Hola a todos!
It’s been super duper rainy these past few days—like, every five minutes! I hope you’re staying dry and safe, especially if you’re here in the Philippines. Please take extra care, everyone!
And guess what? It’s August again, which means it’s my birth month! Yehey!
How will I celebrate my birthday this year? Honestly, I don’t really know yet. I have a few little things I’d love to do with mi familia, but nothing too grand. I think I just want to keep it simple, just like the previous years.
Mount Pinatubo Crater Lake
God has been so good to me, always. I’m incredibly grateful for all the blessings He continues to give me, for the people He has placed in my life, and for the opportunity to be blessed so I can also be a blessing to others.
Here’s to another year of life, love, lessons, and countless reasons to be grateful.
Welcome back to another new blog post! Another day, another travel story to share.
This time, let’s talk about hiking. Let me ask you—have you ever climbed a mountain before? How was your experience? Was it traumatic enough to make you say, “Never again,” or did it inspire you to climb even more mountains?
In this day and age, when running and playing pickleball seem to be getting louder and louder on social media, if you asked me to choose between them and hiking, I would still choose hiking. There’s just something about being out there, walking through nature, challenging yourself, and slowly making your way to the top that I really enjoy.
So, if hiking is an option, you already know what I’m choosing.
As much as possible, I want to make it a tradition to hike at least once a year. Last year, I had the chance to hike Mount Makiling. It was a day hike, and I’ll be sharing that experience in my next-next blog post.
But for now, let’s go back to 2024 and talk about Mount Pinatubo. This hike was especially meaningful to me because it wasn’t just about hiking or reaching the destination. It had a deeper purpose behind it. We went there with the humble intention of sharing blessings with our Indigenous Aeta brothers and sisters.
For me, that made the experience even more special. It was a journey not only through the mountains, but also one of gratitude, connection, and giving back.
I still remember when I hiked my “mother mountain” in Rodriguez, Rizal—Mount Binacayan—sometime in 2017. The hardest part for me was actually going down. There was a portion of the trail that felt almost like a 90-degree descent, and to make things even more challenging, we got caught in the rain. Luckily, we had already reached the halfway point by then, so we were able to take a little break and regroup.
But when it came to Mount Pinatubo, the pain was definitely in the hike itself, not the descent. I honestly felt like it was two to three times more challenging than Mount Binacayan, mainly because the trail was just so long. There were moments when I wondered when it would finally end, but despite all the exhaustion and aching muscles, it was absolutely worth it.
Standing roughly 55 miles (90 km) northwest of Manila in western Luzon, Mount Pinatubo slept quietly for over 600 years—until 1991, when its cataclysmic eruption reshaped the landscape forever. Before the blast tore off its summit, the volcano rose to a height of nearly 4,800 feet (1,460 m).
According online, after two months of low-level emissions and small explosions, Mount Pinatubo unleashed a series of major blasts starting on June 12. The eruption reached its violent climax between June 14 and 16, sending a massive plume of ash and gas more than 28 miles (40 km) into the sky and scattering heavy rock debris just as far.
The sheer volume of falling ash displaced over 100,000 people and directly claimed 300 lives, while disease in crowded evacuation camps took hundreds more in the weeks that followed. The destruction was so severe that it permanently disrupted the region—forcing the evacuation and eventual permanent closure of Clark Air Force Base, located just 10 miles (16 km) to the east.
It is said that, the eruption of Mount Pinatubo in 1991 produced roughly twice the volume of ash and gas ejected by Mexico’s El Chichón in 1982, solidifying it as one of the largest and most powerful volcanic events of the 20th century. Just a year later, in late August 1992, the restless volcano flared up again, tragically claiming at least 72 more lives.
Per my research online, Mount Pinatubo is a stratovolcano with a history split into two distinct eras. Long before today's peak existed, "Ancestral Pinatubo"—a towering structure of andesite and dacite rock—dominated the landscape until about 35,000 years ago. Rising up to 7,550 feet (2,300 meters) above sea level, this ancient precursor lacked the violent, explosive outbursts of its modern successor.
Today, the remnants of its massive 2.2 x 2.8 mile(3.5 x 4.5 km) caldera still frame the modern volcano.
You might be wondering right now, “What exactly is a stratovolcano? What is that, and why does it matter?” Well, hold your horses! Let me tell you a little more. According to Britannica, a stratovolcano is a cone-shaped volcanic landform that develops over thousands of years through repeated eruptions, gradually building up layers of lava, ash, and other volcanic materials. These volcanoes typically have gentle slopes at their base that become steeper as they rise toward a towering summit. Many stratovolcanoes form above subduction zones and are found in volcanically active regions, including areas around the famous Ring of Fire.
Stratovolcanoes are built up over time through layers upon layers of volcanic materials, including ash, mud, solidified lava flows, volcanic domes, and other pyroclastic deposits. Because of this distinctive layered structure, they are also commonly called composite volcanoes. Their steep sides, while contributing to their impressive, towering appearance, can also make them prone to hazards such as lahars, avalanches, and landslides. Today, more than 700 volcanoes around the world are classified as stratovolcanoes.
