On The Run Again

I can’t believe that life’s so complex,
When I just wanna sit here
And watch you undress.
- PJ Harvey

It was that rare instance when Lady Luck was in a compassionate mood. I wished for the rain to come during our first Training Climb to Cinco Picos, and I got it in liberal doses. You must think I was cuckoo to have wanted so much water pelting down at us, but Cinco Picos – also known as Tatlong Tirad – was a mountain cloaked mostly in grass and little else, with scarcely any trees for climbing, throwing rocks from, or any tree-related tomfoolery. That meant almost zero shade for sun-struck hikers, and we were warned that a clear day would be tantamount to a hellish climb, with the heat charging at us relentlessly.

Besides, I’d forgotten to bring a hat – if it had been sunny then, I would have returned to Manila baked to a crisp, Peachy the Potato Chip.

Photos courtesy of Jenipay Pangilinan.

During the descent, with Assistant Team Leader Kim and groupmates JV and Elmer.

Love your pack. Still with Kim, JV, and Jenipay

Messing around in the river with groupmates, post-descent. Jenipay, Alman, Me, Joseph, Niel, and JV.


River rocks make for fantastic trail food. Tasty!


Not getting enough of the river. Me, Gerry, Joseph, JV, and Jenipay.

In any case, my first climb was an excellent one, despite the fact that the hiking shoes I borrowed gave out after the first river crossing. We were all divided into six groups, and ours was the first to arrive as a complete group in the campsite, and also the first to break camp the next day and descend to the foot of the mountain.

Already, I’m looking forward to the second Training Climb, which is supposedly much more arduous than the first. I’m hoping for the next mountain to have more trees, though. Tomfoolery ain’t the same without them.

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The Acquaintance Party for our training batch went unusually well, given that we all organized it in less than a week. I don’t remember having been so goddamn hammered in my entire life – I’d been drinking well before the party, and by the time the games had begun, I was drunk enough to yank off my bra from under my shirt for the “Bring Me” game. The night was a fine blur of free-flowing alcohol, and I chugged down any drink thrust my way, which ranged from beer to vodka to tequila.

Photos courtesy of Bajay De Guzman.

We got the Pirates theme going. Me with fellow trainees and Sir Manny.


Peachy's rear end and lovely co-trainees: Beth, Camille, Maxine, Tita Jenny, Lynda, Jenipay, and Mitay.


Harassing fellow trainee Badong in the middle of the Suck My Straw game.

It was also the first time I’d ever passed out from drinking so much: I woke up to find myself in the passenger seat of a car hurtling down a highway, with our Assistant Group Leader, Erik, driving casually, and my fellow trainee, Jenipay, sprawled out and unconscious on the backseat.

“What – wait, hic, how’d I get here?” I hiccuped.

“Uy, okay ka na?” Erik asked. As it turns out, he had to carry my carcass to the car, since I’d effectively lost all of my motor functions and was unable to stand up by myself. I had no recollection of this whatsoever, and there was an entire block of time that I couldn’t seem to account for. I turned in my seat, still hiccupping, and looked at Jenipay, who remained knocked out where she was.

“What ha - hic - ppened to her?”

“Ayun, nalasing din.” Erik said. “Okay ka lang diyan? Sobrang wasak ka kanina, eh. Haha.”

Fuck. I groaned and slumped back in my seat, still feeling drunk, and tried to reassemble my memory of the night’s events. Hmm, I can’t fucking remember anything. Fuck. The last scene I could retrieve in my head was a vague picture of me sitting on the floor, fighting to stand up, but that was as far as my memory served me, and all my efforts at trawling for other memories were futile.

Okay, that’s the last time I’m going to let that happen. I feel cheated out of half the night’s excitement, since there was so much that I couldn’t remember. And I had to be carried to the car! Fuck! I mean, how embarrassing is that? And it’s no joke lugging my weight around, I’m at least 115 pounds!! And what if I’d said anything incriminating? What if I’d gone around confessing my affinity for watching man-to-man sex? I’m kidding.

I am never ever ever ever ever drinking that much again.

Oddly enough, I think I may have mouthed off that sentiment a number of times before. But it’s all right. I’m an expert at self-contradiction, anyway.
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