When my cousin A and I reached the summit at noontime the sun was not that harsh. Gray clouds were closely coming in as we enjoy ourselves taking our I’ve-been-here kind of shots. The air got colder but not a whiplash of wind can be felt at the top. The gray cast muted the brightness, too much hard light, of the sky as more clouds gathered together. My eyes were squinting so much I cried frustration at myself in forgetting my sunglasses.
Taking away the time from the changing weather unfolding before our eyes it was still a moment of triumph. On conquering a mountain. We were fortunate that those gray clouds just hovered on us—it never rained on our parade—while we re-energized ourselves with what’s left of our trail food, a loaf of sliced bread turned into instant club sandwich (not really!) and she bought buko (young coconut) for the two of us. Its water was just sweet and refreshing. Ah!
March 2013, Batulao