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Earth, wind and fire
By Guy Wilkinson
Published in the July-September 2012 issue.
North of Manila, the site of a catastrophic volcanic eruption has now become one of the Philippines’ top adventure attractions. Behold Mount Pinatubo.
I remember the sound of a stampede or rolling thunder. The Aeta people came running from the mountains through our village. We knew something was very wrong.”
Local guide Leck Sibog was just six years old when the second most devastating volcanic eruption of the 20th century took place just a few kilometres from his home.
Triggered by a series of earthquakes, Mount Pinatubo erupted on June 15, 1991, spewing rocks and millions of tonnes of boiling sulphur dioxide high into the atmosphere. Hundreds of people died and around 100,000 were left homeless.
Typhoon Yunya provided the sucker-punch at the worst possible moment, blowing in from the northeast to spread hot ash and rain across Luzon, the largest island in the Philippines. The resulting cloud depleted the earth’s ozone layer and reduced global temperatures by around 0.5 degrees for the next three years.
Twenty-one years later, the region has an almost otherworldly feel.
Bouncing across sprawling dust plains in an open 4WD, we’re surrounded by steep, serrated cliff faces carved by avalanches of hot mud and debris, a deadly mix known as lahar. A charcoal-grey overcoat of ash blankets the landscape and a faint, smoky aroma permeates the air.
Where the valley widens, we pull up at a makeshift base camp alongside other jeeps. From this point, it’s a relatively undemanding two- to three-hour trek to the summit.
Wrapping a red bandanna around his face, Sibog leads the way across a network of shallow streams crisscrossing an expansive moonscape that stretches far into the distance. The river that once flowed here has long since been swallowed by dust, and while the streams that remain aren’t deep, they’re sometimes tricky to navigate.
Filled with an almost childish exuberance, I’m fooling around while hopping over stepping stones, only to lose my footing and slice my shin open on stones and gravel. I can’t help feeling it’s the mountain’s version of a disciplinary cuff around the ear.
Heading deeper into the gorge, evidence of nature’s wrath is all around. Sloping canyon walls are strewn with rubble, strange monolith sculptures dot our path, and the presence of plant and animal life is conspicuous by its absence.
Unconsciously, the group splits, walking two abreast often 20 metres apart. Having navigated this route virtually every day for the last four years, Sibog is like a nimble packhorse, setting a breakneck pace.
It’s soon apparent why around 30,000 people had to be evacuated from the surrounding areas. The United States military were ousted permanently from their airbase at nearby Clark and five years passed before Sibog returned to his home village of Santa Juliana just 30 kilometres away. Even then, he says, almost everything remained smothered in a knee-deep carpet of ash.
The landscape constantly evolves. We shimmy along narrow cliff-edge walkways, scramble up steep embankments and wade across streams cutting through vast valley plains. When the wind picks up, tiny twisters of ash spiral from the banks, adding to the post-apocalyptic atmosphere.
Midway, we stumble upon a wooden shelter manned by three local rangers. With its thatched roof and crude rigging, it looks more suited to a Fijian island than the plains of an active volcano. With their broad smiles, ragged shorts and flip-flops, the men are quite possibly the least threatening security guards I’ve ever seen – they’re more like genial surfers sent to safeguard another planet.
Higher up, the surrounds gradually shift from lunar to tropical. Trees and vegetation have made a gradual fight back and the banks of a small river are now lined with trees. For the first time, the landscape is green.
A meandering flight of crumbling stone steps marks the final ascent to the summit. At the top, we’re rewarded with a spectacle of unimaginable beauty.
Where the peak of Mount Pinatubo once stood now lies a vast emerald lake surrounded by a jagged crater rim.
During its nine-hour eruption, the volcano’s height was reduced from 1,745 metres to 1,485 metres, with most of its peak sprinkled liberally across the continent. The faces of the group say it all; it’s hard to fathom how such beauty could result from such devastation.
From the crater rim, 170 stone steps wind down to the lake’s shore where a smattering of tourists basks in the sun beside a fetching collection of pink wooden rowboats. A weathered sign advises against swimming; the lake plunges to frightening depths almost instantly but the temptation proves too strong for most. I’m no exception.
Lying on my back, I enjoy a moment of total silence as warm water submerges my ears. Above me, sharp granite rock faces give way to a spotless blue sky. Though the tepid temperature is soothing, it’s a disconcerting reminder of what lies beneath.
From the far bank, the wind picks up suddenly and I struggle against the newfound current back towards shore. For an awful moment, I fear I might need to be rescued by one of the enterprising boatman clutching life vests. Mercifully, I’m spared the humiliation.
Back at base camp, it’s an hour’s bone-shaking ride on the jeep back to Santa Juliana. Despite being plastered in dust, my leg sliced and bruised, I struggle to remember the last time I felt this content.
Nearer to the village, we pass roaming buffalos and nomadic families. They wave emphatically as we thunder past. This entire route can be trekked without the aid of a 4WD, and for those with more time at their disposal, it’s worth doing as an organised two-day camping expedition.
Back at the village, Sibog hops from his perch on the jeep’s rear bumper, bidding us a swift farewell. We’re left to roam the streets for a while. From somewhere, a rooster crows in the afternoon heat. Inside a tumbledown hut, a couple of young children laugh bashfully while shielding their faces from my camera. Next door, beneath the shadow of a tall tree, a farmer readies his buffalo for an afternoon labouring in the rice fields. It’s a tranquil scene; one I can’t help but wonder if anyone around here takes for granted. •
Photography by Guy Wilkinson.
Getting there
Philippine Airlines flies direct from Sydney and Melbourne to Manila seven times a week. 1300-888-725;
philippineairlines.com
Kumuka Worldwide offers tours around the Philippines.
1300-667-277; kumuka.net.au
When To Go
Though the Philippines’ weather has become less predictable in recent years, January to May usually brings the best conditions. Hotels can book out months in advance of Holy Week, around Easter, while New Year’s is also busy.
Where To Stay
Mount Pinatubo can be done as a day trip from Manila but it means leaving before dawn. Many travellers prefer to stay overnight in one of the neighbouring towns – Clark or Angeles.
In Manila, the Makati Shangri-La enjoys a prime location and offers luxe rooms and a number of excellent restaurants. 63-2/813-8888; shangri-la.com
Also in Manila, Hotel Sofitel Philippine Plaza offers cool respite from the city’s heat with a lagoon-style pool and bay-facing rooms. 63-2/551-5555; sofitel.com
Las Casas Filipinas de Acuzar is about a three-hour drive from Mount Pinatubo in Bataan. 63-2/332-5338; lascasasfilipinas.com
Further Information
For practical information and links to other Philippine related sites, visit visitphilippines.org
Philippine Department of Tourism has useful general information about travelling to the country. 61-2/9279-3380;
philippinetourism.com.au
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