Looper

Laguna de Bay, viewed from the heights of Pililla, Rizal. Photo by author

It's been a little over three weeks since our crazy exciting adventure called the Laguna Loop, the 200-kilometer trip around Laguna de Bay well-known among members of the biking community. The scrapes on my elbow have healed nicely, thank you, and my co-riders are anticipating where we will be pedaling next. That might take some time (I hope not) as Maia needs a real overhaul after barely getting me home; supplies are quite rare due to the truck ban and the port congestion problem.


While waiting I might as well recount how our "Heroes Ride" went. Cj had been persuading me to set up a trip of sorts, and the August holiday offered the best chance. We settled on the Laguna Loop since no one among our team had done it, and it was the best chance to meet up with our rider friends across the pond. We agreed the clockwise route was also best, as it made sure we got rid of the mountains early in the ride when we were still fresh.

The Laguna Loop. We did not take the extended route towards Jala-jala, which meant an additional distance of about 40+ kilometers, but took the Manila East Road climb through Pililla. We started roughly near the start point of this map, at the upper left corner, and went on a clockwise (easterly) direction. Photo courtesy of ridewithgps.com

 Getting the trip organized was easy--getting ready for it was not. I had to weather a bout with the flu and let a carbuncle in my thigh heal, costing several precious days of training. Then there was the supply problem: Due to the stupid truck ban, Bisikleta Republika, our official supplier, could not get the supplies we needed to ensure a worry-free trip. Nevertheless, the good guys at BR were helpful to get Maia road-worthy two days before the big ride on the early morning of August 25. We got new tires, the wheels were aligned, the drive train oiled and checked. Maia was ready for the big dance.

A pre-ride photo of Maia, dated 2012. I neglected to do a pre-ride photo for this trip due to the haste in preparations. Photo by the author

It was a bit hard sleeping that night, with all the preparations and the constant fear you might wake up late. Things went smoothly the morning of National Heroes Day, however, with a slight drizzle the only challenge we had to deal with.

The three riding teams from Manila, Sucat, and Pasig linked up at Taytay Municipal Hall around 6:30am, a bit later than planned but still a good time nonetheless. There was a bit of excitement prior to this as Cj crashed somewhere near the floodway due to a noob riding mistake (reading a map while riding) but little did we know what was in store for us later.

The teams meet up at Taytay Municipal Hall, 6:30am, August 25. From left, Sam, Miki, Ronnel Cj, Daryl, Dino. In background are Jose Rizal and Cj's brother Jason Christopher. Photo by author.

The group pushed on a southeasterly track along the Manila East Road, making good progress through the towns of Taytay, Angono, and Binangonan. We were confident at this point to meet our 10am estimated time of arrival (ETA) in Laguna to meet up with Chuckie and his Tagaytay-conquering team. After passing through the Binangonan town proper, however, Maia's front wheel shuddered and suddenly fell off-center. To my horror, the wheel hub's bearings were gone.

Kuya Jun of Alidar fixing Maia's wheel. Photo by author.

This was a disaster I least expected, and not at all in any of our preparations. We came up with the idea of commuting back to Binangonan town proper to find a bike shop that could help us. Two trike trips later I was at the Alidar bike shop along the highway; being a holiday, I was consigned to waiting for the shop to open, which, I learned later, was slated for about noontime, but a fortunate turn of events allowed the shop owner to see me earlier than intended, and the mechanic (named Jun--so Pinoy) summoned immediately to deal with our emergency.

It took two hours to get Maia's front wheel spinning nicely again, due to some unexpected difficulties with the wheel set. Kuya Sam persuaded us to buy some ice candy to refresh ourselves (and relieve some of the stress I was now feeling). It was a good idea. The ice candy was probably the best we've ever tasted.

Soon enough we were back on our way, making short work of the town of Cardona. Half of the team had gone ahead and had a two-hour headstart; there were now five of us remaining: Kuya Sam, Ronnel, Cj, Miki, and me. As we reached Morong, we were in good spirits. We may have been delayed, but somehow everyone was confident we could still reach our goal of getting back to Manila before nightfall.

