Row Row Row Yar Boat

The flight to Cagayan de Oro was more than an hour long. I didn't, however, feel it because I was engrossed watching episode 21 of Desperate Housewives DivX rip in my LifeDrive. By the time the "next week on Desperate Housewives" teaser was on the screen, the pilot was just starting to flash the fasten-seatbelts sign, and the flight attendants were just doing their last round to ensure that all the seatbacks and tray tables were on their upright and stowed positions (ehehehe).

Everything was happening pronto--the descent, the landing, and our deplaning--except for one thing: Ella's luggage took forever to get spat from the plane and into the conveyor belt aka The Goody Carousel. Note to self: never check-in early, as cargoes, apparently, work on the last-in-first-out Accounting principle!

After setting up at the Cagayan office for the next day's seminar, Ella and I "footloosed" to--drumroll please--the mall (LimKetkai, to be exact). As we were really starved (for some reason, we lied to Noel, the branch manager, that we were full), we went on an almost wild-goose chase to find a good Cagayan-unique restaurant in that mall. We settled for dimsums, fresh lumpia and sarsaparilla from Goldilocks. Hehe. And then we went scratching around the mall for great bargains. I got me nothing. I was too busy looking for a frickin' Sun Cellular 24/7 Call and Text card (for my Yes Dir, reporting for duty poh! calls), but got nothing. Yes. Nothing of either the great bargains or the damned call card.

Noel arrived and fetched us to go have dinner. Since Ella and I have both eaten--on separate occasions, that is--at the Cagay-anon resto, which is where, supposedly, great food is served the Cagayan way, we decided to try something Manilaesque yet uniquely Cagayan. We went to B's-something Pizza...where we had, to my knowledge, the best pizza ever. I promised myself to bring home one or two pizzas to Manila...but of course, forgot to. Idiot.

The seminar was routine: 830am last-minute set-up, and greetings to the long-unseen colleagues from the branches, most of whose names I've already forgotten. The sessions were so engrossing that day that we finished Day 1's session at 330pm! By then, a proposal was brought up: what if we continued with the lessons/topics for day 2 and finish it on the very same day, instead of dispersing and then re-convening the next day; that way, they get to spend more time with their families on a Sunday. Upon getting a consensus (er, major agreement), we did finish days 1 and 2 in one day, finishing at a little after 7pm. By dinner time, there were already talks of plans for the next day, i.e. for us who had no families in the area (and Ella and I who are simply tourists for a full day and a half more!). We decided, right there and then, to try the whitewater rafting scene where Cagayan de Oro is famous for.

After a hurried shopping craze for slippers/sandals, t-shirt, and board shorts, and a quick call to the whitewater rafting operators in the area, we were all set. Were we excited? You bet your brown Pilipino arse we were.

At exactly 6am, I was already doing my morning crunches (thanks to my 8-Minute Abs video clip) and psyching myself up--like I needed any!--for our prolly-once-in-a-lifetime adventure that day. Having donned my bandana, slipped into my new slippers, and pulling out just enough cash (P1200 for the whitewater rafting fee, and about P500 extra money) from my wallet which I left in my overnight bag, we headed out the hotel to meet Noel in his car. We passed by McDonald's to grab some sausage and egg muffins and some coffee, and then headed for SM (yes, yet another ShoeMart mall in our weekly branch stints!) where the rafting organizers were going to pick us up. About fifteen minutes later, a jeepney loaded with people inside and about four red orange inflated rafts on top pulled over infront of us. Ted, the operator, greeted us, collected our money, and made us sign waiver forms (now THAT was one way to instill in us that, yes, there MAY be a possibility that we could die because of force majeure...and that that couldn't be their fault!). We left for the drop off point shortly.

A couple of veteran rafters greeted and interviewed us during the travel. One actually served as a tourist guide and was giving us a blow-by-blow of what landmarks (or even simple places) we were passing. One was also pre-orienting us and preconditioning us on what to expect. We were definitely excited we almost either shat or peed on our seats.

When we got to the drop off point, the organizers prepared the rafts as well as the rest of their paraphernalia. They gave us Dri-Bags to put our mobile phones, etc. that we were bringing onboard the rafts, so that they won't get wet or damaged. Noel supplied us with SPF 50 Nivea sunscreen, which we liberally applied all over our bodies. We geared up with the requisite vests, helmets, and our ownly weapon: our paddles. After a quick orientation while half-immersed in the water--Easy Paddle for a relaxed paddling, Hard Paddle for a more intense paddling, and Back Paddle for a reversed-direction paddling--we boarded our respective rafts; joining us were experienced paddlers Cernan, Poco and Stephen. At least we were certain that there were, at the very least, three people on the raft that DO know what they're doing! We held on to one of their most important orientation notes: if and when we fall in the water, we must not, under any circumstance, try to fight the current...or we could die hitting the rocks or drowning. Great. Our Father which art in heaven......

