Leaving Cebu

Negros from afar

I left Cebu with a sense of exhaustion and purpose. Whenever I leave somewhere that feels like home, all of those final things that didn't get said in my visits with people get said the night before I leave, and then I finalize my packing, and then I sleep for two hours and leave for an intense day of travel. So was the pattern leaving the comfort and company of Roselynne and Karen in Cebu City. Because I had been staying with so many friends since I'd been here, I felt as though my "wanderings" were truly beginning.

I walked 6km or so to the bus terminal and took the bus south to a port at the southern tip of the island. Then I hopped a "fastcraft" ferry to Sibulan, Negros. The ferry was only 30 minutes long, but I was treated to a gorgeous sunset that ended as the boat docked. I only had to go 10km to get to the road leading up to Twin Lakes, so I decided to walk, naturally. The walk felt as if my travels were finally starting, and I felt I was warming up for a difficult climb the next day.

My pack was the heaviest it's ever been. I had plenty of food, full on water, books, tent, a myriad of small travel things, and my new friend, a beautiful guitar hand-made in Cebu. My need for friends led me to give names to several important things I have with me. My pack is named Ozwald, my guitar, Josephine, and my dear old scrunched metal water bottle, Javier. I must have looked pretty pathetic with all of these friends and more on my back because just 2km away from my goal, a Pinoy missionary took pity on me and gave me a ride on his motor (a cross between a motorcycle and a Vespa). In the process of jumping on, my leg just brushed the scalding exhaust pipe and gave me a pretty serious burn. I religiously protected it from the jungle in the coming days by shaving the hair around it, changing the bandage daily, and keeping it wrapped with a bandanna. Made me look even more strange and cosmopolitan than I already did.

Sunset over the Island of Negros

About one hour after last light, I was dropped off at the head of the road that would take me up the mountain. The motor drivers swarmed me when I got off, pushing each other to get me to ride up the mountain, ignoring with disbelief the possibility that someone would actually walk up that road, let alone all the way up it to the end with 70lbs on his back. Nevertheless, one driver was kind and listened to me when I said I needed a place to stay the night before I walk up the mountain. He showed me a flat, abandoned grass lot that was at the top of a short hill overlooking the ocean water facing Cebu Island. I set up camp discreetly craving privacy, built a fire using dried goat poop as fire starter and cooked a dinner of lentils, quinoa, and vegetables, gave Josephine a strum and slept long and hard. I was awoken even earlier than I expected by my neighbor. He was carrying his baby, extremely friendly, and using his kind broken English to tow that line between offering hospitality and asking for money in return. Someone I would characterize as "beautifully, desperately poor", he filled me with water, exchanged many kind words and stories, and had his nephew cut FOUR young coconuts from the top of a buko tree. I was a little depressed and tired of the effort of expected social interaction so breaking camp was a slower process than usual with my friend watching and talking throughout.

Once I had everything pack-ready, I bid my farewell, gave the man what small bills I had on me for his birthday and his generosity, and got going later than I had wanted to. It was a difficult climb, especially after essentially two months of relative relaxation in urban/suburban areas, and especially with a heavy pack. The road is 15km and goes from sea level up more than 3,000 feet. Many parts were particularly steep. I passed several villages and the children fluttered around me, giggling and trying to hide sticks in my already overweight pack without my noticing. The landscape was gorgeous though. Ocboter is the end of the rainy season so everything is as green as green can be. It was hot, and I finished my 5L or so of water by the time I reached the top about an hour before sundown. I paid my 150 peso entrance and camping fee, took a swim in the blessedly cool and clean lake, drank lake water to my heart's content, set up camp, cooked dinner and slept till past 10am under the cool breeze. Little did I know that the next day would be one of the hardest days of my life.

This carabao has a look on its face that mirrors the feelings some Filipinos must feel at the sight of me.