The Accidental Mountaineer - My Mt. Danglay Misadventures

I say "Fear Factor" pales in comparison to what I foolishly did half a lifetime ago. I went mountain climbing, me who has had a fear of height since as far back as I can remember. Well, its not really a mountain, but they call it Mt. Danglay for reasons unknown. You can view it from the port in the city, its peak jutting out amongst shorter cousins and is part of Basey, Samar. Its actually a semi, since its more than a hill. Anyway, mountaineering was all the rage then and I still needed some Physical Education units so I signed myself up to an Outdoor-sort of class in the State University's branch here in Tacloban. An option during the class was to go on a real climb somewhere out of town and the place picked was a Mount_____ (name escapes me now) somewhere in Negros Oriental (or is it Occidental?). It wasn't mandatory considering the risk and expenses involved but not knowing what a real climb entailed, I counted myself in. Before we went on the scheduled climb, the group who decided to join went on a practice climb on Mt. Danglay. Guess who was with them? Yap, I was. There were ten of us including our Business Management Professor who was an enthusiast (he once joined a cigarette brand challenge in the United States).

We set off for Danglay early morning by banca (the local canoe) since the San Juanico Bridge was then in a state of repair. We arrived at the foot of the wannabe mountain after a short walk from shore where we embarked. Up we then went carrying with us all the equipment we would need: ropes, lunchboxes and a stick that we used to latch on the ground in order to steady ourselves. We actually had so much fun, the gang being a merry mix of jokers and comedians. Everything went fine for me, no matter how hard, including thrashing and cutting wild grass as we made our own trail to the summit. I was not so conscious then of high we were going up as the initial part of the climb is not that vertical and the grass camouflaged the drop below. Halfway through the top, we stopped for some lunch and had a short rest. I do remember laughing all the time , that's how funny and outgoing my climbmates were. Nothing indicated the fact that soon I would become the punchline once the climb was over. I can smile about it now, but back then, I was so pikon (piqued) hearing the jokes that I even stopped talking to them for almost a semester. But that's me, kinda sensitive at times but mellowed now a bit by the years.

So your wondering now what happened in that climb more than a decade ago? Guess my fear of heights caught up with me and the mountain suddenly took a 90 degree vertical turn. Nearing the summit, we came upon a sheer face of rock that was virtually 90 degrees from where we stood. Almost like a wall. We had to scale it to get to the top, there was no other way. Believe me, if there was I would have found it, I was that desperate not to have to climb that sheer rock. I was third from the last to go, all the girls were already up there, it was just me and our professor left and another classmate. When it was turn, I really panicked, as in the works, I froze and my fingers refused to tug myself up the rope (they called it rappel). What really got it in for me was I cried for my mama, literally. Yup, there i was, dangling in a rope, on a mountain in Samar, just a year short of my twentieth birthday, and bawling myself out. I said, no, I just couldn't do it. Eventually our enterprising professor found a way to get me up there, what that was, i'd rather keep private. Unfortunately for me, the rest of my climbmates were not of the same mindset. They found it worthwhile to tell the rest of the class back in the low and flat land of what happened and for a time I couldn't hear enough of it during classes. Anyhow, soon we got to the peak, and for all our efforts (including my unwilling comedic act), we stayed a mere five minutes. The trip downhill was a lot easier as it was on the other side, and, no, I didn't anymore slip to any crying fits.

Looking back, I said to myself, what actually got into me that I agreed to go on that climb? Facing my fears? Yah, right, like telling a claustrophobe to go try putting himself inside a coffin.
Nonetheless, for all its worth, the experience was still worth it, and despite the punchlines, am quite mighty proud of having done it.