“Somewhere between the struggle and the summit, we found something better than a view — we found resilience.”

It was 2:00 AM when the alarm rang, but to be honest, most of us were already up before it went off. You know that kind of anxious excitement that keeps you half-awake all night? That was us. The tent was quiet, except for the faint rustling of jackets and the occasional deep sighs. Outside, the weather hadn’t improved much — a light drizzle still kissed the earth, and the sky gave no hint that it would clear up soon. 

Delayed Start for Safety

We were supposed to start our ascent to the summit by 3:00 AM, but as everyone stirred and prepped groggily, it became apparent that not a single soul had a restful sleep. With the trail leading to the boulders narrow and already challenging even in good conditions, our guide made the wise call to delay. Better to wait and observe than to risk injury in the dark, slippery path ahead. Safety first, always.

Around 4:00 AM, we finally began our ascent. It was still damp, the drizzle hadn’t really stopped — just lightened — but we pushed on. The climb was far from easy. Each step demanded our full attention. The trail was a mix of slippery soil, protruding roots, and rocky slopes. One misstep, and you could easily find yourself tumbling off the edge of a cliff.

Sunrise at the Boulders — Cold, Wet, but Worth It

Despite the late start, we made it to the boulders just in time to witness the first light of the day. The moment we emerged onto that surreal rocky expanse, our collective exhaustion melted away. The view was nothing short of magical — golden hues stretching across the horizon, slowly revealing the rugged beauty around us. It was freezing, especially in our still-damp jackets from the previous day, but standing there — breath visible in the cold air, hearts pounding from the climb — it all felt worth it.

We lingered a bit longer at the boulders than expected. Some of us nibbled on trail snacks, and nothing beats picking on wild berries to munch on. Of course, we took our social media-worthy shots — group pics, solo poses, candid smiles. But eventually, the sulfuric vents nearby started blowing stronger. A shift in the wind sent thick, eggy-smelling smoke curling toward the trail. It was our cue to move.

White Sand Breakfast and the Crater Hike

By 7:30 AM, we reached White Sand, a soft patch of ground where we took a well-earned break. We devoured our packed breakfast and used the time to catch our breath, stretch our aching legs, and simply take in the quiet majesty of Mount Apo.

Fueled and re-energized, we resumed our hike toward the crater. The trail steepened again — an almost 90% incline in some parts — but we were determined. And not long after, we made it. The crater was just few minutes away from White Sand. The crater was vast and beautiful, like standing on another planet. We stayed for a while, capturing more moments with our cameras and hearts. There was laughter, awe, and that rare feeling of achievement that only nature can gift.

The Summit (Mother Peak)

After soaking in the beauty of the crater, we made our way to the summit — the famed Mother Peak. The hike from the crater to the summit felt easier as the sun began to warm our bodies after the cold early-morning ascent through the boulders.

We reached the summit in about an hour or less—I didn’t keep track of the time, as I was simply enjoying the trail and getting caught up in the group’s chatter. We spent about an hour there, celebrating, reflecting, and just being present. But as we were about to explore the other summits, the skies darkened ominously. Within minutes, the weather turned. A downpour was inevitable.

Wanting to avoid the trail becoming a dangerous mess, we descended quickly toward the saddle. We were fast, almost sprinting in parts, but the rain beat us to it. It caught us midway, and we trekked the rest under a cold, light shower. By 11:00 AM, we reached the saddle camp expecting that the porters are already there. The plan was to leave our backpacks in the saddle with our guide and porters while the group explore the other summits while they are preparing our food for lunch. However, there’s no one in the saddle when we arrived.

Rain, Hunger, and Missing Porters

The guide seems anxious and tried to contact the porters via walkie-talkie but to no avail. Due to the rain, the group rested for a while, waiting for the rain to subside a bit before exploring other summits. But as time ticked on, there were no signs of our porters. Noon came, and the rain has stopped. The group decided not to explore other peaks anymore as we can sense that our lunch might be delayed. So we just stayed in the saddle to save our strength and just did some photo ops and others just enjoy conversing with others while waiting.  Our trail snacks were running low, and hunger was starting to gnaw at everyone. To make matters worse, the rain came and went in waves, forcing us to huddle under bushes and rocks for shelter. We were also beginning to worry — one of our porters had been slightly injured the day before, and now we had no contact with them.

Our guide looked visibly anxious by the minute. He tried contacting them several times via walkie-talkie, but the signal was likely blocked by the mountain ridges. Around 12:30 PM, after consulting with us and offering a sincere apology, he made the call — we needed to descend to Lake Venado immediately.

