MATI CITY (MindaNews / 2 May) — The first time I saw the so-called “Sleeping Dinosaur” in the outskirts of this city was in 2009. Like most motorists who drove through the area the first time, we stopped and took pictures of the unusually shaped mountain from the highway.
Then I forgot all about it. We didn’t even bother to stop the next time we passed by the place two years later.
Fast forward 15 years, when I’ve already taken up the trail running hobby for more than a decade. When a local journalist participating in a climate reporting workshop we in MindaNews were conducting in April mentioned that there’s a beautiful trail in the Sleeping Dinosaur, my eyes lit up. Ferdinand warned it’s “dangerous.” He said he once guided visitors going there, but didn’t join them in the trek because he’s afraid he would fall.
His warning got me curious, and interested. I gotta run that trail, even if I didn’t bring my trail sandals for this trip, just my usual Spartan tsinelas with modified straps.
Google Maps says it’s only 2.5 kilometers of road running to the viewing deck (around the area where I took pictures back then) from where we were billeted. Say, 5 km total to the farthest point of the mountain, 10 km round trip. Pwede! Start at maybe 5:30 a.m., should be back way before the 9 a.m. session. Or so we thought.
We started running as soon as the sun rose. With me was my colleague Boy Mordeno, who has also been running marathons and ultras, including trails, like I do.
It’s a scenic highway, with its uphills and downhills, winding roads, the sea to our left. Very much like Camiguin, the last race we joined only recently.
We stopped a few times for pictures. Bikers passed us, we greeted each other.
As soon as we reached the viewing deck, we asked where the start of the trail was. Nobody knew. We continued running, until we saw the bikers, now resting, having snacks. “Start of the trail is right here,” they pointed us the way.
As soon as we entered, someone asked for a 15-peso entrance fee, and told us to just follow the foot path amid the shrubs.
Beautiful indeed, seeing the scenic Pujada Bay from above ground. We took turns taking pictures and videos.
But the trail may not be easy for some, with its climbs and steep downhills. At almost 700 meters from the highway, Boy said he couldn’t proceed, not without a trekking pole. Downhills are his weakness, he said, because of an injury in his leg from a motorcycle accident way back. He said during trail runs, he’d really just go s-l-o-w on downhills to avoid accidents.
But if we wanted to get to the tip of the dinosaur mountain, and be back for the sessions in time, we couldn’t afford to go slow. I looked for a stick, a fallen branch that he could use in lieu of a trekking pole, as I’d often do during trail runs because I don’t want to be burdened carrying another gadget. But we couldn’t find any.
“Can I just run this steep downhill section, then we go back?”
Then we followed the trail back to the highway, and ran all the way back to the venue. Total distance covered: 8 km.
The next day was a busy field day for the workshop. Call time: 5 a.m. So we couldn’t run.
The following day, we decided to just borrow a car, drive all the way to the start of the trail, so we could be back in time for the sessions. We couldn’t really guess how long and difficult the trail is.
We entered the trail at 5:18 a.m., just before sunrise.
As the sun rose to our left, I just had to fly my little drone (a DJI Neo 2) to take pictures and a short video clip, the sun’s golden glow reflected on the calm waters of Pujada Bay, the fish cages rendered in silhouette.
Boy still didn’t have a trekking pole nor a stick, and thus negotiated the steep downhill real slow, half a step at a time. On another steep downhill path, maybe a mile from the highway, we ended on a dirt road with many houses. We asked for directions, told to just follow the road, and the next trail starts where the road ends.
As we climbed again, now I can understand why Ferdinand said the route is dangerous — some parts of the trail are on a ridge because the Sleeping Dinosaur is a small peninsula, or maybe a big promontory. (Not an island as others say it is.) Negotiate the narrow foot path atop the mountain, and when you make a mistake, you’d slide down all the way to the sea below.
Dangerous for the uninitiated, but exactly the kind of terrain and scenery mountaineers and trail runners love.
This particular trail is a non-stop climb up to a hundred meters high, for over half a kilometer.
It should be tiring, but the view is exhilarating. You’ll forget that your leg muscles are burning, seeing the blue sea on your left and right, sometimes in front, sometimes in your back. It’s the peak of summer, thus the clear blue sky. It’s unfortunate that the cogon grass on both sides are all brown; would have even been prettier if they’re green at the start of summer.
We rested on the highest part of this particular trail, where you can see mountains near and far, the long and winding foot path, the fish cages below, even the viewing deck on the highway.
This must be everybody’s favorite place, including those who are proud to call themselves “nature lovers” yet leave their trash behind in all the beautiful places they visit.
On that spot, under the shade of a big tree, are discarded containers of various drinks — Nature’s Spring, Coke in can and a 1.5-liter plastic bottle, Cobra energy drink, Gatorade — to ruin the beautiful scenery. Ahh … Pinoys, we take extra effort to bring our trash to the farthest places. Masipag, indeed. Or just weren’t taught by their parents how to dispose of garbage properly.
That spot where the trash is, it’s 3.2 km since we started from the highway. It’s already almost 7 a.m. and we still didn’t know how far before reaching the tip of the Sleeping Dinosaur. (Looking at Google Maps later, we were maybe two-thirds of the way.)
We would be late for the sessions. We just had to turn back.
When we got to the dirt road again, we asked if there are habalhabals (motorcycles) that can take us to the highway. None really, but how much are we willing to pay? We agreed on a price, and we were glad we had enough cash.
Funny thing was, the dirt road that connects to the highway, a little more than four kilometers long, ends close enough to OK Resort, where we were billeted. So yeah, if you want to spare yourself the trouble, all the effort and the difficulty we went through, you can just take the boring, dusty path with your SUV and drive until the end of the road and do a shortish trek to get to that garbage spot with a beautiful view.
For me, that’s one unfinished business — I still want to get to the dinosaur’s farthest tip, and back, on foot. Maybe someday I’ll return, hopefully with some of us in the Iligan Trail Runners. Then we’d spend one day just for the trek. (Bobby Timonera / MindaNews)
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