stairway to heaven

There's a lady who's sure all that glitters is gold
And she's buying a stairway to heaven
And when she gets there she knows if the stores are closed
With a word she can get what she came for

Conquering mountains, leaping through pilapils and undermining rough terrain easily make for torn muscles, endless cursing, and a beaten body -- until you are near the peak of the mountain to see the majestic view and to witness that you’re higher than the clouds. And you’re neither aboard painted wings nor high on grass.

Batad Rice Terraces, the famed Stairway to Heaven, was the choice of escape for my backpacking friends and myself during undas. Barely ten minutes before the bus left for Banaue, Adrian, a hyper-junkie of a kid, was still stuck in traffic and frenzily sending us text messages. “Give the driver 200 bucks to pee for ten more minutes. I’ll pay you later.” Adrian did make it in the nick of time, sans the bribe.

After an eight-hour ride from Manila, we reached the town proper of Banaue. It was a cool morning and a perfect time to stretch our bodies. We opted to take the 15-minute walk from the bus terminal to Banaue Inn where a line of small, cozy restaurants tempted weary but eager backpackers. Breakfast was a delight. For about 60 bucks per head, you would get your required carbo and protein load plus your caffeine perk, while dining by the window with the rice terraces in full view. And yes, they served chopsuey for breakfast. This, at the service of our accommodating waiter-travel agent haughtily named Tom Cruz. Joke was that he became “Penelope” by night, being “happy and gay” that he was. But in fairness, Tom was the typical local who was more than willing to score us a tourist map and book our tickets for the trip back to Manila. And yes, he spoke in fluent English with the bading twang.

With a full stomach and itchy feet, we reckoned it was time to head for Batad. While Banaue was the choice for most local tourists, Batad held more challenge and mystique. It was about an hour’s ride north from Banaue and housed what locals pride in as the “ampitheater,” a wider expanse of rice terraces than the more popular ones in Banaue. Two hired tricycles took six of us to Batad. A rough ride it was, we were treated to a wonderful view of the mountains and of Ifugao kids here and there. We got off at the junction and finally set foot in Batad. But the journey was just about to begin. With backpacks in tow, we braced ourselves for the three-hour hike.

This Is Going To Be Fun

There's a sign on the wall but she wants to be sure
And you know sometimes words have two meanings
In the tree by the brook there's a songbird who sings
Sometimes all of our thoughts are misgiven

I always thought that for as long as any road was still passable by vehicle, then it would be a relatively easy trip by foot. I was dead wrong.

Though the road was wide enough to let a jeep ply, the continuous incline was enough to test a woman’s convictions of what gender equality truly meant. Gary and Ferds led the way as if they had wings on their feet. PJ and Adrian struck a strange bond strengthened by things organic. Noel and myself, well, we mustered all our strength, made light jokes along the way, and took longer and more frequent rests than the others. About an hour into the hike, I started to think that this was not exactly fun anymore. To think we were walking under the cruel heat at midday did not help any. Noel took the hint and offered to distribute the contents of my bag to the knights in shining backpacks, if only to lighten my load. Ah, this was sheer bliss. Mi’ ladies, chivalry ain’t dead.

It took the group about an hour and a half more to get to the first pit stop. It was the perfect spot to take photos because it captured the road down below which we traversed. Here, I got my first adrenaline shot. Seeing that once intimidating road now just a small trail from above gave me and my comrades a sense of fulfillment – and hunger pangs. A few meters more, we were at the second pit stop where we lunched on peanuts, raisins, chocolates and jelly ace. We were at the peak en route to Batad before we finally descended the mouth of the ampitheater.

A half hour more and at last, the final destination. At least for that day. It was early dinner for us, barely five in the afternoon, but we devoured our first real meal for the day. We took in the view of the entire expanse of the Batad ampitheater. It was like staring at a panoramic poster only it was real enough for we were within in its midst. Grand. Marvelous. We spent the night hanging out at one of the inns, bantering and laughing at nothing and no one in particular to soothe our aching muscles. Trivial things (and politically incorrect but nonetheless funny) made for a good nightcap: Italians are a fusion of an ita and an alien.

It was a Halloween night.

Next morning, the boys went off to see the Tapia Falls. My legs, at this point, have turned numb and my bones have practically disintegrated into soft marrows.

Journey to Mordor – or Something Like It

There's a feeling I get when I look to the west
And my spirit is crying for leaving
In my thoughts I have seen rings of smoke through the trees
And the voices of those who stand looking

In life, there is a road frequently traveled and there is another less traversed. In Batad, either you go back to the junction via a jeep to get to Banga-an or take the back door and traverse the mountains. You would already guess which road we took.

The three-hour hike to Banga-an was christened with rains. Great, I thought. First off, the trail got slippery. Second, the first few meters were almost a 90-degree decline. Third, we were well on the way down so there was no turning back to take the easier route. My knees were turning into jelly. And at this I already had a bandage on my left knee for a sturdier walk, a staff on one hand (purchased at 30 bucks from the local tindahan) and the sturdy hand of PJ to support me. I was also free of my baggage, courtesy of a hired “porter” interestingly named Starzan, a local who doubled as our guide.

Once we made the short but difficult decline, we were walking on the stone edges of rice paddies. Easy as it might sound, but the edges were only about a foot wide. If you slipped, you were lucky if you landed on rice paddies. Otherwise, there was a whole bed of rocks and ravines of varying depths to fall on. The continuing trail became relatively easier, an alternating incline and decline, an interplay of paddies and mountain trail. At different points, we were at the side of the mountain and then inside the forest, and back at the side again. It was getting exhausting. We kept asking our guide Starzan how far we had to go. It was frustrating when he would always say we were not even halfway. For an inexperienced but an ambitious hiker like myself, the trip seemed endless and hopeless.

If there's a bustle in your hedgerow
Don't be alarmed now
It's just a spring clean for the May Queen

Yes there are two paths you can go by
but in the long run
There's still time to change the road you're on

No changing lanes this side of the earth. We were finally halfway. We were on top. Sheer awe. It was well worth it. When you had conquered your fear of slipping down ravines and faced narrow trails simply by taking one step at a time, you would allow yourself a little drama and let your emotions take over. A momentary pause would be enough to take in the 360-degree view of endless mountains and lush forest. Not even the rain could dampen our spirits.

And as we wind on down the road
Our shadows taller than our souls
There walks a lady we all know
Who shines white light and wants to show
How everything still turns to gold

And as if led by the Spring Queen herself, we glided through the remaining half of the hike with such ease.

And if you listen very hard
The tune will come to you at last

When all are one and one is all
To be a rock and not to roll

Woe oh oh oh oh oh
And she's buying a stairway to heaven.

Apologies to Led Zep for the borrowed words. But in case you were wondering, I did make it through the ordeal.