|
ASCENT OF THE WEST WALL
by Roel Tan-Torres
An account of the Jan 29-31, 1993 ascent of the
West Wall of Mt. Maculot (IV 5.8, 900 feet, 10 pitches).
It was getting dark. The wind howled with a terrible power that a mountain musters in its' malevolent moods. Looking down I could see only a black pool as I clung to the rock. My strength ebbed and the pit grew, threatening to engulf me. I tugged on the rope below me, a tenuous link to the wall should I fall down the abyss. Death lurks in places where fear and risk abound. It is also the place to linger and feel the surge of life.
Mt. Maculot in Cuenca, Batangas, is a cake walk. The trail to the campsite can be trudged up in less than an hour. Hundreds of climbers have hiked up the ridge. The rock face on its' western flank, however, had been climbed only once. In the early 70's, Gus Guerrero and a foreign climber succeeded on the West Wall. Their route took them up the Ampitheatre, a gully that wound its' way up the face. At least five other attempts had been made since, and all had failed. The scarcity of attempts attests to the committing nature of the wall, a 900-foot sweep of vertical to overhanging rock. That none had succeeded since Guerrero confirms its' difficulty (and makes evident Guerrero's guts and capability; Guerrero also organized the first white-water rafting expedition in the Philippines in 1982, down Amnay River in Mindoro).
Our planned route would tackle the wall differently, climbing the face itself rather than the chimney-like Ampitheatre. It would top out nearer the ridge than Guerrero's route, which ended lower in the face then proceeded with easy scrambling through cogon areas.
The team consisted of two others from the U.P. Mountaineers, a climbing group based in U.P. Diliman. Norman Jaravata, a strong and experienced rock-climber, would be my partner. Bobby Menguito, a triathlete and U.P.'s fastest climber, would support us from the base by pinpointing our position on the face and relaying the information to us via radio. A veteran of several mountain rescues, he would initiate one if needed.
Two months before our ascent a woman took her life by jumping off the wall we had been planning to scale. Though I was involved in the search, the suicide still seemed remote and distant from our plans. My partner and I had already been training, doing hard climbs in the limestone crags of Rodriguez and Cogeo near Manila, and the death did not register any significance aside from a coincidence in place and time.
When we got to Cuenca for the start of the climb the townsfolk gave us a sinister warning. Just the day before four persons were killed by a man who had gone amok with a bolo. He was still at large, roaming the fringes of Cuenca and the mountain we had set out to climb.
Perhaps due to our state of mind --- a steely resolve to climb the big wall --- the thought of grappling with a crazed man was shrugged off. We had enough to worry about and the last thing we needed was the feeling that death seemed to be snapping at our heels.
Our first day up followed the trail to the base of the wall. It soon disappeared as the vegetation became thicker. On a steep portion near the base we spotted a sack on the ground. We realized we were already in the vicinity of the suicide site. The ground had been abraded by the retrieval and we had a hard time getting purchase on the loose soil. Obscured by trees, the wall rose above us. We felt suffocated, clawing for traction on the unstable slope.
Night fell as we bivouacked 200 feet up the wall. As we tried to sleep we heard what seemed to be powerful flaps of wings. The sound swept near us at a furious pace several times. After studiously trying to ignore it the sound abated and we drifted off into fitful sleep.
Five more pitches (a pitch is a 100-150 foot rope length) up the next day and we were in trouble. Darkness was imminent and there was no ledge in sight for a bivouac. The crux I was on had refused to show any weaknesses, a solid stretch of blank rock. Progress had stalled at the worst possible time. My protection below had been placed on crumbling rock, and a long fall might be too much for the rope to hold. Retreat would have been prudent but desperate situations brought out desperate, and dangerous, actions. My left hand grasped a slight bulge purely by friction while two fingertips on my right hand managed to cling to a minute indentation. As my right foot tried to smear on the smooth rock my arms started to quiver in fatigue. Then I was off, plunging into the abyss. My first piece of protection popped out and I continued falling. The rope became taut as it jerked me back up, and held.
I traversed right and found another line but with no protection. The pitch was completed in fading light but there was still no place to sleep on. We spent the night tied onto the wall and hanging by our harnesses. During the night the wind kept blowing, buffeting us with cold gusts as we swayed from our anchors.
We topped out after four more pitches the next day. I had the last lead on the rope and crested the ridge at noon. Shouting in joy atop the mountain I noticed several trekkers on the next ridge moving hastily away. Maybe they too had been warned of the mad man running loose.
Having made it to the top brought out things that I had kept out of my mind during the ascent. Pushed by desperation, I had climbed out of the abyss that I had set out to confront. Suicide and insanity were also desperate acts, but plunges to a much deeper pit that no rope can cut short. Having reached the summit, a rush of exultation swept through me. It was not a surge of accomplishment or conquest, but simply, of life.
Take a bus to Cuenca (about 2 hours) in Batangas, hike down to the lakeside town (same start as the Maculot Rockies trail, but head down the Thousand Steps instead; 45 minutes). Hire a banca to the base of the West Wall (a tiny beach with a big flat-topped boulder at the shoreline; this boulder makes a nice observation deck), 30 - 45 minutes. Approach up a steep, loose slope takes 2 hours. Climb on.
A standard full rack with extra slings. Hauling a pack up this route is not a good idea. Slabs and small shrubs will snag it. Better to have the second wear it. Hammocks will come in handy for the wall bivvy in case you don't luck upon a ledge.
It's best from December to early February. Slim chance of rain and a fat percentage of overcast days. Sunny days will cook you past noon.
Water is vital. We were blessed with overcast weather the whole time and got by with 4 liters/day for both. Sunny days will require much more. Food should be as light as possible and not make you thirsty (mango chips are nice).
Having radios and a spotter on the base is a luxury that can be dispensed with if you scope your route well beforehand and remember features on the wall to guide you by. Also, ramps dissect the broken series of walls that lead all the way up to the Rockies. If you go off-route you can probably rap down to a ramp and traverse to another line.
Going down takes 45 minutes to Cuenca on the Rockies trail.
Take your pick. Our route took us through a series of rock faces to within a hundred vertical feet of the Rockies, from which point we mostly scrambled (still roped) to the top. On the right side of the West Wall (as you face it) is a huge 500-600 feet unclimbed stretch of pristine basalt, with intimidating overhangs. The descent will entail rappeling or a 400-foot scramble to the Rockies from which you can hike down.
Date Last Modified: 6 March 1998