THE WALK TO BACOLOD – DAY FIVE - VALLADOLID TO KILOMETER POST 13

When living in the states, whether I was walking, bicycling, motorcycling, or just plain traveling in general, there was always something new and unique about each day.  Perhaps it was because I was in a different location every morning, or maybe it was the constantly changing weather which greeted me with the rising sun.  Whereas at my new home on the tropical island of Negros, the weather rarely changed.  I would like to estimate that ninety percent of the days here started with heat and humidity, and then the sun showed up from behind the mountain peaks to add a little more misery to the mixture.  Even during the wet season, the sun would boil the land until around noon, then the resulting warm rain would cool it down just a bit…making the conditions almost tolerable, but not quite.  Of course, there are some of you who are wondering why I would trade the variety of four seasons for a sweltering greenhouse?  For me, it is a simple fact that I am truly living in a paradise. OK, maybe it is not the tropical aisle such as you would have seen in the movies, South Pacific or Donovan’s Reef or even Six Days and Seven Nights, but it is a thin slice of the World of

Diana Baguio at the bus stop ready for the day's walk

which you do not see in movies.  It is the beauty of the people, the uncomplicated lifestyle, the endless beaches and also the towering mountains all with just a turn of the head.  The land is teeming with life, both two and four legged as well as those undesirable creatures which exhibit six or more legs.  Still, it is a place that I have come to accept and relish.  Besides, it doesn’t snow here, nor does the humid heat aggravate my knees as the cold of Iowa does.  I want to stress that this land is not for everyone.  However, it has worked out quite well for me and in the end that is all that matters.

As mentioned earlier, a morning on the island of Negros didn’t change much from one day to another and that was how it was that morning as Diana and I patiently waited for a bus to travel north once more.  The highway was deathly quiet with the only difference between this and the other mornings being a male customer was

A quiet highway in Himamaylan City, Negros Occidental

actually sitting at the Angel’s Hamburger stand.  Whether he was buying a hamburger or just making time with the female employee I could not say, but there he was all the same.  At about the same time, a lone dog sauntered across the highway moving from one rubber trash receptacle to another, its emaciated frame revealing the meager pickings scrounged from within.

With, almost, clockwork efficiency, the Ceres Liner arrived at within a few minutes of the previous mornings.  Even though the conductor was different each time, the number of passengers pretty much stayed the same….not very many.  Again, we coursed our way up the highway through a sleeping community and quickly went from lighted roadway to complete darkness.  I knew that you wanted to know this, but the distance from the first road on the north edge of Himamaylan City to the fire station on the south edge of the settlement is five kilometers (3+ miles).  Considering there is only one parallel side street in this town of 20,000+ inhabitants, it is a long way or short way if you consider the number of people. I was, and still am amazed at the number of towns residing along national highways that have no side streets at all, so if there was an accident, well, you would have to wait until the wreckage was cleared before anyone could proceed as there would be no side roads with which to detour upon.   

The one hour ride was quiet and uneventful.  Diana fell asleep while I gazed out the window at the passing lights of early risers within their bamboo dwellings. Every so often I would even catch the glimpse of a small cook fire as the transport rumbled by.  The feel of the cool, albeit very humid air flowing through the open window, mixed with the aroma of early morning cook fires filled me with a soothing sensation as the metal beast lumbered over the pavement. 

The sky was already showing the light of a new day and I surmised it

Valladolid, Negros Occidental - Sunrise colors to christen a new day

would just be a handful of minutes until a hot and unforgiving sun was to climb above the distant mountain peaks as we alighted from our bus outside the Bethel Baptist church on the north side of Valladolid.  The walk today would encompass sixteen kilometers (10 miles), and I was not all that excited with the prospect it would all be under the cruel eye of old sol. 

The journey began by crossing a small bridge and then following a seawall for a kilometer more.  However, just prior to the bridge, during the daylight hours, were fruit stands with ripe mangos for sale arrayed upon their tiered tables every single day of the year.  Mangos are seasonal, so I was not sure where they collected the ripe fruit during the rest of the year, still they were always on display and flawless in appearance.

In the early dawn, a fisherman was out in the surf tossing a round net by hand; a line was attached to his wrist as he slowly gathered it

Valladolid, Negros Occidental - predawn fisherman seining for his daily catch

up with hope of capturing enough for a meal or even more of which he could sell at the market.  Meanwhile, the many basic abodes across the highway were showing signs of life as residents were about their morning meals or leaving for wherever they went at the beginning of a work day. 

