“Second time mo na ‘to?!” a fellow hiker asked me while we were taking a break at Station 2 of Mt. Daraitan.

“Yes. Sira ulo ako, e,” I answered. Half jest, half truth. It was still dark and the moon was about to call it a night. I was feeling great and confident that I could reach the summit this time around.

It was June of last year when I first attempted to conquer Mt. Daraitan. It’s beginner-friendly, they say, though a climb that offers medium difficulty level. The mountain demands a 90% assault with rocks, boulders, mud, and large tree roots throughout the trail that make it even more challenging. Halfway through to Station 3, I was out of breath and my knees were shaking. I wanted to power through, but my guide and travel organizer told me that the rest of the climb is going to be much tougher. So I gave in, not because I felt that I can’t make it anymore; the rest of the group were already way ahead of me, and I thought that I’m holding them back with my slow pace.

That was the hardest lesson I learned that year — that climbing mountain is not a race, and that I should never let others tell me I shouldn’t do it anymore.

The following months after that failed attempt, I went on to reach the peaks of Mt. Pulag, Mt. Ulap, Mt. Batulao, and Mt. Pico de Loro. With every climb, Mt. Daraitan was nagging me at the back of my mind. I’ll come back for you, I kept telling myself.

I decided to start 2024 with this vengeance against Mt. Daraitan. I just had to open the year with a win.

On January 27, 2024, at 4AM, we started assaulting Daraitan. I still had very little sleep, but my determination was full. The trek to the jump-off point took longer than I could remember. Girl, I was already out of breath, and we haven’t even really started the actual climb!

What the heck, was it like this last year?

Like soldiers on a mission, we took the challenge and started the hike. I concentrated on my breathing while watching every step. It helped that I brought a better head lamp and a hiking pole this time around. I also replaced my backpack with a fanny pack to lessen my load. I tried not to think of how long we’ve been hiking, and how much longer it’s going to take to the summit. You can tell who the actual beginners are in a hike because they’re the ones who ask these questions. One of the lessons I’ve learned from my hikes was that time and distance are relative to a hiker’s pace. Therefore, mountain hiking is NEVER a race.

Before we knew it, we were at the first station. I couldn’t believe I had so much energy this time around. I was hyped to get moving, but I chose to offer to take pictures for my fellow hikers instead. I gave them encouragement by telling them my story and my mission. I’d like to believe my story helped, knowing that they’re all more than half my age.

At Station 2, I was already on a high! God must truly be lifting my knees and feet this time. I couldn’t believe I reached this high already, with Station 3 just a few meters above. Two fellow hikers have already given up after the first station, and I was reminded of my first climb. I felt their pain and disappointment, but I do hope this doesn’t stop them from trying again.

We trudged on, taking breaks now and then. Mind you, it was the guide who would ask if I wanted to take a break or not. I wanted to continue because I was afraid that if I take more breaks, I’d feel my exhaustion creep in. So I turned him down twice, but then I remembered I’m hiking with a group.

By the time we reached Station 3, I was amazed by how far I’ve gone. I was breathing heavily and exhaustion was slowly creeping in, sure, but I knew this time around that I can make it to the summit.

So, this is it? This was the big deal? This was what they said I might not be able to take last year?

We finally reached the summit, and to my surprise, there was a crowd of other hikers up there! I didn’t get to take as many photos and videos that I wanted because of the waiting time for others to finish, but I didn’t care. I’m at the summit of Mt. Daraitan, baby!