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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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Day 2
(Biboy) We took a hot shower around 6 am, packed and went to the parking lot to meet the rest. Everybody looked well rested and was optimistic about our second day trip. The weather was fine and the bikes were sparklingly clean. Breakfast was at Jollibee after the group failed to find McDonald's in the city. We met our guides at Dingkoy's and set off for Callao Caves just before 9 am.
(Rene) At dawn, James and I woke up like two frozen Popsicles and laughed at each other's assumptions (liking the cold) and ending up freezing each other in the process. We hooked up with the guys and Ann in the parking lot. We were craving for a familiar breakfast at McDonalds. Unfortunately, McDonalds is not yet open, but Jollibee next door is glad to have us. Soon, our bikes are again surrounded by tricycle operators admiring the big bikes in their midst. We saw Colonel Dingkoy at 8am, who sent two of his trusted friends, Oscar Willflor and Marito Achanzar, to accompany us to the Callao Caves, located just a few kilometers northeast of town. As we rode towards the caves, I see the local version of the tricycle in Tuguegarao ¥ a cart drawn by a very small horse, about the size of a chubby Great Dane. These small animals look healthy, compared to their city cousins. No ribs showing, just lots of muscles. (James) The ride to Callao is better than I imagined. We're heading off the main routes but the roads are still fantastic and we''re winding our way around a mountain, skirting it's edge and eventually find ourselves enjoying the view of a pristine valley as we ride. Small sections provide some dirt riding and I am glad my bike is built for it. Makes me feel guilty but the sections are very short anyway and nobody appears to have even the slightest problem, even the sport bikes loaded up for 4 days travel. (Biboy) Some portions of the road were bumpy and it took a significant effort to navigate my beast of burden through them. I'm afraid that the short journey had burned quickly what little breakfast I had that morning. I hope I won't go hungry soon. To my surprise and demise, we had to ascend more than a hundred steep steps to get to the cave's entrance. So that's another minus to my stored energy. But our concern was Andrew. Will he make it on top? And to our delight, he did. It was just like having sex, he said which made everybody laugh.
(James) The cave area is surrounded by a clear green lake that is huge in magnitude, hemmed in by sheer cliffs. We are told to leave our gear on the bikes, since no one will mess with them. Very reassuring. After climbing about the equivalent of 10 stories, we're all out of breath but the caves are equally breathtaking in the their beauty and magnitude. The roofs of the chambers must be about 100 feet high and have holes in them, probably sinkholes that remind me of the Oculus in the Roman Pantheon. There are eight chambers in all! The second one fits the equivalent of a good sized church seating about 100 people, judging by the amount of pews laid out. There's a makeshift tabernacle in the rock formations that is naturally lit even. We are told an ex-US General who would later become president (I forget the name) hid from the Japanese in these tunnels. This was definitely worth the side trip!
(Rene) The mouth of the Callao Caves overlooks a large valley bordered by a beautiful and deep river. We had to ascend up a set of cement stairs, approximately 100 feet up the hill, to reach the first chamber. There are nine chambers according to our guides and each one is comfortably cool giving us sweet relief after the sweaty climb. A grotto was created inside the first chamber where worshipers can sit and pray. Parts of the cave have open ceiling allowing sunlight to filter through the darkness. These openings also allow rain to come in creating a slippery surface on the cave floor for everyone to negotiate. James and I had a brief discussion whether those icicle like objects hanging on the cave's ceiling are stalactites or stalagmites. It was the former and unfortunately, some enterprising folks who do not have appreciation for the preservation of nature took it upon themselves to cut pieces off the ceiling, leaving behind ugly stubs.
We were able to explore up to three chambers before fatigue, heat, thirst and fear of enclosed spaces or the combination of all kept us from exploring the remaining six chambers. I wonder what its like to sleep here at night when the bats rule the skies. (Biboy) The cave was beautiful. The locals have built a chapel in it and inconspicuously placed soft lights in some areas giving life to its dark recesses. The air inside was cool but the constant climbing and walking around still left most of us sweating. We have to go soon if we want to cover the intended miles for the day. After a few more shots, we roared off to Aparri. (James) Road Captain Rene determines that we've spent our discretionary time for the morning of Day 2, so we head out for my personal required destination, Aparri. On the way back, I watch Rene ride the CBX Police Bike through the dirt sections in the manner he described Jimmy Lewis had taught him˜standing up, Paris-Dakar style! He's having fun. An underbone scooter decides he wants to run with us, cuts in the formation and settles in the middle of the pack. He must be running about 50cc but is having no trouble running at 90kph. It's when speeds hit 100kph that he begins to struggle but we're in no rush and twisties, plus what must account for early morning rush hour in these parts, keeps our speeds to 90kph mostly. Who says 50cc scooters can't run with the big boys? The only problem is, this guy has no helmet and is wearing only a t-shirt, shorts and slippers. Oh brother. He calls it quits on the outskirts of town nearly 30 minutes later and the convoy settles in to a swifter pace, once again having the roads mostly to ourselves. At worst, around populated areas, the traffic we encounter at certain sections would be called light. Otherwise, we're doing 100-110kph, with occasional 120kph sections, which occur on long empty straights. The wind is blustery and we're definitely having fun. I watch my odometer click off kilometers in quick fashion. Cool!
