Maxine and I stayed for a bit at the campsite to see if there were any items left behind. But before the team descended, there were a lot of empty water bottles left at the camp with no one claiming ownership to any of it. I think it would be a good idea to have the bottles labeled, or at least marked with the owner's name, next time so that no one would have to be unduly burdened from bringing somebody else's trash down the mountain. Anyway, some members and some trainees stepped up and loaded the orphaned bottles, and Maxine and I made sure that there would be none when we left.
Maxine took out her camera and started taking pictures. I, however, was distracted by a faint, yet chilling sound coming from the forest farther down the path. It took a moment, but I recognized it as I went down the steep slope. It was the familiar sound of toenails screaming for a quick death. The sound grew louder as we approached the waiting shed, then it stopped. Several climbers were resting at the shed, and thus the battle-weary toenail army had a short reprieve. My watch read 10:47am. The whole team had managed to shave off one hour from the estimated 3 hours trek time from summit to shed. The day seemed to be getting better! Jimmy Cliff's "I Can See Clearly Now" started playing in my head.
I've noticed James carry two backpacks as he was about to leave the shed. We were told that Joanne Del Mindo ("Tubs" as she's fondly called) had a spill and sprained her ankle. Tubs, cute as a bug and as equally pesky, always made it through whatever mountain thrown at her so I didn't worry as much. She was now being assisted on the slanting trail by two very capable men, James and Micheal Cas. You might think that Tubs was pretty lucky to have these two strapping fellas helping her down the mountain. Guess again. She became the unwilling target of these guys' horrid jokes. And they had plenty!
ATL Maxine and I swept the shed, then headed for the trail. The team's trail movement was pretty steady, so Maxine took out her camera and leisurely clicked away as we headed down towards the river. After about half an hour, we met up with James, Cas, and Tubs. The jokes kept Tubs' spirits up and also kept her moving, but she was visibly in pain. We stayed behind to give ample trekking space for the three. Maxine and I took 5 under a shaded area on the trail. A short while later we heard Cas' call. We hurried to where they were and found Tubs in tears, distressed by the wretchedness her left ankle was giving her. Cas and I provided relief to her foot and ankle, applied topical analgesic to the affected areas, then replaced her bandage to firm up ankle support. James provided...uh...comic relief. Hehe! We rested for a bit to let the Salonpas work, then back to the trail we went.
It's 12:30pm. We were falling way behind, and the only way to let the others know of our situation was to reach them before they left the river. Maxine sent a text message to Jing Mabunay, our contact in Manila, and Jing promptly relayed the info to TL Alvin. Cas and Maxine went ahead to connect with the main team and make emergency preparations. James and I continued to assist Tubs down towards the river. The three of us got there a little before 4pm. Cas and Carlo Fernandez were waiting for us then. It was great to see Tubs' teammates and the others waiting at the hut, determined not to leave any of their comrades behind. TL Alvin got the message from Jing and went back for us, even though he was almost at Pat-yay with the lead group. Mike Jalbuena's group was also with us at the hut, so was Maida Salcedo's group. Hardy, happy hikers hastily huddled in a hut (repeat 4 times rapidly).
Darkness came much too quickly, with a slight drizzle accompanying its arrival. Headlamps were afixed, and raincoats worn once more. We were at the back of the pack. I was leading Tubs and James towards the rice paddies, tapping the stones with a walking stick, checking if they were loose or slippery. I've just told Tubs to avoid a potentially slippery rock when I slipped on that rock and plunged sideways down the steep side of the paddies' rock wall. Good thing the wall was covered in talbos ng kamote overgrowth. I had something to cling on to. I tumbled twice and fell a good 7 feet before getting a hold. Tubs screamed for James. James shone his lamp on me and told me not to move. I wasn't injured nor was I greatly imperiled, so I clambered up the vines and pulled myself back onto the ledge. James asked: "May masakit ba?" "Yes. yung pride ko." was my reply. We all had a good laugh after that. But the laughter didn't last for very long.
If you think walking on narrow rice paddy ledges is difficult, try doing it on a moonless night. Under the blinding rain. With an injured friend in tow. With your headlamp slowly malfunctioning. And an extra backpack piled on top of your own. That was the condition we found ourselves in when we got to the aqueduct. All we could see were the lights of the other climbers, slowly navigating the ledges towards the brightly lit camp at Pat-yay.
Thunder and lightning joined the ceaseless dirge of the rain, and nature's orchestra of destruction was now in chorus. I was smiling. Teeth fixed in a childlike grin as i witnessed the awesome power of nature at work. Streaks of light hotter than than the sun illuminated the vast expanse of Pat-Yay's farming valley. The flash ripping through the sky, bringing forth the din of a thousand charging hooves rumbling through the mountainside. For a moment, I felt like an honored guest at a god's banquet. It was surreal.Then, my walking stick fell out of my hand as I was checking the ledge. It fell forever. My eyes stared at the falling stick as it clattered down the rocky ledge. My ears heard every fading bump as it disappeared. I suddenly heard the horrible rush of the river. The dark silhouettes of the jutting rocks below. The sting of the rain on my back. It was Anawangin again. And the fire of confidence within me was extinguished by fear's icy breath.
I stood frozen on that ledge. The silly grin wrenched from my face. Tubs sat farther behind me, unsure of what was happening in front of her. I mustered enough strength to move my legs to enable myself to sit, then called out to James. James knew what was happening, and went to work. He carried everyone's pack down the paddy walls one at a time, then guided Tubs and me to a safer area near the riverbed. No one's laughing anymore.
We started crossing the river, me in front once more guiding Tubs through the rocky river bed. I stuck close, and whenever she needed assitance, I held her like a vise. So did James. We made it safely up the second tier, following the trail signs religiously. Then the signs got cold. James and I split to cover more ground and we settled Tubs at a location where we can easily find her. After a long search, fatigue crept in. It was 9pm, and to try to reach the camp in our state could possibly prove deadly.
James found a hut on the third tier. It had no occupants. So we gathered Tubs and got her in the hut. She got herself dressed, dry, and comfy. As soon as James and I saw that she was okay, we finally got ourselves dry and dressed as well. We had pork and beans, peanut butter and assorted bread for dinner, and chocolate bits for dessert. Before we got to the hut, Tubs looked miserable. After dinner, she was back. Cute as a bug and as pesky as ever! We might not have gotten some sleep if we didn't insist that she stopped yakking!
The rain stopped. The wind stood still. The stars came out. A couple of locals came by to assure us that help was only nearby. We were laughing again before we slept. Good omens. It meant that we get to live another day.
...to be continued...
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