When Adventure Calls at 9 PM
“Maupod ko sa Penek Busay Dokie, upod ka man?”
Sir Joy’s excited voice cut through my evening routine. I’m going to the Digos river trek, Dokie! Are you coming with us?
Just 24 hours earlier, I’d written off this adventure entirely. The logistics seemed impossible, the timing inconvenient. Yet here I was, scrambling through my gear at 9 PM, throwing essentials into my pack with the kind of frenzied energy that only last-minute decisions can produce.
“Cge ah! Upod ta!” I answered, bewildered by my own enthusiasm. Yes, we’re going!
Our friend Onin had dangled this trip in front of us weeks ago, his words laced with the kind of envy-inducing promise that gets under your skin: “The river trek of our life,” he’d said in Bisaya. “Dokie, tagbaw dyud ka!” You’ll be amazed.
There were a dozen rational reasons to stay home. But something about the pull of Team T.A.M.A.C. (Tacurong Mountaineers and Adventure Club)—80% of our crew in full force—made the decision feel inevitable. If I didn’t go, I’d regret it for the rest of my life.
🥾 Want to start your own mindful hiking journey? Read Beginner’s Guide to Mindful Trekking.
Penek Busay: Half a Dozen Waterfalls and One Reckoning
“Penek Busay” is a Manobo term meaning “climb or trek the falls.” The promise was simple and stunning: three major cascading waterfalls- Lagbong, Nagsanga, Magkasilin and half a dozen minor falls flowing from mountaintop to the plains of Digos City, each one a natural wonder waiting to be discovered.
This inaugural trek at Sitio Napan, Barangay Goma, Digos City, was designed to become an annual tradition. We’d be trekking upriver against the current—a journey that sounded idyllic in theory but would prove to be anything but easy in practice.
By 4 AM the next morning, I stood at the bus stop like a zombie following a mountain soul. The disbelief lingered: Am I actually doing this?
A Hundred Souls and One Dump Truck
At Digos City Freedom Park, the scene buzzed with organized chaos. The Digos Active Mountaineers, led by Joel, and the City Tourism office, headed by Sir Jojo, had assembled over fifty mountaineers from across Mindanao.
Our TAMAC crew consisted of four: Sir Joy, Chris, Ian, and myself. We were joined by our adopted TAMAC patron, bringing our small band to five.
Then came the transportation—a dump truck, fully loaded with excited climbers. I found myself wedged among familiar faces and strangers united by the same inexplicable draw to wild places.
“What was I doing here?” I wondered aloud.
The answer came quickly: “Biga gud!” Because we must.
The Trek Begins: Crystal Waters and Underestimated Challenges
After a brief welcome ceremony with local officials and group photos at Barangay Goma, we started hiking toward the river. The open trail gave way to shallow crossings that we navigated gleefully, the water cool against our legs.
I silently vowed to count each waterfall, documenting them through my camera lens. The river ran characteristically shallow along most of its course—ankle to knee-deep in places, though some sections plunged to chest depth, forcing us to hoist our bags overhead.
The organizers were lifesavers, literally. They positioned themselves at dangerous crossings, offering ropes and steady hands as we navigated slippery boulders and sharp rock edges.
But I’d underestimated this trek terribly.
The waterfalls ranged from gentle block-type cascades with idyllic lagoons—like Magkasilin Falls—to dramatic plunge waterfalls that dropped 5 to 30 feet into crystal-clear pools. Some were multi-step wonders that made me lose count in sheer awe.
I couldn’t resist. At several falls, I jumped straight into the plunge pools, the cold water a shock to the system and a baptism into the present moment.
💧 Also read: 5 Waterfalls in Mindanao That Will Awaken Your Senses.
Then came the boulders.
Nearly 90-degree climbs with rope and bare hands. No visible footholds. Just faith, grip strength, and the realization that I’d walked into something far more demanding than a casual river trek.
The stupid me, I thought, cursing my lack of preparation.
Team TAMAC in Full Force
Our group moved at our characteristic pace—slow, deliberate, savoring every moment.
Sir Joy worked his camera, capturing everything his lens could find. Ian blazed ahead with the lead group, his eagerness pulling him toward uncharted territory. Chris, ever the adventurer, explored crevices and tested difficult maneuvers.
I focused on footwork and handholds, though I was always quick to strike a pose when the camera turned my way.
Team TAMAC was having the time of our lives.
Until we weren’t.
The Fall That Changed Everything
My sandal caught on a root.
Time stretched as I felt my balance slip away, the inevitability of the fall crystallizing in slow motion. With no way to recover my footing, instinct took over: protect the head, break the fall, knees first.
I hit the rocky floor hard.
Two inches of gaping laceration on each knee. Blood pouring freely. The world went silent—no voices, no roaring waterfalls, just the deafening quiet of shock threatening to pull me under.
I moaned. The pain was agonizing.
