A Mystic Mountain & Its Spooky Alter Ego
The word scenic has been used to death, admittedly, but for Mount Banahaw, it carries a full set of credentials and more.
A journey to this mystic mountain takes you upward, inward and beyond, to a time when religion and superstition shared equal billing in the mind, and into a place where spirits and enchanted beings were said to roam the face of the earth and guided the ways of men. The stories it provokes are so far removed from modern-day reality that many have come to dismiss them as mere fantasy or folklore but which grandma, along with clear-eyed trekkers and pilgrims, would swear as real.
Ultimately, it is this mystic presence — interwoven with the land, subtle yet intensely felt, dwarfed by the scenery but an integral part of it — that is the essence of Mount Banahaw. Ancient tradition backed by legend has prodded many a young man to climb its slopes to perform the rites of manhood. Mountain climbers scale its heights for a sense of prized achievement. Spiritual cleansing has inspired pilgrims to come in droves, rousing the villages lazing at the foot of the mountain to respond in kind to the rituals of visitation. Fabled hidden treasures from a bygone war era have lured many treasure hunters to search for the proverbial pot of Yamashita’s gold.
Alas, these same activities that are, by definition, an appreciation of nature, have also bred crimes against Mother Nature. Mount Banahaw, along with Mount Cristobal (which is part of the Holocene volcanic complex and which the mountaineering community has come to refer to as the spooky alter ego of Banahaw), was declared a protected landscape in December 2009 under Republic Act No. 9847.
This new environment law has put into effect a more systematic conservation and management of both mountains, including a more sustainable exploration of their ecotourism potential and preservation of their rich cultural and religious heritage.
Long before the national government stepped in to give Mounts Banahaw and San Cristobal the privileged status of a protected landscape, however, the locals have waged a war to avert further destruction of the land by such environmental threats as human encroachment, digging for treasure, garbage, pollution, illegal constructions. And in more ways than one, they have succeeded.
A look at resolutions filed by the local Protected Area Management Board (PAMB) and backed by villagers and civic groups would attest to the vigilance that people have had to maintain to keep nature and culture thriving, at least in harmony if not in total peace, as they’ve always done for centuries.
The harbingers of development have had to take defeat in favor of preservation of the area. Chainsaw and similar electronic or gasoline-powered equipment have been banned here since 1996. A proposed road-widening project in 1996 and an irrigation project in 2001 were both rejected by the board as these were found to disturb the area’s ecosystem.
At the height of the mountain’s popularity in 2003, thousands of visitors came to Banahaw to soak in the much-touted sacred energy that could only be had in these parts. The influx unfortunately littered its slopes, waterfalls, lakes, and caves with garbage and pollutants. Its peak, “Durungawan,” a breathtaking window to both the outer world and the world within, soon lost its serenity, assuming instead a flea-market ambiance.
The changing nuances of the landscape were like alarm bells, prompting a five-year closure of some of the mountain’s trails in March 2004. In the same year, the (PAMB) strengthened its alliance with the military and police in enforcing the closure order.
Villagers underwent training on Quick Response under the Tanggol Kalikasan group, after which they were deputized to go after anyone who violated the environment rules governing their land. Focal persons were tasked to monitor Holy Week activities in their areas and report untoward incidents or violations.
While laws were being enforced, clean-up and rehabilitation were being pushed. In June 2004, the Mountaineering Federation of the Philippines spearheaded garbage-cleanup activities. Where fishing, hunting, and slash-and-burn farming used to pay the survival bills of mountain living, vegetable farms and social welfare department-assisted livelihood projects were pursued, the better to get people’s hands off indigenous species of flora and fauna.
Sublime purposes do not necessarily get the green light in this protected land. The DEO Missionaries’ proposal to put up a fasting center here in 2004 was turned down; a proposal by Mother Earth Foundation was thumbed down in 2006 by the PAMB because the foundation had wanted to plant “exotic” species of trees, which were deemed to cause more harm than good to Banahaw’s ecosystem.
Park Superintendent Sally Pangan says that a case was filed in 2005 with the municipal trial court of Dolores town against the Nuestra Senora de la Paz, which built a chapel inside the protected area.
On any given day, a villager would report to the Protected Area office suspected treasure-hunting he or she witnessed along the way. The tip-off instantly triggers a call to the police, military and civic groups, and upon verification, a multisectoral raiding team is on its way to the site of illegal activity.
Such is the quick response and cooperative spirit that is in place at the Mount Banahaw-San Cristobal Protected Landscape – a way of thinking, and acting, that religiously drives home the point that the only treasure here is the place itself, and it must be protected, not hunted. – PCIJ, December 2010
I wrote this article for the Philippine Center for Investigative Journalism for publication into a monograph on Protected Areas in cooperation with Tanggol Kalikasan. It was subsequently published in the December 29 edition of the national broadsheet, Malaya. (Link to online edition below)
Preserving, Protecting Mount Banahaw | Malaya Business Insight | December 29, 2010
