This may sound a bit harsh but let's just say that the beach in Fortune Island is unattractive and well, quite forgettable. The long stretch of coarse and pebbly shore is littered with chicken bones, shards of glass, dried up dog crap and bits and pieces of trash left by campers. Swimming in the shallow area of the beach can be a bit challenging too because it's strewn with rocks in varied sizes and texture.

Boat moored at the shore

The columns in B&W

Our tour organizer, the wacky Rommel of TheLittleFoxPh, shared with us as we were approaching the town of Nasugbu, the jump-off point to Fortune Island, that the island is being claimed by various parties causing some political disputes over the ownership of the island. We were told that it's currently owned by some Korean businessman and operated by local folks of Nasugbu. "You can't simply go to the island without making prior arrangements with the operators," he cautioned. Someone on the island will check your receipt. If it's not issued by authorized people, well, I assume they tell you to get your butts back to the boat and go back to the mainland. 

I was a little brokenhearted in the summer of 2014. Before springing on a Jam Liner bus in Cubao for a long road trip down south, I posted a rather bitter status on Facebook ("I'm going to the beach and I'll forget about you, b*tch") to let everyone know how sullen I was but of course, nobody cared even if it was a finely crafted line, or so I thought. The beach I was referring to was Cagbalete, an island off Mauban in the province of Quezon.

It was going to be a long bus ride, my travel companions had cautioned but I didn't really mind. I was going to sleep anyway. When you're seated next to someone who had lots of stories to share, sleeping was simply hard to come by. My bus mate and I ended up talking about work and career and everything in between all the way to Lucena. We managed to steal a few minutes of sleep before the bus halted at a quiet terminal in Lucena.

We arrived quite early. Buses bound for Mauban didn't start operating before 5AM. So we waited. It pained us to wait, so we asked around to see if there were other alternative means of getting to Mauban without waiting for the bus. I don't remember how we got the jeepney that was willing to take us to Mauban though I recall sneaking away from the terminal and finding the jeepney parked at a gasoline station. We split the fare with a group of Cagbalete-bound travelers we found at the terminal. Slick.

The dawn had just broken. The sun began to peek over a sea of clouds. Panting, huffing and puffing like a dog, I made a sprint to the top to catch the rising sun, dodging fellow trekkers along the trail who were equally eager to see the most-awaited moment and the highlight of the trek: the sunrise. It's going to be magical and dramatic. I was going to play that scene on my head over and over again.

Once I reached the top, I realized that I was alone. There was no familiar face on a sea of strangers, save for this one guy who's also part of the group I was in for this Pulag trek. I started to worry. Who's going to take a photo of me with the sea of clouds in the background - proof that I have indeed scaled the summit of Pulag victoriously? I spotted a group of tour guides huddled on a slope and asked the one with the most genial-looking face. His friends giggled and  teased him as he fiddled with my camera. The shots were not bad. I thanked him and looked for a nice spot where I could concentrate. I needed to take it all in.

I thought about that sad, heartbreaking short story I read when I was in college. It's about a couple who decided to spend a day in Mt. Pulag before going their separate ways. They reminisced painful memories and they shared bittersweet reveries. In the end, they parted ways. It's devastating. 

The desire to watch the sunrise in Mt. Pulag was fueled by that story. The author's descriptions on the sea of clouds were simply captivating, I have since wanted to go hiking in Mt. Pulag. Written by one of my favorite local writers, Eli Guieb, the story entitled 'Kasal' (Wedding) won first prize in Carlos Palanca Awards. Even before seeing pictures of Pulag online, I've long imagined how beautiful it would be to watch the sun rise on top of the mountain with the one you love by your side.

Friends would ask what my ideal date was and I would nonchalantly say, an overnight camping in Pulag. The love of my life and I will hold hands while we trek, smile at each other while we pitch our tent and kiss passionately while we watch the sun rise.

As you would probably have realized by now, I didn't climb Pulag with the person I love. But the trek - wait, this is going to be mushy - was born out of love. It's true what they say that when you love something, you defy the odds just to get or do the thing you love. And for me - well, in this context - that simply means braving a 9-hour road trip from Manila to the Ranger's Station, 3-hour trek from the jump-off point to the camp and another one to reach the summit. Once you're up there, you'll forget how cold it was inside the tent or how sore your legs were. What you'll remember, probably for the rest of your life, is how great it feels to be up there.