Our last few days have been spent in up in the clouds of the Cordillera Mountains. From Hundred Islands we took two buses to the town of Baguio, travel here is so cheap, the six hour journey cost less than £6 for the both of us. National express could learn a little from these guys. Baguio was a short stop over for us before heading up to Sagada. We strolled around the market where you could buy absolutely anything from rice, coffee beans, fish, and umbrellas to intestines. Absolutely starving after our journey we decided on a late Filipino lunch, deciding on a local delight called sisig, served on a sizzling plate, we were ravenous. It smelled great, I took a huge bite and nearly threw up...normally quite adventurous with food neither of us could stomach this. It seemed to be a mince type affair but rather than just meat we seemed to get bone, gristle and goodness knows what else. In fact it was so awful it's making me retch even thinking about it now. We will not be ordering that again!

Another early morning and by 6.30am we were on our way to Sagada. Being a punctual person is a benefit in this country. So far all of our buses have left 10-15 minutes early and as someone who can't stand being late and is generally early for everything this is rather fantastic. Harper you would love it. Patience is a virtue when negotiating African time but punctuality is the new patience for Filipino travel. Sagada is only 136k from Baguio and we were rather bemused as to why the journey was due to take about 6 hours. Until about 10 minutes into the journey when the road began winding steeply up the mountain through the low clouds. The road was rather hideous in places and to be honest whilst the views were obscured at times by cloud this also had the benefit of hiding the sheer drops off the side of the mountain. Being rainy season it's quite a treacherous route. Unbeknownst to us parts of the road had been closed for the last month due to landslides. Passing our first about 20 minutes into the journey i looked in horror as the two lane road narrowed to one (our lane had slipped off the cliff). The twists and turns continued and our stomach and side muscles got a workout for the next six hours. The landslides soon began to lose interest until we had to pull over whilst the road ahead was cleared of oncoming traffic. Huge boulders lay in the road for the next few kms, we were lucky and made it through. Over the last few weeks' passengers had to get off and walk for 20 minutes and get picked up on the other side.

Exhausted and relieved we arrived in the pretty mountain province of Sagada. Sagada is home to some very BIG caves and not wanting to miss out on anything we spent our first day taking a tour. Not just any tour, this was the 'Adventure Tour', read true adventure, no regard to health and safety, cling on for dear life type of adventure.

So we met our guide 'Bernard' at the tourist centre in town and strolled along the only road out of the village. Stopping at our first viewpoint the 'hanging coffins' there were indeed coffins in the distance attached high up to the side of the rocks. Apparently it's quite commonplace in the Sagada to decide on a 'burial' like this but it's not for the average soul. The privilege calls for the sacrifice of 21 pigs and 42 chickens. Onwards and into the depths of the cave, soon we entered xxx the burial cave. Yet more coffins. Some hundreds of years old were stacked into the entrance of this sacred place. It was all rather eerie as some of the coffins have been squeezed and cracked with age so you can see inside, bones and all. This is where our 'adventure' began. I had asked Bernard at the start of the trip whether there were any 'really small holes' and he reassured me 'no, not really small' clearly our perception and sense of space was at odds with each other as having scrambled over our first few boulders, broken coffins and skeletons (thank goodness we're not superstitious) we arrived at our first real obstacle, a very small hole! I should have mentioned that being a cave and underground it is understandably pitch black at this point. All we have to show us the way is Bernard and his trusty gas lamp casting a descent amount of light. So at this first crawl through my trust in Bernard has diminished slightly as he was obviously lying earlier, the hole is tiny! Bernard showed us the technique to get through, I followed and James gallantly brought up the rear.

Deeper and deeper into the depths we crawled until we caught up the group in front and had to wait some time whilst they all whinged about getting through a particularly tricky space. All fears of claustrophobia pushed aside we stood around tapping our feet, eager to move on to the next challenge. Once they were finally all through I realised what they were fussing about, a 6 meter drop with a rope and lots of tight spaces. Being small has its advantages here but being vertically challenged can at times be an impediment. 'Put your foot here' says Bernard, 'where? Here' - but my legs quite simply don't stretch that far and I have no upper body strength. Using all possible levels of contortion I was through in a jiffy.

Overtaking the 'slow' group we proceeded through the labyrinth, rock climbing, rappelling down a mini waterfall, hauling ourselves over cliffs on and on it continued. At one point we scaled down quite a big drop with Bernard's warning of 'hold the rope, whatever you do don't let go as there is nothing to hold and big drop' ringing in our ears I looked behind me and saw a rope dangling down a very watery rock, thinking to myself thank goodness I don't have to go down that one. Concentrating on the task at hand I clung to said rope and did my mini abseil. 'Good, good' is the welcome reception. Only when we were both down did I realise that we had to go up that hideous water logged rock I'd seen a moment ago. Impossible, James got to go first so he could 'help' me if needed. Only slightly offended that the guys thought I might need assistance I took a chance. Goodness knows how I hauled myself up but somehow I managed and now have the bruises to prove it.

The tour got better and better, James swam in a couple of underground lakes, I skidded around on my bum and got covered in bat poo and we both ditched our shoes to go hopping over waterfalls and wade through rivers up to my shoulders. More tight squeezes were par for the course and we loved it. Four hours later, with the stench of Guano (which by the way from a distance smells like coffee) firmly embedded in our nostrils we began our ascent to ground level. Outside it was pouring with rain but as we were already soaked with a combination of sweat and mineral laden cave water, a little extra didn't seem to be a problem. Quite smug to have made it out in one piece we strolled back into town. A local woman helpfully pointed out 'it's raining, use a waterproof'.