“Mountains are not Stadiums where I satisfy my ambition to achieve, they are the cathedrals where I practice my religion.”
― Anatoli Boukreev
Many of my Facebook friends were surprised (I hope in a good way) to learn that I went on a hiking trip to Mt. Pulag in Benguet two weeks ago. Still on the heavy side and not at all an active outdoor person, I must be the last person they'd imagine to try trekking the third highest peak in the country (first in Luzon). I had qualms, too, to be honest. If I had not already paid for the tour package, I would've just shrugged at the thought and walked away to the nearest mall and cooled down with a mocha frappe or shopped for a new pair of shoes. It's just not my thing, I told myself.
But there was something in me that wanted so much to go. To know how far my feet could take me, how much my strength could sustain me. I knew that this was a test of faith and courage -- that despite myself and my limits, God will cloak me with His protection and give me the strength that I would need. "For God did not give us a spirit of fear..." (2Tim. 1:7). With this verse resonating so strongly in my mind, I decided to go.
Needless to say, there were a few apprehensions before the trip. My father suffered a stroke just right after my birthday on April 10. We were supposed to leave for Benguet on April 19, and I thought if papa won't be well by then, I won't go. I also did not have the appropriate hiking gear and I'd rather spend on papa's medicines that buy expensive outdoor equipment. I really thought of these as signs that I shouldn't push through. But God thought otherwise.
Blessings after blessings came my way. Papa is a beneficiary of our office's medical insurance, so his hospitalization fees were covered. His friends have also chipped in to help finance cost of his medicines and therapy. By God's grace, his condition stabilized by Wednesday (April 17), and by Thursday (April 18), he was discharged. Papa and Mama gave me their blessings to go to Pulag and I was really grateful that his recovery came right on time so I could go on with the trip without worrying about him too much. God had also provided faithfully to our needs financially.
As for the gear, God had also well orchestrated meetings with friends who've previously hiked and they lent me their equipment. By Thursday I had everything I needed for the trip -- jackets (which I bought from thrift shops for PhP 15.00), sleeping bag, headlamp, hiking bag, gloves, etc. I take these miracles as God giving me the go signal for my first hike. :)
The Lord really won't take "No" for an answer. Once He plants desire in one's heart, all we need is to obey Him and let things take their course. Only He could turn the impossible into possibilities.
So off we went...
First stop was in Baguio City.
We were about 18 in the group. I only really know seven people prior to the trip. My friend-discipler Tin, who invited me; Adrian, who I invited; and Tin's friends Kim, Jesza and Christian, who also attend VCF; and couple Ana and Jhay, also Tin's friends. The others are from either Kim's or Tin's circle of friends. I count it a wonderful bonus to have gone home not only richer in experience, but in friends as well. :)
I won't go into too much detail about the hike, as it would be two-days worth of recount. I'd like instead to break to you the news:
I did not make it to the summit.
I barely even made it to the junior summit, the second highest peak. Personally, I think the Junior summit was named such because it's a sort of consolation for those who were not able to get to the summit.
I made it to this point, though. It was still very high, right above the grassland summit where we camped. They had no name for it, but I'd like to call it "My Summit." The highest part of the mountain that I could reach by foot. It may not have the "sea of clouds" that the summit boasts of, but I was content. After all, I am no hiker. And reaching this far was already a major achievement.
Of course, my friends were disappointed. After all, reaching the summit together was what we had set out to do. But I knew my limits. By 4:00 am, the temperature was nearing negative and I was chilling like crazy. I asked the tour guide how long and how far the summit is from camp and he said it would take at least an hour to get to the top. Between quick breaths and chattering teeth, I told my friends, "Hindi ko kaya. Kayo na lang." I went back to the tent, buried myself in layers of clothing and went back to sleep.
There was not a bit of regret in me. I remember sleeping through the biting cold peacefully. Wala akong pinagsisihan.
This is one example where the
journey is more important than the destination.
Had I pushed for the summit, I would've overstretched my capacity, gotten injured, or worse, died. (Only weeks before our Pulag hike, a
hiker was found dead on Mt. Maculot in Batangas).
I listened to my body and knew that it was in no condition to go further. Safety was my priority.
I knew that I would not be glorifying God if I insisted on doing something I knew I wasn't fit enough to do.
I knew that by thinking of my safety above all things, I was honoring my body, my life and ultimately my Maker.
I woke up past sunrise, with no slips, no falls, no injuries. My shoulders did hurt because of the heavy load I had to haul up during the hike, but my legs were fine. This I credit to my weekend jogs and the Zumba sessions I so religiously attend at the gym. I was still able to go to work the next day and host an event the day after, all because I kept safe.
The Pulag experience is once-in-a-lifetime,
summit or no summit. I doubt if there would be another climb, the negative degree temperature was rather traumatic. (haha!) But I am still grateful to God and my new friends for this wonderful journey.
