Byaheng Tirad Pass Misadventure

Byaheng Tirad Pass Misadventure

Once upon a time, I tried joining Byaheng Tirad Pass, along with fellow members of the Bayambang Municipal Council for Culture and the Arts. It was everything I didn't expect it to be.

First, BTP would turn out to have lots of stops along the way to and from Tirad. I would find it to be Byaheng Candon, Salcedo, Concepcion (Gregorio del Pilar) as well, with side trips as tourists in Vigan, Bantay, and San Juan too.

It was both a terrific and terrifying ride because the most wonderful sights and sceneries could be had only through extremely rough roads further inland up north. As fate would have it, my seatmate would be an equally nervous Museum Officer (Ma'am Glo), who along the way would blurt out, "Ay agi, amay operak!" (Oh, no, my post-operation wound!"), further heightening the fright factor now and then. I was imagining the worst-case scenario throughout, her wound suddenly opening, spurting out blood, with us passengers nowhere to go and having no choice but get on with our journey through the mountain river valley (yes, our jeep had to traverse a riverbed filled with huge rocks and gigantic stones on both sides).

When we finally arrived at the Concepcion Municipal Hall, there were no accommodations to speak of: no beddings, no pillows, no blankets, no mats, just the floor, and it was quite cold--Baguio-weather cold.

It was like being into boy scouting and high school press conference all over again.

This guy who used to report on luxury hotels and resorts and edit a travel magazine on the side had to sleep on the floor with just his traveling bag in one of the rooms in the municipal hall.

Then without sleep despite some alcoholic drink, we had to do a trek that would probably rival the El Camino de Compostela pilgrimage. I had to beg off with this part -- the highlight of the trip -- because I was sure to have worst-scenario palpitations and didn't want to die yet, and I didn't want people to fuss over me. (I learned that there was the option of hiring locals to carry you or assist you on a horseback ride or something, but I wasn't willing to have additional expense in the thousands and make an embarrassment of myself.)

But, yeah, apart from these aggravations, the rest of the trip was an experience of a lifetime.

On our way back home, Gab (when he was not yet a municipal councilor) took the wheel from JV, and he turned out to be such a daredevil driver. Good thing Ma'am Glo's antics made us laugh and laugh the lengthy kilometers away, as she entertained us with hilarious childhood stories until we got tired laughing and our bellies ached. ...Stories about how she pretended to be a beggar at the PNR train station to solicit spare change from passengers, and how she ended up being spanked by her father when he learned about it, and so on.

They say that film director Jerrold Tarog once took this trip before he did 'Goyo: Ang Batang Heneral.' Every year, scores of history enthusiasts join this secular pilgrimage too without fail. The whole thing obviously attracts a certain niche of travelers, no matter what detractors say.

Would I make the same trip again? Let's just say, only when you can make me young and foolish again via stem cell capsules, with normal blood chemistry and mental health in tiptop shape, and the mountain trail is turned into a skyway with homestays and Airbnb accommodations in Gregorio del Pilar town.