The first rapid, aptly called the Buena Mano, was a fun ride...and it gave us a feel of what to expect in the next 14 more. We gave each other "high fives" using the heads of our paddles each time we conquered one rapid. We likewise enjoyed the view, as we passed by enormous rock formations, caves, swamps, and snake-infested cliffs. We even alighted from our rafts twice or thrice to actually be inside the caves and take pictures.

At quarter of noon, we stopped over at one of the uninhabited field-like area with just a bamboo table and some chairs, so that we could have our lunch. The rest of our companions each have Tupperwares and stainless steel containers and Thermoses and water jugs, while the three of us only had our miserably flattened Sausage and Egg McMuffins and a liter of mineral water. The rest, being the hospitable, friendly and kind Cagayanons that they are, offered us a plate of rice and pork, which I did not decline. I was famished after all those paddling and being under the sweltering heat of the sun. We shared jokes and stories and expectations and Manileño-Cagayanon idiosyncrasies, and then headed back to our rafts to finish the rest of the five or six rapids.

After the second rapid of the afternoon, aptly called Kiss the Wall (which we later on called Kiss My Ass) because of the risk of hitting the wall if we did not synchronize our paddling efforts, we alighted and enjoyed a quick spelunking, trekking and swimming in a cave formation under a magnificent mountain of lush greens. The current was so strong it took no effort to get from where we jumped to about four feet downstream. We took some more pictures and then headed back to our rafts where we met other rafters from another rafting company. They looked bored to tears. Thankfully, our team was either laughing or singing or storytelling. It was loads of fun.

On our last rapids, Poco instructed us NOT to paddle too long. Instead, we were all told that after hitting the hardest rapids, we were to raise our paddles with our two hands--arms raised way above our heads--and smile at the camera right by the rocks...which we did. And after that, our P1200 adventure was mercifully concluded...or so we thought.

Approaching a tall rock formation jutting from out of nowhere in the waters, we were told that we had a "graduation ceremony"--that you couldn't really claim to have conquered the rapids if you haven't participated in this last activity. What was this activity, you ask? It's called the Leap of Faith.
One was to go up the top of the rock formation, say about five to six feet from the surface of the water (which was about, give or take, 40 to 50 feet deep, according to the locals) and then jump into the damned water with nothing but the vest which we have piously devoted our fragile lives to.

I was fearless...at first. I climbed so fast, like how I climbed a million and years in the pasts when I used to either rapell or free fall, and stayed at the top to relish my just concluded victory in conquering all 14 rapids. At the top, I felt powerful and strong and accomplished and dauntless...that was, until I looked down and saw the water menacingly calling me to my death. I decided to let the others jump ahead and psych myself up for the notorious leap of faith. I couldn't get my groove back. Ella decided it wasn't her time to die yet, so she climbed down faster than how she climbed to the top. After Noel jumped, it was my turn. I had a choice: to jump and get it over with (and conquer a major fear of drowning--which I acquired after having briefly drowned in 30 feet of open sea back in 1998), or turn back and get humiliated for being such a sissy.


I jumped. Both arms extended in an almost oblation-like fashion...which was apt because as I was about to jump, just when the tip of my toes were leaving the edge of the rocky hill, I offered a short prayer to Jesus Christ, asking him to comfort my soul if and when I die and to comfort even more those who I would leave behind. As I hit the water and descended two, three, four feet below in less than ten or so seconds (as my breathing started to turn into heaves, as my chest got "deflated" and started to get filled with water), I had a more terrifying fear: I wasn't ready to die, and I haven't fulfilled--hell, even discover!--my purpose in life. I needed to go back and finish my business.

I finally hit a point when my vest's buoyancy power clicked. Much slower than my rate of descent, I gradually ascended effortlessly. Slowly, slowly, until I saw a tiny speck of white light piercing its way through the murky waters that I was currently submerged in. And then, as my chest swelled into a mixture of emotions, I realized, just as the white light got bigger and bigger, more reckoning, that I was crying. I was back from the semi-dead...I had a second chance to fulfill my purpose.

I screamed and yelled and shouted and screamed some more when I reached the surface. I have now officially conquered not just the rapids--or my fear of drowning--but death itself.

After that long day, we headed to a spa and had a Swedish massage. And a full hour for just fricking 280 pesos. If we weren't on a schedule, I would've done a full-day massage and pedicure and facial and the works. But, ah, that's for another adventure.

Having done all that, now I'm ready for my next adventure: hot air balloon, and then bungee jumping. Stay tuned.

(O, Ella, link na! Hehehehehe..)