Getting ready to resume our trip after Maia's front wheel is fixed--and after some great ice candy in Binangonan. Photo by author.

Lush fields by the roadside at Km.42, just outside Morong town. Photo by the author.

Miki and Kuya Sam taking in the view. Photo by the author.

Suddenly, those of us riding in the back were met with the sight of Ronnel crashing onto the road. A minute ago we were laughing; now, our adrenaline raced as we tried to find out how Ronnel was and what on earth happened, everything happened so fast there was no time to process things and Kuya Sam was getting really angry at the motorcycle rider--

"Sorry po," said the man, quite sheepishly.

"Dun ka sa kanya mag-sorry," Kuya Sam, his anger now in check, pointed at Ronnel.

Again, the man offered his apologies, and Ronnel was gracious enough to accept. He escaped with a scrape on his left elbow and not much more. His bike was in good shape, too, despite the rear tire being run over by a following motorcycle that swerved in time when the accident happened.

We pedaled away for a short time to release the tension, and moments later, a woman on a tricycle approached us and offered to assist us. Did the man run away from us without paying? It's alright, we all answered, thank you. Right there, at the side of the road, we offered a prayer of thanks (we already had two crashes for the day), thankful for safety and helpful people, while at the same time asking God for protection for the rest of our journey, which wasn't halfway done yet.

The excitement wore off as the towns of Baras, Tanay, and Pililla came in uneventful succession. The heat was starting to get to us now; besides, it was already lunchtime. Most of us had not eaten any breakfast (how we got this far, on only bananas and two Fitbars, God only knows). We pitted in at the Hacienda Pisong Kape in Pililla, a well-known biker stop, for lunch and some much-needed rest off the saddle.

Arriving at the Hacienda Pisong Kape in Pililla, Rizal, meant much-needed rest and of course, lunch. Photo by author.

Ronnel and Kuya Sam dig in. Photo by author.

After lunch, we had to make the decision of taking the more challenging Manila East Road climb, or the friendlier Pililla-Jala-jala-Pakil route. Option A presented us a shorter route, about 10 kilometers or so, but, looking at the map with all its twists and curves, we were quite sure this was going to be one helluva climb. "Bituka ng manok (chicken intestine)" was how we described it. On the other hand, Option B added about 45 kilometers to our route, which was not an appealing prospect, either.

"Dito na tayo sa bituka ng manok," Cj said it for us as we stared at the maps trying to digest our lunch, and we had to agree. It was the only option we had. Kuya Sam moaned the prospect of climbing; he, a downhill specialist, liked riding down slopes, not up them. Meanwhile, I scolded myself inwardly for not focusing (again) on my climbing skills.

At a quarter to one, we were back on the road. We were boosted by the news that our advance team had linked up with Chuckie's team--it meant our gap had grown smaller. We started to attack the climbs with much gusto.

Ten minutes in, I found myself slacking off. I shifted to my lowest gears and found no relief whatsoever. At around 15 minutes into the climb, I was breathing hard and my legs slid off the pedals.

"Timeout," I told Kuya Sam. Only the two of us were left as the younger legs of Cj and Ronnel kept up their pace, while Miki's alloy legs allowed him to match their pacing. We took in the view, shared water, and pushed the bike for about five minutes or so.

"Ready?" Kuya Sam asked, and I nodded. We got back on the saddle and plodded on for about a kilometer or so, before I motioned for another break. "Can't breathe," I motioned with my left hand.

This became a cycle for both of us in the next few kilometers. We pushed, rested, drank, forced ourselves back on the bike, climbed a new more feet in elevation, then got off again. We marveled at the view to distract ourselves from the throbbing in our temples and the ever-shortening breaths.

One of the many rest stops Kuya Sam and I had to take along the Manila East Road on our climb up Pililla. Photo by author.

At around Kilometer 72, we sat at a roadside shed and took our shoes and helmets off to cool down. There was no sign of the others.

"This is crazy," I said, grinning.

"It is," Kuya Sam agreed. There was no breeze, the air was humid, and our water supply was getting quite low.

