Part 86: Luzon....
One of the the many areas on my ever growing list of places to explore in the Philippines, happened to be the mountainous regions of northern Luzon. Although it is worth noting that when it comes to getting around here, the infrastructure both geographically and logistically make it very challenging, due to there being no rail links or huge freeways much out of Manila, plus you cant buy bus tickets in advance online unless you go in person to the many bus stations - and that in itself is hugely time consuming.
Also Irregular Ferries to and from the many islands can take long hours too, if not days, so the only other obvious way around it is by plane, although that is mostly via Manila every time, involving multiple flights, and the prices have been slowly, but surely creeping up since I first arrived here well over a year ago now.
Having said all of that, I believe its well worth all of the effort, which is why I always suggest taking the time to explore for your self and speak to the locals or you will end up missing out.
With most of the places of interest in Luzon being 10 hours away from Manila by bus, on sometimes winding pot hole ridden roads, it certainly falls into that logistically difficult category.
Now the easiest way to get there was by night bus, so me and some friends at the hostel shared a cab to the bus station to pre book our tickets in Cubao which happened to be in rush hour traffic (when is it not rush hour traffic here)
Several travellers make the mistake of just showing up at the bus station on the off chance hoping they can just jump on a bus with out pre booking, and end up frustrated or disappointed when they are always full.
We wisely purchased our tickets on the Victory liner over night bus for the following day meaning we could relax. Even though it took us the best part of an afternoon to get there and back, plus queuing up at the depot.
After packing our bags, the next evening we had to get another cab back to the same bus station an hour before departure that was due to leave at 11.30 pm.
So as you can see it takes a lot of effort and planning, but our seats were safely reserved.
Also with it being Friday evening the traffic was even more horrendous, and the bus station was rammed full of people wanting to get back to the provinces so they could spend time with their families over the weekend.
Other than being completely packed, it never seems that well organised in these places, but despite all of this, the people are never stressed or impatient, no one pushes in or ever complains; they just accept things as they are and get on with it.
I'm sure if you were to put the same amount of English people in the same circumstances, it would be complete chaos - I simply don't believe they have the patience to cope with it.
Viv, who was a Colombian girl I met at the Hostel, and Cy, my adventurous/formidable little hiking partner were joining me on the trip and were brilliant company from the off.
We all eventually made our way onto the bus and were luckily enough to sit close to each other, making our selfs as comfortable as we possibly could for the long trip north.
One of my tips would be to bring warm clothing because the AC is absolutely freezing; and they do not turn it down for anyone.
The first part of the journey out of the city was the typical stop start affair with the driver not really caring much for anyone's comfort; braking heavily at every opportunity, inching his way through the heavy traffic until we hit the free way - then it wasn't to long before we reached the narrower provincial roads. Viv to my right had already fallen asleep not long after she made friends with a peaceful lady from Sagada (one of our later destinations) and it wasn't later before Cy followed suit either; I only wish it was that easy for me, but sadly a freezing, and really uncomfortable 7 hours followed of me trying everything from listening to music to reading, to watching nearly everyone on the bus fall asleep one by one apart from me, before eventually resigning myself the the reality of me and any form of public transport and sleeping just does not work.
As the sun came up you could see the mountains either side of us appear thorough the mist, with the road weaving left and right until we reached our first stop and destination, Baguio - or the city of pines which was more than 1500 meters above sea level, and the hundreds of old houses clustered together on the steep mountain side were great driving through the city. The bus dropped us off a short walk away from the center and we could instantly feel the difference in climate from Manila - many people often head here just to escape the sticky heat.
Once more we queued up to purchase our next bus tickets further north to Sagada; another 220 km to be exact.
It was still early morning therefore a lot of the cafes were still closed. One eventually opened up and we ate a decent breakfast here before we boarded an even older and more packed bus, this time with no air con.
The roads were narrower and more winding just as we left Baguio, although I'm not sure anything could have prepared me for the white knuckle and hazardous journey.
I'm not kidding to say that this was as insane a bus trip as I have ever been on in my life. Aside from the tumbling mountains and quite magnificent landscapes, there were vertical drops the whole way there, and at many points we found ourselves careering around corners on a dirt track in this dodgy old bus just inches from a sheer drop of over 1000 feet, so this was definitely not one for the faint-hearted!
At times I danced between holding on for dear life and being completely blown away by what I witnessed. Hands down this was a visual treat, and equally enthralling as the rickety over crowded bus swayed one way then the next passing landslides and rocks in the road, reaching dizzying heights!
We continued to snake up into the mountains through yet more lovely scenery, the highest point was more than 2,000 metres above sea level causing my ears to pop, plus I was being thrown left and right in the bus till we eventually stopped for a short break in a small mountain village near the province of Benguet to stretch our legs. There were no other foreigners in site anywhere and the local people seemed peaceful. Some where selling cashew nuts and seeds to the passengers on the bus whilst I walked over to nearby ledge across the bumpy road and took a panoramic picture of the view. This epic landscape was more dramatic than anything I had ever laid eyes on before in Asia
We only stopped briefly before continuing onwards and upwards for 7 hours in total till we arrived at Sagada.
The bus dropped us off at the top of a hill leading down to the small municipal village surrounded by plateau rice terraces and framed with postcard perfect scenic mountains.
The air was crisp as we wearily made our way down looking for accommodation. I made conversation with a fellow traveller who recommended a home stay place near the bottom of the hill. Apparently the locals have repeatedly stopped the development of 5 star hotels here and after looking around you can totally understand why.
All of the guest houses here are wooden and modest in terms of facilities, usually consisting of a few rooms above a family home. One noticeable difference was none of them had AC since the temperature drops to around 7/8 degrees in the evenings.
The place we found was perfect and after dropping off our bags we immediately headed out to find one of the many famous sites Sagada was famous for - the hanging coffins.
Basically they were logs carved out hollow for their coffins that were hanging from the side of a rock face. It was a tradition that dated back more than 2000 years.
To reach there was only a short 30 minute trek through an old grave yard amongst a stunning back drop of mountains and cows, or carabau as they are known here. The coffins which were immediately distinguishable were set down a cliff face and according to locals these traditional burials only take place every few years or so now and one of the most common beliefs behind this practice is that moving the bodies of the dead higher up brings them closer to their ancestral spirits. On first appearance the coffins looked quite small, then I later found out this was due to the bodies being buried in the foetal position. Another of their beliefs that we leave the earth in the same way as we arrive on it.
In the distance there were quick moving misty rain clouds ascending upon us and it looked as though the heavens were about to open. Sadly we couldn't get closer to the coffins incase we lost our footing but we all took plenty of pictures just as it began to pour.
The walk back to the guest house took a little longer as we took greater care to not slip and indeed you could feel the temperature drop quite dramatically.
Even though I was still feeling quite dizzy from the long winding bus journeys all the way up here we managed to walk around the small village later that evening.
With it being well into the rain season there was a distinct lack of visitors here which was perfectly fine by me and apart from me Cy and Vivian there didn't seem to be many other travellers around.
We had a few beers at a local bar then headed back to the guest house for some much needed rest.
It was the first time I was this cold since leaving England and the itchy old blanket was all that was between us and a freezing nights sleep.
Next, Bomod-Ok water falls...