Affiliates
Contact Us
Century International Hotels
TravelSmart.NET

PHILIPPINES
HONG KONG
CANADA
EUROPE
USA
INDONESIA
SINGAPORE
THAILAND


THE WEBSITE
Philippines

Romancing the river (1)
Source: Inquirer
Author: Teret Peņa
Date: 2000-03-27
 
OUR ADVENTURE began on a Friday

night at the EMC Bus Terminal on

Roosevelt Avenue, Quezon City. For

EMC buses, all roads lead to Tuguegarao City, and trips are

scheduled regularly. There were nine of us--four men and five

women--all geared and psyched for the journey ahead.



We were awakened every now and then by the few stops made

along the way. I stepped out of the bus only at the last stop,

and feeling the first gust of wind, I knew we were safely out of

the city's clutches. A full flame-orange moon was framed by a

glowing blue sky and mountain silhouettes. It was our constant

companion until we reached our destination, its light reflected

on the rice paddies along the road.



Before the trip, all communication was done via the Internet.

Even paying the all-inclusive fee of P4,500 was a simple

transaction, confirmed instantly through e-mail. But we had no

idea who would be in charge of our lives for the next two days.

All we had was a name (Anton Carag) and a vague physical

description (big, dark guy with a full Van Dyke).



As soon as we disembarked in Tuguegarao at exactly 5 a.m.

Saturday, we turned toward the street to find just that, except

that there was a giant smile to go with it. Even in the

early-morning darkness, it was clear in Anton's sun-weathered

face that here was a man who knew the wilderness well.



I was craving for coffee, but the taste of strong hot cocoa at the

Carag home was a welcome surprise. It had enough caffeine and

sugar to get us started on the first leg of the

adventure--kayaking on the Pinacanauan River.



Self-rescue



Kayaking isn't just a matter of paddling. Anton's basic training

course includes a number of rowing techniques to help

first-timers maneuver through various paths on the river. The

objective is to get to know the movements of the kayak and how

it reacts to each stroke, combined with the unpredictable motion

of the river.



Vital to the training course is self-rescue. In the water, one by

one, Anton flipped our kayaks over and demonstrated how we

could turn the capsized things upright and, holding on to our

paddles, get back on.



Sounds simple? Believe me, it's far from easy. The river flows

fast and constantly so you can't expect your kayak to sit still for

you. And getting back on is like dragging a slippery 100-pound

fish on board. There is no conceivable way of doing this with

poise!



After the training course, we loaded the kayaks onto two motor

bancas that would take us upriver. The trip up is a feast for

city-weary eyes. The clear water glistens beautifully in the

sunlight, and the sight of endless greenery towering above and

stretching beyond will leave you awestruck.



From the boat, we witnessed life on the riverside. Bancas

navigate the river regularly to get people and their supplies from

their remote mountain villages to the town proper and back.

Even horses are loaded onto the motor boats. Men in skimpy

shorts go down to the river with fishing nets for their daily

catch, while women in tapis bathe and do the laundry.



Along the way, we spotted egrets and swiftlets. But what held

our attention was a bright blue bird that swiftly swooped

between branches and the provocative red of the fire trees

along the banks.



Finally we docked at Anton's designated put-in point. The

descent back to our camp was about two hours away, and we

would do it on kayaks. Anton led the way as we struggled with

our oars. Following his lead meant choosing the rougher parts

of the rapids, and at any bend in the river, taking the outer curve

was always a tougher enterprise.



Taking the easy way often prompted a chiding remark from our

leader, which, of course, challenged me to try and wrestle with a

tougher route.



The river's challenges came randomly--a long calm was often

followed by a quick ride on the rapids, and sometimes, a long

rough stretch was barely interrupted. Part of the thrill of this

river run was anticipating an oncoming rapid, with our ears

serving as a reliable guide. We would brace ourselves as soon

as we heard a strong hissing sound, and soon we would be

maneuvering through foaming white swells, dodging tree

branches and jagged rocks along the way.



Exhilaration



Getting past a wave of rapids was exhilarating. A few of us

capsized while negotiating a rough bend, but no harm was done

apart from scrapes and bruises. Besides, all pain and exhaustion

was forgotten each time the river slowed down, allowing us a

leisurely view of the forest and towering rocks.



Thankfully, the Pinacanauan River is now officially a protected

site, where no logging or fishing is allowed.



A chill was filling the air as we docked at the camp, the sky

turning a pale shade of orange in preparation for sunset.

Despite aching arms and shaking knees, we loaded and boarded

a motor banca with a lingering energy. It was probably the

adrenalin still pumping in our bloodstream, and it gave every

sensation a sharpened edge, getting us ready for the event we

were about to witness.



Directly above us, a cave etched at the edge of a high cliff

began to spew a thick swarm of bats. We watched, captivated,

as a seemingly endless cloud of insect bats jetted out of the

cave toward the trees that lined the cliffs, sometimes swooping

down so close to us that it elicited a scream. Evening had come

and it was feeding time for the bats.



As the sun went down on our sleepy way back to Anton's

home, we were sure that the bats weren't the only ones who

needed a feeding after that long hard day. A full moon remained

suspended over Cagayan Valley that night, watching over us as

we gorged on a home-cooked dinner and then collapsed on the

Carags' comfortable beds.



(to be continued)
 

Indonesia Thailand USA Europe Canada Hong Kong Philippines