Around the curve was a straight away which would last for six kilometers.  During that segment, the fields were filled with rice

Valladolid, Negros Occidental - Deteriorating Ceres Liner Bus stop

while bamboo constructed stands, which had at one time sold watermelon, now sat abandoned and neglected until the next season returned.  On the left was an old restaurant, the concrete walls were still intact although the roofs had long ago collapsed.  Across the highway was an old waiting shade with its concrete roof at a precarious angle.  In the years since, the roof has never changed and still maintains that tilted threatening slant. 

The sun was well into the eastern sky as we passed through Barangay Mabini and took our first break across from the Emilio

Valladolid, Negros Occidental - Kanlaon Volcano in the early morning light

Infante Elementary School at the waiting shade.  As we rested, a woman with small child came and sat beside us.  Shortly after their arrival, a man came up and handed her one thousand two hundred pesos.   Of course she was quite excited over that.  The young mother had placed five pesos on something called the Small Town Lottery and had won a portion of the jackpot.   Due to her exuberance, I was guessing it was quite a sum of money for that family. 

Despite a light morning breeze which was cooling us nicely as we satwithin the comfort of that open air shelter, we both realized the longer we rested, the higher the sun would rise into the sky, and the longer that blazing sphere was present, the hotter the morning would surely be.  Thus we departed our shaded oasis and moved onward toward Bago City.

The volume of vehicular traffic had increased substantially as we

Valladolid, Negros Occidental - A nipa house within a sea of rice

departed the small barangay.  Furthermore, to my displeasure, the sun’s warmth had intensified during our brief stop at the waiting shade.  As we methodically strode past rice fields, I quickly understood my error in taking a break so soon and also realized, underneath a blazing sun, that this could be a very long sixteen kilometers.

Between the Pulupandan intersection and the Bago River bridge there was a group of businesses lining the east side of the highway selling bamboo furniture.  They had large chairs with arms, couches, table and chair sets, and even beds made of wood on exhibit. Of

Bago City, Negros Occidental - A jeepney load heading into Bago City

course, there weren’t too many customers at 6:25 a.m. and I noticed that the operators did not take the furniture inside either.  That was the difference between the west side of Negros Island compared to the rest of the Philippines in that you could leave bulky merchandise outside at night and still find it there in the morning.  At this point we were walking beneath shade trees on our side of the highway, but since there were none on the opposite side, we continued to be bathed in sunlight and thus those trees were nothing more than decorations in my mind.

Bago City, Negros Occidental - Loaded sand moving boats

Crossing the Bago River, we observed that a large group of long and flat bottomed boats were lined along the banks on both sides.  What I did know was that the water vessels were ferried on the high tide somewhere, loaded with sand and returned to that location where the contents would be

Bago River silently flowing toward Sulu Sea

manually unloaded into dump trucks or into sacks.  Looking in the direction of the Sulu Sea, the land bordering the waterway was covered with tropical growth as the river curved toward the northwest and to its eventual estuary.

The road forked just after the bridge with one branch coursing its

Bago City, Negros Occidental - Hot Chicks Lechon Manok Stand

way into the city center, while the route Diana and I took skirted more toward the east side of the community.  There we strolled past the Ramon Torres National High School, the Bago City College as well as the Bago City Hospital.  We also passed a Lechon Manok (bar-b-que chicken) stand by the name of “Hot Chicks” and took our second break not far beyond there. 

Fortunately for me, there were quite a number of waiting shades along most highways.  Many would be situated within a few hundred meters or less from each other.  Basically wherever a road or even

Daryl Cleveland evading the inferno at a waiting shade

trail might venture off into the foliage and to some hidden cluster of nipas, you could bet there would be a waiting shade nearby.  The unusual thing was I rarely saw them occupied.  Don’t get me wrong, I did see people sitting within them at times, but quite often they were vacant.  Even when taking breaks during our daily sojourns, most times we were the only visitors.  In a way, that was a good thing as I could spread out my large frame, but it was also an unfortunate situation as we learned very little about the area we were trekking through.

