Philippines 1995: Part 10

Note: this trip was made at Christmas 1995. In the time since then I'm sure much has changed so it may not be a great idea to treat this as a guide. Treat it as a memoir, which - give or take some editing - is exactly what it is.

There was a line full of socks hanging under the overhang of the house and all that Santa had left in any of them was a toe full of dirty water. Breakfast was an unappealing mixture of rice, corned beef and peanut butter. I made do with a couple of slices of bread and some tea. Yesterday I had walked in waterproofs and still got soaked. Today the weather was worse. I decided that as it was warm and wet rather than cold and wet I would use the waterproofs to protect my rucksack and walk in my T-shirt and shorts. After all wet is wet, what difference if I start out that way or finish up that way.

The path led up a section of stone steeps that were steep and tiring and seemed to go on for hours though it was really no more than about twenty five minutes before it eventually flattened out into a dirt track that climbed slowly around the mountain. All the time the rain made everything miserable and the view was non-existent. Instead there was a featureless grey wall of fog that began about twenty feet from wherever you happened to be standing. That kind of walking is monotonous and depressing. You start off optimistically walking around the puddles, progress to fatalistically walking through puddles, briefly raise your spirits by jumping in the puddles and end up wishing you were dead. When it gets really bad you start to wonder if perhaps you are dead and this is the circle of hell reserved for ramblers.
Almost at the summit a sudden cramp pole-axed me and pitched me sideways into a muddy pool. After some very painful stretching exercises I limped painfully down the other side of the hill to a circular structure resembling a cross between a gazebo and a bus shelter where we ate our Christmas lunch of corned beef, cheese and tuna fish sandwiches - an over familiar menu. One of the locals crow-barred the padlock from a shed which turned out to be the village shop and sold us beer and gin.
After lunch a jeepney took us back to Banaue sliding with suicidal abandon down the trail that had so nearly stopped us on the way up. Two more days of rain had made it even worse and it was perhaps just as well that the plastic sides were down preventing us seeing just how dangerous it really was.

In the hotel I showered and changed into dry clothes and suddenly felt human again. After half an hour though I was feeling rain withdrawal so I pulled my wet rain gear back on and went for a walk in Banaue town. Surprisingly as it was both Sunday and Christmas Day there were a number of shops open. There were plenty of shops selling inedible looking food and cheap clothing and one or two selling jewellery and carvings at knockdown prices. The shopkeepers were doing so little trade that they were happy just to stand and chat with little or no expectation of a sale. I poked around looking at the buildings which close to looked a good deal more solid than my passing glance a few days ago had suggested. Afterwards I bought a carving and went back to the hotel for a sleep before dinner.