Mt. Pinatubo Offroad Trail

Capas, Philippines

Lost Lunch

     

You're alone and lost in a foreign country. Not irreparably lost. Its late morning, so you have plenty of sunlight left. The odometer shows you are no more than 30 miles from where you started and the local populace speaks English. The volcano you have been riding towards all morning turns out to be a mountain and the place you thought you were is not. 

Who cares, you have the whole day to ride yourself out of this adventure. 

Grain being dried on the road is a normal sight in many places in the world. There is something beautiful about the contrasting colors. In some places random chickens will be eating it, in others people will be raking it. 

Further down the road you find a sign with your name on it, you take a picture of course. 

Its still early, but you are hungry. You stop off in a town you have never heard of. As you take off your helmet people look at you with grins, wondering what this white guy is up to. 

The kind old lady serves you a dish of beef and offers you some soup. It turns out to be beef intestine soup. She makes small talk with you, casually mentioning that her daughter is single and has no children. She pushes the issue several times, but you have already caught a glimpse of her and know she is not your type. 

The entire meal costs $1.30 and you are full. Even better your stomach never misses a beat and the meal settles perfectly. 

You push deeper into the mountains finding a road that leads to the Aeta Tribe. As you ride into the center of the village, little children run into a hut screaming with excitement. Their mother looks out unimpressed as the children peer from behind her. 

From there its down into the river at full throttle into the sand and water till you cannot ride any further. You have no idea where you are, but it does not matter. You'll be having beers at the hotel by sundown. 

Luzon, Philippines

Honda CRF250L

Down the last of the paved road you go, straight into the riverbed. Standing there is a smiling man carrying a machete, wearing nothing but a loincloth.

Its the dry season, so the riverbed ahead is likely passable. Sand below, sandstone walls on both sides of you. There is no road. This is the place where you push yourself and the bike until the canyon narrows to the point where you cannot ride anymore.

It all ends at a waterfall dripping raindrops from above. There you stop, sit, think, and then rev down the ride without a road.

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