Banaue - 8th Wonder of the World
Trip Start
Nov 12, 2008
1
20
49
Trip End
Apr 30, 2009
Banaue,
Luzon,
Philippines
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
Eventually we hit Banaue, absolutely pissing it down, very few proper roads and for all intense and purposes a complete and utter frontier town. Never mind, the reason for its existence was to reveal itself as soon as we stood on the balcony of our downmarket hostel. Breathtakingly beautiful scenery carved out of the mountains, a lot of Mother Nature with a not insignificant bit of help from man.
The rice terraces outside our window were pretty, but being the seasoned travellers we are, we knew the jaw-dropping stuff was in Batad. Hiring a guide to take us out of town, we were squeezed into the ubiquitous moto-tricycle. The side-car was no doubt more than adequate for its usual fare of small local girls, however it was less than comfortable for two strapping Westerners, or for me and Raz. Crow-barred in and hurtling at speed, our Guide looked like a hunter who had bagged a giraffe and a chimpanzee and decided to stuff them in a childs lunchbox. More was to come. There aren't really roads out of town. They do have some smooth tarmac, but they build roads in a style I am unfamiliar with. 15 yards at a time. Seperated by a kilonmetre of nothingness. Why not build the 15 yards right next to each other and start to build a full road?
Such questions were not long in my head, they and the contents of my skull, my fillings and all my loose change were forcibly shaken out of me. The non-tarmaced bits of road are roads in the same sense that the supply roads up to the front in World War I were roads - kind of. As if the Kaiser himself had shelled them for months, pockmarked by huge puddles, huge boulders and pure unadulterated mud, at times they gave up being roads and just became the trenches. After this boneshaking ride, we had an hours uphill trek followed by an hours downhill trek. It was hot, it was rainy, it was sweaty, and it was very tiring. Was it worth it?
When we reached Batad, the answer was clearly yes. Huge monsters hewn out of the mountain rock by their bare hands 2000 years ago. Using the most primitive of tools, and a lot of broken rocks, the local tribes had created out of inhospitable terrain a rice growing paradise. It really did take your breath away, maybe partially attributable to the bloody trekking, but no doubt a large part due to the awe of the spectacle.
Our guide took us through the old village, also built like birdsnests clinging to a cliff face, down perilous steps. The old huts remain where the headhunters lived their simple existence. We walked among the rice terraces, at times precariously. They have special 'flying steps' - long stones sticking out of the wall, with enough room for knarled, small monkey feet (step-forward Raza), not so stable for mine. We craned our necks looking up at the steepness of the terraces.
Would we like to go see the waterfall he said? About 45 minutes away. Sure we said. Maybe it was his poor english, maybe it was the fact that he knew if he told this heavily sweating, laboured breathing duo that we had over a 1000 steps down (and thus a 1000 back up) of unbelievable steepness, we might not have been so keen. Another long hot struggle (45 minutes my arse!). Was it worth it? Absolutely, a truly beautiful torrent of water ripping its way through the lush green moutnains. I went for a dip, unsurprisingly it was cold, just what I needed after the trek.
I've prattled enough, you can guess we made it back, with the added bonus of not having to trek downhill for too far but being allowed to ride a jeepney on its roof! Great idea...until you realise you're sitting on iron railings, no cushions, on the bumpiest road ever. We taught the driver some new words to add to his english vocab...