"I think we've reached the peak of this thing," I remarked, pointing out the absence of a mountainside on the road up ahead, with only coconut and hardwood trees breaking the skyline.

Kuya Sam nodded. After a few more minutes resting, we geared up and got back on our bikes. "Help us, Jesus," Kuya Sam breathed out.

Soon enough, the road started going downhill. To our joy, we had now crossed the border into Mabitac town in Laguna.

Crossing into Laguna province--and finally, some downhill action. Photo by author, right.

 We pushed ourselves to make up for lost time. We were going quite fast behind a tanker, we almost missed our team waiting for us at a roadside store! It was a relief to finally link up with Chuckie and his riding companions--silent monsters on beaters who could give any rider a run for his expensive, branded bike.

After a short rest, we proceeded with our "tour" of Laguna province. It was the first time I saw this side of Laguna de Bay. Meanwhile, rain finally fell on our ride in a steady drizzle. Nevertheless, it did not fail to dampen our spirits.

With our friends from Team Laguna. Photo by Chuckie (right)

The climb back from Pililla, however, presented some problems for me and Kuya Sam. It was at this point that I started experiencing cramping in my legs; uphill climbs, though short and less steep, presented quite a challenge.

Chuckie was gracious enough to lag with us at the back of the pack, pointing out sights and places. The most significant marvel he pointed out to us was what looked to us like a mountain range, ringed by electric transmission towers.

"Caliraya," was all he said, and my eyes grew wide. Wow. There's a mountain up there holding up millions of gallons of water and I'm right below it. My mind was pleasantly tickled at the thought.

We pushed on, through the towns of Siniloan, Pangil, Pakil, and Paete. As we breezed through Kalayaan, I had my eyes wide open for the big pipe on the mountainside that was Lake Caliraya's spillway. Sure enough, we passed it, but photography at the place is forbidden for security reasons, so I had to content myself with a shot of the spillway as it emptied into Laguna de Bay.

Lake Caliraya emptying into Laguna de Bay. Photo by author.

 At the town of Pagsanjan, we were further buoyed by news that our advance team was resting in nearby Sta. Cruz. We pedaled on, rain or shine, stopping to rest after several kilometers or so. Then, at Sta. Cruz, a squall hit us broadside. We had to stop for a while, as the storm front's gusting winds made riding difficult and a wall of rainwater in our faces made it hard to see.

Crossing the relic that is the Pagsanjan Stone Arch. Photo by author.

Coming out of Sta. Cruz, I never realized Laguna was so large. We all longed to reach Calamba, which was our ticket to home. Besides, it was starting to get dark as well. There would be no more groupies and snapshots of the road for some time.

Stopping for buko (coconut) juice in Sta. Cruz right after a thunderstorm passed over. Photo by author.

Finally, after several attempted goodbyes, Chuckie and his team finally reached their limit. "Derecho lang, Bay na, then Los Banos," he assured us with a smile. It felt a bit sad seeing them go, as we felt we were now truly on our own. At least the rain had let up at this point, and we could ride dry the rest of the way.

I happened to glimpse Maria Makiling in the distance in the fast fading light. I smiled faintly, as my mind got a bit philosophical, about a hope most riders on this team looked forward to--a hope and a peace beyond our understanding. I bit my lower lip and returned my concentration to keeping up with Cj and Ronnel, whose fast pacing encouraged us to push harder so we could go home earlier.

At the town of Bay, we ate Spanish bread for energy and checked our bearings. We were on the right track, we told ourselves, encouraged by the sight of buses going back to Manila along our route. We decided to have dinner somewhere in Calamba where the going would be much easier, as this was a more familiar road for me. A light drizzle started to fall as we got back on our bikes.

Soon enough we passed the Los Banos crossing, and the familiar sight of Jollibee cheered us up. We were now within the vicinity of the University of the Philippines campus, and it would be only a matter of time until we cross into Calamba, the City of Springs. Thankfully, most of the national highway was brightly lighted, which made our night ride a bit easier in spite of the rain.

