PadyaKayumanggi, Cordilleran Kilometers: LAGAWE-LAGAWE LOOP (Part 3)

23 01 2011

text | Carla Ocampo

photography | G-third Atanque and Lester Valle

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(In this post’s Part 2, the merged cycle touring teams of KT and Lagalag Exploration— together with PHILMOFO members and a group of Ifugao mountain bikers— spent the night at Tinoc, the highest town in the province. With the Mofos heading back to Manila the morning after, KT and the Lagalag boys sweated it out by themselves in the Tinoc-Hungduan frontier. Carla, now the only girl in the team, crumbled down with exhaustion and low morale. This is the last installment of the epic loop.)

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In tears, I scanned the rugged road behind me. It had been an oppressing climb, soaring several meters from the river that cuts the Tinoc-Hungduan valley. Not too steep, I self-confessed, and frankly not quite kilometric. But with the fuming sun broiling my patience to a very thin crisp, I stopped pushing my bike, sought solace under a mere square-foot of tree shadow, and bawled like a baby.

The disruptive attack of my sobs and snorts into the brooding silence of Ifugao… just, startled me back to sanity. It was then that I saw my man, Lester— now ten meters ahead— dutifully pushing his MTB up to the gravel path’s height, where it curves to the left, disappearing behind the mountain wall. Read the rest of this entry »





PadyaKayumanggi, Cordilleran Kilometers: LAGAWE-LAGAWE LOOP (PART 2)

23 12 2010

text | Carla Ocampo

photography | G-third Atanque, Carla Ocampo and Lester Valle

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(In this post’s Part 1, the merged cycle touring teams of The Kayumanggi Trails and Lagalag Exploration— together with local bikers from Ifugao and members of the MTB forum PHILMOFO— reached Tinoc via the Lagawe-Kiangan off-road, but not without harsh difficulties and setbacks. Eight of them were rescued by a dump truck. Here, now, is the second installment of this epic ride.)

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In fog-shrouded darkness, with the truck heaving its lonely climb to Tinoc, all of us fell silent. Never had the off-roads seemed so dangerous, until now: a wall of mud and rock gaping over us at left… and at right, an abysmal ravine— a fatal drop— from which our truck was less than a couple of feet away.

After what could be the steepest five-kilometer assault in the closing stretch of the ride, the frontier transitioned at last… and we were greeted by houses with galvanized iron walls, dimly lit by fluorescent bulbs.

Finally, the Tinoc town proper. Read the rest of this entry »








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