Mt. Arayat - An Island in a Sea of Rice Fields

Since it was decided that the application period for the UP Mountaineers will be moved to the second semester (which is basically next year), we will take this free time to have more climbs within the organization, and just have fun. I invited the continuing applicants from last year to join the team so that they can remain in touch with the organization (should they still be interested in finishing their quest to become UP Mountaineers). I was worried that we won't have enough people in the team, but the anxiety was replaced by excitement, as 16 people signed up to climb.

(photo: Nikko Cayaga)

We chose Mt. Arayat as our destination this month. As long as I’ve passed through NLEX I've gazed upon this solitary mountain, surrounded by the plains of Central Luzon, like an island in a sea of rice fields. The mountain is ubiquitous to the central plains, and oh so accessbile, and yet I haven't climbed it, until now. Most of the more "senior" people in UPM were last there in the late 90s. Security problems on its lower slopes have deterred any thought of revisiting it until recently. Such a shame because it is so accessible; and the near-360-degree view of the Luzon Plains from its summits have no rival.

Dude, where’s our bus?
There was a shortage of buses going north when we got to the Bataan Transit station. We had to transfer to Genesis to avoid further delays, when it became obvious a bus won't be coming anytime soon. Luckily, Genesis had one empty bus just waiting to get filled. The ride was too short for us to see the movie playing to finish. At the SM San Fernando jeepney terminal we easily negotiated a chartered ride directly to the jump-off at Magalang.

Jump-off, along the stations of the cross

Traverse?
Since I haven't been to the mountain, I proposed we traverse starting from Magalang down to Arayat. Most of the blogs I’ve read mentioned having an easier time (i.e. less hassle with the authorities) starting from Bgy. Ayala in Magalang. The trail starts where the concrete road ended, where we met some hipster Kapampangans riding their fixie bikes downhill. Lining up the road were huge concrete sculptures making up the 14 Stations of the Cross (a pilgrimage site for the locals).

Register at the DENR outpost before proceeding

It was a sunny morning, but the mountain was sporting a huge cloud veil. Slowly we hiked up the generously-sized trail, guided by the Stations. JB’s asthma attack slowed us down; her group-mates pitched in to lighten her load to make up for lost time. As we moved further we started to feel the heat the mountain was famous for.

The trail veers to the left at this point. Just follow the cross

Another registration (and refreshment) hut.

The trail steadily got steeper. There was no need for guides since chances of getting lost is slim as long as you stick to the most established path. The very visible yellow “blaze” painted on big rocks, showed the correct path. Some people might frown upon these markings as diminishing the natural look of the mountain. While I agree with this, we also have to recognize its utility in highly-visited mountain trails. The Appalachian Trail System in the US also uses these "blazes" to mark the path of this classic long trail. In the case of Arayat, this has less negative impact compared to the power line that runs up all the way to the summit. Going further, what bothered us more was the amount of trash along the trail; a bigger problem in all popular hiking routes in the country.

The yellow blaze painted on rocks. You can see a power line post in the background.

Tiny Freaking Vampires
We had lunch mid-trail, in an area surrounded by huge boulders with grand ficus trees, giving it an eerie atmosphere. It was difficult to enjoy the surroundings—despite the good food Daddy-o and SPV served—when scores of big-ass mosquitoes feasted on our exposed skins. I don’t have too much of a problem with the heat and steep trails. But mosquitoes are different. It got to the point that I wished I had a flame thrower so I could burn every freaking one of these monsters!

Past the boulders, the trail got even steeper. My heart and thighs were exploding from all this effort; all the while Daddy-o tailed me like he all this was nothing! While I didn't want to slow him down, I regrettably packed nearly 20 kilos of gear, water and food, which wasn't easy to bring up a 30-degree slope with high steps. Finally, I swallowed my pride and took out my trekking poles. My confidence in tackling the 6000m and 7000m peaks this October was definitely bruised.

We reached the summit around 2:30 in the afternoon. A huge compound welcomed us, where the radio transmitter tower of the Philippine National Police (PNP) was situated (and which the power line was supplying). Unfortunately for us, mosquitoes also infested this site. We were greeted by the members of the PNP who were guarding the facility. They were trying to convince us to camp there instead of continuing the traverse.

PNP's radio transmitter. Serving the entire Region 3

(photo: Twylah Rubin)

The clouds began to roll in. The decision was being made for us, formally sealed by a majority vote. We settled in, pitched our tents, and wait for tomorrow to decide whether to continue with the traverse or just descend from where we came. Not an hour passed when the first rain drops fell. But we were ready; all had our tents set up, and we reinforced the small shed we had for a kitchen/dining area with tarps. The rain got stronger, as we whiled the evening alternately eating, drinking the little alcohol that we brought, and singing from the Aegis catalog (ever appropriate for our wet situation). In the brief moments that the rain would stop, the little devil mosquitoes would swarm in our shed. We got no respite.

post-dinner socials

The rain lasted through most of the evening. We had to scramble to fix our shelter, when water started to drip through the small holes on the roofing. My 5-year old tent, I realized now, was not in the best condition anymore. Condensation and small leaks have let water in, getting our sleeping pads wet; an omen of a miserable sleep.

Fixing the tarps (photo by Twylah Rubin)

Blitz Descent
I got up earlier than I'm used to the next morning. It was my nephew's birthday, and I promised to be there for lunch, so I had to get down ahead of the team. I said my goodbyes and apologized for bailing out early, and started my solitary descent. I tried the "new" trail, which follows the power line along the ridge, but merges with the main trail near an old hut below. It was generally less steep than the old trail, but the lack of small trees and a mostly dirt path made it more slippery when wet, especially at one section where one misstep could get you plummeting a long way down. I felt my legs rattle from the stress of carrying my pack down this precarious section.

Forty-five minutes later I was in familiar territory. The new and old trail merged to a gentler, rolling path that returned me to the trail trailhead, finishing in 1 hour and 30 minutes. I had to walk further on to catch a tricycle back to town, then a jeep to the bus terminal in San Fernando. I was home with time to spare, and made it to the birthday party. The rest of the team was home by mid-afternoon, taking more relaxed pace.

The cursed mosquitoes and trash dampened the trail experience, but it was still a fun all-in-all. I am keen to return to Mt. Arayat to complete our unfinished crossing all the way down to Arayat town.