Hello, Hive!
I can't believe I'd be writing in the middle of the climb again but here I am — in a forested campsite, under the comfort of my tent, on a dispiriting rainy day.
The last time I blogged as it was happening was during our Mt. Dulang-dulang climb when I was so much engrossed by its mystical lores and the level of reverie of the Talaandig tribe. Sadly, today's entry is the complete opposite.
I gave up reaching the summit of Mt. Guiting-Guiting.
Yes, you've read that right. On the second day of our three-day climb, I gave up reaching the summit of Mt. Guiting-Guiting. But before I tell you my valid reason (and probably a whole lot of excuses), let me share the chronological series of events that led to it.
Mt. Guiting-Guiting: The "icing on the cake" in every Filipino outdoor enthusiast's bucket list
Trail difficulty for mountains here in the Philippines is usually given the ratings of 1 to 9, with 1 being the easiest and 9 as the hardest to climb. Although subjective in general, these numbers help hikers and mountaineers better prepare for the challenges that lie ahead such as distance, elevation, climate conditions, terrain types, and technical features.
Here in the island of Sibuyan, Romblon, a mountain so proud and imposing even from afar continues to taunt outdoor enthusiasts and thrill-seekers alike. At 2,058 MASL, Mt. Guiting-Guiting (often referred to as G2) is one of the few mountains in the country with a 9/9 trail difficulty, along with Mt. Halcon (2,582 MASL) in Oriental Mindoro and Mt. Mantalingajan (2,086 MASL) in Palawan. Ask any Filipino hiker and you'd never miss G2 on their bucket list.
So, it was not a surprise when we easily gathered a group of mountaineers who are up for its test of courage and stamina.
Climbing Mt. Guiting-guiting is not only tough but also time-consuming — especially to those coming from the southern part of the Philippines (Visayas and Mindanao). Since there is no direct flight to the province yet, you will need to take additional trips on land and sea. From Cebu, our group took a flight to Manila (1 hour), rode a bus to Batangas Port (2 hours), and sailed to Sibuyan Island via roro (12 hours). That's almost a day spent for a one-way trip alone.
Upon arriving at Sibuyan's Ambulong Port, we headed straight to our guide's house (Kino) in Brgy. Tampayan for some last-minute preparations. Afterwards, we took several stops: registered at the tourism office and ranger's station, and attended the orientation with DENR.
By the time we started the climb proper, it was already quarter to 12 PM. Two hours late from our itinerary.
Hiking through the rain, mud and fog
We knew from the get go that the weather was not on our favor that day. It was cloudy and the air was thick, carrying the scent of damp earth. Still, we moved forward.
The first part of Tampayan trail was an easy hike along an established footpath that led to a river. We were told beforehand that we would be crossing this river that snaked through the forest three times. On a bad weather, water would be high and you will have no choice but to brave the knee-deep current. Luckily for us, it was only ankle level.
After the river section, what followed was a gradual ascent along a forested trail. The hike took us an hour before we reached Camp 1, where we rested for a bit and ate our lunch.
Then, once we regouped with the last members of our team, we decided to resume the hike and head to Camp 2. This section, personally, was the most tiring to me. The trail was not only wet and muddy, but also covered with exposed roots.
I've always thought there is something so primal when hiking in the rain. The steady patter of raindrops, the earthy scent of wet soil, the mist hanging low — these elements make the experience just feel extra raw. Many outdoor enthusiasts like it, but I don't. Even with rain covers, water seeps into clothes and backpacks, making everything heavier and uncomfortable. Add that to the already challenging task of navigating a forest path where slick roots act like natural obstacles — I had to question my life decisions.
From Camp 2, the hike took another two hours before we reached Bulod Spring, one of the two known water sources along Tampayan Trail. The spring was named after a local guide, Noe Rada aka Bulod, who was part of the Mt. Guiting-guiting expedition team back in the '80s. He was said to be the first to discover this hidden water source which continues to quench the thirst of many tired mountaineers to this day. And although Sir Noe left the world in 2023, his legacy remains at the heart of this spring.