(Rene) Our guides wanted us to sample a canoe ride on the river, but the sun is getting high, our shadows are short and we still have Aparri to visit. We wave goodbye to Oscar and Marito as we merge to the main highway, leaving our friends behind. We take the memories of their generosity for a future opportunity to return the favor. We left Tugegarao around 10am and continued on to Aparri. (James) Eventually, we pass a group of about 6 cruisers, some Harleys, moving along at a stately 80kph, I estimate. Waves are exchanged as we make our way past and I don't spot any Easyriders patches on the riders. A different club maybe? (Biboy) The roads were well paved, with very little traffic and endowed with some challenging twisties for us to enjoy. The hours clicked away and soon we were just a town away from Aparri. We stopped to empty our bladders and had another photo op by Andrew. We had a suspension bridge over a wide river as our background. Cows 1, Andrew 0(James) Before the junction to Aparri, we stop for some photos with the bridge in the background and I joke that Andrew and Rene should don their helmets and pose by a pair of cows tied up nearby, as if they had ridden in on them. Andrew likes the idea, much to Rene's grief, and insists that Rene join him in the shot. The cow begins to shy away as Andrew gets closer and soon, tether in hand, Andrew is nearly pulled down the roadside embankment as the cow tries to escape. (Biboy) Before we departed, Andrew chanced upon a cow and decided to have his picture taken on it in full motorcycle gear. Andrew pulled the cow's reign but the poor cow panicked upon seeing the strange creature and instinctively run down the steep cliff. It was a funny but frightful sight. Andrew failed. Lucky for him, he was able to let go of the rope just in time. If not, he'll be having a hard time scaling back up.
(James) At the junction to Aparri, Andrew decides that he will hang out by the picturesque bridge that will lead the group to Pagudpud while we go and get the pictures that I need. It's only 11:00am, so we decide that we'll grab lunch with Andrew when we get back from Aparri, only 60kph away. Meantime, Ritchie and Charlie report via cellphone that they aren't far behind us now but they have stopped to offer assistance to some bikers that have had an accident˜most likely, the same bunch that we passed earlier. (Rene) Our group stopped at the junction where the suspension bridge crosses the Cagayan River and left Andrew (who has no interest in going further north to Aparri) to wait for Ritchie and Charlie. (Andrew) Although Charlie and Ritchie were on their own, they were all the time in contact with us by phone. When our group reaches Lal-Lo, about 29 km from Apari, I decided to stay there to wait for Ritchie and Charlie. Return to Aparri˜50 Years Later (James) Like all the roads in the North, the way to Aparri is well-paved concrete. I try to imagine what the roads and general conditions must have been like when my Lolo (actually, my wife's Lolo) made this same journey some 50 years earlier on his Harley Hydra Glide along with a friend on a BMW.
