A lot of crazy things can happen when you start hiking at two in the morning. Submerging into knee-deep mud, the curious case of the missing bag, wild boar shit, and drone crashing—if it’s an adventure that you’re looking forward to, Mt. Kalatungan surely has an exhilarating surprise up its trails that makes every traverse worthwhile.
Nah, this is not a horror story. But allow me to tell you some of the enchanting things that happened during our Mt. Kalatungan – Mt. Wiji traverse in Bukidnon.
Who Would Have Thought I’d Be Scaling Mt. Kalatungan this Year?
It took 6 years before I got to go on a major hike with Carlo—one that required a 45-minute airplane ride and a 4-hour land trip before we began that 3D2N traverse in the Philippines’ 5th highest mountain: Kalatungan Mountain Range.
Standing at an elevation of 2,880+ meters above sea level (previously recorded at 2,287), Mt. Kalatungan has been reputed as one of the most difficult to climb in the country, with a difficulty level of 8/9 (subject to experience and weather conditions).
While often referred to as the ‘twin mountain’ of the nearby 4th highest mountain in the country, Mt. Kitanglad, Mt. Kalatungan is not just a mountain. It is home to 11 Indigenous Cultural Communities and to 429 species of flora and fauna, some of which are endangered, endemic, and of economic significance.
Why Hike Mt. Kalatungan?
Honestly, I had no idea why I joined that Kalatungan-Wiji traverse. When Carlo mentioned he was participating in an event in October during our chat last August, I wasn’t initially interested in joining them. Somehow, I was so fixated on running events that the allure of going back on major hikes just didn’t hold the same appeal as before.
But a lot of twists and turns unfolded in the middle of this year. As I fondly point it: maybe I have exhausted my year’s luck in January that nothing has ever gone right thereafter. Four canceled flights. Two postponed running events. And an injury after that 100-kilometer shenanigan. Life, as it often does, took an unpredictable course.
To cut the story short, with no running events to prepare for, I messaged Carlo, and the next thing I knew, we were already inside a van en route to Pangantucan.
So, What Happened in Our Mt. Kalatungan-Mt. Lumpanag Traverse?
Day 1: CDO to Jump-off (Barangay Mendis)
The hike hadn’t even begun, and a series of events had already unfolded on the first day of this adventure—including picking up a fellow joiner from ‘Hotel Sogo,’ a unique fried frog experience, navigating an uphill, muddy road with a close encounter of a truck experiencing engine problems, and being welcomed by a heavy downpour upon reaching the jump-off.
But amidst all these occurrences, it’s somewhat peculiar how everything still exuded a sense of calm. The tribal ritual proceeded smoothly, and the group collectively decided to set up camp at the jump-off point rather than the View Deck. This choice also afforded us plenty of time for socials and much-needed rest following a long trip.
As our driver puts it: “Lingaw man sad diay ang in-ani nga klase sa chill sa?” And it dawned on me how I missed these kinds of interactions. Meeting strangers, connecting with people from diverse cultural backgrounds, and sharing tales of adventures and misadventures—these were the reasons I initially fell in love with the outdoors. These are experiences that somehow got left behind in the fast-paced world of running events. The kind of chismis I longed for.
Day 2: Jump-off to Mt. Kalatungan Bamboo Campsite
Beware of Buko-buko sa Anay. This has always been the cautionary advice of those who have experienced the challenging trails of Mt. Kalatungan. The long, steep ridge, directly exposed to the scorching sun, is the reason even experienced hikers have a strong aversion to this section of the trail. Perhaps the very reason we had to set off at two in the morning: to escape the searing heat.
But this also came with a cost. The heavy downpour the day prior has caused the trails to be so muddy, that less than a kilometer from the jump-off, we were already navigating that knee-deep mud. Such a ‘good morning’.
The elevation gain remained fairly consistent, and the refreshing morning breeze made everything go smoothly, at least for a while. After covering four kilometers of steady ascent, we reached the View Deck and took a brief break. It was from there that the never-ending climb to Buko-buko sa Anay began.
Midway, when we were almost at Kikikoka Peak, Carlo noticed something: his sling bag was missing. After much recollection, he realized he had left it on the View Deck. Bad news: all of his important belongings were there, including his IDs, cards, and smartphone—and for a mobile photographer, nothing’s more disheartening than this.
