The short bath in the river was so refreshing. We were revitalized. From down below we clambered up again on the opposite bank. This time though the incline is gentler although it was also winding through the high hills towards the peak of the highest slope.
It was 10:30 in the morning when we arrived at top where we have to go single file.. The residents call this narrow path ‘the taripis.’ The path was just about 1.5 feet wide and
both sides of the way were covered with some tall grasses about five feet high, cogon grasses and shrubs. Amazing! Most lowlanders won’t like cogon grasses. They believe that it divests the earth of its richness as it causes fire easily. It may be a great fire hazard but contrary to beliefs it enriches the soil when its leaves undergo the process of decaying as much as it holds the soil together thus – minimizing soil erosion somehow.
The place looked like a wide bonsai garden arranged about the edge of a wide linear dish. Wow! There’s nowhere to hide from the heat of the sun here. The highest shrub was just about three feet high standing tall and aloof with its tiny fruits about its branches. It was a guava tree and the ripe fruits as big as marbles with the diameter of one and a half inch (the most) were so sweet. Birds resting below its spreading branches flew when we got near.
All through the length of almost two kilometers, we have to go slowly. I remembered what our guides told us on the starting point, “Concern yourselves with finding the unique beauty of the highlands rather than what modern amenities the mountains lack because if you do, you’ll only find your list to be endless. If you appreciate the beauty, you’ll find that this journey is really enjoyable.”
Seeing that we were about to reach the end of the taripis, I decided to look beyond the tall grasses. Parting those to my right, my knees weakened. We were so high in an almost 90-degree angle. One single misstep from any of us might mean a terrible damage; even death.
We were resting on the other peak lower than the taripis when I got the good view of it. Below it were some patches of burned grasses, eroded parts and a lonely scene of the mountain side trail that was seldom used. That was where we came from. Our guide said that on rainy days they pass the longer route because they fear the soil erosion that might happen. The trail is cut through the sides of the mountain with the overhanging portion of the soil hanging above your head. It looked like a terrace without the rails while the peak is similar to the narrow ridge of the nose.
Ten minutes of rest was enough to refresh us. Thirty minutes later we were negotiating the last two deep descents of smaller rivers and then the last stretch of the coffee plantation. We went up the last mountainside with just a solitary hut along the way inhabited by a middle-aged woman, her two teen-aged daughters and their father who went to look for salt on the other side of the mountain. That would be, more or less, a four-hour walking to the next village from the house.
I noticed the girls were holding each a fine rope attached to something below. Curiously I went to discover what it was. The fine rope was about 30 meters long and it was guided by several tree branches towards the rice lands at the back of the house. A kaingin of about a 100 x 80 meters. Rice was practically ready for harvest so the birds were helping themselves here. To shoo them out they used the criss-crossed tapes over the rice lands. The fine ropes that the girls were holding were attached to these tapes and every time they pull them the movement plus the glint from the tapes drive the pesky birds away.
From the hut, it took another 15 minutes for us to reach the top of the mountain. It was a rather wide plateau where the famous lake of Lambunao was located. The lake filled with many stories - mythical and otherwise.
Tinagong Dagat, at last!
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