Immediately, I sat down, pressed my bare hands firmly against the wounds, and took slow sips of water. My medical training kicked in through the fog of trauma: Please don’t be an open patellar or tibial fracture. Please.
I saw horror reflected in my friends’ eyes.
The irony wasn’t lost on anyone: I was the only doctor on this trek, and here I was, paper-white and bleeding profusely.
I forced a wry smile. “I’m okay,” I lied, trying to lighten the weight of their concern.
The Choice: Turn Back or Push Forward
Turning back wasn’t an option—it would take longer than pushing forward to the campsite. And my ego wouldn’t allow me to call for rescue. This wasn’t the worst injury I could sustain, but the danger lay not in the cuts themselves but in my vulnerability to further injury.
Pride, shame, and an unshakeable love for the outdoors whispered the same message: Keep going.
Chris ran ahead to alert the medics. Sir Joy positioned himself behind me as a safety net. Ian became our guide. And together, we moved forward through the darkening trail as rain began to fall.
Forty agonizing minutes later, I limped into camp, drenched and unable to flex my knees.
“How are your knees?”
“Okay. Kaya pa.” I can handle it.
Another lie. But the kindness I received made it bearable.
The Kindness of Strangers
Onin and the staff found us a tent site. Fellow mountaineers—strangers who saw me limping—offered to pitch my tent, set up my gear, and donated supplies from their medical kits.
Their generosity gave me something pain couldn’t take away: the determination to be strong in spirit, even if my body was failing.
After pitching the tent, cooking baked corned beef, and changing into dry clothes, my companion dressed my wounds. They were still bleeding. My knees barely flexed.
We slept early as rain hammered the tent. I took pain medication and drifted into restless dreams about quitting the climb.
What did that mean? Trauma? Shock? Acute Mountain Sickness?
No—we were well below 2,000 meters. This was just my body processing what my mind refused to accept.
Morning After: Stiff Knees and Stubborn Will
I woke to knees that felt like concrete. Someone had to help me stand.
I joked about it, deflecting concern with humor while thanking those who’d helped me the night before. My TAMAC buddies went rappelling at the waterfall above—a spectacular sight I desperately wanted to join but couldn’t.
After breakfast, we prepared for the assault to the peak and the trek back to the jump-off point via an open trail with minimal river crossings. I was relieved. My knees needed mercy.
But once again, I’d underestimated the challenge.
The 80-degree vertical climb on slippery soil with fragile roots required all five extremities—including my chin. Barefoot, we clawed our way upward like never before.
Somewhere in the exhaustion, I forgot about my wounded knees. Survival took precedence.
The Summit and The Return
At the peak, we found a 360-degree vista across rolling hills covered in agricultural crops. It was beautiful in its own way—a third-generation landscape where human cultivation had reshaped the wilderness.
We continued under the blazing sun, stopping at a hut for lunch: corned beef, dried fish, and sardines that tasted like victory. We rested, exchanged jokes, and found our rhythm again.
The final stretch included one last pool bath at a small waterfall, then a walk punctuated by Sir Joy’s enthusiastic rendition of “Puff the Magic Dragon.”
We reached the jump-off point and drank soda like it was liquid gold.
That night, we camped for recognition ceremonies.
What Penek Busay Taught Me
This trek redefined my understanding of limits—both physical and mental. It taught me that adventure doesn’t always go according to plan, that pain is temporary but the choice to keep moving forward is powerful, and that the kindness of strangers in the wilderness can be as healing as any medicine.
Even with two lacerated knees, even with the trauma and exhaustion, I knew one thing with absolute certainty:
I’d be back.
Because some trails don’t just challenge your body—they reshape your soul. And Penek Busay, with its 13 waterfalls and brutal climbs and unexpected lessons in resilience, had earned its place in my story.
Practical Information:
- Location: Sitio Napan, Barangay Goma, Digos City, Philippines
- Difficulty: Advanced (technical river crossings, boulder climbing, steep ascents)
- Waterfalls: Approximately 13 cascading falls
- Best For: Experienced trekkers seeking both physical challenge and mindful adventure
- Preparation: Essential gear, first aid kit, mental preparedness for unexpected challenges
Reflection
Adventure isn’t always about the summit or the waterfall count. Sometimes, it’s about confronting limits — physical, mental, and emotional. On that trek, I found more than waterfalls. I found humility, gratitude, and the quiet courage to keep moving, one careful step at a time.
Comments
Have you ever pushed through an outdoor adventure despite injury or setbacks? What did it teach you about your own resilience? Share your story in the comments below.
🎧 Listen to the Trail and Frame Podcast Episode: Lessons from Penek Busay
Related Reads on Trail and Frame:
- 🌿 How Outdoor Challenges Teach Mindfulness
- 🧘 Finding Balance: Adventures That Heal the Mind
- 🥾 Why Busy Professionals Need Nature Weekends
Read more mindful adventure stories at Trail and Frame
“Trails, Frames, and the Journey Inward.”