What an amazing, hard journey that must have been on a bike with no rear suspension! We pass several centuries-old churches on the way, evident by their Romanesque or Renaissance architectural styles and natural stones or clay bricks. We make a mental note to take pictures on the way back. The air gets cooler and, surprisingly, palpably less humid the closer we get to the shore. City begins to build as we push on and inevitably, we're snaking through the center of town with as much traffic as moderate mall in Manila. Rene goes by the seat of his pants, taking all the turns I would have and eventually asks for directions from locals. His nose was right on target and we arrive at my required destination˜the Aparri Municipal town hall where my Lolo and his BMW-riding buddy so proudly had their sepia photos taken and which I had come to recreate. Lolo is 83 now and his health is starting to fade but whenever he talks about his Harley and all the adventures he and his wife, Dada, took, his eyes light up and his enthusiasm clearly spikes! I am sure these pictures will bring him joy and my excitement is brimming over but as we pull up in front of the modern building, it's clearly not the same, institutional neo-classical structure in Lolo's pictures. Turns out, it is the same building only that my spiritual recreation of Lolo's adventure is about 9 years too late. Most likely in the name of progress, some politician must have embarked on a major “facelift” in 1994, successfully eliminating all neo-classical charm in exchange for character-devoid international modern. It's a poor exchange and Lolo may not recognize the Aparri Municipal hall, but Rene, Biboy and Jobo all line up their bikes just as they were 50 years ago. Rene and I pose for shots that simulate Lolo and his buddy. Chatting with the tricycle drivers confirms that this indeed was the right place. Their description of the site prior to the renovation, matches Lolo's stories, right down to the gigantic frog statue that, believe it or not, once stood across the street. Andrew and lunch await so this sentimental retracing of Lolo's adventure is a done deal. On the way back to Andrew, we stop by a renaissance church for some photos. (Biboy) Rene, Jobo, me and Ann accompanied James to Aparri while Andrew stayed behind. James' wanted to take a picture of the Town Hall that his grandfather once visited several decades ago. His grandpa also went to Aparri on a motorcycle. The whole trip was a sentimental ride for James then. Aparri is a 30-minute ride from Lallo. We arrived there around 12 noon and spent 15 minutes taking our pictures at the Town Hall and then headed back to Andrew. (Rene) Jobo, Biboy, Ann, James and I continued on to Aparri, 30 km north. We searched and found the Municipality where James' grandfather posed for a picture in front of the Municipio's steps, leaning against one of the columns. The municipio is still in the same place, but the facade has changed. Gone are the classical columns and replaced with a pair of square ones, looking ugly and rough. According to the folks inside, the formerly wooden building was remodeled ten years ago. James was partly disappointed, but we still took pictures in front of the Ønew' building to memorialize the event. We rode back to Lal-lo where we saw a brick church built over 300 years ago. It is still in service. We return to find Charlie and Ritchie with Andrew eating lunch at a nearby truck stop. (Andrew) Charlie and Ritchie appeared after 15 min. We had a Pilipino lunch (I had) and bikers chat. Charlie talked to me for 20 min. and after 20 min I realized that he was talking about accident Ritchie had some hours before. When he showed me Ritchie' jacket - I understood what all was about. He-he-he. Charlie must improve his way of talking about his friend's accident. That's for sure. I was amused by Charlie's way of speaking. We become good friends and exchange some jokes. (James) We pull in for lunch at the junction bus stop, to find Ritchie and Charlie have finally hooked up with Andrew. Karaoke music is loud, despite the fact that it's coming from a place nearly 50 meters across the street but the food˜excellent pork adobo and all the rice you could eat˜is once again great. I avoid the traditional way of eating a mango, thanks to the knife in my Swiss card! It pays to be prepared and besides, why rough it, if its not at all necessary? (Biboy) When we arrived at Lallo, Charlie and Ritchie were already there eating lunch with Andrew. It was nice to have them back. That completes the group again. (Rene) We ate heartily again with Mango for dessert - just in time before a bus load of people came in to join us. As we are preparing to leave, I collected the remaining items we left in the restaurant and grabbed a couple of armored jackets. One has deep gouges on the forearm and shoulder pads. Armor Really Works (James) While gassing up at the nearby gas station and bracing ourselves for the blazing post-noontime heat, Rene notices that Ritchie's brand new armor now appears to have been seriously “crash tested” but Ritchie isn't forthcoming with any details. He just smiles with Rene's every attempt to gain details. Then, with Ritchie busy elsewhere, Charlie, with a naughty grin on his face relates the incident. Ritchie had pulled alongside Charlie and uttered the infamous line “watch me” just prior to taking a corner on his late model F4 at full lean˜only to find loose gravel graced the apex. Charlie chuckles away and seeing as how both Ritchie and F4 are not seriously damaged, we join in his laugh. Hey, that armor really works! In stark contrast, Charlie then mounts his Hurricane wearing a sleeveless t-shirt. Oh boy. (Biboy) After lunch, we went to a gas station to have our bikes filled. That's where we learned that Ritchie had an accident somewhere in Dalton Pass. They decided to keep it to themselves but our constant cajoling had Charlie spilling the details despite the reluctance of Ritchie. (Rene) Loose gravel on a tight turn caused Ritchie to low-side into a turn. Damage to the bike and owner is minimal compared to a bruised ego. “Everybody falls,” I recall the Paris/Dakar racer and instructor Jimmy Lewis saying to me as I pick up my GS for the umpteenth time from the desert floor. I'm just glad Ritchie is back on the saddle for more road time. We filled our tanks in Lal-lo and consumed our share of fluids. Being further north in latitude does not make it cooler. It is hot everywhere and sweat is a constant companion whenever we stop. Hydrate or die - so we consume more water than the bikes can consume gas and bottled water is more expensive than gas.
