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Deep Field Relaxation The web site of Clif Sanderson who is famous the world over for his healing, teaching and seminars. One of his most notable achievements was helping the chilren of Chernobyl. Clif is well known in Asia Sport Fishing Asia |
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Established in 2001 by bikers for bikers and the motorcycle community |
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(Andrew) All our motorcycles are black from soot and dirt from wet concrete roads. Rain, oil, dust, soot, etc. Hot engine covered with soot stinks very oddly. Me must clean our bikes ASAP. If this stay for some days, may be we can never remove black coating from the engine and exhaust pipes. We continue our ride with the same pace. Everything is OK. We become used to the rhythm of our ride. (James) We're cutting through Tarlac in resumed rain and dark, trying to avoid the snarls at Cabanatuan through a route that Andrew says will cut 2 whole hours off the run. I just follow the convoy, thankful for the cool cloud cover but then it starts to rain again. I hope it won't last long or my mesh jacket and pants will become really unpleasant˜not to mention that I chose to wear my dry weather boots˜the ones that feel as if they are made of sponge material and soak up rainwater like you wouldn't believe. We're cutting through Nueva Vizcaya, passing through several towns via two-lane “highways”. Not much scenery or open space. So far, this run feels like a run to heart of Cavite via Coastal and Aguinaldo Highway˜in other words, a traffic fest. Things start to get more and more interesting with the passing towns as open space becomes more and more frequent, while towns get more and more picturesque.We pass a colonial, Victorian-architecture municipal or provincial hall in Neuva Vizcaya. I wish we could stop for some shots, but the convoy rolls on˜gotta make up some time, obviously. So I just point it out to Rene during a slow roll by, just in case he might be blind and missed it! (Biboy) The roads were mostly straight and free of traffic in this countryside. We seldom meet other vehicles along the way. What frequents our eyes though were those makeshift generator-cum-kalesa of varying sizes, locally known as kuligligs. There were times when I would feel the bike twitch slightly and Ann's grasp on my belt bag slackening. Ann has fallen asleep. I just tapped her left leg to wake her up. I can't blame her for falling asleep. The flat landscape bored her and the monotonous droning of the wind and the bike was like “Sa Ugoy ng Duyan”. But I can't allow her to sleep. The bike doesn't have a backrest. She would easily have fallen off if I did not feel her dozing. Somewhere along the way, we made a wrong turn. Instead of turning right towards Sitio Rosario, we took left which lead us to Rosales. We learned later on that the wrong turn had added almost 80 kilometers to our mileage instead of ten if we went the other way. Eighty kilometers would take us another hour to cover. Jeez! We quickened our pace hoping to reach the guys on the next scheduled stop. We reached 150 kph on some stretches and cruised past 100 kph. Dalton Pass Then the scenery changed from the boring flatlands to magnificent mountain ranges. I felt I was somewhere else. I never imagined our country having such dazzling landscapes. Ann was fully awake when we started our accent of Dalton Pass. The sight was really awesome. We were enthralled when the roads started to twist. This for me is the fun part of motorcycling. I pumped my concentration to its maximum to lean the bike smoothly on every corner and keep pace with the apex line of the sport bike ahead of me. Fun! Soon we were over the mountain and we stopped for a break. Infanta looked like twisties-for-sissies. (Rene) We continue to ride north. After San Jose, the plains of Central Luzon turn into rolling hills and mountains of the Sierra Madre. We rode through Dalton Pass (890 meters up) and Nueva Ecija. The two-lane cement road is in excellent condition, weaving through mountain passes, ever increasing in elevation as we watch the kilometers scroll down the odometer. We stopped at a roadside restaurant on the border of Nueva Ecija and Nueva Viscaya, where we found at least two dozen big bikes parked on the side of the road. The Cebu Easyriders are here taking a break on the way north, just like us. Lots of Harleys in this batch and Derek's Buell draws a lot of attention.
