Adrenaline Rush: The Tarak Ridge Climb
My boyfriend and I joined people from KalayLupa once again for another fun climb. Last February 28 to March 1, we scaled the mountains of Mariveles in Bataan to reach Tarak Ridge. The view was breath-taking: (depending on where you are facing) you’ll see Manila Bay on one side, and Corregidor and neighboring islands on the other.
We left for Bataan on the night of February 27 via Bataan Transit (a subsidiary of Five Star Bus Lines). The trip to Barangay Alas-Asin, Mariveles, Bataan took three hours. When we reached Alas-Asin, we stopped at the Barangay Hall for headcount, paid the registration fee, and stayed at the talipapa beside the hall for a few hour’s rest before beginning the trek. There were 31 climbers in all, some of whom were first time climbers.
At around 6 am, we crossed the highway and made our way up the trail to Tarak Ridge. We passed by what seemed like a small subdivision where concrete houses stood meters apart. The tall grasses that lined the trail were overwhelmingly pretty: yellow-gold in the light of the early morning sun (according to Kimi, it was reminiscent of the flashback scene in the movie Gladiator). After about an hour of walking, we reached the foot of the mountains where a small nipa hut proudly stood. We stopped there for a few minutes of rest, and paid another registration fee to the caretakers. We resumed trek in an enchanting trail where birds sing to their (and our) delight (at that point, I wished I knew bird-calling so I can join the birds in singing, haha).
A little before lunch time, we reached and crossed the enchanting Papaya River. We set up temporary camp and prepared food for lunch. My boyfriend and I were able to squeeze in a few minutes of sleep before eating (we haven’t had sleep since the morning before as we went straight to the bus station after work). Lunch was filling—a special thank you to Leonard for his delicious fruit and vegetable salad with yogurt.
After lunch, we broke camp and resumed our trek. If it was already a rocky climb up before lunch, what followed was a more impossible climb. As we went up, the trail became steeper—we literally had to hold on for our dear life. I grabbed on to anything I could hold on to: exposed tree roots, protruding rocks, and thick tree branches. I was tired already, but I was on a high: I can feel the adrenaline pumping through my veins. Despite this (or because of this?), my boyfriend and I really enjoyed the climb; it was like we scaled a wall instead of an actual mountain. Thankfully, we both had day packs only; otherwise, we’d probably be more tired than we were that day.
It was almost sunset when we reached the campsite just a few meters below the peak of Tarak ridge. The wind was pounding hard, and it got colder by the minute, so we pitched our tents as fast as we could. We had to secure our tent (Kimi’s newly-bought Coleman tent, used for the first time) with nylon ropes tied to big rocks to prevent it from being blown away. The winds of Tarak ridge are notorious for blowing at dizzying speeds, damaging countless climbers’ tents, and now I know why.
By the time everyone has set up their tents, the wind was blowing hard at a high temperature. I almost thought it was going to be another Mt. Pulag, but of course, Tarak is only half the altitude of Pulag, so I know I was wrong. Nevertheless, we took out and wore our jackets and bonnets, then stayed inside the tent to share body heat and eat whatever trail food we have left for a late merienda (snack). We fell asleep in the tent after gorging on food; the next thing I knew, they woke me up for dinner and socials.
Dinner, like in our Pulag climb, was a hodge-podge buffet of anything edible: from chopped chicken hotdogs to fried aubergines, from mango ensalada to pork sinigang. I think I didn’t eat anything that night, as I was still full from our heavy merienda, and I didn’t have anything to eat (vegetarian, sorry)! Socials, as expected, was crazy. Everyone who was up for a little alcohol in their system had to drink heated vodka (yes, they accidentally heated it because someone thought it was just water, haha) and local rhum. The drinking and merriment lasted for more than four hours, with countless juicy stories and gossip ala SNN shared by the group. I stayed only for a few minutes to join the kuwentuhan and didn’t drink that night. After a few shots, my boyfriend joined me inside our tent to sleep.
Our sleep was disturbed by the pounding of the winds on our tent. My boyfriend and Ryan (Kimi’s boyfriend), had to wake up every so often to check on our tent, which was bent and twisted by the stronger blows. One tent in our camp even gave in to the winds and got completely bogged down. I feel sorry for my friends who had to endure the cold and the strong blow of the winds in a deflated tent.
As soon as the sun rose, everyone was up to break camp and head down back to Papaya River. Some of us, however, were excited to head to the summit. We actually made it to the not-so-summit, and was awestruck with the beauty of the view. After a little more camwhoring, it was time for us to descend. If the climb up was dangerous, the trek down was even more dangerous—you could slide down the trail and end up bruised or dead anytime. It was, however, more exciting. As a proof of our excitement, my boyfriend and I trekked down ahead the rest of the climbers.
The whole group stopped by the Papaya River once more for a lunch, a dip in the cold water, and quick sleep. We continued the trek down ahead of the others who chose to stay for a little longer in the Papaya River campsite. My boyfriend and I almost ran down the trail, with only our Fil-American friend Tim, and Andrea behind us. A few hours later, we reached the caretakers’ nipa hut and stopped by for cold, sweet buko (coconut) juice for ten pesos a glass.
We made our way back to Alas-Asin Barangay Hall at around four in the afternoon. After a quick shower and change of clothes, we were ready to head back to Manila. A little before sunset, our bus came, and everyone scurried to take a seat. More than three hours later, we were back in Manila. Walking on the concrete streets to Robinson’s Galleria, where we made a quick stop to accompany Andrea buy cake for his brother’s birthday, we definitely felt our leg and thigh muscles aching. Until now, I still couldn’t bend my legs properly, but I’m not complaining—the adrenaline rush, the awe over nature’s beauty, and the happiness of experiencing an adventure with my boyfriend and friends make the aching muscles non-existent. Well, almost.
