“Am I too old for this?” was my first thought as I eyed our hiking group bound for Mt. Nangtud. I had just blown out birthday candles, and what better way to confront my aging reality than to hike one of Panay’s toughest mountains with college students on their break?
Back then—oh my, God, I’m finally using this catchphrase— I was always the youngest in the group. I used to soak up tales of epic adventures from seasoned outdoorsmen, fueling my own thirst for the wild. Now, here I was, surrounded by fresh-faced hikers tackling Mt. Nangtud as their first major climb—heck some, their very first hike ever!
When I shared my existential dread with Carlo, who was years younger than I, he burst out laughing. “Legendary naman gud ka,” he teased. “Leche-ndary,” I punned back, because why not mix existential angst with a bit of lactose humor?
As we trudged along the trail, it hit me—am I really too old for this shit? Should I swap the mountains for something more ‘age-appropriate’?
Here’s What Happened During Our 3D2N Major Hike to Mt. Nangtud
After completing the circuit trail of Mt. Baloy-daku in 2018, I was absolutely convinced I didn’t need to finish the Panay Trilogy like Chabs and Jack did. The pain, dread, and exhaustion of that 9/9 hike were enough. As I fondly tell my friends: #NeverAgain.
Believe me, the mountains of Panay are not for the faint-hearted. Google ‘Panay mountains’ and you’ll see beautiful images of ridges and knife edges that literally require you to hike on narrow spines—and with just one slip you’d end up just a ‘loving memory.’
These rugged trails have produced the country’s phenomenal trail-running champs, who now represent the Philippines in international events. “Lahi ragyud ang standards sa mga taga-Panay. Ilang minor hike mura na’g major hike. Ilang chill hike, maglisod naka’g ginhawa.”
But I guess when you really want something, the universe conspires to make it happen. From scoring that seat sale flight from Cebu to Iloilo to smoothly booking with the organizers and arranging a five-day leave from work, I guess Carlo’s prayers reached the right saint. Prayer reveal naman diyan.
I mean, I’ve reached a point where ‘wala na akong pinaglalaban’ and even a minor inconvenience would stop me from joining an event. But everything went smoothly, and I guess whatever sign I was looking for was flashing neon.
About Mt. Nangtud
Considered the second-highest peak in Western Visayas, Mt. Nangtud stands at an elevation of 2,074+ meters above sea level. Located in Barbaza, Antique, it is renowned as one of the most challenging mountains to climb, completing the Panay Trilogy alongside Mt. Baloy-daku and Mt. Madjaas.
The earliest recorded exploration of Mt. Nangtud was in the 1970s, led by the then-governor Evelio B. Javier, who personally headed an expedition to the mountaintop—hence the EBJ Peak namesake. The name Mt. Nangtud comes from a local term meaning “hard to reach,” a fitting description for this formidable peak.
For some time, the success rate of scaling Mt. Nangtud—like Mt. Baloy-daku—was low due to reports of insurgency in the area. However, as of now, climbing these mountains, and even completing the Panay Trilogy, has become more feasible thanks to the efforts and partnerships of event organizers, local government, and other officers in charge.
Day 1 of Our 3D2N Hike to Mt. Nangtud: River Trek and the Notorious Knife Edge
Unlike most 3D2N major hikes, the trip to Mt. Nangtud requires a Day 0 for travel time. Since most meetups happen in Iloilo due to its accessibility, we spent a day traveling four hours to Antique, registering at the Barbaza police station, and heading to the jump-off point. We spent the night at the local guides’ abode in the village of Lombuyan.
The first day of the hike involved a 10-km river trek through Dalanas River. Similar to Mt. Baloy-daku, this river stretches from the jump-off to the foot of the mountain range, where we ascended the notorious Mt. Nangtud knife edge.
Before the hike, Carlo jokingly asked if I’d bring an umbrella. Remembering how useful it was during our Mt. Baloy hike, I suggested he bring one too. Under the scorching sun, our umbrellas provided much-needed shade. On rainy days, however, this trail segment becomes treacherous due to rising water levels. One hiker shared that there was even a group that had to extend their stay because of heavy rain.
Blessed with clear skies, although sweltering hot, what really did make me feel scared was actually the knife-edge part of the trail. Before reaching Pingan campsite, we crossed a long, narrow ridge. Despite my numerous life-and-death experiences, nothing compared to this. One wrong slip and you’d roll all the way down, with barely any grass to hold onto due to a wildfire.
