingredients and stir it before after which I scatter the fire away. When I think that the whole cooking is ready, I remove the contents and transfer it to plastic plates which Manwel's mother provided me with. Not only that, she also give me a delicious-looking purple taro soup.

Just when I am about to take my lunch, six guys arrive and they were sweating very hard. They belong to an outdoor group called ZETS or the Zubu Eco-Touring Society. They started at ten from Napo and it's not the best time to do climbing unless you are on training. Anyway, the cool benches made by Fele are very welcome to tired travellers.

They have with them sandwiches, burgers and salad for meals. Not a good idea eating packed meals while doing rigorous exercise like hiking and climbing under the relentless rays of the sun. Even I with crude implements, deserves a good steaming lunch. The outdoors do not deny me that chance to enjoy my meals in a special way. Eating food fresh from the fire is a luxury, you know.

I request Fele and Manwel to provide six young coconuts for the newcomers. They may need more electrolytes to to see them through to Mount Babag. Father and son came back a few minutes later and bring with them six green coconuts which they opened at the tops so the visitors could drink its natural juice.

At 1:00 PM, the ZETS guys leave for the ridge road by way of the Babag East Ridge Pass. I stayed for a couple of hours more and had a good siesta. After that blissful nap underneath the Java plum tree and bamboo, I decide to pack up and go downhill.

Fele's wife, Tonia, give me a plastic bag full of root crops, vegetables and jackfruit. I accepted these and I know my wife will be happy when I arrive home. I rearrange all so it could fit inside my backpack. What cannot be stowed inside, I carry with either hand.

Once I reach Napo, I continue on my walking for Guadalupe. The cargo I'm carrying is very heavy but, I need not worry for it is all downhill. When I got home, I see my wife smiling.

Document done in Libre Office 3 Writer

HOW TO CATCH CAVE BATS FOR FOOD THE PRIMITIVE WAY

noreply@blogger.com (PinoyApache) — Sat, 01 Oct 2011 14:09:00 +0000

CAVE BATS ARE A close relative of fruit bats. While fruit bats grow in size, their cave-dwelling cousins are smaller compared to them. Despite its habitat, cave bats do eat fruits aside from small insects. In short, both species share the same diet.

These bats are of such common sight and are numerous. This is not a threatened species though unlike those of fruit bats and you could hunt these provided that it is not for commercial purposes. However, environmental laws and ordinances could change in every place, city or barrio and it is best to respect these so as not to antagonize the local administrators.

Cave bats, just like any other bats, for that matter, are edible and can be eaten when properly cooked. Catching this by hand is out of the question. Remember this, BATS DO HAVE RABIES! They bite and they claw and scratch when cornered just like any wild animal. Never touch a bat unless you are quite sure that it is already dead.

Most people catch bats using guns. If you think this is the easiest, think again. These nocturnal creatures are agile fliers and could cover distances in fleeting seconds. I have tested the agility of bats by shooting it with a toy gun that shoot small plastic pellets and it maneuvered itself around my tiny bullets easily. I have not tried though with a gun that fire high-velocity rounds like a rifle but I have seen bats being shot through the wings and, worse, through the body, leaving a little meat to cook and eat.

Wiser hunters catch cave bats using nets strung across its path. The nets are placed in between tree branches or amid two fruit trees. Here in the Philippines, rural folks use bamboo thorns called kagingking and these are very effective if you know where to look for the bats' flight pattern.

The best place to catch cave bats is at the cave itself. The bats are located on the ceiling of the cave chamber during daytime. When disturbed these will fly pell-mell all over the chamber and no two bats will collide each other despite the sheer number of them and are agile enough to evade anything you throw or hit with. With a net placed along the passages, they will just simply get entangled and caught.

By that method, you will be catching a lot of bats that is way above your consumption and so a lot will be wasted and that is doing disservice to the environment and morally wrong. Be sensible. Catch only what you need. However, there is a better way.

Try standing strategically outside a cave entrance and arm yourself with a three-foot long stick. Have another companion spook the bats inside with a flashlight or by just hollering and wait for the bats swarming out of the cave. Any creature coming from the dark and into the light would be momentarily blinded and this will be your chance to catch your bats.

With your stick, whack anything that fly by. You can even count your hits and stop when you think you have enough. Five to ten bats for a group of four persons is enough provided you know how to skin a bat. First, be sure that it is not alive. Second, provide yourself a sharp knife or any sharp bladed weapon. Third, prepare some salt and garlic.

Severe the head and make a cut from the neck down to the abdomen and pull skin slowly by cutting the inners of the skin from the meat. The wings will go with the skin as you pull it out. Remove the guts and any unwanted parts. Severe the claws and the tail.

