After two intense days of climbing under rain and through rocky and slippery terrain, Day 3 began in quiet contrast. It is still, cold, and wrapped in a gentle mist. The occasional drizzle overnight didn’t bother anyone; exhaustion had knocked most of us out into a deep, dreamless sleep. Wrapped in dry clothes and layered warmth, we finally had the comfort we longed for after battling the elements the previous days.

There’s something humbling about waking up in the shadow of Mount Apo, beside the legendary Lake Venado, with the air so still you can almost hear your thoughts.

A Peaceful Morning at the Lake

We had agreed the night before to wake up early. The plan is to catch the ethereal beauty of Lake Venado under the morning mist, with hopes of seeing the elusive reflection of Mount Apo perfectly mirrored in its still waters. Not to rush, but to savor our final few hours near the lake before heading back to civilization.

By dawn, our campsite had stirred to life. The guides were already at work preparing breakfast while the rest of us went about our routines—some brushing teeth by the lakeside, others busy drying jackets still soggy from previous day’s rain. A few wandered off with their cameras, trying to freeze the misty magic of the morning into photographs.

Part of the plan was to start breaking camp around 8:00 AM ight after breakfast, begin the descent by 9:00 AM, and hopefully can have that picture-perfect reflection of Mount Apo on Lake Venado.  But the mountain had hidden itself once more. The fog was thick, clinging to the summit like a veil. We waited, hoping the clouds would clear, but it became clear—no reflection shots today. It was a slight disappointment, but also a reminder that nature does not exist for our schedules.

A Morning Feast to Remember

Before the mud, the mist, and the miles of trekking ahead, we were treated to something truly unexpected up in the mountains — a breakfast feast, courtesy of our incredible organizers at Lakaw ni Paw.

It wasn’t your usual trail breakfast. Nope. This was a full-on mountain buffet — to name a few we had buttered shrimps, crispy danggit, a generous serving of special pancit, and other dishes that made us all forget, for a moment, how cold and tired we were. The smell alone was enough to pull even the sleepiest among us out of our tents. We lined up with mess kits in hand and smiles on our faces, grateful and in disbelief that such a spread was possible in a campsite so remote.

There was more than enough for everyone, with plenty of leftovers to prove it. And somehow, the food tasted even better with Lake Venado quietly resting in the background. This was more than a meal. It was comfort, it was community, and it was a powerful reminder of how well we were taken care of throughout the journey.

So from all of us: Thank you, Lakaw ni Paw, for making sure our stomachs were full, our energy restored, and our hearts warmed — before we took that final, muddy descent back to civilization.

Taking Our Time

Our guides, impressed by how fast we had trekked over the previous days (despite rain delays and challenging trails due to downpours), gave us more time to enjoy the lakeside. We weren’t in a rush. It was our last few hours with Lake Venado, and we wanted to soak it in and wait for the clouds to lift. Maybe, just maybe, we’d get lucky.

We laughed, goofed around, told stories, took group photos, and quietly savored the view, even without the reflection. You don’t always need a perfect Instagram shot to feel like you’ve witnessed something beautiful.

No Reflection, No Problem – Time to Go

By 11:00 AM, the fog still refused to budge, so we had to move on. We gathered our things, took a few final photos, and set off. We started the trek a few minutes before 12 noon. Thankfully, we had our packed lunch with us, so we could eat whenever hunger struck. However, since we had quite a feast during breakfast, we were still feeling full and decided to postpone lunch until we reached the Century Tree. Based on our pace, the guides estimated it would take us about 2 to 3 hours to get there — which meant we wouldn’t be having lunch until after 2 PM.

The trail was muddy, even more challenging than the climb. In some spots, a wrong step meant sinking knee-deep into muck. But thankfully, the rain held off, and sunlight occasionally filtered through the trees.

Despite the mud, the trail was enchanting—thick forests, mossy trunks, birdsong in the distance. It felt like hiking through a dream. The chatter among us made the journey lighter, even as the trail tried to pull us down with every step.