(James) It turns out that our route soon has us riding through those very breathtaking mountains and it soon dawns on me that we're already riding the beautifully famous Dalton Pass! Awesome mountain roads loaded with twisties where, save for a single truck or car perhaps every 20 minutes or more, our convoy is the only presence of vehicles! With every corner that we clear, unparalleled vistas are revealed, matched by first-world roads that are all ours! No stress now, just pure relaxation and enjoyment. Now we're riding! Every corner is equally awe-inspiring and the corners just keep coming for over an hour. It's almost overloading. I have to use the memory and battery on my digicam sparingly, so I do my best to mentally burn the images into my brain. We started low at the foothills of the mountain range and eventually found ourselves riding eye-level to distant clouds that never obscured the roads or the mountain views. I felt so sorry for the other Freedom Riders that couldn't make the run for the usual reasons that have held me back for so long. We stop near the top of Dalton Pass to take pictures and then head for a coffee break Andrew has planned. When we pull in, we're surprised to see about 20 to 30 bikes˜mostly Harleys and Gold Wings already there. Turns out the Cebu Easyriders are touring as well. Coffee break is right within the borders of Nueva Ecija. Yup, we've made up some time, alright. Back on schedule and we didn't even try. (Rene) It was too early to eat lunch and the food on display does not look appetizing. Too much time spent on display behind the counter. I settled for some Suman and a chocolate drink, while others have coffee and pastries. We went to the back of the restaurant and gazed at the splendor of the valley and mountain views before us. The rain clouds covered the mountaintops like oversized tuffs of cotton. The air is cool and clean and there is very little noise except for the faint roar of motors as the Easyriders make their way down the mountain heading north. (James) None of us is hungry and it's only 11am, so we decide to continue making time and consider eating in Solano city. We motor down the mountain range, circle a valley clockwise and hang a left for Solano City. I'm surprised to see so many signs pointing the way to Baguio. HmmméI have no idea where I am. In the flat, straight run that follows, we pass the Easyriders who have stopped for gas. We've made up time in the saddle and hunger is starting to set in. Buell 1, Tricycle 0 (Biboy) Soon after, we were cutting through Bayombong, the place where Ann's dad grew up, stopped for gas and headed towards Solano where we were informed through a text message that Derek had an accident. We prayed along the way that everything is still okay despite the accident.
(Rene) Disaster strikes us like a bolt of lighting, unpredictable and fast. As we negotiate our way through city traffic in Solano, a tricycle pulls a quick u-turn in front of Derek, who is the second rider behind Andrew. Derek slams on the brakes, hitting the tricycle broadside, just behind where the operator sits. The impact lifts the tricycle temporarily, while the Buell does a stoppie. To the amazement of James and I, who are riding third and fourth behind Derek, we saw the Buell push the tricycle aside while Derek maintains his balance on the Bike, rolling to a controlled stop on the side of the road, spewing precious oil, all over the pavement. I quickly stop to the right side of the road to assist the tricycle rider who is sitting on the other side of the roadway, writhing in pain from the impact on his foot. Derek comes rushing in, somehow managing to keep his cool and in a firm voice, told the tricycle operator that the accident was his fault because he made a u-turn without checking the traffic behind him. James calmly reminds Derek that we need to exercise our best behavior, as more tricycle riders gather around us to gawk at the accident. It must be noted that there were no hostile comments or actions taken upon us by the locals. After determining that the tricycle operator is okay, we turned our attention to the Buell and assessed the problem. There are a few broken parts - front fender, fairing, turn signals, fog lamps and a punctured oil filter ¥ nothing major that will incapacitate the bike. (James) Jolibee signs promise a good lunch. We're passing through the outskirts of town when bad luck rears its ugly head again. Andrew passes a tricycle just like any other that we pass in towns but when Derek is about to complete his pass, the tricycle driver suddenly decides he wants to either go 90 degrees to the left or make a u-turn˜without even looking or even noticing the jumbo-jet booming sound of Derek's Buell right on top of him! The sudden maneuver bags Derek big time˜right in front of my horrified eyes. Like slow motion, I watch Derek do all he can to avoid contact˜not easy when you're going 90kph and the trike makes his move about 10 feet from convergence. Derek fades left in an ever-tightening bank, trying to avoid impact˜thank God there was no oncoming traffic˜but it's really too late. The Buell t-bones the trike, sending its rear wheel, along with Derek's butt, nearly vertical. The Buell and trike lock up with it momentarily and the Buell from near-vertical stoppie, nearly rolls over and disengages. Derek fights and somehow manages to keep the Buell upright, finally coming to a stop after somehow managing to spin 180 degrees! Now facing the way home, Derek seems all right, thank God. The trike driver is on the pavement though. We quickly get to Derek whose