With the same knife, cut away the sinews. It is the white thread-like part running along the back, the breast, the forearms and hind legs. Leaving this on the meat during your cooking will leave an unsavory smell and so it is recommended that you remove this part to make your bat meal real tasty. Dispose all the unwanted animal parts in a secure location far from your camping place and bury these.

Cut the meat into bite-sized pieces and dab this with salt. Never wash the meat with water. Blood found in the meat react to water and so will also leave an unappealing odor during cooking. Crush some garlic and smear this on the meat as well. Salt and garlic are the best antiseptic and would secure your meat from decay and to discourage insects like ants. Then you cook. Cooking will kill unseen microbes that stay inside its host.

Actually, there are many ways how to cook bat meat. The easiest would be by cooking over ember or glowing charcoal as in barbecue style. Skewered or laid on fairly-large fresh leaves is okay. You could steam this as well by hanging and individually wrapped inside leaves or aluminum foil or make a soup out of this. But the best way to cook this is by frying in oil. Bat adobo is good.

They say bats taste like chicken. I beg to disagree. Bats taste better than chicken. Even better than game fowls and the smaller native variety.

Happy hunting and enjoy your bushcraft weekend. Bon apetit.

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TRAINING THE PULAG-BOUND

noreply@blogger.com (PinoyApache) — Fri, 23 Sep 2011 09:46:00 +0000

IT WILL BE A SUPER hot day today. This is a Friday, April 9, 2011, the anniversary of the Fall of Bataan. I will not be commemorating our heroes today but I will facilitate a training program for a supercharged group of mountain climbers preparing for a Lenten climb to Mount Pulag in Benguet.

The route will be one-half of the Freedom Trail, the full stretch of Kilat Trail, a small part of Lensa Trail and the remaining arc of Bebut's Trail. These trails will conspire today to give optimum adrenaline rush for thirteen members from Tribu Dumagsa led by the couple Randell and Marjorie Savior.

Last Sunday, April 3, two Camp Red volunteers led the Tribu Dumagsa climbers to a gruelling endurance training to Mount Babag via the difficult Ernie's Trail and back to Guadalupe by way of the No-Santol-Tree Trail. This time, I will lead the whole group, including the two volunteers and another two neophytes from Camp Red.

I designed the route and I will lay emphasis today on speed and some bushcraft sense like basic navigation. Two of these trails are incomplete and need some more exploration. It will be as it may – unexplored – to give accent to the activity and to perk up the participants' interest. Along the way, I will explain to the backpackers the origin of such place names and some useful plants.

It is 7:30 AM when we leave the Tisa Public Market for the trailhead at Tisa Hills and some thirty minutes behind schedule on the itinerary which will adjourn at Guadalupe come 6:30 PM. Leading the pack, I study the lay of the terrain in trying to connect Freedom Trail with Kilat Trail. The ground is dry and the traction is good.

Up ahead is a huge mango tree. A rare occurrence among very bald hills. I notice the participants, including my own Camp Red, drinking too much fluid without regard to their water reserve. Although it is hot, but it is still a long way. I reminded them to ration their water intake and teach them how to conserve water by taking a small sip, gurgle just a bit to cool the gums and tongue and then swallow without wasting one drop. Simple.

The trail I followed began to lose itself among thick shrubs and I'm in a quandary of where to find alternate routes to Kilat Spring. After regrouping along the hot spine of Banawa Hills, I move on to the leftmost branch of Freedom Trail and it led to a copse of star apple trees where residents were busy picking the fruits. Up ahead is another lone mango tree, which is my reference of the way to Kilat Spring and so damn near!

I went down to the trail, which is now under forest cover and, finally, reach the natural spring and the participants douse their thirst away and filled up empty water containers. Meanwhile, one Camp Red volunteer and five others failed to see my trail sign and were denied of this opportunity to rehydrate and the generous refills. Aside that, they suffered by walking the whole stretch of the ridge which is exposed to the sun! Lesson: Do not tarry along the trail and take extra-long rests!

By 10:00 AM, we leave Kilat for the Portal, a place that is a hub of seven trails. Already there is the almost-lost group and they were boiling water for coffee. It's good to know that they are alright. After the coffee break, it's time to move again. Our next destination would be Starbucks Hill and I decide we cook lunch there as we are behind schedule already and we have adequate water. I follow, once again, Freedom Trail.

It should be hot in here but the rays of the sun were denied by the forest along the fringes of the Buhisan Watershed Area. We stopped and take a rest on another wide clearing marked by a trio of big boulders stacked on one another. This is another spot where five trails meet. In a little while, we will be moving again.