North of Bago City, the crop of choice had changed from rice to sugar cane and, as one would expect, the day became ever hotter with each succeeding kilometer.  We were now walking aside recently laid asphalt.  I hate asphalt.  For a few years back in Iowa, my son Brad, his classmate Tyler, and I would pedal bicycles from the Missouri River to our town of Odebolt which encompassed sixty-five miles of rolling landscape.  One year they paved a twenty mile segment with fresh asphalt.  Fresh Asphalt not only absorbed the radiant heat of the sun quite easily, but it also put it back out.  For me, it was a ride through hell.  The combination of heat from the sun compounded by the heat from the black pavement just about finished me.  At that point, towns were located about every five miles apart and I would take long breaks in the air conditioned convenience stores and even soak my already sweat saturated t-shirt as well as a towel I would wrap around my neck in cold water in an attempt to compensate for the inferno which awaited me outside the doors.  We even stopped at a Pizza Hut on the way home and I consumed a pitcher of water by myself, but it didn’t make any difference by then.  The heat had done its worst on me and, even though I did complete the ride; the last fourteen miles were excruciatingly slow.   I knew that this final portion of the walk would entail at least five or six kilometers.  Fortunately for me, the sun had not warmed up the asphalt enough to recreate the aforementioned nightmare. 

As before, there were no pedestrians along the roadway this day.  Yes, there were some students heading toward morning classes, but as to people walking along the highway in the country, going from one place to another, they were noticeably absent.  It just seemed peculiar to me that a nation so poor wouldn’t have more citizens walking, but what I did observe was that most people were packed into and onto trikes.  Perhaps they had adopted the ways of Americans and had discovered that walking was just a waste of valuable time. 

Around a kilometer after departing Bago City, we came upon a

Bago City, Negros Occidental - Young boy and his toy truck

portion of the original National Highway running under a myriad of shade trees on the left side of the thoroughfare.   The pavement was narrow, but in relatively good condition due to its probable age.  We took a rest at a waiting shade nestled among the grove of trees and watched as an elementary student played with his handmade truck.  I have seen quite a few of those toys here in the Philippines.  It only takes some scrap metal and discarded set of wheels to make a youngster happy.   We sat and watched as he would go to a sand pile, fill up the back of the truck and then pull it down to a smaller pile where he deposited his load.  A future truck driver in the making, I thought. 

Returning to our mission, I could tell the sun was beginning to have its deteriorating effect on me.  Also, my knees, still recovering from a debilitating bout of Dengue Fever a few months previous were beginning to express their displeasure at my long distance walking.  Alas, we took brief respites after each kilometer (thank you waiting shades).  Outside the San Miguel brewery, we took a refreshing breather and sipped on bottles of Coca Cola as our olfactories took in the yeasty aroma from the plant a kilometer away. 

It was truly a relief when we reached the day’s destination a kilometer up the road.  We now had only thirteen kilometers left to complete our journey.  It was in a nicely shaded spot with a wooden bench outside a small factory upon which we sat and awaited a jeepney to take us into Bacolod. 

The jeepneys of today are not like those of past decades.  They are longer and more with less interior space.  My knees begged to be

A critical stare from a jeepney passenger at the end of our walk

stretched out, but there were so many people crammed into the four wheeled transport that I could only stick them out the back opening.  Then when they stopped to wedge in another passenger, I would have to fold up my already cramped legs to allow entry. Even though the ride encompassed less than thirty minutes in length, it was quite uncomfortable and by the time we exited the vehicle, I had to walk some more just to allow my knees to settle down. 

We finished the morning with a trip to Jollibee’s (a McDonald’s equivalent) and then watched the movie, Pacific Rim at Robinson Mall of which I slept through about half of it.  We took a Ceres Liner home later that afternoon and arrived just before sunset.

That day had been long.  The kilometers had taken their toll on my knees as the heat wore me down physically.   Yes, it was a great accomplishment to have completed that walk for the day, but it also taught me about my “new” limitations.  In a way, it was disenchanting when I reflected that less than ten years earlier I was walking upwards of twenty-three miles in one day and yet now was lucky to even accomplish ten miles.  Yet, it also reminded me that I was no longer fifty years old.  That we were never going to be Olympians forever and furthermore, that our bodies did not heal as quickly as they did decades earlier (i.e. Dengue Fever).  Still, at the same time it was a psychological victory for me.  It proved that limitations were no more than that and if one was resolute in their convictions, even limitations could be overcome.  Amazingly, I was coming of the opinion that my limitations had been defeated when I had taken that first step toward Bacolod sixty-seven kilometers ago. 

Daryl A. Cleveland a.k.a. bounder

January 5, 2015

THE WALK TO BACOLOD – DAY FOUR - PONTEVEDRA TO VALLADOLID

The children were eager to hear of our walk to Pontevedra at the dinner table that evening.  However, they were not excited enough to accompany me on the next one, except for Toy who was not only excited, but ready to get going.  Like my youngest son Brad (who happens to be twenty-six years old now), Toy has always enjoyed being by my side.  If I ever went anywhere, you could bet that Toy would be along.  He and I always had a good rapport with each other and from the first time we met, he considered me his ‘only’ father. 