True enough, we were in Calamba in 10 minutes or so. We let out a whoop of joy as we all felt we were now--finally!--on the homestretch. We then pedaled on and had to contend with traffic in the city for a while before we settled on a place to eat dinner.

Tired and hungry, we wolfed down our various silog (fried rice, egg, and a combination of either cured beef [tapa], cured pork [tocino], fried fish, or hotdog) meals. Despite the late hour (it was already past eight), our spirits remained high. A phone call from Cat further buoyed our spirits--it was really, quite really, time to go home.

Just as we were getting ready, a heavy downpour arrived. It was a good thing, too, because Cj's front tire suddenly went flat. It took almost an hour to get Cj's bike fixed. However, the rain did not show signs of letting up.

This photo was taken moments before the heavy rain that left us stranded in Calamba for about an hour. Photo by author.

A discussion arose whether we should push on in the rain, or get a jeep to transport us somewhere. Even if we were able to get a jeep, no one had the cash to pay for renting it. Frustration was starting to set in, and the prospect of going home to Manila or Pasig or Rizal became disheartening.

Finally we all decided to just get back on our bikes and pedal on through the rain. We got wet as far as Canlubang, where the downpour started to peter out. By the time we reached Santarosa 10 minutes later, we only had to contend with rain puddles and a road that simply failed to drain itself.

Reaching San Pedro, the last Laguna city town before we stepped onto Metro Manila again, brought us relief. It was about 11pm already. At the junction, I steadfastly recommended going through the town proper, since it was only a short route and Kuya Sam was too tired to climb (which was the challenge presented by the other route--a 70-foot climb that could be quite a challenge for any tired legs). Besides, the road was brightly lit anyway, so the rest of the team agreed and pushed off.

The streetlights disappeared as we reached the railroad crossing, though, and I only had a fleeting glimpse of a one-by-three-foot section of metal track that was missing from the road, leaving a gaping hole that promptly swallowed Maia's front wheel. The tires lost traction on the wet railroad track and slid; carried by forward momentum, I felt my body rise up from the saddle and the pedals--the next thing I knew, I was lying on the wet and muddy tarmac. I pounded my left palm onto the road in frustration as I got up gingerly from the ground. I felt no broken bones but my hands stung and my left elbow ached mightily.

"You're alright," Kuya Sam, who had been trailing me, assured me. "That was a nice roll you did there."

I got my water bottle and proceeded to wash the mud from my arms, hands, and legs. My hands stung, really. How was I going to grip the dang handlebars?

"Any broken bones?" Kuya Sam asked.

"My hands feel icky," I replied.

"You're OK."

I got back on the saddle after a quick inspection of Maia revealed no further damage. We reached Alabang some 15 minutes later, and to the rest of the team's surprise, they found out I was the third to crash for today.

Maia's damaged hub. The flange holding the bearings is gone.

I had originally planned to lead the riders back to the junction at Lower Bicutan to point them safely back towards their routes home. But it was hard gripping the handlebars with my aching hands, and the now throbbing, grazed left elbow. I led the pack through the East Service Road, then through the Concepcion bypass, and onto M.L. Quezon road which led to home and the Lower Bicutan junction beyond.

It was past midnight when I checked into the house, tired, bleeding, muddy, and stinky. I got all my rain-soaked gear in one place, promising to wash them up as soon as I could, and parked Maia on her stand. I washed up and carefully disinfected my wounds; thankfully, my palms were just a bit bruised due to the hard fall and nothing more.

I lay in bed, reliving the day's adventure in my head, and asking myself, What was this for? That famous reply by explorer George Mallory, shortly before his death on the slopes of Mt. Everest, came to mind: Because it's there. I chuckled. In spite of sickness, a lack of training, failing bike components, three crashes, hunger, tiredness, sun and rain, darkness--me and my friends had come full circle. After thanking God and asking for protection for my companions, I finally fell asleep.

Post-ride Maia, now sporting a new front hub, and a rear wheel that hardly spins. Photo by author.

Friends, riders, and co-Loopers. Happy to ride with you and looking forward to our next ride. Photo courtesy of Chuckie.

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