Daraitan means "Tagpuan" in Filipino; "Rendezvous" in English.
It was, by far, the most difficult hike I've ever done. (Granted, I've done only three; but, still ...). Whoever rated its torture level at 4/10 must be related to Legolas, because it definitely felt more like a 12/10. It was an all-assault trail. And I mean "assault" in its truest sense: steep, literally vertical!
"Guys, it's going to be like this the rest of the way."
Ten minutes in, I was catching my breath and having an internal argument with my body, which kept screaming, "I told you, we should have done some cardio!"
Before I could internally scream back some form of rebuttal, one of our trail guides cheerfully (I swear, he could hear the internal argument and was mocking me) proclaimed, "Guys, it's going to be like this the rest of the way." I looked at him with the most stoic it's-no-big-deal look I could muster. He smiled back, a giddy silly isn't-that-awesome! kind of smile.
I smiled back ... and mentally punched him.
Then we took our first break. I sat down, took a sip of water, breathed deeply and looked up. That's when I first saw it --- the elegantly rustic charm of the trail. Every nook and cranny was a perfect photo subject, just beautiful beyond words. The lush greenery all around, the damp earth riddled with big and small rocks. All of these, for all their randomness, felt thoughtfully placed --- right where I needed them for footing, for gripping or support. (And I needed a lot of support. The trail is not for the vertically-challenged!). I can't help but think that God had meticulously prepared the trail for me. He must have.
"Kaya pa?" (Still manageable?)
I am not going to lie. I struggled. As I said, the trail is not for the vertically-challenged. I swear, I must've grown at least an inch from all the stretching and reaching I had to do. Yes, I said God had strategically placed supports left and right; but, sometimes, He made me work for them.
A few times along the way, one of the trail guides would check up on me and ask, "Kaya pa?". I smile and he gives me a thumbs-up.
I realized, God is like a trail guide. He points me towards the right direction, but allows me to decide which route to take. He lets me maneuver the challenges my way; but watches over me like a hawk, swooping down in a heartbeat anytime I need help. There is a sense of fulfillment in accomplishing things my way; and a sense of security knowing that He has my back. And, because of that, I have the confidence to stretch beyond my perceived limits and say, "Kakayanin" (I will manage).
"Take 5"
I appreciate that the group was a good mix of strong seasoned and eager rookie hikers. The stronger ones were the alpha team, who set the pace for the group; while those of us who lacked in strength but made up in eagerness took the sweep and "forced" everyone to "stop and smell the roses".
The alpha team sprinted ahead, but waited for us at the rest areas. Their initial bursts of energy afforded them longer rest periods.
As for us, we took it slow and steady with our assigned trail guide regularly allowing us to "Take 5". The pace and the short breaks enabled me to enjoy the trail more. It afforded me time (short but sweet) to look around and appreciate the breathtaking scenery --- because it's precisely the reason I hike. In nature is where I feel closest to God.
"Take 5", hands down, was my favorite phrase for the day.
"Promise. It's worth it".
Legolas' cousin, the person who rated the hike 4/10 when it is more appropriately a 12/10, must have been inspired somehow. If he/she hadn't rated Mt. Daraitan a 4/10, we wouldn't have taken it. And, for all the torture - external and internal, it was definitely worth it.
Our trail guides kept us pumped with "Promise. It's worth it", said a million times sporadically throughout the hike. And we latched on to this promise, climbing, trudging on and hanging on for dear life with it.
When we broke through the summit, I caught my breath. It was 380 degrees of picturesque mountains. It was worth it.
Then we started our trek down towards Tinipak River. Just when I started asking myself why I was subjecting myself (my knees, especially) to sheer torture, one of the guides said, "Promise. It's worth it --- even more than the summit" (Weh?).
We finally reached the river and were ready to jump in, when the guides said we needed to walk a bit more (which was really "a lot more"). To which one of us spoke what's on everyone's mind, "But there's the river right there!"
"Promise. It's worth it."
So, like the good hikers that we were, we followed our trail guides towards a more secluded area, where cold water from the cave emptied out into the river. There are no words to describe just how beautiful the spot was ... and we had it all to ourselves!
At the end of the hike, I finally understood and appreciated the silly giddy isn't-it-awesome! smile of one of our trail guides.
It is true what they say, the hardest climb (or trek down) is the most worth it. And, when the trek gets particularly difficult and challenging, remember: "Promise. It's worth it."