Soon enough it was Sunday morning, as Diana, Toy, and I got up early to catch a bus to Pontevedra and our journey ahead.  I had gotten extra water for the extra person, plus some sweets to keep Toy satisfied as we trekked the twelve kilometers to Valladolid. 

As before, the highway and streets of Himamaylan City were devoid

of human life.  There was no traffic whatsoever and this municipality

7-21-13 - Himamaylan City, Negros Occidental - Daryl Cleveland and Toy Baguio

of 100,000 people looked as if it had gone into hibernation.   Toy sat with his mom on the seats at the bus stop as I paced the pavement in anxious anticipation of a bus eventually passing by.  Sometimes I could be impatient about things.  At some point in our lives, we expect instant gratification and so it was with that morning that I really wanted the bus to arrive.   Hence, I slowly paced back and forth like a wild animal in a cage.  I was ready to begin the trek, but the starting gun had yet to go off.  Diana and Toy noticed my impatience, but before anything could be said the lights of our bus appeared again in the distance. 

The transport was old and worn compared to many of the other Ceres Liners that plied the highways in that part of the island.  Still, we easily found seats and settled back for our hour ride to Pontevedra.  Cool air blew in through the several open windows of the bus as the illuminated streets of the city quickly faded away and the passenger carrier was consumed by darkness once more.   

Riding for almost an hour allows one time, not only to prepare for the journey ahead, but also time to reflect.  It just seems that in my later years, I have had cause to reflect more upon my past than during my active decades.  Of my four adopted Filipino children, Toy was always the one to roll with the diversity afforded him in life.  Whenever asking him to do something, he would do it without ‘murmuring’, whereas the other three would sometimes utter quiet complaints, especially if it involved some form of labor.  I thought of my walks across Iowa with Brad at that age.  There were days when Brad would become inconsolable as we strolled along those lonely blacktops.  Most days were great, with interesting conversations and observations, but then there were those other days….

 When the family had trekked from Binalbagan to Hinigaran, there was some protest as the heat of the day worked on the walkers, but nary was a word heard from Toy.  Even though he was as hot and tired and just plain uncomfortable as everyone else that morning, he was the one to keep stride and to even keep an eye on papa during the last couple of kilometers.  A slight smile formed as I considered Toy’s abilities with our upcoming twelve kilometer jaunt ahead.  If any child was to persevere, I knew it would be him…..and I will confess now, that I was not to be disappointed. 

The dawning of a new day was everywhere as we alighted from the bus at Pontevedra.  To say that Toy wasn't excited was an understatement.  While I got the backpack situated, Toy was already walking toward the nearby bridge leading out of town.  I realized quickly that it wasn’t just the thought of being with his papa, but it was also the excitement of seeing new things. The outdoor cafes were filled with men, young and old, while the nearby market was full of women doing their morning shopping as we three walked northward along the tree lined street. 

Rooster Farm along National Highway south of San Enrique

Crossing the bridge of The Marayo River on the north edge of the community, we started walking along the tree lined thoroughfare northward toward San Enrique.  Houses and Sari Sari stores lined the highway as Rooster farms were interspersed on both sides.   Cock fighting is a big sport in the Philippines and thus, those farms were a big enterprise.  Embarrassingly, in all of the years I have lived in the Philippines, I have never been to a sanctioned cock fight yet.  However, there are plenty around and I still have plenty of time to visit one….someday.

The road was flat and traffic light as we traveled beneath palm trees, mango trees, and many other trees that no one has ever been able to tell me their names.  I am serious here.  Whenever I would see a new kind of tree, I would ask the locals its name was and they would never know.  It seemed their knowledge of “dendrology” was pretty limited.  If it wasn’t a coconut tree, banana tree, mango tree, or papaya tree, then you were in unknown territory.  I have even taken pictures of certain trees and asked around with the same results.  Then again, when I think about it, are we Americans any more knowledgeable about our own tree species?   Decades ago I purchased forty trees for Odebolt’s Memorial Walkway and was amazed at the wide variety of tree that existed. So, I guess I should not have been surprised when no one could answer my queries into the different trees shading the countryside.  One thing we did notice with this stretch of roadway was the large number of turnip stands.  Nowhere else did I ever see those stands than between Pontevedra and San Enrique. 