adrenaline is clearly pumping but he manages to remain calm. We check the trike driver. His foot looks hurt and there's fluid on it. I thought initially it was blood and that we were now in for a major complication. Turns out when the Buell and trike locked up together, the oil filter of the Buell got punctured, accounting for the fluid I noticed in the trike rider's foot. None of the riders were seriously hurt at all, thank God. Derek moves in and manages to forcefully reprimand the tricycle driver still lying on the ground without looking arrogant. “You know that you cut in front of me,” he says. The Buell had some minor cosmetic damage only, which was extremely lucky considering the force of the impact. By now a crowd has gathered and Derek sets to work getting the Buell ready to roll again. The mostly tricycle driver crowd closes in tight around the gathered bikes raising some concern about the possibility of a violent reaction or perhaps pilferage of some of our gear. We needn't have worried as Derek delights the crowd no end with out-loud color commentary as he works. “I ship my bike all the way to the Philippines to ride your beautiful country and this happens” or “No problem, I can fix this. This bike was totaled a few weeks ago”, he declares, regaling the crowd and punctuating his stories with generous gesticulations and an equally generous smile on his face.Some bystanders handle translation duties for the gathering crowd. From an auto supply that is literally just steps away, Andrew secures an oil filter and wrench, which, to my complete surprise actually fits!! All these years I rode a Harley Sportster convinced that the metric-based local supplies would never fit a Harley. Live and learn. In the meantime, the Cebu Easyriders cruise right on by us. I guess they figured the crowd had naturally congregated around parked bikes taking a routine break. It's the last we see of them˜maybe. (Rene) After a little struggle, we were able to remove the broken oil filter, thanks to Andrew who was able to procure a chain type oil filter remover. I was preparing to bandage the punctured filter with some duct tape, when Andrew (call him Mr. Resourceful), found a replacement filter and a quart of oil from the local auto parts store, located no more than 20 meters away. The Buell has no other debilitating damage. Surprisingly, the front forks are not bent. At impact, it bowed back far enough to damage the oil filter, but returned to its original position with no permanent damage. (Andrew) Unfortunately in Solano, Derek, the second in our group, hits a tricycle. No personal injury. Derek shows great skill in handling his bike. His Buell doesn't hit the ground. Some broken plastic parts (front fender, headlight, and cover) and destroyed oil filter. About 100meters from place of accident, auto spare shop could provide us with oil filter, which fits to Derek's Buell. Small miracle. Luck in unlucky situation. After a short mirienda in Solano,Derek decides to go direct to Bagiuo to join his wife, we decided to go direct to Tugegarao. (Biboy) When we got there, the locals where milling around the group. I'm imagining the worst case scenario: Derek sprawled on the ground and the bike a total wreck. What a relief it was when I saw his head popped out amidst the sea of people. Goodbye Derek
(James) Solano is like any other city in the Philippines that I have seen. Way too crowded. We pick our way through traffic that could be Binondo and the situation is the same inside the Jolibee. Fortunately, we all manage to find seats and places to park our helmets, jackets and other gear. We load up on food and drinks. Biboy's suggests I sieze the opportunity to reload my Camelback in the water fountain and since it's definitely starting to get hot, I max out the capacity to overflow. The slowly dripping cold water will provide additional cooling. In mere minutes the Buell is good to go and Derek declares that he didn't expect the roads to be quite so good. After joining us for lunch in Solano, he will then head back to meet up with his wife in Baguio early, so that they can enjoy the scenic roads together. And just as the 4-bike train looks like it will become 3, Jobo and Biboy pull up. (Biboy) Five minutes later, we were eating lunch at Jollibee. The air conditioning, ice cold Coke, and the hot food were a welcome respite for our weary souls. Derek told us he wanted to spend some time with his wife who was at that time in Baguio. So after lunch, he headed back South. We on the other hand still need to cover some 200+ kilometers to reach our destination. My bike was still running fine and I silently thank God for it. (Rene) We went to the nearest Jollibee to recuperate from the incident. At this time, Jobo, Biboy and Ann were able to catch up with us after making the repair on Jobo's front brake. Derek makes a decision to end the ride with us and instead, meet his wife who is waiting for him in Bagiuo. We give him a map and our good wishes, before he rides off heading back to where we rode only a few hours ago. We have over 550 kilometers to do today. Our road captain, Mr. Andrew Klajn, kept us on our toes to make sure we are on schedule. As soon as we reached Santiago, we took the Øshortcut' and headed north through the towns of Ramon, Aurora, Roxas and Quezon. This diversion road to the west of the national highway shaves at least an hour from the main road where there is less traffic to deal with. Since experiencing the accident with Derek, I have been more diligent at pressing the horn whenever I pass a tricycle or anything that moves for that matter.