I still remember when my colleague invited me to join their day-tour hike to Mt. Pinatubo. It was more than a month before the scheduled hike, and she told me it would only take a whole day, including the travel time to and from the mountain. I can’t remember the exact price of the joiner tour anymore, but I believe it was around ₱2,000 (approximately US$35).
For some reason, and by God’s grace, the first thing I visualized wasn’t just the hike itself. I imagined being able to give something back to the local community, especially to our Indigenous Aeta brothers and sisters living there. So, when our group chat was created on Messenger, I asked everyone if we could turn our hike into a “hike with a purpose”—collecting a little extra from each participant so we could buy groceries and bring donations to the Aeta community.
Thankfully, most of them were more than willing to contribute. It was such a blessing to see how readily everyone opened their hearts—and their wallets—to make the hike about more than just reaching the summit.
The morning before our Sunday hike, I went straight to the grocery store to buy bread, noodles, and other essentials that we thought would be useful for the families we hoped to help. I honestly didn’t expect that we would collect more than ₱3,000 (about US$48.50), which allowed me to buy much more than I had initially planned. I was genuinely happy as I went through the aisles, picking out the things we could bring with us. The excitement on my face was impossible to hide—I couldn’t wait for the hike to begin, not only because of the adventure ahead, but because I knew we were bringing something meaningful with us.
I’m truly grateful to my amazing hikemates who went all the way to our house to pick me up and help me bring the donations. It was already around midnight when they arrived, but without hesitation, they drove straight to Greenfield District in Mandaluyong City, one of the most popular meeting places for joiners. From there, we continued our journey to the Mt. Pinatubo jump-off point in Capas, Tarlac. I still remember how we had to stop and have breakfast first when we arrived. Then, at around 6:30 AM, after registration and orientation, our 4x4 adventure finally began.
I have to be honest—I hated that 4x4 ride! It was almost two hours of bouncing, shaking, and painfully rough roads, and my poor butt definitely felt every bump along the way. The dust was expected, of course, but the 4x4 itself felt so old that, at some point, I honestly felt like we were starring in our own Mad Max: Fury Road movie! But in the end, all the discomfort was worth it. We finally reached the right community and were able to hand over the donations. It may not have been the most organized mission, but we delivered what we came to deliver—and for that, I’m truly grateful to God. Mission accomplished!
The views on the way to the base camp were absolutely out of this world—so different from the beaches, waterfalls, and other natural wonders I’ve seen across the Philippines. The vast, barren landscape looked almost surreal, like a massive set from a moon-mission movie. It was a completely different kind of beauty, and I couldn’t help but stop and take it all in. After the 4x4 ride, we finally started our hike to the crater at around 8:00 AM.
“Life is a journey; it can take you anywhere you choose to go.” The words from Christina Aguilera’s song kept playing in my mind as I hiked Mt. Pinatubo—a long, challenging walk that somehow felt like a definition of life itself. The trail to the crater was never easy. There were rocky paths, muddy and slippery trails, scorching heat, dehydration, exhaustion, sweat, and even painful muscle cramps. Along the way, the landscape constantly changed—from lush, jungle-like areas filled with different kinds of plants to dry, dusty stretches that seemed to test how far we could go. Yet, with every step, we kept moving forward, knowing that there was a beautiful crater waiting at the end. Perhaps that is what life is: a long walk filled with challenges, where you stumble, struggle, get tired, and sometimes wonder if you can keep going—but you survive because you have a goal worth reaching.
As we got closer to the crater, the trail became narrower, steeper, and more challenging. Since it was a Sunday, the trail was packed with hikers. Those coming back from the crater would smile and tell us, “Keep safe!”—a simple but encouraging reminder that we were getting closer.
Thankfully, the weather was on our side. No rain, thunder, or lightning—because honestly, I might have turned back! After roughly two to three hours, we finally reached the enormous crater of Mount Pinatubo. It was picturesque, breathtaking, and absolutely worth every step.
Mt. Pinatubo, you are truly a “Beautiful Disaster.” Historically, we know how powerful and dangerous you can be when you erupt, but when you are calm and still, your crater is breathtaking. Sitting beneath a tree, simply taking in the view, felt peaceful and refreshing. It was the kind of beauty that makes you pause and forget how tired you are.
My co-hiker even brought a drone, giving us the chance to capture the crater from above and take plenty of photos. We were told that swimming in the crater is prohibited because of the high sulfur content—and honestly, I wouldn’t dare anyway! Just looking at it was enough. Beautiful, mesmerizing, and still a little intimidating.
It was truly a great experience! And with that, we call it a night. Thank you, Super Folks, for taking the time to read this blog post.
What’s next? Northern Mindanao! Next month, I’ll be sharing more travel stories from my visit to my friend in Cagayan de Oro, where another adventure awaits—our Bukidnon trip!
So, yeah! Until then, see you on the next adventure!
“Life is either a daring adventure or nothing at all.” - Helen Keller
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