It always is.
It was, by far, the most difficult hike I've ever done. (Granted, I've done only three; but, still ...). Whoever rated its torture level at 4/10 must be related to Legolas, because it definitely felt more like a 12/10. It was an all-assault trail. And I mean "assault" in its truest sense: steep, literally vertical!
Exhibit 1 - Notice the angle of my head. I'm looking up.
Exhibit 2 - No, that is not just the camera angle. That virtual wall is the trail.
"Guys, it's going to be like this the rest of the way."
Ten minutes in, I was catching my breath and having an internal argument with my body, which kept screaming, "I told you, we should have done some cardio!"
Before I could internally scream back some form of rebuttal, one of our trail guides cheerfully (I swear, he could hear the internal argument and was mocking me) proclaimed, "Guys, it's going to be like this the rest of the way." I looked at him with the most stoic it's-no-big-deal look I could muster. He smiled back, a giddy silly isn't-that-awesome! kind of smile.
I smiled back ... and mentally punched him.
Then we took our first break. I sat down, took a sip of water, breathed deeply and looked up. That's when I first saw it --- the elegantly rustic charm of the trail. Every nook and cranny was a perfect photo subject, just beautiful beyond words. The lush greenery all around, the damp earth riddled with big and small rocks. All of these, for all their randomness, felt thoughtfully placed --- right where I needed them for footing, for gripping or support. (And I needed a lot of support. The trail is not for the vertically-challenged!). I can't help but think that God had meticulously prepared the trail for me. He must have.
"Kaya pa?" (Still manageable?)
I am not going to lie. I struggled. As I said, the trail is not for the vertically-challenged. I swear, I must've grown at least an inch from all the stretching and reaching I had to do. Yes, I said God had strategically placed supports left and right; but, sometimes, He made me work for them.
A few times along the way, one of the trail guides would check up on me and ask, "Kaya pa?". I smile and he gives me a thumbs-up.
I realized, God is like a trail guide. He points me towards the right direction, but allows me to decide which route to take. He lets me maneuver the challenges my way; but watches over me like a hawk, swooping down in a heartbeat anytime I need help. There is a sense of fulfillment in accomplishing things my way; and a sense of security knowing that He has my back. And, because of that, I have the confidence to stretch beyond my perceived limits and say, "Kakayanin" (I will manage).
"Take 5"
I appreciate that the group was a good mix of strong seasoned and eager rookie hikers. The stronger ones were the alpha team, who set the pace for the group; while those of us who lacked in strength but made up in eagerness took the sweep and "forced" everyone to "stop and smell the roses".
The alpha team sprinted ahead, but waited for us at the rest areas. Their initial bursts of energy afforded them longer rest periods.
As for us, we took it slow and steady with our assigned trail guide regularly allowing us to "Take 5". The pace and the short breaks enabled me to enjoy the trail more. It afforded me time (short but sweet) to look around and appreciate the breathtaking scenery --- because it's precisely the reason I hike. In nature is where I feel closest to God.
"Take 5", hands down, was my favorite phrase for the day.
"Promise. It's worth it".
Legolas' cousin, the person who rated the hike 4/10 when it is more appropriately a 12/10, must have been inspired somehow. If he/she hadn't rated Mt. Daraitan a 4/10, we wouldn't have taken it. And, for all the torture - external and internal, it was definitely worth it.
Our trail guides kept us pumped with "Promise. It's worth it", said a million times sporadically throughout the hike. And we latched on to this promise, climbing, trudging on and hanging on for dear life with it.
When we broke through the summit, I caught my breath. It was 380 degrees of picturesque mountains. It was worth it.
Then we started our trek down towards Tinipak River. Just when I started asking myself why I was subjecting myself (my knees, especially) to sheer torture, one of the guides said, "Promise. It's worth it --- even more than the summit" (Weh?).
We finally reached the river and were ready to jump in, when the guides said we needed to walk a bit more (which was really "a lot more"). To which one of us spoke what's on everyone's mind, "But there's the river right there!"
"Promise. It's worth it."
So, like the good hikers that we were, we followed our trail guides towards a more secluded area, where cold water from the cave emptied out into the river. There are no words to describe just how beautiful the spot was ... and we had it all to ourselves!
It is true what they say, the hardest climb (or trek down) is the most worth it. And, when the trek gets particularly difficult and challenging, remember: "Promise. It's worth it."
It always is.