We were in quite a predicament when one of the porters arrived and informed us that Carlo’s bag had been securely stored in the tail pack. Surprisingly, rather than succumbing to frustration for missing out on photo opportunities, Carlo embraced the news with a positive outlook. His pace quickened, and as the terrain grew steeper with each step, his face lit up with every view he encountered—no longer relegating to the camera what is foremost for the eyes.
The absence of gadgets afforded us the opportunity to become more acquainted with the plants and trees in our surroundings, some even found wild boar poop along the way! With our lives now heavily connected to social media, a hike offers a refreshing experience to rekindle our connection with the natural world and, more importantly, with ourselves.
That’s precisely what was running through my mind when my drone unexpectedly crashed while we were taking a break at the Muleta Falls viewing area. I’d been flying drones for nearly three years, and this was the first time I experienced a crash. Strangely, the controls malfunctioned without warning or RTH option, causing it to plummet dramatically.
Maybe such a bewitching sight was set for the eyes only. And who am I to argue with that? Thanks to our guide, and RJ’s attempt, my drone was safely recovered.
The hike commenced and we were set for the most difficult part nobody had prepared us for: the seemingly endless ascent to Sako Camp. Thanks to the favorable weather, we didn’t encounter any issues with Buko-buko sa Anay. But girl, that never-ending, strenuous climb from Sako Camp to the Junction was a real ordeal.
Carlo was all hyped up talking about the white moss and all the other magnificent sights, but I was already cursing inside. When will this end? That was probably one of the longest one-kilometer uphell of my life.
We enjoyed our lunch at the Junction and then continued to the summit. We were delighted to have clear skies, but soon enough, rain made its presence felt. On our way back to the Junction, the rain intensified, and we had to pick up our pace to reach the campsite. Bad news: it was freezing cold, and we were forced to set up our tent in such heavy downpour. Good news: the dinner prepared was at least sumptuous.
Day 3: Traverse to Mt. Wiji (Mt. Lumpanag)
Here’s something I realized late during the hike: we didn’t have any photos of the campsite because of the heavy downpour. But what a beautiful sight it would be with the mossy forest canopying those colored tents. Probably the only consolation was the clear morning sky with stars visibly scattered on the floors of heaven (it would have been great for astrophotography).
After packing our individual breakfast, we commenced with the hike by four in the morning, hopeful to see a glimmer of the sunrise. We did not fail, though. As we were ascending, we were blessed by such a clearing that even the Kitanglad mountain range was visible. As cliché as it goes, the best view does come after the hardest climb.
The entire distance from Bamboo Campsite back to Barangay Mendis covered ten kilometers, making it a total of 19 kilometers (depending on the tracker you’re using) when factoring in the hike from the jump-off point to Mt. Kalatungan Peak and Bamboo Campsite the day prior. It’s no wonder this is just a segment of the trail running event scheduled for March 2024.
From Mt. Wiji (Mt. Lumpanag), we took the downhill course going back to the jump-off. And by downhell, I mean Danger Zone and Dead Toenail’s Trail. But all’s well as we had a hearty life discussion with fellow hikers. Holding tight to those tall grasses, there’s something with the words of Ma’am Amy that stayed with me: “Mugunit gyud ta kay di ta lig-on.”
You see, very often, we find ourselves facing unexpected crossroads and circumstances we didn’t necessarily ask for. Things can be confusing, and, more often than not, they’re far from easy. But here’s what I’ve come to understand: the things we truly love require effort. When you think about it, we don’t choose our pursuits because they are effortless. We pursue them because they keep our hearts beating because they are worth every bit of the effort.
Now I realize how timely it was for Carlo to bring up his major climb of Mt. Kalatungan and Mt. Wiji. Fate has its own unique way of nudging us toward what truly matters—and the mountains have a knack for discerning one’s character. Considering all the ongoing events in my life, it served as the perfect reset I required. At a more leisurely pace, in such a captivating place, it came precisely when I needed it the most.
As the year draws to a close, I hope you also find your peace. It’s been an exhausting year, and you truly deserve a break. Let’s go for another hike?
PS. Forever grateful to Tropang Laagan for organizing this major climb, most especially to Kol RJ. We’re definitely a difficult bunch to deal with, but you’ve somehow managed with flying colors. To our Manobo local guides and porters, thank you for assisting and accommodating us.
To Team CDO, thanks for all those stories shared, you were the best ‘carpool’ mates I could ever ask for. And to Carlo, thank you for everything. In this economy, laban gihapon ta aning adulting, saon ta man. HAHA.
Dakilanglaagan 
