There are only two instances when you can look, or stare, directly at the sun (without hurting your eyes, that is): when it rises and when it sets. So we take our chance as much as we can. The sad thing is that, we wait for the sun to rise, but we don’t always see her in her full glory. I know. I’ve had several experiences where I woke up real early at dawn in time to watch the day break, only for the sun to be her moody elusive self, and hide behind clouds. The upside? The knowledge that even if she does not show herself fully, SHE IS THERE.
I haven’t seen the much talked about film “That Thing Called Tadhana”, which pretty much drew hordes and hordes of local tourists to Sagada, Mountain Province. Prior to the release of the film, Sagada was already well-known for its abundance of natural and cultural attractions, albeit to only a few.
That’s the power of mass media (or, should I say, multimedia?), even further bolstered by the actors’ personal charm, I suppose.
My first visit to Sagada was way back in 2007, and it was just a day trip, the highlight of which is spelunking at the Sumaguing Cave. That time, Sumaguing Cave was the main draw of this sleepy little rural town, which was relatively arduous to get to, no thanks to roads being rough and not really all that friendly to majority of vehicles.
That day trip was mostly comprised of a hike through the Echo Valley to spot the hanging coffins from afar, and then getting down and dirty (literally) at the Sumaguing Cave. After that, we cleaned up as much as we could, then made that long trip back to Baguio.
Several years later, after a hike to Tappiyah Falls in Batad, Ifugao and a road trip past Banaue Rice Terraces, we decided to make a day of it in Sagada before heading back home again to La Trinidad. (Read about those experiences in these posts: The Road to Batad, The Batad Rice Terraces, and Tappiyah Falls.)
It was a visit so brief all we were able to do was eat at Yogurt House, snack at the Lemon Pie House, walk down to the entrance of Lumiang Cave (then back up because we weren’t able to register and we didn’t have the time, to be honest), spotted some hanging coffins, oh, and also snacked at the Strawberry House. Yes. We pigged out. No regrets.
Those visits honestly did not leave any room for letting the Sagada night fall on me, or me waking up to a Sagada morning. This time, however, we got our chance.
An Early Start
We were advised to be there real early, like, before the crack of dawn because:
(1) We want to be there in time for the sunrise; and
(2) We wanted to have a good spot because there’s bound to be a crowd thinking along the same lines as us. It was, after all, a Saturday morning, and tourists from the lowlands have already arrived the night before.
So we all woke up before 4 am, and left our lodging at 4:30, then made that 15-minute drive to the Kiltepan Viewpoint where, presumably, you can see the best view of Sagada’s sunrise.
There was already quite a crowd when we got there, as evidenced by the several vehicles parked several meters away from the viewpoint. While most of the early morning stragglers flocked together (for warmth, presumably) by the small tables and chairs, nursing the warm snacks being sold at the stores, we headed directly to the viewpoint….
….shuffled our way in the dim light and felt our way on the slippery slope, hoping that what we are walking on is an actual path and not a gaping hole that will suck us down… somewhere.
Until we got to one of the choice spots.
Predictably, I just had to scramble up a rock, and I think it was a blessing in disguise that it was still dark, which means I couldn’t see clearly what is down there.
Time seems to just crawl past when you’re waiting for it to actually speed up. The wait was quite long, at least that’s how I felt, and slowly we could hear more than see the number of people growing as more and more sunrise-hunters arrived.
We did not budge at all from our perches. Haha! We just didn’t want to lose our spot, because we knew that even a few seconds off the spot, and another one would take it.
Then slowly, the skies lightened, the clouds before us became visible, and we watched those cotton-like things move to reveal yet another sleepy town slowly coming to life.
Then the sun…
The sky brightened, but the sun… Oh she was such a tease. Showing us glimpses of her fiery welcome, then hiding behind clouds only to peek every now and then.
In the past, I would have been really frustrated. But now I know better.
And what little she revealed was still breath-taking, that’s for sure.
Clouds never figured much in my consciousness. Maybe because, growing up, I learned about them as the bringer of rain, and I can’t say torrential downpours are my favorite things in the world.
But, in this type of setting, when you’re somewhere high up and the clouds seem to be at your feet, laid out like an ocean…. you can’t help but think of them in a different light.
Because how many mountain-lover and hike/climb enthusiasts have you heard long for a sighting of a “sea of clouds”? Many, I’d presume. I’m one of them.
I have been told too many times how reckless I am when it comes to standing atop high places, no matter how precarious it seems. And fearless, some even say.
The thing is, it’s not recklessness so much as curiosity and testing my limits at the same time. Reckless would be to clamber up without a care of what happens. I care, a lot. I don’t do it if I know I can’t handle it. I know I still have the option to turn back even if I am 90% of the way there. I still am rational, methinks.
And fearless?
Dude, you should hear my knees knock. My legs tremble so much that I am more likely to fall because my legs are shaking so much with nerves, and not because I am perching on something unstable.
But I still do it. And like it. Go figure.
I have come to a point where I no longer bother to explain why I do some things to some people. I still get looks from some people when I whine about missing the mountains, or when I show preference for walking for hours and hours, all sweaty and dusty and grimy – under the sun. They will never get it. Fact: they will never even try to get it.
So instead, I can only hope they see scenes like these, behold sights like these, witness experiences like these….
…and that explanation will have to suffice.
We hogged that spot for a good while, taking our time and being shutter-happy with photos. I can feel other people eyeing our spot so they can also take photos from there, but once in a while, I think we are entitled to some selfishness, and I chose that moment to be one, haha!
I’m not sure how the Kiltepan sunrise was presented in the film, but considering how this place has become hugely popular because of that movie, I can only assume that it was presented beautifully.
Still, nothing beats seeing it in real life, that’s why waking up very early and braving the cold of the Sagada dawn is well worth it.
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