We started our ascent of Mount Puro early in the day after two hours of driving. Earlier, there had been a downpour of rain, so the stone steps were wet and covered in slippery algae and moss. The dew from the mountain’s greenery gleamed as the sun rose higher into the sky. The stone stairs wound up and up, the pathways twisting and turning, adjusting to the shape of the mountain, along with wooden huts everywhere. We noticed a strange structure beyond the trees as we got higher up. A colorful obstacle course with rope bridges, slides, and other obstacle course-related things.
My sisters and I decided it would be a good idea to try it out. We climbed robe bridges, walked through wobbly robe bridges, and climbed rock walls. I was doing fine until I got to the end. I slipped and fell on my back while climbing the stairs leading off the obstacle course. A burning pain spiked in my back and I started to see red. “Any last words?” my sister asked as she stood over me. “I hate you…” I whispered back. I was carried back to one of the huts by one of the staff members to recover. As I recovered, I watched a few things on the tablet with my siblings to take my mind off the burning pain in my back. After a few minutes, I felt like I could walk again. Aside from the tiny ache in my back with every step, I was ready to climb Mount Puro.
Mount Purro is 1,864 ft tall, and after some research today, I found out that it is only 1,474 ft taller than Godzilla. Of course, me from 4 years ago did not know this. So I was given a long bamboo stick, and my family and I began our ascent. As we climbed, we passed an extinguished bonfire pit with rocks that served as seats with two open-air wooden huts on the edge. But of course, Mom had to take “a few pictures” of everything we saw regardless of how close we were to the top. The path was mostly mud because of the rain, I would instinctively try to grab low vines and branches for support but I was constantly warned that what I might think of as a branch or a vine could be a snake. But if I were to choose between getting bitten by a snake or falling to my death, I would rather take my chances with the snake. As we climbed higher and higher, my stamina sank lower and lower. The trek might have been easier for me today, but I struggled to keep up with the rest of my family back then*. At one point, I had to take a deep breath for every 3 steps up. In my defense, the steps were each 2 feet tall, so it is reasonable that I had to take a break every few steps or so. It wasn’t any better than Mom had to take a photo every time a gap appeared in the forest, showing the same thing we had been seeing for hours only slightly different.
There was no greater feeling when I finally reached the top. There weren’t too many views to see. There were trees, some wire towers, and clouds. I’m sure it was much more beautiful than you are probably thinking of, but please understand that I was tired. I only got a short look at the view because I was most likely sitting on a large rock, sweating, taking in large breaths. We finally started our descent after taking a ridiculous amount of pictures. It was going relatively ok until I almost fell off the mountain; thankfully the tour guide held me back from falling to my death.
As we were climbing back down, we came across some Indigenous people on Mount Puro playing with some kind of top. I only realized it was a dalandan skewered through the middle, being used as a spinning top. They offered to teach us how to use it, and we happily obliged. After that knowledgeable encounter and new toys, we headed to the mountain restaurant not too far down. I think it was a buffet, but I’m guessing it was because I doubt I even had enough energy to walk to the buffet after the hike.
After we ate, I assumed that we were just going to relax until we went home. But no, my mom had other ideas. Apparently, there was a waterfall we could go to somewhere close to the foot of the mountain, and we just had to go there. At this point, I was so tired that I couldn’t even put two brain cells together to make an argument, so we went. The water was strangely clear, only having a tint of green because of the algae on the riverbed. The river was quite wide, with depths of what looked like 1 or 2 feet. Blunt rocks rose from the river, making it quite stressful to walk across the river with the idea that I might slip and bludge my head against a rock. At the end of the river was the waterfall, which wasn’t as tall as I thought it was going to be. It seemed more or less 4 feet tall with a swift current, so we decided to take a picture.
I remember that after the waterfall adventure, my mom got mad at me for getting my shorts wet. This baffles me today because she wanted to go to the falls. Anyway, when we got back to the mountain, we were invited to see how the Indigenous people of Mount Purro cooked rice back at the bonfire place. And of course, we went. The old lady, cooking over the now-lit bonfire, put the rice and chicken inside a bamboo stalk and cooked it over the fire. This cooking process took a while, and I don’t think I got a sample of that chicken rice. But it was still pretty entertaining.
At this point, the sun was setting and we had to leave. As we drove away, I took a glance back at the orange sky and sun overshadowed by the majestic Mount Purro.