Never in my life have I felt so helpless. Being the leader of this group, I carried the burden of responsibility. All sorts of doomsday scenarios  played inside my head. Bob, believe me when I say this, if somebody has to perish, it had better be myself than any member of the group. Not Leo, not PJ, not Allan, and not, oh well, on second thought, to hell with Gary. Just kidding.

It was 3am in my watch. I prayed to an unknown god that we pull through till morning. The most precious thing that could happen would be  the light of day. It would mean that we could see the surroundings better than guessing in the dark. It would mean that we could descend on safer ground if the storm would not stop. It would mean hope. It was the longest morning of my life. I looked at my watch and  it seemed an eternity.

We were all drenched to the bone and trembling like an old diesel engine. I lost most of my voice. My feet were so numb it was like walking on stilts. I could not feel my hands anymore even if I tucked them inside my pocket for warmth. Considering the wind factor at this elevation (around 2,900 meters), the temperature might very well have fallen below zero. The windbreaker, the sweater, and the  t-shirt I wore proved unworthy. My camping stove saved us from the killing cold when we boiled water for coffee and instant noodles. Everybody gathered around the stove fire for warmth and to shield it from the wind. I remember vividly that I stood there uncannily silent. I felt the severe cold attacking my system, invading the heat core that made me alive. Was I fast sinking into hypothermia? How much cold could a man endure? Gary wrapped his thermal sheet around me. It made no difference really, but something good came out of it because out from the silence that engulfed me, I started to sing with my coarse voice. You know man, there’s not much  for us to do except to burn time by singing. Everybody joined me and soon all of us were singing whatever song came to mind. What  a better way to uplift our slowly sinking spirits. For a moment we forgot how miserable our situation was. We sang our hearts out and our laughter reverberated as if to challenge the howling wind. All sorts of corny songs came out even those that I wouldn’t dare get  caught singing. I prodded Gary to sing the narrative of the song “Footprints in the Sand” with his modulated voice. Everybody took it seriously and we fell into  sudden silence. But not for long, we just found the best way to combat the calamity and we were not about to let up. Someone aptly sang “Malayo Pa Ang Umaga” while I did my version of “Happy Christmas (War is Over)” in my Rod Stewart voice (unintentional at that). But the storm seemed angrier in its futile attempt to silence us. Suddenly, the guide called our attention when he saw a very  faint glimmer of light from afar. It was the dawn breaking, the “hope” that we all longed for. This time I couldn’t contain myself, while my buddies were rejoicing, rain concealed my tears.

Daylight came but the storm was constant in its intensity. After collecting what’s left of our things we met with the other group who seemed OK. We decided to descend immediately. A girl from the other group asked us to join hands in prayer. Despite my radical religious  beliefs, I could not deny that the prayer made all of us stronger and confident in facing this tempest that could hamper our safe descent. We again entered the mossy forest whose cover made the wind a little bearable. Everybody was hiking silently hoping that our tribulation would come to and end.

We arrived at the Ranger station safe and whole and our spirits unbroken. We stayed there for the night. Most of us have not slept for almost forty hours. The most grueling part of our journey might be over but we were still at the mercy of the unbearable cold. But the weather was much better the next morning. It wasn’t raining anymore. The sun was up when we headed down to Ambangeg. What  an irony, it’s as if the storm only happened at the peak. We caught a free ride to Baguio via a Shellane delivery truck and immediately headed back to Manila. We would later learn that the typhoon devastated Manila anew and took plenty of lives, particularly, some mountaineers in Siniloan, Laguna. That thought that we could have been headline news sent shivers down my spine.

Looking back made me realize the danger factor that we always face whenever we do our adventure. It is the danger factor that makes the  trip exciting and challenging. Knowing that, we try to eliminate possibilities of foul-ups and mishaps. This experience is a lesson  that needs to be learned the hard way. We now know what to do. Don’t fuck with Mother Nature, and if you do, bring all the  necessary gears. It was a close call for all of us but we managed to survive by taking care of each other and by utilizing our sense of humor. It’s not that we made a circus out of our situation, it’s just that we did not let confusion and fear take the center stage. I am  blessed with the best team  in the world. I am telling you this because I wouldn’t let such bravery and unity go unnoticed and untold. I’m really proud of the group  and I want you to be proud of them too. You may be far away but that’s no reason for you not to know, and that when you come back you’ll be in the company of true friends. I wouldn’t go through the motion of writing such long email if it wasn’t worth it. Pare, as what  you always say, LONG LIVE ESCAPE!

(based on the series of e-mails i sent Bob while he was working in Japan - Noel C. Galang)

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