March of Hundreds of Orbs to Pulag
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I’d got up before the alarm went off at 1:00 a.m. Might be the light already turned on, glaring over all the bunkbeds of our hostel, or just the adrenaline rush. It was a short sleep, but thanks to the HEATTECH leggings and socks I had already put on for the hike, it was in essence a power nap. I stepped out as soon as my backpack was all set, hydration pack filled, and all extremities warm and covered. The mountain’s icy-cold kiss on my bare cheeks greeted me. And glowing orbs flying past our bend. Headlamps, I made out. Tens and tens of them in single files. Beneath the glare, wool and fleece—beanies. Hikers had started their trek to Luzon’s highest peak and the third in the country, Mt. Pulag.
This was no surprise at all. Mt. Pulag could be overcrowded on weekends, and yet we carried on. Our tour operator had decided to lead us from the potential mob of the main summit to one of the lower peaks. They call it the Tower Site. I didn’t mind. It was, according to the pre-hike seminar, the best peak to catch the sunrise and sea of clouds from, anyway.
We joined the procession of the orbs. Right away it was a rough, uphill walk. The trails were pitch dark, only eased by headlamps and walking sticks but lighter shades of wide formation of clouds could be made out somewhere over the horizon – that gave me confidence in getting what I had come for. Some took five after that ascend. That’s when our line started mixing with others, something we could never steer clear of. A lot hiked with us that Sunday morning. A LOT. Look back and you either get dazzled by headlamps or find long lines of the same orbs in the distance.
Never in my hiking history have I experienced this. Once in a while, lines would go full stop, usually caused by resters who chose not to step to the safe side of the trail and let others pull ahead. Let this be a nudge to be considerate to others. Rest is important but do it alone or with your group. If you’re not after the major act (the sunrise), the group next in line might be.
A worse proportion of congestion was felt at Camps 1 and 2 where everyone was expected to recharge longer and regroup, bunched together shoulder to shoulder. Also, good timing to pull out the raincoats as it started drizzling.
If not for the erratic passage, we could have spared an hour, but in three hours, we reached the grasslands where the air notably thinned out, absolute signs of approaching the peaks. The last ascent was steep and bare to the rain and the cold, but tolerably short. We got to Tower Site first, to my surprise. I glanced around for other hikers. No one but the freezing dark, but on the other side of the horizon, flickering orbs walked uphill, like Christmas lights spun around a trunk. This entire hike was a queue to a blockbuster film, that is, “The Sunrise at Pulag”.
I ambled to the brink to secure a good spot for what was to come. Curtains before me, midnight-blue and drawn. The cold started biting deeper as we had stopped moving. I put my gloves back on. I waited patiently on my hard solid seat, sipping more water, catching my breath. Then the curtains levered up to dawn, revealing familiar awestricken faces around me and the show everyone came there for: the sea of clouds. My breath was taken away once again.
I wish we could take that moment to ourselves then I remembered the congestion at Camps 1 and 2, and the multiple stops and slowdown on the trail. One can and should never impose selfishness on the mountains, be that on the trail or the summit. I turned around not to be blasted by glaring headlamps but the sight of a united human reflex to pull camera phones up, breathless from the hours of hike and at the spectacle we all shared in front of us.
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I had intended to push through the summit after sunrise in the interest of actually reaching it until I saw the long, long queue, this time plain to see as human figures, crawling at it, almost at a standstill.
“Never mind,” I told a friend. I came for the sea of clouds anyway. And a magnificent show I got. I could always come back on a different mission. We started our descent as the sun made its way through the clouds, not as a march of faceless orbs but as a happy human train.
I went to talk to our head tour organizer when we got back and settled at the hostel. I asked how many hikers the park could only bear. “500,” she said. I then assumed she had an idea of what I was about to ask next: How many hikers were signed up that day with us?
“500,” she repeated. So it seemed.
Ate Jenelin Osdawen, who is by the way a great cook, had a simple reminder to all visitors of her hometown: to comply with the directives laid out during the Department of Environment and Natural Resources’ seminar; and a tip, though already known, to book on weekdays to avoid the influx of hikers and have the unique experience to camp on Camp 2 before the summit the following day.
Ate Jenelin, a Kabayan native, owner and head organizer of Summit Gems Travel and Tours.
Mt. Pulag was my dream hike for its killer combination of the golden crack of dawn and the great breadth of a sea of clouds. Still feels like a dream when I got lucky to witness it all on the first try. To most, it’s the achievement of surviving the country’s third highest peak and the visual idea of being on top of Luzon; to me, just to be an audience to this fleeting display of nature was my priority. Ambangeg Trail made it all possible for everyone; thus, the inrush of hikers, both first-timers and experienced. All the challenges a weekend schedule entails aside, on the right season and weather, a great seat at the Playground of the Gods is promised. ❜
Story and photography by
SANKA TEAM