Toy was the happiest boy ever.  The walk was insignificant to him in comparison to the discoveries he was coming across.  He pointed out

Toy Baguio looking over the side at the Tibsuk Bridge

the numerous rooster farms that were hidden in the foliage and was really excited when he happened upon a peso coin laying aside the highway.  As we walked across the Tibsuk Bridge just south of San Enrique, Toy stopped to view the sights along the waterway.  There were colorful boats (for hauling sand) along the shore as well as houses of differing

 San Enrique, Negros Occidental - Early morning thunderstorms billowing over the island of Panay

shapes and sizes nestled among the tropical foliage.  He was fascinated by the storm clouds over toward the distance island of Panay and just as equally mesmerized by the view of Kanlaon Volcano to the east.  Even though Diana and I would also see those same vistas, perhaps we lacked the youthful exuberance that twelve year old Toy embraced. 

On the outskirts of San Enrique, we came upon the perfect Philippine haunted house.  Dozens of times I had passed that

San Enrique, Negros Occidental - A forgotten mansion hidden among the encroaching foliage

location, yet I never did see the wooden structure camouflaged by the many shade trees along with teaming growth within its yard.  In its day, it had the appearance of an elegant dwelling, but time, termites, and lack of occupancy was taking its toll.  We wondered who had lived there and the history behind it occupants, but there were no clues, nor were there ghostly or perchance ghastly spirits to quench our curiosity…and to this day, I have never seen it from the roadway...and I have tried.  Just maybe, it was the early morning light creating a tropical mirage of something that once existed in reality, but now resided in a haunting illusion.

It was about 6:30 a.m. as we strolled through the community of San Enrique.  For the most part, the market was still closed and very little activity could be seen on the streets. I thought to myself that here

 San Enrique, Negros Occidental - Public Market

was this sleepy little hamlet living the Philippines lifestyle.  That was one of the major points of why I loved the island was the laid back attitude its inhabitants exhibited.   This would not be tolerated in the industrialized World, but worked quite well here and I relished in its demeanor.

Toward the north edge of town we came upon a Carenderia/fruit

Toy Toy Baguio showing me the fresh fruits at the local fruit stand

stand.  It was still too early to have the food displayed, but not too early to have fresh fruit out for sale.  Of course, Toy had to ham it up when I took the picture, but actually thought it was perfect for the image it produced.  Just a fun loving kid having a great time.

The land between San Enrique and Valladolid was of a more rural environment with quite a few fields of rice and sugar cane

 Valladolid, Negros Occidental - a nipa built on bits and pieces

bordering the highway, but there were also spots were the harsh life of reality exposed itself.  At one location we rested at a waiting shade in front of a nipa that was barely standing.  Its sides were papered with advertisement signs to protect it somewhat from the wet weather produced that time of year.  Further up, we spied a young

 Valladolid, Negros Occidental - Child on makeshift swing

girl in a makeshift swing of blue rope, innocently swinging back and forth as a brother stood nearby, perhaps awaiting his turn. 

At out next rest stop (we would take several), we spied a sister and brother peering out their nipa window at us.  I was able to take two

 Valladolid, Negros Occidental - Sister and Brother along the national highway

photos before the couple vanished behind the bamboo wall.  We were such a curiosity to the local residents, not that it wasn’t all that unusual to see a couple Filipinos traveling on foot, but to see a foreigner traipsing by was almost unbelievable. 

The remaining walk to Valladolid was mundane.  The morning

 Valladolid, Negros Occidental - Toy Toy re-energizing on a few cookies

traffic was finally beginning to pick up and as we entered the town proper, the locals were awake and about their affairs of the day. As expected, our threesome was the focus of attention as we passed by the local market along with the many businesses which lined the National Highway.  At the north end of town, we called it a morning and awaited a Ceres Liner for the trip back to Himamaylan City. 

I personally liked this segment of the walk as Toy was an integral part of this chapter of our adventure.  He contributed such energy

 Toy Toy showing how long the walk was that day, with a tired Diana waiting for the bus ride home

and inquisitiveness to the journey that morning. Actually, it made me think of the many walks my youngest son Brad and I had together in his younger days.  Children perceive a different kind of World or reality than we adults see in our differing stages of life. We quickly forget the innocence of our youth and follow blindly into the regimented structure of society as automatons.  Indeed, I have always envied the few who would reject those rigid rules, stay the course of childhood virtue which resulted in a life filled with adventures and discoveries.  In reflection, I recall that some have told me over the past decades that I needed to get a life, but unbeknownst to them, I have always had a life…and it has been out there, among the endless roadways, tiny hamlets, burgeoning cities, and its wide as well as exciting variety of its people.  All to be encountered, experienced, savored, and stored in the mind for those future days when such adventures are no longer possible.  And, when that eventuality finally arrives, I will be ready for the next real adventure…into that land of no return.

Daryl A. Cleveland  a.k.a. bounder

December 28, 2015