Life finds a way, even at Mt. Pinatubo

A BARREN landscape. A dry and dusty mountain. A hot and

exhausting trek.

These were the images I had of Mt. Pinatubo and the climb I had

ahead of me. I had envisioned a dirty white mountain where the

ash continued to choke all life. I was not alone, as all of my

regular climbing pals declined my invitation to explore this

uncharted mountain.

How foolish we were to forget that life always finds a way. As

with a coral reef that has been blasted by a dynamite, or with

Michael Crichton's neutered dinosaurs in ''Jurassic Park,'' life will

adapt and survive. If organisms can survive and thrive in

thermal vents far beneath the ocean's surface, where we would

be roasted like in a pressure cooker, surely a freshly erupted

volcano would pose no problem.

What greeted us after a five-hour drive through the deserts of

Tattoine (someone tell George Lucas we found a good set for

''Episode II'') was a lush mountain covered in greenery, fed by

an idyllic stream of cool medicinal water. Grasses were

abundant, shrubs and mosses lined the walls carved out by the

water, and in some places, saplings had already taken root,

competing to be the first trees of the next generation.

The flying animals were first to colonize this virgin territory that

eight years ago was our first desert. I'm tempted to use the word

artificial desert because in our own lifetime, we have seen some

of the country's most productive sugar land turn into our own

Sahara, but there was nothing man-made about its creation. As

much as we are almost entirely responsible for Ormoc and the

ongoing tragedy of Diwalwal, we were only witnesses to the

earth-shattering eruptions of Mt. Pinatubo, which is a solid

definition of force majeure or the ''wrath of God.''

Unfortunately, we are not quite as blameless for the subsequent

and continuing lahar floods. If central Luzon was still covered

by dense rainforest, the damage by sediment-filled water would

be curbed much more effectively than by any megadike we

could build.

The first animals we noticed were the insects, specifically the

winged ants that crowded about our flashlights as we set camp

near the base of the mountain. They were annoying but

harmless, and I can't say I felt too much regret as I fired up my

camping stove to cook dinner and fried some ants that flew too

close to the flame. I had to be careful about not letting any into

my pot of melting cheese, else I accidentally break my

vegetarian diet. (I wonder how many ants my companions

roasted as they grilled their steaks and fish.) The advantage of

camping next to your cars is that you are afforded the luxury of

heavy cooking gear that you would not otherwise be inclined to

carry a few dozen kilometers in your backpack.

Magnificent landscape

We were all tired that Saturday evening, and had no problem

sleeping after the exciting road trip through the lahar land of

Zambales from Olongapo City. I didn't know the rest of the

group that Tribal Adventure Tours got together for this

expedition, but the trip across the flood plain ensured that we

bonded well enough.

We crisscrossed the river in seven 4x4s, and almost all of us

took turns getting stuck in the muck or in the rocks. Aside from

towing each other out alternatively with cables, we had to get

out of our cars barefoot, shovel around the tires, and then push

the stranded jeep until its tires got a grip on the shifting ground.

We would then get back into our cars only to stop when the

next 4x4 was trapped in the quagmire. There was no way that

one car could have made it on its own, but that part of the trip

was only the beginning of our dependence on each other.

In between pushing, we had time to marvel at this magnificent

landscape of a sandy beach-like flood plain with tendrils of

water meandering through, while flanked by the verdant

mountain ranges of Zambales on one side and Pampanga on the

other. The road trip, despite the inconvenience, was exciting

enough on its own to warrant the trip.

We scheduled a 5 o'clock wake-up for Sunday morning, so we

could start on the trek early. There was always the danger of

rain. A half-an-hour shower would pose no problem, but we

were warned that a full-blown storm could trigger landslides on

the still unstable ground, and the dreaded lahar. Plus, we had to

get out of the lahar land before dark, because there were no road

markers or trails to follow. We were navigating by sight.

I woke up at 3:30 a.m., however, because of the glow around my

tent. At first I thought that the sun had already risen, or that

someone had pointed one of their car's headlights at the

campsite. When I got out of the tent, I realized that it was simply

the moon, and less than a half moon at that, illuminating the

landscape. The surrounding cliffs of lahar were bathed in a

ghostly light, and I could see every pebble in the ground and

make my way about the campsite without the help of a

flashlight. I don't remember in my life seeing the moonlight so

strong.

Agricultural treasure trove

I noticed that Greg Hutchinson, one of the organizers of the trip

and of Tribal Adventures, was in his car writing in his journal.

We talked about his company, his kayaking adventures around

the Philippines, which is the main focus of his travel group, and

this trip specifically, which was also a first for him, though not

for his partner Steve Rogers and his son Joey. We noted how

significant this area was to the Philippines.

In the future, it will be an agricultural treasure trove, in the same

way that after the eruptions of Mt. Etna and Mt. Vesuvius in

Italy, the neighboring valleys provided the Roman empire and

then the world with its celebrated olives and vines. The lahar

area and Mt. Pinatubo are important now because they are a

study of a landscape in evolution, of life adapting to the

challenge. When I return to this area next year and then 10 years

after that, I am certain that I will find the landscape still changed.

I've never been to Africa, but Greg confirmed my observation

that parts of the flood plain, with the tall grasses dotted with

sparse copses, were like the Kalahari, like the Pride lands where

the lions roam in our mind. Greg even suggested that we might

import some for their tourist value. Of course, lions would make

short work of the cattle and the horses that now graze the area.

Besides, I'm always a little bit wary of bringing in alien species.

Even though there is little local wildlife to disturb with the

invasion, we would still have to import the whole caboodle, the

gazelle, the antelope, the hyenas, the giraffes and the elephants

to complete the picture.

The climb

After breakfast we started our climb on time, trekking along the

stream, up the mountain. Because it was only a day trip, we did

not have to carry much more than our water, about 2 liters per

person. Of course, I could not part with my camera equipment,

despite their warnings that I would have to swim with it.

Walking along the water was like a long trek beside a beach. I

felt like singing America's ''Horse With No Name.''

''After nine days I let the horse run free, cause the desert had

turned to sea. There were plants and birds, and rocks and

things, there was sand and hills and rings. The ocean is a

dessert with its life underground and the perfect disguise

above. Under the cities lie a heart made of the ground, but the

humans will give no love.''

Joey, the youngest, fastest and most energetic of the group,

went a step further by completing the whole trek barefoot.

At first we were very careful where we stepped because we did

not want our shoes to get wet. However, when we got to the

first waterfall, we realized that this was an impossible ambition.

Later on in the climb, we clung to the water, and in no way could

we complain about the trip being too hot.

The first water