Mt. Parawagan: A Hike, a Lesson, and a Makeshift Tricycle

It’s been years since my last hike, so when a friend invited me to climb Mt. Parawagan, a beginner-friendly trail near Manila, I felt a fuck yes jolt out of my sacral chakra. As a generator, this is how my body communicates with me—my truth, free from external influence.

We hit a few bumps right from the start. We didn’t know where the trailhead actually was. A drunk man approached us, claiming we needed to hire him to comply with government regulations. Scared and unsure, we just started walking. A hike less than six kilometers shouldn’t need a guide, we thought—we even read that online. But without internet in the mountains, Google, our trusted friend, was out of reach. Luckily, some kids along the way pointed us in the right direction.

Once we were on the proper trail, we met three women. One of them was struggling right from the start. We swapped a few stories, and as we walked, one of the women clung to me. I felt the weight of what she was carrying.

I gently removed her hand and whispered to myself, "I’m sorry, I can’t carry you. I have baggage too."

My thoughts were all over the place, yet I was completely captivated by nature’s beauty. Ferns thrived everywhere, the same ones I carefully tend to at home. Seeing them thrive effortlessly here reminded me that when you take something out of its natural habitat, you take on the responsibility to care for it. Otherwise, nature knows how to manage itself. Sometimes we take too much and call it love. "I love you because I want you. I want you because I get something from you." I’ve heard those words countless times, and maybe the ferns have too.

When we finally reached the summit—480 meters above sea level—everything felt worth it. It was more than twice the height of the highest peak along Sumulong Highway in Antipolo, where I usually bike. From the top, the buildings below looked so small, the mountains around us felt so close, and everything was at peace. We celebrated our victory with boiled eggs and ripe bananas, simple joys for a simple moment.

On the way back, my legs started to fail me. They were shaking, and it hit me that I had completely drained myself getting to the top. I was determined to finish the hike, but I knew I’d have to go at a slower pace. As we reached a cemented road, an empty makeshift tricycle passed by. Without hesitation, we flagged it down and hitched a ride back to the starting point.

This hike taught me something important: always, always, always leave something for myself. I’ve spent too much of my life hiking through it with a burning passion to please everyone but me.

I didn’t finish the hike on foot, but that’s okay. I’ve realized it’s absolutely fine to give up or slow down when you need to. When you let go and let flow, the universe will send exactly what you need—sometimes, even a makeshift tricycle to get you where you’re meant to go faster.