Thankfully, Sir Sam’s cheerful storytelling distracted me from the terror. Before I knew it, the campsite was in sight. Although the fear of crossing back lingered, I decided to leave tomorrow’s problems to tomorrow’s me.
Day 2 of Our 3D2N Hike to Mt. Nangtud: To Rancho Campsite and that Literally Long Hike to the Summit
Call time was at 3am for an early breakfast meal. We were asked to prepare our assault bags and pack lunch as well. With another 17km assault hike to cover and another 17km back trail to the campsite, we had to leave early as it was expected that we’d be back to the campsite by late afternoon or nighttime.
Like the day prior, we were asked to stay with a buddy. As someone whose body clock has not been attuned to eat early, I didn’t take anything before the hike assuming that I would be just fine. However, just a few kilometers assault from the campsite, I was already gasping for air, all feeling exhausted and tired.
I thank God for Carlo’s patience and for Tina’s early morning sweet delights. Somehow, when the early morning sun started to show itself, I started getting back in pace once again with the rest of the middle group. As someone who’s really reliant on water, hydration was actually crucial during this hike. We had to budget our water until we reached Ranchohan, the only available water source.
Still, with the slow pace, early morning view of the mountain ranges, and life chats in between with recently acquainted fellow hikers, Sir Webster and Sir John, we were able to finely navigate our way to Ranchohan. It was also great to meet them, most especially Sir Webster who has been to Mt. Nangtud before because he taught us where the most photographic parts of the trail were—one that were no longer visible when we headed back because of the thick fog enveloping the area.
After almost four hours, we reached Ranchohan and immediately refilled our hydration bottles. There we spent an hour simply talking about our lives, getting to know each other, and sharing experiences with people whom we would probably not have met had we not taken our chances of hiking Mt. Nangtud.
This is the thing about being a joiner: you have to really muster the courage to socialize because no one will do it for you. There’s not even a GTKY part of the event where you get to know who you were hiking with. So, you make the most of the opportunities in between by sharing trail food, a bit of yourself, knowledge, and experiences you have.
And believe me, the euphoric moments you have in the mountains, particularly when reaching the summit, will eventually fade, but the moments you have with people whom you interacted with will last—keeping you company on times when you need them the most.
When Sir Webster mentioned minimal ascents from Ranchohan to the summit, Carlo and I didn’t expect a grueling looooooong hike. It is definitely a test of patience. So, when we arrived at EBJ Peak, we were already exhausted and drained.
We met Jean, who was happily eating her lunch at EBJ Peak and when she shared that the hike from EBJ Peak to Mt. Nangtud summit would still be another hour, I honestly wanted to raise the white flag already. That’s how exhausted I was—and hungry. As Sir Rowell jokingly stated it (non-verbatim): “Kinsa ma’y nag-explore-explore pa og lain nga peak. Pwede naman diri nalang sa EBJ kutob.”
When I said ‘wala na akong pinaglalaban,’ I mean it. While most were relatively flat areas with minimal gains, navigating the mossy forest to the summit of Mt. Nangtud, I actually kept looking back. I really wanted to go back already. Like, ‘the hell with that summit, I’m done!’ kind of exhaustion. But well, ang kapraningan, panindigan. When we met Jam and Kim who shared that the summit was just 5 minutes away, that’s when the adrenaline rushed in, and Carlo and I began to pick up pace.
And indeed, what an astounding sight it was: the Mt. Nangtud summit marker hanging on that iconic throne-like assemblage of trees covered in moss. This is what we came for.
We rested at the summit, I even took a nap, reflecting on my lack of preparation. Unlike the two months of training for Mt. Baloy, my only preparation for Mt. Nangtud was a half-day hike through the Spartan Loop. Too complacent for such a difficult journey. It’s me, I’m the problem. HAHA. 😅😅😅
After taking a short break and having filled our stomachs with probably the most delectable version of sisig (lami man gyud tanan basta wa na’y lain 😂) Carlo and I agreed to pick up the pace. Having fully known what was ahead of us, we were quite confident this time that we’d be able to get back to our regular trailrun pace (hilas-hilas na ta diring dapita 😂).
