Pinatubo Hiking by Brent Hannon

The eruption of Mt. Pinatubo in June 1991 was the biggest volcanic event of the 20th century — 10 times bigger than the 1980 flare-up of Saint Helens in the U.S. The Pinatubo eruption shot ash and smoke 30km into the air, darkened the earth for a month, lowered global temperatures by 1ºC, and covered three provinces in central Luzon with ash and rocks. By the time it was over, the mountain had killed 900 people, and displaced a million more.

Nobody went near the smoking volcano for the next four years, but in 1995, a few explorers ventured into the area. They found several paths to the top, where they discovered a green crater lake surrounded by surreal canyons of ash and rock. A year later, tour groups began hiking in to see the volcano, and before long, Pinatubo treks were popular.

The tours are easy to arrange, and cost $50 to $60 dollars per person, which buys you a reliable jeep and a good guide. Our trip started before dawn on the outskirts of Angeles City, a small town two hours north of Manila that lies in the shadow of Pinatubo. The countryside is peaceful at this hour - a half moon floats above the clouds, and bats fly through the palm trees. But before long the loud rumble of a jeep shatters the calm morning.

The jeep is spartan, but it has big wheels, high clearance and four-wheel drive, which are required for the rough, roadless terrain near Pinatubo. The jeep is part Toyota, part Jeep Wrangler, and part Filipino — a mongrel, says driver and guide Lito Due, a 32-year-old native of Angeles. Lito has first-hand experience with Pinatubo: the eruption filled his house with sand and pebbles that took a month to clean up. “It sounded like a herd of racehorses,” he says.

The old jeep is our home for the next three hours, as it roars through the villages and past the fertile fields and piles of ash that mark the approach to Pinatubo. After two hours, we pull in to Santa Juliana, a tiny village that marks the beginning of the trek. We sign in, collect our official Department of Tourism guide, and climb back in the jeep. Soon it veers off the dirt road and onto the Crow Valley lahar field, a shifting landscape of silt and rocks left behind by the eruption. There is no road, because the terrain constantly changes. “Every time is like the first time,” says Lito.

Lito points out some people collecting pumice, a light volcanic rock that is trucked to Manila and used to make stone-washed jeans. Pumice is used because it floats, while heavier rocks sink to the bottom and are useless for stone-washing. The stone gatherers get five pesos for every bag of pumice they collect.

The official name for this ash canyon terrain is ‘hyper concentrated flows.’ Basically, that means millions of tons of hot mud, ash, rock and water poured down this valley and buried everything in its path, before eventually widening and dispersing onto the fertile plains of Pampanga province.

The jeep bounces over the rough ground, crossing and re-crossing the river, sending sheets of water over the windshield and up through holes in the floorboard. The river crossings are dangerous: Lito keeps a sharp lookout for carabao holes. These are pools that form when a carabao (a domesticated water buffalo) wallows for a long time in the same spot. On an earlier trip, says Lito, the jeep sank into a carabao hole and was completely swallowed up, ending the trip and requiring a costly engine rebuild.

Lito also keeps a sharp eye out for red warning flags and jet fighters: Crow Valley is used by the Philippine Air Force for bombing practice. Tour organizers are supposed to coordinate with the air force before venturing in, but Lito is taking no chances.

After another hour of driving, Lito stops. The jeep can go no further; it’s time to walk. We throw on our daypacks, wade through a warm, mineral-rich stream, and start up the valley. It’s a spectacular, eerie moonscape, with high cliffs of crumbling silt, steep jungle-clad hillsides, bubbling hot springs, and deep cold canyons.

Some of the smaller streams are vivid and colourful: bright strips of gold, emerald green, and pale yellow that snake through the brown and gray rock. Depending on the temperature and mineral content of the streams, different species of algae live in them and give them each a characteristic colour.

We walk slowly, stopping often to look. It’s a hot day, but an easy walk over the sandy, boulder-strewn landscape. After two hours, we come to a cold spring filled with fresh water. We stop and drink, Lito smokes, and we admire the views. Eleven years after the eruption, life has returned to the land: the trees are 15 metres tall, the streams are filled with frogs and tadpoles, and plants thrive in the wet volcanic soil.

On the last hour of the climb, the trail becomes a steeper, narrower mountain path scattered with stones and boulders but with more vegetation, a relief from the gray and brown rock of the lower canyon. Here we meet three German hikers. They started hiking at Santa Juliana and walked 10km up Crow Valley, to reach the point where we started. They spent the night in the crater, and are on the trek back to town. A few seconds later, their guide appears. Over his shoulder is a bamboo pole laden with camping gear, including rum and cokes, which the Germans sipped at sunset on the crater rim. Despite his heavy load, the guide is barefoot.

The barefoot guide is one of about 300 semi-nomadic Aetas natives that live in the Pinatubo foothills, where they grow root crops and corn, guide trekkers, and forage in the hills for food. They also collect the used brass shells from the Air Force practice range, and sell them to metal dealers.

After three total hours of walking, we come to the crater. It’s 2km wide, filled with lime green water, and surrounded by jagged peaks. The summit is visible from here, 600 metres higher. Our elevation is 1,000 metres, but even so, the sun is hot. Lake Pinatubo is a peaceful spot — we eat lunch, and lounge by the lakeside. The water is warm and soapy, filled with minerals.

But deep beneath the peaceful green lake, Pinatubo is stirring. It is classified as an active volcano, and it erupts every 500 years, like clockwork, say the seismologists. That means trekkers have another 490 years to see the mountain. After that, all bets are off.

After a nap, some photos, and a light lunch, we start back down the volcano. In the afternoon sunlight, the canyon looks different: richer, deeper, and more colorful. Finally we arrive at the jeep, climb gratefully aboard, and drive back onto the lahar field.

A few minutes later, Lito stops the jeep. Above us, in the green jungle, is a collection of a bamboo and palm leaf huts. A few Aetas natives wander down, and Lito gives them a bag of rice. “They will be the ones to help if I get stuck,” he explains. Fortunately we don’t, and in another hour we are back in Santa Juliana.

At the Department of Tourism hut, we pick up our certificates of conquest, and learn about the history of Pinatubo treks. President Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo made the climb last year — she’s in the book at number 6,659. So have a bunch of overweight cop: two years ago local policemen with a girth exceeding 34 inches were required to make the trek. I’m in the book too, at number 7,740, but given the growing popularity of Pinatubo, many more will follow.

Fast Facts:

The trek should be done during the dry season, from November to May. April is the best month.

The hot mineral water will wreck leather shoes — wear fabric boots, sneakers, or walking sandals.

Bring a good hat, sunscreen, some water, and a light lunch.