Climbing an active volcano is a thrill so long as it doesn’t erupt on you while you are summiting. The cantankerous Mount Mayon dominates the landscape in the Bicol region of Luzon in the Philippines. Puffy white wisps of regurgitated smoke often crowns the peak but for miles around the mountain is clearly visible. Professional outfits offer treks up Mount Mayon but these are not inexpensive. While whale shark spotting in the region, I heard of a local farmer who acted as guide to budget climbers. He only advertised through word of mouth I was told. I jumped at the chance. I was soon on the phone using every bargaining skill I had acquired over the years.
“Sure I will take you” said Orli, the guide. And then we haggled over the right price finally settling on around 40 $ for the climb.
“ We can start tomorrow morning, We can leave early around 5.am”
“Sure, “ I said and hung up satisfied.
Assuming I had gear he had given me clear directions on how to get there. I was on the next bus out.
“Where is your tent?”, Orli inquired when he met me at the bus stop.
“What tent?” I asked puzzled.
There are absolutely no hotels or hostels or any other accommodation options at Mayon’s base. With a backpacker’s characteristic optimism I had supposed I would find something. My shoulders slumped.
Orli seemed unfazed. “ It is ok,” he reassured me “ You can stay at my house.
Sensing my hesitation he went on, “ I don’t live alone. I have a big family. ”
Grateful for the clarification I accepted. I smiled when he added, “ It is free for you. You stay a couple of days. No charge”
Balancing my unwieldy backpack on my back, I clambered on to Orli’s motorcycle. Just before we entered the sole road leading up to the mountain, the volcanic station at its edge blared a warning in red to potential climbers “ Mayon: Alert level 1, No Entry”. That sounded ominous.Nervously I tapped him on the shoulder pointing to the sign.
“ Is this a bad time to climb?”
Orli dismissed the sign with a shake of his head. He was nonchalant in his response. “ Oh that. That sign has not been taken down since last year. A bunch of people died when the volcano erupted without warning last year. Ignore it, “ he smiled carelessly.
I gulped. I was about to not only inflict myself on a random stranger’s family, there was a good chance I wasn’t coming back down.
Orli’s family turned out to be farmers that owned extensive tracts of agricultural land all around Mount Mayon. The land and its produce apparently weren’t of much value and the family including uncles, aunts, cousins and their families lived in little shacks at the base of the mountain.
“I am sorry. I hope you don’t mind but our house is very small “ Orli unnecessarily apologized even as his mother thrust a plate of food into my hands.
The only room with the mattress which belonged to his parents was given up so I would be comfortable. No amount of politely declining shook their resolve to treat their guest well. His immediate family snoozed on the ground in a tiny crammed living room.
Before we turned in, Orli gave me a tour of all the farms that we tramped across plucking fresh vegetable and fruits and chomping on them as we enjoyed splendid views of Mayon and the surrounding mountains. We visited the local shops after and bought treats for his myriad younger cousins who playfully squabbled about who got what as they walked ahead of us.
We capped the satisfying day by driving up to a vantage point a little higher up the mountain. Joined by his friends and cousins we opened bottles of beer under a million sparkling stars. In less than a few hours I had been openly welcomed into a complete stranger’s family.
The next day, the climb itself was not arduous winding through thick forest. Orli pointed to mossed over sign posts. Apparently decades ago a road ran all the way to the top. Now nature had taken back over. We came to a clearing to enjoy panoramic views from high above. We sat down to a lunch of rice and chicken adobo. From here on it was a steep ascent on just rock. This was the final stretch that was also the most challenging part of the ascent.
Unfortunately, even as we ate without warning black thunder clouds descended on Mayon’s peak. Fat pellets of rain beat down on us. Orli decided it was too dangerous to attempt the precarious climb on slippery rock even though the summit was less than 20 minutes away. “You can never tell when it rains, “ he said pragmatically. I gave in to mountain wisdom.
I consoled myself that it didn’t really matter much. It would have been much of the same view from a slightly higher altitude. A tad reluctantly we turned back. It only rained for half hour. We were soon back on the gourd farms with a bright sun shining down on us. His aunts were already ready for us with cake and coffee. It crossed my mind summit or no summit, the whole experience was worth much more than 40$. The kindness, the camaraderie and the benevolence of random strangers…on that there is no price you can levy.
Feature image-Mount Mayon, Philippines. Image courtesy – ArtPhaneufPhotography/ Shutterstock.com
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