We arrived before five in the afternoon, giving us enough time to rest and chat. However, a heavy downpour interrupted our conversation, forcing us to take shelter in our tents. While I usually love the rainy season for its cool breeze and white noise perfect for relaxing and writing, I dread it when camping. As a light sleeper, it’s hard to feign sleep in a tent, especially with the anxiety of potential flooding and getting all drenched.
After an hour of nonstop rain, it finally stopped. Most of the group had arrived at the campsite, and we emerged to check on each other and dry our gear. These small interactions brought us together, sharing fun and spooky stories, especially about Ranchohan.
These interactions fueled our socials that night. After feasting over our dinner, Sir Rowell decided to cook the noodles he had brought for personal consumption. Kim and Sam contributed their supplies—and in between doubts if it’s okay to combine three types of noodles into one, we shared tales of our experiences in the mossy forests of Mt. Nangtud.
Later, Jean took the lead and hosted the night’s GTKY session, which was eventually sabotaged with out-of-the-blue conversations—from love life to superstitions to fortunetelling.
Day 3 of Our 3D2N Hike to Mt. Nangtud: I Always Didn’t Make It Back to the Jumpoff
While I dreaded the rain the day prior, it did help the grass grow thick and tall, especially along the knife edge of Mt. Nangtud. Despite my best efforts to stay safe and take one cautious step at a time, the weight of my full pack threw me off balance. My right foot slipped, and I tumbled twice down the ridge slope.
In that heart-stopping moment, I experienced what people only talk about in movies: my life flashing before my eyes. My family, my adventures, my dreams, my deadlines—everything! I truly believed it was the end. But my reflexes kicked in, and I managed to grab onto the grass, literally hanging by a thread.
Tin screamed, and Carlo shouted, alarmed by what had just happened. But there I was, a masamang damo. I got up, climbed back onto the trail, dusted off my tiny scratches, and continued as if nothing had happened. Yet, the fear and anxiety lingered, slowing me down, especially during the loose, direct descent to the river part of the trail. I let others go ahead, trying to manage the panic that still gripped me.
It was such a relief to return to the river. We took time to cool off in one of the streams, swimming through small pools and exchanging crazy stories in between. After that, we continued the trek, picking up the pace as the midday heat set in and our stomachs growled for lunch.
Mt. Nangtud Experience: In a Nutshell
When people ask what’s the most difficult mountain to climb for me, my answer will always be the same: all mountains are difficult regardless of experience. These landforms have their ways of humbling people.
When you think about it, hiking is a discipline that requires you to stay grounded and keep looking down every step of the way. It’s a lesson in humility and perseverance—qualities you need in abundance when tackling nature’s giants. I even rolled over this time, adding another bruise to my collection.
But I guess, this is also a great reminder that no one’s too old to go hiking. The mountains don’t discriminate by age. They challenge everyone equally. Whether you’re a sprightly twenty-something or a seasoned fifty-something, every step you take is a testament to your spirit and determination.
Despite the dread, difficulty, and expenses, the mountains have always been my place of solace. They remind me to breathe, to take time for myself, and to pause and appreciate the moment. In an age of instant gratification and short-term trends, the mountains remain a timeless source of peace and adventure. Going to the mountains is not just a phase; you’ll always find yourself going back. Once a mountaineer, always a mountaineer.
I think what’s meant for you will always find you, and if adventure is your calling, who are we not to lace up our hiking shoes and answer it? The mountains are waiting, and so is the continuation of this story.
I’m forever grateful to Carlo for literally dragging me back to these major climb shenanigans. Pero kalmahi sa gamay dong, di na kasugakod akong anteh energy. HAHA. Also grateful for everyone we’ve met—and for all the vocabs you’ve added to this already complex dialect.
To the legendary guides, organizers, and support who have made this hike a success, thank you as well. Sunod napud, puhon. 😊😊😊
And, of course, to the One who made all these possible. Many may shun the idea of a Supreme Being, but for this event to be a success: surviving that 50km+ three-day hike in a time declared as the rainy season, being blessed with good weather to safely cross rivers, regrouping at the campsite after numerous ‘incidents,’ getting just enough rain for the grass to grow so that we can have something to hold onto while traversing the Knife Edge, and slipping and rolling over yet living to tell the tale—at least it’s logical to conclude that there’s a creator who has seen our tears and hear our prayers.
And, to you have reached this part of this blog, thank you for staying. May we live long enough to meet each other on trails and share crazy stories of adventure as well. 😉😉😉
Dakilanglaagan 