It was a perfect time that I was able to catch 3 hours of sleep that served as my energy booster before heading on with my adventure. Waking up at 1 in the morning and forcing myself to conquer the major roads of Manila during the morning’s wee hours were considered as the first phases of the challenge. Intermittent rain showers started to distract my mood when I was inside the cab to meet my fellow bloggers who will also join the trek. That somehow made me feel gloomy because reaching the peak of Mt. Pinatubo might fall again to another failure due to bad weather. I was quick to ask the event’s organizer upon arriving at our meeting area about the weather condition in Tarlac so I would know if the bad weather would keep on pestering my most awaited visit to the volcano and if it would turn everything into “bed weather” and keep me all day at home sleeping.
Roughly 3 hours passed upon boarding the bus, we were already at Capas, Tarlac tourism office for registration. Acquiring the green signal to go ahead with our trail was my first victorious moment that morning since I was at first incredulous about this trip due to the unpredictable and uncooperative weather during the last stretch of summer month. From May 28 it was moved to June 4 to give way to typhoon Chedeng that sojourned through our country’s vicinity, threatened the whole Filipino community (because it was believed to be stronger than Ondoy), and placed everybody under the hex of alertness. So there, just when we were all geared up for the battle, coward Chedeng swerved and decided to traverse Japan instead. No! I’m not challenging Chedeng, in fact I’m thankful that it changed its direction, because if not, it could have had flooded the low-lying areas in the country and competed back-to-back with the odious effects of the recent fish kill in Taal, Batangas. It did prevent us from further devastation, especially me who was very eager to meet my long time enemy — Mt. Pinatubo.
The 4×4 vehicle brought us 2 to 3 hour-trek closer to the volcano’s crater. When the Skyway was still passable, going to its peak was less toilsome. It would only take someone 2 to 2.5 hours to reach Pinatubo’s crater — 1.5 to 2 hours 4×4 ride and 30-45 minutes trek. Since the Skyway was destroyed by typhoons last year, going up becomes exhausting and would take 3.5 to 4 hours — 1 to 1.5 hours 4×4, and 2 to 3 hours trek while plying through a different terrain. (I based it on my calculated time during our travel.)
At exactly 6:30am, our 4×4 started to traverse the trail going to the jump off point of the trek. We were carried by a bare truck so we could freely stand, take good pictures, and enjoy beautiful views in the area. Our personal choice of 4×4 was perfect had it safeguarded us from rapid mud that slapped our faces on several occasions.
Bumpy terrains had kept us blurting explicit in different pitches all throughout the 1 and 15 minutes 4×4 ride. It was a very fun experience while we appeared as flocks of brave military soldiers taking antagonistic attack to protect our land from the strong forces of nemesis on the other part of the seemingly abandoned place. However, in real life, we are a bunch of adventure-seekers. Unlike real soldiers armed with guns and ammunition, we were armed with camera, tripod, and brave heart aiming to set foot on that elusive part of the volcano — its crater.
My eyes never missed every angle of the whole place — the lahar-inflicted area on my left; the lush vegetation on my right; the wobbly trail at my back and the very distant hilly and filthy sight ahead of me. All these brought me 20 years back. And no matter how hard I tried not to, these tableaus right before my nosy eyes made me nostalgic.
History has it that Mt. Pinatubo eruption was one of the worst volcanic eruptions in the world and the largest during the 20th century. It has killed hundreds of lives and left thousands homeless. Pampanga, Tarlac, and Zambales share part of the volcano. But during its breakdown, wide part of Pampanga was greatly damaged compared to the two provinces.
In June 1991, exactly two decades ago, Mt. Pinatubo erupted. I was 4 years old then, yet I still have vivid recollections of that very tragic incident. I was playing with my childhood friends just in front of our abode when dark clouds started to swallow the sun’s gleaming horizons. We were running around but we stopped to stare at the scene above. Children like us were mesmerized at how the sunlight fought with the dark clouds’ potent power. It was like a solar eclipse. The irony though was it looked like twilight in midday—very distinct and very rare. Next thing I knew, ashes and sand started to pour and hovered the whole atmosphere. We continued playing, running, and shouting to rejoice for the mystic scenario happening around us.