(James) We wheel about and head through the city of Santiago which is big and crowded. We leave the city and the terrain becomes flat and open. I watch the signs as we drone on for about 3 hours. Next thing I know, we are in the province of Isabela. By 4 pm we pull into a gas station to gas up the bikes and take a much-needed drink. Fortunately for me I have been sipping water the whole way through. Unfortunately for me, I need a bathroom desperately but there's none available. It doesn't stop me from drinking a cold coke though. We rest up our asses a bit as Rene and Andrew mess around with local children who have gathered to admire the bikes. A tricycle driver let's us know that we're just an hour and a half from Tugegarao. And there's still plenty of sunshine left, yes! We've made up the time nicely. A few more shots and we're back on the road. Isabela is mostly flat straight, wonderfully paved, very empty two-lane highways. We pass occasional vehicles including handtractors converted to makeshift jeepneys. Other than that, it's an occasional jeepney maybe. Since we're droning at 90-110kph or so, I take the opportunity to take some road shots on the fly. Nice thing about my camera, I can whip it out almost anytime and take lots of shots, in the hope that some turn will out ok. I move up and down the line taking shots of the bikes. The sun is just starting to descend and it's getting late in the afternoon as we motor through flat rice fields that extend for miles on either side of the road. The main difference I notice between riding near Manila and here is that houses (just about the only structures, save for in the cities) aren't encroaching right on the road and in fact, they prefer to be really far from the roads. Consequently, there is no fear of a child suddenly running into the road. The same goes for dogs, toys and drunks. We're heading towards beautiful mountains in the distance again, that frame the rice fields, filled with scores of people working as a team. The bayanihan spirit is clearly alive and well out there. Those that have free hands wave heartily at us. It's like a scene from famous Philippine landscape paintings, with the sun peeking behind clouds, lush rice fields and rolling mountains.
(Rene) Covering a lot of kilometers in a day gives me a quick snapshot of agricultural activities throughout the countryside especially in this section of the trip where a rider can relax and let the road slip by with the minutes. I see flooded rice fields getting ready for planting, while a few klicks later, harvested grains of rice are on the side of road drying in the sun. A few more klicks down the road, tall green stalks of rice are dancing with the wind, and a few more clicks later, the golden stalks are burning in piles, creating smokescreen that temporarily blocks our vision of the road. Rice is not the only view on the horizon. There is also garlic, tobacco and lots of fruit trees. Mango trees are full of green fruits hanging heavily on their branches. Where is my tirador when I need one? As we roll through the countryside, I can't help but admire the beauty of this country and the people who call this place home.Almost everywhere we go, people would wave at us and we wave back at them. (James) The roads take a kink as we head towards the mountains. The kinks gradually become more and more frequent and then we're into sustained twisties. The roads are still empty and we encounter another vehicle perhaps every 40 minutes or so. This is biker paradise! Temps are cool, roads are all you could dream of, with views to match and no stressed-out cagers at all! We're free to pick whatever pace suits us. The sun is getting lower as Andrew pulls the convoy to a spot that indicates we're about to make our way down. Jobo relates that for quite some time, he's been screaming in his helmet for us to stop and take pictures. Andrew chooses a great spot from experience. It's great having a guy in the lead that knows what to expect. We hang for about 20 minutes to take it all in and take shots. We can take our sweet time taking pictures even from the middle of the roads. No vehicles to speak of anyway.Everyone talks of where they will build their house in the landscape before us. I take the chance to record a video on my phone, panning through the bikes and scenery. The wife will love to see where we are right now. (Biboy) A few kilometers away from Tuguegarao, we passed by another scenic landscape. The hills were mostly covered with grass, with very few trees. The twisty roads meandering around the hills were well paved. We had to stop for pictures. (Andrew) We reach Tugegarao 5:30PM. Over 600km and 12 hours ride. The first day was done. We are tired but happy. I could find "my" old hotel, and we could get rooms. Crown Hotel. Price - P. 500 for double with own bathroom and TV. Guys went to hotel, and I went to see some "old" biker friend from Tugegarao. (Biboy) At around 5:30 pm, we were parked at the hotel Andrew picked for the group. Everybody was looking forward for a hot shower and a hot dinner. We planned to visit Andrew's friend, Dingkoy. That day alone, we covered around 600 km and spent 13 hours on our bikes. Our bikes looked really filthy as half of it was frosted with mud. (Rene) Around 5pm, there is still a lot of sunlight as we roll into the town of Tuguegarao. We settled into one of the hotels from the main road. Five hundred pesos or $10 a night for two beds is a bargain. A clean room is all we ask. Since this is our first day of the ride, we planned it to be the longest while we are still fresh. Manila was a 12-hour ride away and we are still feeling good. (James) Andrew leads the group into the driveway of a hotel he has in mind and we waste no time in getting checked in. It's just before 6pm and dusk is upon is, with dark no more than minutes away making our final destination for Day 1 in perfect timing at a relaxed pace. Despite the delay, rains, traffic, grime and the accident, this day is a success, I think with only a good shower, a decent meal and a bed needed to top it off! We check in the room and Moto Grand Prix is on the TV! What luck to ride all day and then get to rest and unwind over spectacular motorcycle TV. We hear that dark has caught Ritchie and Charlie before they could make it to Tugegarao, so they opt to find lodging somewhere South of the city. After a quick shower, I find Rene already chowing down in the hotel's restaurant. I'm not sure if it's the appetite I built up over the ride but the pork adobo with onions is absolutely delicious! A bag of pork rinds is a delicious side dish.