He tried contacting the other organizer, who was already in Lake Venado with a group ahead of us, to request food prep — but no luck. We understood the gravity of the situation and agreed to move. Despite our empty stomachs and cold, wet clothes, no one complained. If anything, we were more worried about the porters.

The Long Trek to Lake Venado: Flooded Trails and Muddy Woes

The rain was relentless as we started the descent, and our guide asked me if we could manage ourselves while he ran ahead to prepare food. He handed me one of the walkie-talkies, just in case. The trail to the lake was relatively easy to follow — but not under those conditions. The guide had the idea that I usually lead hikes so he trusted us and it’s okay for me as well because situations like these is not new to me and the situation demands it. From being on the lead, i switched to be in the middle just to account to everyone as some of us was really behind and I need to make sure everyone’s safety.

The already-slippery trail became a muddy obstacle course. Halfway down, ankle-deep floodwater joined the challenge, hiding rocks and roots that sent more than a few of us sliding. It was tough. Our stomachs were growling, our bodies tired, and morale started to dip. Some in the group were visibly emotional. We cracked jokes just to keep spirits high. The lake was visible — so near yet frustratingly far.

Three hours of slipping, stumbling, and soaked boots later, we reached the base. We weren’t at the camp yet, but finally — finally — we could see it. Lake Venado glistened in the distance like a promised land. We cleaned up a bit by the lakeshore, not even minding how filthy we were — mud up to our knees, shoes like soggy bricks.

Arrival at Lake Venado: Relief and Hot Meals

By a little past 3:00 PM, we arrived at Lake Venado campsite. We were greeted by Lakaw ni Paw, who immediately apologized, clearly as worried as we were. They still hadn’t heard from the porters but they were already preparing food for us. We wanted to pitch tents, but they insisted we eat first — and we weren’t about to argue.

That hot meal was, hands down, the best-tasting lunch I’ve ever had — not because it was fancy, but because we’d earned every bite of it. Just as we started eating, the rain poured again. We waited it out before pitching our tents. By then, one of the porters had finally arrived. He explained that one of their companions had been badly slowed by his injury, which was why they were delayed. We understood. Things like that happen out here — it’s part of the adventure. What’s important is the safety.

Once tents were up, I went to clean myself, though calling it a “bath” is generous — the water was nearly freezing, like dipping into an ice bucket. But after two days of hiking in the rain and mud, it was oddly refreshing.

Evening Comforts: Sumptuous Meal, Jokes, and a Cold Night

Later, we gathered again for dinner, now dry and warm. Dinner was another warm affair — both literally and emotionally. Our guides prepared separate meals for those with dietary restrictions. I don’t eat beef, so they cooked a special chicken with pineapple dish just for me (and yes, it was so good but the food is too much for me so I had to share). Honestly, their food? Absolutely next-level, especially for camp meals.

Dinner turned into laughter-filled conversations, with Lakaw ni Paw throwing jokes that had the group in stitches. They made us feel at home, even in the harshest conditions.

By nightfall, drizzle returned. We were all exhausted — physically, mentally — and most turned in early for some much-needed rest. The campsite was vast, with basic amenities. You can take a bath — at your own risk, of course because the water is almost at freezing point — but hey, I actually managed one in the morning despite the freezing water. After two days of being soaked in rain and sweat, I couldn’t care less.

Despite the delays, weather challenges, and muddy chaos, Day 2 on Mount Apo was unforgettable. We witnessed a glorious sunrise, stood on the summit, slid through muddy trails, and shared meals that tasted better because we earned them.

This wasn’t just a hike. It was an experience of resilience, teamwork, and appreciation for the simple things — like hot food and dry clothes. Each one of us did our part and we did it with flying colors.

What’s next?
Stay tuned for our Day 3: The Mud March Back via Century Tree Trail — featuring a hearty breakfast feast, more muddy challenges, sprinting to reach civilization as we lose the light of the day, a brief panic over a missing group member, and a final farewell to the mighty Mount Apo.

One thing’s for sure — we’ll remember this climb for the rest of our lives.

Rainy Day Tip for Climbing Mount Apo:

Pack smart and waterproof everything—plus bring extra snacks!
Rain can quickly turn Mount Apo’s trails muddy and exhausting. Use dry bags or ziplock pouches to protect essentials like clothes, gadgets, and food.

Wear quick-dry clothing and bring a reliable rain jacket. Make sure your trekking shoes have good grip for slippery rocks and muddy terrain.

Also, don’t underestimate how much energy you’ll burn—bring extra trail snacks like energy bars, nuts, and dried fruits. The cold and rain can drain you faster than usual, and having quick, high-energy bites can help keep your stamina up between meals.