The Joys of Scaling a Filipino Volcano

Last week, Nathalie and I were on the island of Camiguin located on the Bohol sea in the Visayas region of the Philippines.  Camiguin is known for its incredible natural beauty that's anchored in the fact that it has more active volcanoes per square kilometer than anywhere else in the world.  Given the chance to scale one of the peaks, we jumped at the opportunity and booked a guided tour at the earliest opportunity. 

We talked to the owner of the guesthouse we were staying at, Marianita, and she had suggested that we contact a friend of her's who ran an adventure tour company on the island.  We agreed and she rang Tyson, a light-spirited Filipino man who had been in the business since he was fifteen (we were guessing that he was around 40-45 years old).   He came over to the hotel and after briefly discussing the logistics with him, we agreed to climb the iconic Mount Hibok-Hibok later in the week.

Mount Hibok-Hibok from about one-quarter of the way up

Mt Hibok-Hibok is a strato-volcano and the second-highest peak on the island and while the last eruption happened between 1948 and 1951, it is still considered active.   The base of the volcano, sitting just a few meters above sea-level quickly and steeply shoots out of the ground rising to a height of 1,332 meters/4,370 feet.

The plan was to, starting at 06:00 a.m., ascend via the Yumbing trail, have lunch inside the crater, then make the final ascent to the summit.  The descent would take us down a steep, rocky pass, then out past a seismic monitoring station, finishing off through high jungle and ending at a thermal spring, where the water is warmed by the geologic voodoo happening below the surface.  

Calling the trail lightly-traveled would be a misnomer. There was little to no indication that we were on a path (no signs, no markers), and if it wasn't for our guides, we wouldn't have stood a chance of even coming close to getting up and down the mountain.  

The ascent started smoothly.  Tyson would stop every few minutes to point out the different flora and fauna along the way.  As we changed elevation, the landscape would shift with it.  We started off in lightly covered jungle, walking up a well-worn trail towards a natural spring.  Tyson told us that this was the highest point locals would come to get fresh water and indeed, from that point forward, the trail became decidedly more ambiguous.  

As we climbed, the terrain on the trail became increasingly more difficult.  We went from simply walking to bouldering our way up large rocks. As you could image, the tropics are incredibly hot and although being under the canopy of the primeval forest protects us from the sun, it does a fantastic job of trapping the heat and moisture underneath the leaves.     Making it even more difficult was the fact that we had to ration our water meaning that we couldn't just replenish our fluids without abandon.  

By the time we hit the crater around 10:30, we were drenched in sweat and ready for a long break. Nathalie and I were carrying seven liters of water between us and Tyson and his son Ryan who was accompanying us, were hauling their drinks as well as food for us to snack on throughout the day.   The weather had been on-and-off at various altitudes during the trek.  We started off with clear morning skies, but as we climbed, we entered into clouds.  

Once we hit the crater, we were practically in fog as the cloud-cover was only 10 meters or so over our head.   The inside of the volcano wasn't what we were expecting as most people would think of it as having a distinct pit with a clear view on the magma churning below.  As the last eruption was nearly 70 years ago, the earth had time to repair itself and we were instead presented with a lush meadow upon our arrival.  

Eerily surreal, we sat down on the shores of a dried up lake and took in peculiar serenity of being in the epicenter of a volcano.   Grown-over were the barren walls that were laid waste by the tremendous forces of the Pacific rim below us.  Instead we sat there, alone, in awe of our surroundings, listening to the breeze pass through the trees and the birds chirp peacefully amongst them.  Tyson took out some of the food he was carrying which consisted of bread, peanut butter, mangoes and bananas.  We set to work recharging our energy and after finishing off some of the juiciest mangoes I've ever head, we began the next phase of the trek: summiting  the peak.  

Tyson told us that this was going to be one the hardest parts of the climb with large boulders to scale and thick plant life practically overrunning the trail.  To make it even easier, it began to rain right before we started back up.  

We took our time, slowly conquering each step in front of us. We were using trees and roots as support and at a certain point, we had to scale a mud-laden wall just to continue on the trail.   From there, the four of us traversed an escarpment, working our way yet higher.  The rain persisted and continued to make the rocks slippery to grip onto.  