The route is steep this time until we approach a ridge and, infront of me, is the fabled Starbucks Hill. It used to be just an unnamed hill on the topo map with a number and I named it after we brewed coffee on its peak on a January 24, 2010 exploration. We climb the hill and we have to half-crawl below shrubs whose branches intertwined and form an arch above the route.

Once we reach the peak, debris are found everywhere. We walked down to a ridge where there is a huge tamarind tree offering shade amidst cool breeze. A welcome interlude after a very humid walk along the forest. We set down and retrieved camp stoves, cook sets, meat, milled corn, vegetables, spices and anything worthy for stomach and conversation.

Everyone jostled for prime space but the shade is wide enough to accommodate eighteen souls even with a wide berth given to the “kitchen”. Four pots were dedicated to the cooking of milled corn topped with gumbo; a pot for stir-fried mixed-vegetable soup; another pot for pork adobao; and skillets for chorizo, anchovy paste with tomatoes, dried anchovies fried in oil and sliced raw cucumber.

We eat lunch at 1:00 PM and take a very brief siesta before I proceed again to the rest of the ridge where Freedom Trail pass. Standing on another clearing where four trails meet, I point to the group of a formidable peak two kilometers away and everyone were unsure if they could climb the mountain and finish the activity before dark.

Unknown to them, the target hill is well camouflaged by an optical illusion and have blended well with the background which is the high peak. We cross the man-made forest of teak trees of Baksan and climbed unto the low hill then cross a saddle before stopping at another much-higher hill. The party came to a standstill as the trail ended abruptly. A hundred-fifty meters below us is a creek singing its song and I need to go down there.

Using my bushcraft sense, I reconnoiter down the hill following the only gentle slope that protrude like a tongue into a small valley. A safe landing for me on the creek bed and for others too, twenty minutes later. By now, we are on an unnamed creek and I am now looking for a trailsign on a big tree which I last saw on May 27. Failing there, I reminded the participants to walk carefully along the creek to prevent injury and to observe environmental ethics as we are now on a vital watershed.

Buhisan is where part of Metropolitan Cebu Water District's supply of drinkable water is sourced at. I led the way weaving among boulders and stepping on stones on the creekbed and exiting a waterfall that led into another big branch of the creek. Another waterfall up ahead and we bypass it through a route in between two creeks that joined in a Y shape to become a bigger creek. Going down to the catchment basin, we pass by a mixed-gender group of teenagers taking a bath at a small pool.

Along the way, I picked up and carried broken pieces of glass and some whole bottles and plastic bags into my backpack. What I cannot carry, I place these in deep cracks on inaccessible rocks. As a youth, I once stepped on a glass jar hidden in grass lacerating three large arteries inside my ankle and almost claimed my life through loss of blood. Broken-glass retrieval and removal anywhere is an advocacy of mine.

Up ahead some boys were splitting dry logs with just wood adzes and stone. Very primitive and very bushcrafty. The ladies in our group gifted them with biscuits and some left-over food.

Somewhere far, seven pieces of tree trunks where hastily abandoned by two adults upon seeing our coming. Illegal logging is rampant here despite its being tagged as a protected watershed area and the MCWD, the Department of Environment and Natural Resources, the Cebu City government and the Philippine National Police could do nothing. Nothing have happened ever since I began to blog and upload pictures of cut trees in Buhisan.

I skirted the catchment basin and reminded everyone to be on visible distance with each other as the day already catch long shadows in the forest and I don't want to be encumbered by long delays brought on by missing people. We followed Kilat Creek upstream and almost missed my natural landmark of a huge stone split in half. Actually, I missed the stone and was in the middle of hacking a route among impenetrable bamboo groves until a quick glimpse from behind made me backtrack from that tiresome activity.

From the stone, I follow the now dimly-lit trail, striking straight to higher ground in lesser time as possible as it is now 5:00 PM. Exhausted, I waited for one volunteer and tasked him to take care of the rest of the group while I continued on my way in looking for a path that would take us to Freedom Trail. After 15 minutes, I found it and I followed this route to the Portal and consumed my last drop of water and waited for the others.

After thirty minutes, they came. From hereon, we will be walking to Guadalupe via Bebut's Trail. I pass by low hanging branches of star apple trees with some ripe fruits. I helped myself with three and it filled my now-empty stomach giving me electrolytes and nutrients to finish the journey in full steam. I pass by the tunnel vent and showed some Tribu Dumagsa people why there is a hole on the ground.