We cross a suspension bridge and Andrew is waiting for us on the other side to take pictures. He made us turn around three more times across the bridge before Andrew was satisfied with his shots. For a brief moment, there are seven (bikes) of us again, until Charlie got the itch to take the ride to a faster level and off he goes again with Ritchie and Jobo hot on his tail. The rest of us maintain our 80-100 kph drone through the countryside, slowing down enough whenever we reach a town where slower speed dictates safety. (James) We head off to rendezvous with Andrew at the large, picturesque bridge that will set us on our way to Pagudpud. Andrew waits at the far side ready to commemorate our crossing with his camera. He asks us to form up shoulder-to-shoulder blocking both lanes of the bridge. Good thing Manila traffic doesn't exist here and we're able to take our shots without inconveniencing a single motorist. A few more passes for solo shots and we're off to the beach! The pack settles into a nice formation and pace as the roads wind gently. After some time of patiently putting up with our 100-110kph or so pace, Charlie and Ritchie jet ahead to a pace more to their liking. Jobo keeps pace with them and soon, the fast guys are long gone. Leaving the rest of us to cruise on, with Rene in his sweeper position and Andrew in his lead position, waving at all the people on the street. It's amazing to see the huge smiles and genuinely warm waves from all the people on the roadside. It's as if the Pope himself, whom Andrew bears a striking resemblance to, was leading a motorcycle tour through Northern Philippines. (Biboy) Andrew went ahead to find the best spot along the suspension bridge where he can take our group and solo pictures. After several runs back and forth along the bridge and holding up traffic at times, Andrew had his satisfaction and let us off. We were off to Claveria, Cagayan with Andrew on the lead. Soon the three sport bike riders just could not resist the open space. They zoomed past us while we took a leisurely pace. We passed towns where life seemed to be in slow motion. People were congregating under the shades while children played along dusty sideways. Some of the locals even sat on the edge of the road undaunted by our presence indicating that these roads hardly taste rubber. The Road to Paradise (James) The heat is getting really oppressive as we wind our way towards Pagudpud and a thunder cell is building off on our left in the distance, growing more and more enormous by the minute and eventually providing much appreciated shade from the sun. The rising heat column of the thunder cell is sucking up cooler air on ground level and whips up a strong cross wind from our right that provides a strong push every time we return to open fields from around occasional structures. I hope that Day 2 isn't going to be ruined by a downpour and watch the cell constantly, as I am loaded with electronic gear that will not stand up to strong rain. After a couple of hours cruising, Andrew calls for a break and, following his lead, Biboy, Rene and myself wind up parking our bikes nearly in the middle of the highway in the middle of a town. I wonder if we should pull to the side of the road, as we are creating quite a spectacle but Rene laughs it off. He's come to expect this from previous runs with Andrew. Eventually, the fast guys, Ritchie, Charlie and Jobo double-back to join us. Turns out they too, had stopped for a break just a bit up the road. Speeds in excess of 160kph are reported. (Biboy) After several hours of slicing through sleepy towns, we stopped for a rest. Some town folks soon congregated near us amazed by what they very seldom see. It was nice entertaining the people. Jobo, Charlie and Ritchie soon joined us. They stopped somewhere just ahead but then decided to go back and look for us. (Rene) Our ride To Claveria was nothing but spectacular and memorable. We have nothing but excellent roads, beautiful green scenery and minimal traffic. The people are always friendly, waving and smiling as we pass. Everywhere we stop, people crowd around us looking at the strangers on large motorbikes. They are never intrusive, just curious and smiling. I like riding in the back of the pack. I can slow down if I want and catch up when needed. I like watching snapshots of country life unravel before me like a watching a movie in reverse. Instead of me sitting in the theater, I'm the one in the movie, watching people watch me go by in a brief instant. And what is this sensation within me that I find so sensuous? Women with wet hair! I see them walking out of the house or walking on the side of the road, lovingly stroking their wet hair with a comb, or tossing it aside as they board a Jeepney, or casually parting it in the middle as we ride by. There is something sensuous about being clean. |