I started off at the back of the group, lingering near the lake, but soon caught up to the middle and eventually the lead pack. We reached the Century Tree 20 to 30 minutes past 2:00 PM, where we stopped to refill our water bottles and for lunch, rest, and some much-needed laughter and photo ops again.

Racing Daylight

We hit the trail again by 3:30 PM. I stayed with the lead pack, partly to reach the exit sooner and partly because our headlamps were on their last legs. When trails weren’t too slick, some of us even jogged on small stretches.

By 5:30 PM, signs of civilization began to appear—farmlands, distant rooftops—but with the forest thick around us, daylight was fading fast. Muscles screamed, backs ached under our packs, and yet we pushed on, fueled by the sight of our goal: Sitio Garok.

We arrived at Sitio Garok past 6:00 PM, legs burning, stomachs growling. The sari-sari store was a welcome sight—we grabbed snacks and something to drink while waiting for the others to arrive.

Resuming the Trek to Sitio Culan: One Teammate Missing

We resumed the night trek to Sitio Culan, we do not know the way so we rely on our guides and just follow their lead. Due to aching leg muscles and exhaustion, at some point we could not keep up to their pace so we need to keep watch on the ray of light from their headlamps which way they turned as pathways had intersections.

But something wasn’t right.

As the last few hikers reached Garok, we realized one person was missing. A sudden hush came over the group, counted again, but still one short. Lakbay Lawin is missing. He wasn’t with the tail pack, and no one in the lead pack had seen him since the last intersection. The pathway is not that straightforward, it has a lot of intersections leading to houses or other sitio’s as well.  Panic slowly crept in. Phones were either dead or turned off to save battery. We tried calling but to no avail, signal is not our friend. And now, rain had started falling again.

Our guides sprang into action. They contacted locals, coordinated via radio and phone. One guide hopped on a motorbike and sped off to backtrack the trail.

Minutes felt like hours.

And then—a motorbike appeared through the dark.

There he was, safe, a little shaken maybe, but smiling. He had accidentally taken a wrong turn to Sitio Tumpis, veering off the main trail. The Lawin (Eagle) was wandering around Indeed! Maybe looking for prey? Haha. But thankfully, a kind local helped him find his way back.

We cheered. Laughed. Clapped. It could have gone very differently. We were lucky. He was lucky. And once again, we were complete.

Back to Reality

With everyone safely accounted for and a few more snacks in hand, we began our final push toward De Sander, where a 4×4 transport was waiting to take us from there back to Kapatagan. Having experienced this route during my first visit to Mount Apo, I already had an idea of just how rough the ride could be. I could only hope the road conditions had improved since then. Anticipating the bumpy journey ahead, I chose my seat strategically — one where I could hold on securely when the vehicle inevitably tilted and jolted along the rugged terrain. After about 30 minutes of being shaken and stirred, we finally made it back to Kapatagan, where our van was waiting to take us the rest of the way.

We left Kapatagan just before 9:00 PM, tired but deeply fulfilled. Our journey ended back in Davao, at our accommodation for the night — exhausted yet grateful for the adventure that had just unfolded.

️ Final Thoughts: More Than Just a Trek

Day 3 was proof that the descent is never just downhill. It’s a test of endurance, a moment to reflect, and sometimes, a little adventure of its own—like losing a teammate in the trail. Thankfully, it ended well, and it reminded us how important it is to watch out for one another on the trail.

Mount Apo gave us misty mornings, muddy trails, magical forests, and a memory we’ll all be retelling for years.

Until next time team and Mount Apo!

How About You?

Have you ever climbed Mount Apo — or is it still a dream on your bucket list?

We’d love to hear your story. Whether it’s about conquering Apo, another challenging mountain, or simply braving the wild in unpredictable weather, drop your experience in the comments below!

What was your toughest trek so far?
Have you ever had to deal with unexpected twists — like a lost hiker, a downpour, or knee-deep mud?

Let’s swap stories and keep the spirit of adventure alive — one trail at a time.