Heartbreak Ridge at a late hour is peopled by youths of all ages and gender. Some are playing basketball or volleyball; five boys climb a steel electric pylon; two sets of boys were trying hard to raise their kites above ground while the girls were sitting on the ground eating snack food and chatting. The grass have withered to brown color and most of it got engulfed by brush fire of yesterday.

A few more steps and I would be on hard ground again. I reach the south gate of the Our Lady of Guadalupe of Cebu Parish at exactly 6:20 PM and doused my thirst with one cold bottle of softdrink from a bakery and others did likewise. One CR volunteer come last at 6:38 and that closes the training session. A moment later, we transfer to our favorite place near Villa Fatima and eat dinner, drink cold beer and talk of our recent activity.

The training sessions would, hopefully, help Tribu Dumagsa attain their objective at Mt. Pulag. Two straight weekends of training on pure mountain trails have elevated their endurance and their resistance to heat and fatigue. Their leg ligaments and sense of balance and outdoors awareness have also been strengthened and boosted. Most of all, they are wiser now about water conservation and that would be tested on the bald ridges of Mt. Pulag

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A DAY AT THE RANGE

noreply@blogger.com (PinoyApache) — Wed, 14 Sep 2011 10:55:00 +0000

I AM A GUNLESS SOCIETY advocate but, at the same time, I teach people how to use guns. I may sound like an oxymoron and that I am. If you have another word for it, you may call me such. I don't care.

I have gun skills that have lain inert for some time and that skill is going to be used in the furtherance of my advocacy. The time has come for it to be imparted to other people provided that the principles of a gunless society are also discussed before the actual basic firing is even started so the participants could recognize the destructive power of guns.

An opportunity knocked on April 3, 2011. Security officers and office staff of a well-known local security agency availed of my services to conduct a Basic Gun Safety and Firearms Proficiency Training in a remote firing range south of Cebu City. I introduced the participants to the most fundamental points of gun safety; identification of basic gun parts and its main accessory – the cartridge round; general gun terms; the laws that regulate its proliferation; and the main government agencies tasked to enforce gun laws and its regulation, licensing and permits.

Then my lecture moved on to the “dominant hand and the dominant eye” principle; the different shooting stance; proper sight adjustment; breathing techniques; and how or when to squeeze the trigger. At the firing range, I assumed the role of range warden and refreshed the firers the basic gun-safety rules before the first participant came forward to grip a gun.

The course I designed is so simple and very basic and applies to both male and female. Five rounds for a firing stance at 10 meters distance with weak hand supporting dominant hand shooting a caliber .38 revolver; another five rounds for a firing stance at 5 meters distance with only the dominant hand firing a revolver. Same styles are repeated, this time with a 9-millimeter pistol at five rounds each.

Revolvers used were an Armscor 220, a Rexio Jaguar and a WORLD-MPC Lapulapu; 9-mm pistols were an Armscor GI 1911 and a FEG Kassnar. Ammo fired were reloads from a firearms trading store located in Salinas Drive, Cebu City. All five female and nine male fired twenty rounds each for both types of gun or ammunition. The activity ended at 4:30 PM after all nine male firers fired two buckshot rounds each from an Armscor Buddy 20 pump-action shotgun from 7 meters distance.

I also have my day testing all the firearms on use to include a palm-sized single-action RG caliber .22 revolver, a BUL Cherokee 9-mm pistol and a Colt Mark IV caliber .45 pistol. For a scale of one to five, I rate the following according to its easy operation and feel, mechanism design, recoil and target consistency:

Armscor 220, Caliber .38, Revolver, Philippines 3.5

Rexio Jaguar, Caliber .38, Revolver, Argentina 2.0

WORLD-MPC Lapulapu, Caliber .38, Revolver, Phils. 0.5

RG, Caliber .22, Revolver, Germany 0.5

Armscor GI 1911, 9-mm, Pistol, Philippines 3.8

FEG Kassnar, 9-mm, Pistol, Hungary 4.5

BUL Cherokee, 9-mm, Pistol, Israel 5.0

Colt Mark IV, Caliber .45, Pistol, USA 5.0

Armscor Buddy 20, 12-gauge, Shotgun, Philippines 4.5

However, the rounds used during testing (except for the shotgun) were reloads and old ammo stock and that make operation of the above firearms very complicated and subjecting these to extreme mechanical vulnerabilities beyond what most are designed for.

It feels good to fire a gun again and I noticed that the holes I make on the cardboard targets are tight as was the time I last leave them many years ago. Some habits die hard so they say. I must admit it has stayed except the guns. I don't own one.

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