There’s a rock standing still along the shores of Ampere Beach. Continue reading “Rocky Love Affair”
My feet are getting numb. I think I can no longer make it to the summit, but there’s no point of turning back for I still need to walk anyway. Besides, I can almost breathe success here at Camp 8. The scent of nature seeps in through my nose. It’s the opportunity to recover all the air I lost from the old trail down. I can do this. Continue reading “Hiking Barefoot in Mt. Batulao”
Let it burn. Continue reading “Light the Fire”
The approach to visit the pristine islands and cerulean waters of Caramoan is long and tiring. Just imagine enduring a more or less 16-hour travel combo of bus, van, trike and boat transfers and you will find yourself totally crazed and dragged if not bored to death. Continue reading “Getting to Caramoan”
From the horizon I saw waves forming, rolling onto the bed of waters and crashing onto the shores until nothingness all remained. The unknown pulled it back creating new waves from afar. Some were big as giants that can swallow every bits of existence on earth while some were small that are so-so music to ears and musing to eyes. It was the sweetest wind that endlessly whispers to the anticipating sea and conspires with the brightest sun to make such spectacle happened in front of us. I knew it was nature. It was nature, working as one. Continue reading “Surfboards Attack”
Tonight I feel like writing. I feel like writing entries not because I have long overdue blogs to finish or I have nothing else to do, but because I suddenly got this strange itch to write this Sunday night. Continue reading “Tonight I Feel Like Writing”
From the point where I stand, the contour of Mt. Mayon flaunts its conical perfection. It’s quite the same in every single angle from east to west and north to south. I’ve seen other mountains on my way here which I thought to be the volcano. But the fallacy was instantly rectified the moment I witnessed Mayon’s sophistication. Illustrations in school textbooks and glossy magazines weren’t lying as the sleeping giant is truly filled with majesty in the truest sense of the word. And the lady beside me — my girlfriend and a local in the region — she elucidates every story in our exploration of her hometown.