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.
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.
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