Colonel Dingkoy
(James) Andrew relates that he has a friend in town who can get our bikes cleaned and, considering the bikes are still caked with black Tarlac sludge hardened after several hours of baking, it's a great idea and since Andrew says that his friend is a biker too, I will, for the first time, allow someone to wash my bike. Anything to dislodge the grime that we picked up and may have ruined the looks of our bikes permanently. That's not a good way to start a 4-day run. After dinner, Andrew hops on the back of the filthy Transalp and Rene follows suit on the police CBX as we find our way a few blocks in the dark streets of Tugegarao. We pull into to Colonel Dinkoy's home which has a restaurant and karaoke bar in the front in time to see Andrew's cruiser gleaming like new. I can't wait for my turn and luckily, my bike is next in line! I hope they can do for me what they did for Andrew as we sit around the garage over drinks and watch the bikes get clean. (Rene) Our grime-encrusted bikes were treated to a power wash by a couple of young men who expertly washed the bikes back to their glitter, much to our surprise. We really thought the crap on the chrome parts would be a permanently baked on fixture of the bikes. (Andrew) Before 9PM, all our bikes were properly washed. And we all had a nice chat with local bikers. Dingkoy got into a MC accident while riding on his dirt bike in Bagiuo some weeks ago. He was very disappointed that he couldn't go to Bike Week in Manila, and that he couldn't go with us for a ride. (Rene) Col. ØDingkoy' is deceivingly young looking. He is walking gingerly on a swollen foot he recently broke doing what we all like to do ¥ riding a motorcycle. “Where's the cast?” I ask. He got tired of it and took it off. He is also president of the biker club called VRRRM (Volunteers of Responsible Riders, Rescuers and Manuevers). While the bikes went through the wash, we were enjoying the hospitality of Colonel Dingkoy's company and friends. I texted Charlie and Ritchie to let them know where we are and they responded by saying they are spending the night at Santiago, Isabela with friends. (James) Dinkoy, on crutches, relates how he broke his leg in a recent dirtbike incident. After a while, we transfer to the entertainment area amid more drinks and genuine hospitality. Soon, more and more of Dinkoy's riding buddies are filtering in on their rides and we get the lowdown on the ride scene in Tugegarao. They talk of other runs that passed through recently, best ride spots around town, particularly the Callao Caves, about 45 minute's ride away. They insist that a run to Tuguegarao isn't complete without a short side run to the caves. Ride Captain Rene agrees that we can afford a side trip in Day 2's easy schedule and a short time later, I can no longer resist the call of that bed I've had my mind on since we pulled in. I can hardly believe the Transalp looks almost brand new and am so thankful for the cleanup job! I say my goodbyes and find my way back to the hotel but before I can sleep, I get all my gear ready for tomorrow, because I know things will move fast in the morning. Rene makes it back to the room before I get done. Lights out and the day is over. I miss my wife and thank God for a safe Day 1. And to think, there are 3 more days of this ahead. (Biboy) Dinkoy is a military, a biker and owner of a karaoke bar/restaurant in Tuguegarao. We were very thankful when he offered to have our bikes cleaned at his place. We met some members of his motorcycle club that night. They insisted that our visit to Tuguegarao is not complete if we missed out Callao Caves. They offered to be our guides and we accepted. The jump-off time was set at 8:30 am the following morning. There was no trouble sleeping, I went into a coma as soon as I hit the bed. (Rene) Back at the hotel, the air conditioning is blasting away cold air by the buckets. I shiver from the cold as I unpack my bedroll in preparation for the night. I watch James in the other bed working on his sleep, lying on top of his sheets without a shirt on. He must have Eskimo blood in him, I thought, so I did not say anything about turning up the temperature. I curled into my bedroll but by midnight, it was so cold, I had to cover my whole head like a mummy to stay warm. Sometime in the middle of the night, James told me later that he woke from the cold and saw me cocooned in my green bedroll, not a body part showing. That was the time he turned down the air-conditioner because he couldn't stand the cold anymore! |
