The rage of Mount Mayon

Mount Mayon

Our day started at 5.30am, in a minivan, dressed in gym shorts and a t-shirt, winding down the long path towards the base of Mt Mayon, darkness all around.

Our guides, young men themselves, walked up the 4WD path with us, lush green bush intruding into our path.

The climb started, dense bush, steep, up and over, across and under, the deep green forest wet and damp. Still, we climbed higher.

We emerged from the bush hours later. The mountain opened up and we stood looking at it, looking up the narrow, rocky ravine leading to the unknown summit of Mt Mayon. Fog surrounding us, cold gripping us, we began our ascent once more, slowly, surely, one foot after another, each step mercifully taken. Up rocks, steep rocks we climbed, reminders of volcanic fury everywhere.

We reached our summit - any farther and we would have been overwhelmed by sulphuric gases. Handshakes all around, we had reached our summit. And, the best bacon and egg sandwich I have ever had. Period.

Then the rains came.

Soaking wet, shivering, the fog still chilling our bones, we began our descent. Rain stormed from the heavens, heavy and flat, the waters from above roaring into furious torrents.

Here was danger. Would I slip and fall? Flash floods. Flat-soled Nike shoes weren't made for climbing.

Freezing, wet through, I slipped, fell, slid, gathering speed and momentum, the terror overwhelming. Where would this end? How would it end. Everything rushing through my head at once. Nothing to grab on to. Nothing to stop me. I couldn't stop. Getting faster. Was this it?

Stop!

Caught by the guide, his legs barely holding as I crashed into him. My heart pounding, laughing with my head back as the rains poured down. Bone chilling. Had this man saved me?

Descent. Slowly. Carefully. Painstakingly.

We reached the bush, dodging poisonous snakes with silence and unspoken fear of men who had conquered more. We reached the bottom. Wet, cold, sore, nerves shattered.

I looked up, back one final time. The she stood, silent and brooding, fog covering her flowing tears.

This was it. She had taught me a lesson with her power, her rage - the rage of Mount Mayon.

Savages

Legaspi

We are approaching savageness. Our beards have grown long, our unwashed clothes rot away in our bags, our beach bodies gone from the amount of beer we have drunk, and our skin is sweaty and grimy from the hazy air.

Such is the contrast with Legaspi City that we have arrived in on the morning of the 5th. The perfectly conical Mt Mayon - rising 8,000ft from the earth - looming over the city, which itself spreads across the harbour and along the surrounding hills. A nice city, Legaspi, pleasant and peaceful for sure (along with the typical seedy underbelly), base for adventures, and home to Karaoke bars and atmospheric restaurants.

We begin, like any city, with walking around and getting a feel for the place, which is pretty nondescript. A massage (our first one, slightly embarrassing, and Swags and I right next to each other), a meal and a nap later, the night has come. We done on Bicol cuisine - smoked coconut with Chicken - and end the night staring at the stars, cigar smoke drifting in the still air, the mountain, as always, brooding over the sleeping city.



Refresher

Cebu City

Today was a refresher day. We slept till 1pm, went uptown to a high class mall, and spent most of the afternoon there. It wasn't super exciting, but reinforced the city as a tale of two cities. And naturally, we stopped by the downtown mall one last time for some cheap clothes.

We caught up with D'ary - out friend from Manila - and planned to go out. Unfortunately we were knackered, and fell asleep before we could go out. A disappointment for sure, but we would need our rest for the Legaspi chapter, our next destination.