After a few minutes, my dad ran towards us and carried me home. I had no idea that the thing I was rejoicing minutes earlier should be the thing I must fear. Then the furious sky began to cry. The downpour seemed to be for eternity escorted by the rumbling thunder and violent lightning. I waited for the sun so could play again, but for how many days or so, its horizons didn’t show up. The thunderstorm continued and became heavier than the previous days. Since I lived with my extended family in one compound, we all gathered in my grandparents’ house together with my dad’s 9 siblings and my cousins. They were all discussing what to do, where we should go, and what would come next. But I hardly remember what it was they all agreed upon. What remained clear to me was most of them were praying and crying at the same time.
Our house is situated just a few steps from that of my grandparents’. We stayed there for quite some time while my mom and dad were transferring our things to my grandparents’ place. Few minutes later, my 2-year old brother started to cry and asked for milk. So we decided to leave the house. After a short while, the ground shuddered and our house collapsed. Thank God because everybody has vacated it before it got devastated. My brother (aside from Him) saved us. It was the first time I cried because my toys got buried and the thought of having no place to live was very shattering for an innocent child. I then ran to my parents, hugged them while screaming repeatedly: “wala na tayong bahay!” (We don’t have a house anymore.) From that time on, I hated Mt. Pinatubo.
One morning, when I accompanied my aunt to buy noodles in nearby stores, we were greeted by shattered woods like broken pieces of glass and worried people were shouting “mag-evacuate na tayo” (we need to evacuate). We began packing our things, mostly clothes, canned goods and bread and started to walk away from home — a place safer from home. Almost all residents of Zambales were on the road hurrying to save their lives and their little left possessions. My mom was carrying my younger brother; my dad’s shoulders were bearing the weight of our clothes and goods, and I had to act like a big man while walking barefoot in the middle of highway flooded by lahar, ashes, sand, and mud. We walked almost for 4 hours from Castillejos to Olongapo. My parents recalled that I was a brave child with minimal complaints.
When we reached Olongapo, we battled with other passengers wanting to leave Zambales immediately. It was survival of the fittest scenario. We rode a bus going to Manila, transferred to LRT, until we arrived in Sta. Cruz. And from Sta. Cruz we rode a truck to our relatives in Batangas. And at the end of the day, WE ALL SURVIVED.
My nostalgia suddenly ended by the time I left the 4×4 truck to start the trek to the crater of Mt. Pinatubo. The rain started to pour. It wasn’t heavy though, but it was constant for about an hour; thus, elevating the adventure to the next level.
The cloudy sky made the trek more bearable since we didn’t have to suffer from the sun’s heat. However, it also brought fears to some who would rather agonize from the more than 30 degrees temperature than be stuck in Mt. Pinatubo due to flash floods. Prayers once again have proven to be a powerful weapon when the rain stopped after an hour or so. Dark clouds began to split in slow motion to give way to the blue skies.
With bright faces, we continued to walk along the rocky landscape of the volcano. We passed by various streams which were very palpable in the area due to rains earlier that day. Magma that flowed during the volcanic eruption formed into admirable hills and different rock formations. And yes, it’s hard to believe it was the aftermath of the once mad volcano.
Some more walks, some more morning heat and some more catching-our-breath-moments, we finally arrived at the volcano’s crater.
I ran ahead of others after seeing the crater from afar. And on my first glance, the powerful energy around the crater was swiftly blown by the wind towards me while convoluting and massaging my weary body. I acquired its magical potion which reenergized my senses by merely looking at its turquoise and magnificent crater-lake . I kept my eyes wide open until I felt its power oozing through my veins that lulled me to wilderness. My spirits gone high. I got stunned. I got dumbfounded until I got lost in translation.
I still can’t believe that I finally faced my number one enemy for 20 years. And it just took a second for me to reconcile with Mt. Pinatubo. Albeit it didn’t erase my disastrous experience in 1991, its marvelous crater-lake somehow covered that dark portion of history.
After more than two hours, I was not yet prepared to leave Mt. Pinatubo but due to the arduous trek down to our 4×4 truck service, I had to wave adieu to the volcano. I once hated it, but I admire it now. This giant monster now looks like a sleeping beauty.
Before joining the group I went to the lake first and whispered this to Mt. Pinatubo: please do not wake up again, you look more beautiful when asleep.
DIALOGUE WITH A WANDERER 