Finding Home

Dear Mountains of Cabintan, I have not forgotten you. I find myself returning to the memory of your crisp air, soothing wind, rich earth, frog song, bird hymns. My heart has been racing lately for all the good reasons. A dream has been made into reality. And if there is one thing I've learned from getting lost in the beautiful nooks and crannies and various parts of you, it is that I must resp ect all the trails that have led me to where I am today. I shall return to get lost again in your arms very soon. This amateur explorer, Bea Alto Peak Site D Brgy. Cabintan Ormoc, Leyte

"An enormous landslide on the way to the Alto Peak Campsite due to heavy rains," our guide said. What must it sound like when the ground gave out? The shifting of the earth, the breaking down after years of holding it all in? A climber bemused, "Yep, we do have a lot of baggage." We thought she was referring to her group's bags and supplies. And then she continued with a grin, "Emotional ones. " She sprained her ankle while descending from Lake Janagdan. Her load was too much for her size and yet she endured it until well, her ankle gave in. What loads do we carry when we march on that trail of no return? Why do we march on that trail of no return? And how much of it is ours to carry or do we need to carry, really? Or, do we take on that path so our baggages may be unpacked? So our former selves may be shed off by dust, mud, rain, mist, fog, sun, meager footholds, thin nylon ropes that burn our palms? Or because physical pain is

Dear 17-Year Old Guide, You walked as fast as the staccato beats of Djembe drums. My breath, in hurried gasps, my neurons stimulated to last me a week. Most of all, my heart, oh my heart, you made it bursting with fire and light. You said, "Nag-agad ra man ko ninyo , Ma'am." (I was only relying on your pace.) As much as I was flattered, it was the best this 36-year old body could do. Never mind that I am twice as old as you are. But really this letter is less about me and more about you. You, will go far. Your persistence and the fire inside you will bring you to places many people only dream of. Your light made me arrive at this realization-- That whatever dark place I am in, for as long as I do not stop putting one foot in front of the other, I will get to the other side. Perhaps that is why you and many others we have gotten the privilege of knowing are aptly called "Guides". You lead the way, clear the path as we trek and climb the trails.

Dear Alto Peak, We saw you clearly this time from Mt. Aminduen. We also saw your deep valleys, your deep ravines and elegant ridges. Clear as day, we saw you. And you are beautiful. We also heard the wind that is your friend from the Pacific again, though not as loud but still as insistent. Her message crisp, clear saying, "Welcome back, my friend." Love, Bea Photo: Sulfur Rock April 29, 2017 Mount Aminduen Brgy Cabintan Ormoc, Leyte

March 30, 2 017 Alto Peak, Site D Brgy Cabintan Ormoc, Leyte Note to self: When people are heading to the sun and sand, you, on the other hand run to the mountains. When others seek the comfort of lush rooms and manicured views, you prefer the rawness, brashness of vines, ridges, ravines, steep climbs. When most people want big crowds, you choose the quiet, the intimacy of moments with people who matter more or with people who let you see what matters most. Yes, Bea, I think you are doing alright. Yes, you are. Now go on with it.

What did Frost mean when he said, "I took the one less traveled by"? How does one define roads? And what is it to travel? I haven't been to many places. But I do know that in the few places I have arrived at, I take to heart the small details: fern colors that are not green but maroon, the air smelling of fresh Chinese pechay, rocks piled up creating this tapestry of texture, bird call amidst th e roaring falls of Tres Aguas, soda crackers and 3-in-1 coffee lovingly served to warm our shivering bodies while the wind and rain continues its tirade outside, our breath forming white smoke from the cold. And best of all, goodbyes that promise an inevitable next time. So again what did Frost mean? I don't know. But for me, roads are paths that call me out, to notice life more. And travel is one that leaves my body aching in all the muscles that ought to ache, my quads and hamstrings (ha! am I feeling it now!) and of course, the most important muscl

"I've lived here for as long as I can remember and I have never been to Mt. Aminduen." a local said.  I've lived in this city for more than a decade and I have never been to the mountains, I thought to myself. We chose a middle of the week day. We hoped the sun would finally come out as our good, old, reliable weather forecast system predicted it would. But of course it didn't. Torrential rain drenched us to the core.   "Leave no trace," the sign right at the bottom of Site D was spelled out in bold letters, but barely visible because of the fog everywhere. We trudged onto the peak. Mt. Aminduen, there you are, I breathed. The rain continued to beat on our backs, our faces, our ears. The wind gusts were strong, tremendous, painful even like needles pricking our skin. We had to stay low on the ground or else we would be swept away.  White density embraced the air. All we could see was each other's faces if we we were close enough. I clos