Finally after an hour and a half of carefully navigating the unmarked track in front of us, we arrived at the summit.  Instead of being rewarded with a panoramic of the world below us, we were greeted with a bird's eye view of a cloud.  The rain that had dogged us since leaving the crater still persisted and we were left looking at a small drop off that from first glance could have been the remnants of an old creek bed.  

This could have been a disappointment and we could have fretted over it. But if there's one thing I've learned about spending five hours to climb a volcano its the power of positivity.  Convinced that it would clear up and too dead to move, we waited out the inclement weather.  Our gamble paid off and within 15 minutes the clouds began to break and the breathtaking view around us slowly opened up.  

I'd really like to find a way to describe what we were seeing.  I don't think words could really do it justice so I'm going to post a few pictures below that get at least closer than my words could.   From where we stood, we were looking straight down at the main town of Mambajao below, with the sea coming right up to it.  Across the water was the island of Bohol that laid a cool four hour ferry ride away.   Behind us were some of the other volcanoes shooting out of the earth.  Straight below was a sheer drop of around 20 meters/65 feet.  There were birds gracefully flying in the air, maybe unaware of the significance of their surroundings. 

We stayed at the top for nearly an hour, taking in the view, resting our legs and eating more peanut butter.  With much regret, we started back down mountain, giving ourselves a daylight buffer should anything go wrong.  

For anyone who hasn't done mountain trekking, the hardest part is coming down.  Going up is easy, if tiring as you're only pushing yourself up.   Going down has two caveats that make it noticeably more difficult: 1) your legs are already tired from lifting your body plus you backpack up and 2) gravity is working against you by pulling you down.

This difficulty was amplified by the damp conditions created by the earlier rain shower.  The first half of the three hour trek down consisted of sliding down wet rocks on a path probably better suited for repelling than for trekking.  It was a full body work out with all of us either squatting down low to avoid falling face first down the mountain or grabbing on to whatever tree or root that was within arm's reach, again to avoid falling face first down the mountain.

Tyson and Ryan seemed to have little difficulty with this part of the trail, effortlessly hoping from rock to rock, running down the trail and generally watching me and Nathalie slide down slowly, like toddlers learning to walk.  After what was probably the longest two hours of physical activity in our lives, we reached the halfway point of the descent.

 Taking rest at a seismic activity monitoring station, we collapsed against one of the walls of the small structure, taking refuge from the sun and giving our backs a much-needed break.  Too tired to speak, we sat there in near silence, drinking a generous portion of our rationed water and eating the remaining bananas Tyson had brought for the group.

25 minutes later, we were back on our feet for the last push.  Tyson assured us that the worst was behind us and as we continued the trail leveled off.   The remaining hour and half went by quickly enough as the few rocks that remained on the trail were spared the rain shower from earlier and the shallower decline made it much easier on our wasted legs.

The trail ended much like it started: high canopy jungle with giant palm trees above and sprawling fern plants below.  After crossing over a small ravine created by lava flow from the last eruption (maybe small isn't the correct term.  It was around 8 meters/30 feet deep and 6 meters/20 feet wide), we entered into the hot springs park.

When the day started, we planned on rewarding ourselves at the end of trek by jumping in the hot waters of the spring.  However, by the time we entered the park, the only thing we could think of was going back to the guesthouse, taking a shower and sitting in the bed.  Additionally, we had just spent eight hours completely isolated from humanity. The last place we wanted to be was in a glorified public pool surrounded by people.

Tyson completely understood and we followed him to the parking lot where our bike awaited us.  Twenty short minutes later, we were back in our room.   We dedicated the next day to doing nothing but lounging around the room, swimming in the sea, and letting our bodies recuperate.

We wound up spending seven days in Camiguin.  Climbing Mount Hibok-Hibok was, by far, the highlight of our stay there.  During the entire ten hours we were out trekking, we only encountered one other person, which was a farmer coming down from the well at the beginning of the trail.

The path was barely marked and local law mandates that all visitors be accompanied by an official guide.  This requirement helps to keep the unspoiled beauty of the mountain intact and given that they have no plans to increase accessibility to the summit by improving the trail, it seems only logical that the amazing natural treasure remains in place for the brave few adventurers who not only make it out to Camiguin but also decide to climb the summit.

Inside the crater

Tyson having some peanut butter