Reaching Bulod Spring will not only satisfy your longing for cold, fresh water but it will also give you hope that the hike is coming to an end. Our guides hinted that we were approaching Mayo's campsite but the trail ahead would be taking a notch higher in terms of difficulty. And, indeed, it did. The final ascent required us to climb on fours, utilizing all our limbs to haul our weight up while leaning against the force of the heavy wind that felt like it could peel us off the ridge at any God-forbidden moment. We climbed over huge boulders, our hands reaching for trusty grips on either wet roots or slippery granite. Here, there is no comfort or dryness. Just the misty nothingness of the trail we left behind. We grind forward, driven by necessity and the fear of the fading daylight. Finally, at 5 PM, we reached the campsite.
The big decision: Peace of mind or pride
Yesterday's rain continued on the second day of our climb. While it was not as bad as our first Mt. Madjaas trip, it reminded me of the past trauma and struggles of spending three days under the relentless rain. And when I woke up to the rain tapping against our tent, I knew right then that this would be as far as I'd go. I just could not bring myself to go further with the state we were in. I had to choose peace of mind over pride. Then, I started to write.
To give you an idea, this was how bad the campsite was. Every potential spot to pitch our tents was either laced with gnarled roots or sinking under puddles of water. The entire forest floor was wet and muddy that the ground squelched with each step. Simple tasks like getting food or urinating become a negotiation — slow, deliberate, and frustrating. Some from our group opted to use hammock but even that did not exempt them from discomfort.
All of us had a hard time sleeping and moving around the campsite. Our bodies were sore from yesterday's unlimited ascent. With these nuisance, you would think that everyone gave up. But there were actually six individuals who braved the unfavorable weather just to reach Mt. Guiting-Guiting's summit. Here's An, Julius, Mich, Johnrel, Abel, and Duane — all geared for the challenge. Four of them succeeded while the other two got past Camel's Back. Still a feat, nonetheless.
Meanwhile, back in the campsite, we spent the day either sleeping inside our tents or gossiping with each other outside. Since the rain stopped for a while, our guide led us to Mayo's Peak which was only a few meters away from where we were camping. Ideally, we would see some of Mt. Guiting-Guiting's iconic stops from here such as the Eagle's Rock, the knife edge, the 90° wall, and the peak of deception — however there was nothing but a thick blanket of fog before our eyes.
We stayed here for a while, waiting for the fog to recede but it seemed like nature was telling us "Better luck next time, kids!"
Looking on the bright side and making our own ROIs
"What goes up, must come down" as the old saying say. Finally, we're concluding our thee-day climb. But before we left Mayo's Peak, we decided to snaps some individual and group photos and take advantage of the mist that was surrounding the forest. The softened outlines of the trees gave off that dreamlike aura which was picturesque in its own. It even reminded me of Taylor Swift's Folklore album shoot — minus the pine trees. HAHA.
By 6:30 AM, we started our descent. This time, our enemy was not our heavy backpack. It's the slippery slope and the barely visible trail. We also passed by the century tree that was perched near a cliff. Some stopped to take pictures and video while others, including me, decided to continue the hike.
The world was washed in muted gray at the top of the mountain, but as we descended, the weather began to shift. Fog peeled back, revealing colors of green and sunlit canopies. Soon, the cold dampness was replaced with warm, sticky heat. By the time we reached the lower trails, beads of sweat were trickling beneath our clothes.
Once we arrived at the river section, my friends and some hikers from the other group took a well-deserve quick dip. The water was refreshingly cold and although we only soaked our feet, it was enough to ease our exhaustion. Enough to conclude the hike with a smile. 😌
P.S. As with most of my blogs, this is a long-overdue entry. I initially intended to post it right after our climb but life happened and this got stuck in the pile of drafts. Anyway, thanks for reading this quite long ramblings. Until next time! 💖
Maria is a hopeless romantic who travels in pages and places. She is an INFP who loves sunrises and moonlit nights and reading books in between. On weekdays, she works as a copywriter. On weekends, she lives her life as a poet or hiker. She hopes to share her love for words and the world with you here on HIVE. You may not find her deepest musings here (that is for a separate platform) but this is her safe space to capture those treasured moments as it happened. Welcome to her digital diary!
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