The Dream Climb That Took a Year to Come True
“You’re doing that climb again? I thought you already tried that traverse?”
That’s what most of my friends said when I told them I was heading back to Bukidnon for the Mt. Dulang-Dulang to Mt. Kitanglad Traverse. I had no convincing answer — just this quiet knowing inside me that this time would be different.
Our team had tried to do this traverse the year before, only to be turned back due to trail closures and landslide risks. What was meant to be a triumphant adventure turned into a “not today” message from the mountains. But we didn’t give up. We just waited — prepared, trained, and kept the dream alive.
A year later, on March 14, 2008, 15 climbers from all over Mindanao and Luzon converged in Lantapan, Bukidnon. We were ready. Nervous, yes. But ready.
Rule #1: Let the Land Welcome You
Bukidnon had become like a second home to some of us — a place of forests, fog, and freedom. The climb kicked off with a traditional ritual in Barangay Lantapan, led by the local Datu. We watched as a chicken was offered, a moment both spiritual and grounding.
“This has to be the longest ritual I’ve ever witnessed,” I whispered to JP, while silently hoping the cooked chicken wouldn’t disappear (spoiler: it did — a sneaky dog got to it first).
After a night under the stars and a bamboo bench for a bed, I woke up surprisingly rested. The climb began the next morning, packs strapped, prayers whispered, and hearts pounding.
Rule #2: Go at Your Own Pace — You’re Not in a Race
Let me be honest — I’m not a fast hiker. I joined the sweeper group mostly because I was new to serious climbing. But being at the back gave me space — to reflect, observe, and take in the quiet.
As we ascended Mt. Dulang-Dulang, I marveled at how clean and untouched the trail was. We passed the Alanib River, where I’d had a painful fall the year before. This time, I stayed upright. Progress, right?
But what hit me the most wasn’t the steep climb — it was the stories shared by my teammates: of fairies in the forest, lost umbrellas, eerie encounters… and also, quiet moments of personal growth.
Rule #3: Fear is Real — but so is Courage
Day two was brutal.
The traverse from D2 to K2 is infamous, and for good reason. Think: near-vertical descents, muddy trails, and holding on to tree roots with nothing but gravity against you.
I froze at the top of a 90-degree rockface. My fear of heights kicked in hard. My legs trembled.
“We’re really doing that?” I whispered.
“Just trust the roots,” someone ahead shouted back. “And pray!”
I did both.
There were moments I thought about turning back. But each descent I survived became proof — not just that I was physically capable, but that I was mentally stronger than I thought.
Rule #4: The Mountain Humbles You, Then Builds You Up
The final push to Kitanglad’s summit was the cruelest joke — an almost vertical climb through thick cogon grass, followed by another near-death rope climb on eroded soil. I cursed. I laughed. I prayed.
“Clinic life was so comfy,” I mumbled to myself. “Why did I sign up for this again?”
But then, finally… we made it.
The transmission towers of Kitanglad peeked through the fog like a beacon. I dropped to the ground — drenched, muddy, sore, exhausted — and grinning. I had made it.
And then? The coldest, most glorious shower of my life under a water tank on the summit. Hands down the highest-altitude bath I’ll probably ever take.
Rule #5: Never Climb Alone — in Spirit or in Struggle
That night, the bunkhouse was alive with laughter, stories, and heated debates over Kapamilya vs. Kapuso TV shows (yes, even at 9,500+ ft). It was Lemuel’s birthday, so we had pinakbet and instant noodles, and we sang like we weren’t freezing our butts off.
The next morning, we packed up, took our final photos, and began the descent through Brgy. Intavas. My legs felt like jelly. But my heart? Solid.
I’d climbed two of the tallest peaks in the Philippines. I’d pushed past fear, fatigue, and every “I can’t do this” thought in my head.
Final Thoughts: This Climb Changed Me
I went into this thinking it was just another physical challenge. But what I found on that mountain was something else entirely.
I found stillness in exhaustion.
Courage in fear.
Presence in discomfort.
Mountains do that. They show you who you are — when everything else is stripped away.
So yeah, I survived the D2-K2 traverse.
But more than that — I became someone else on that trail.
Someone slower, steadier, and strangely at peace.
☕ What’s Next on Trail & Frame?
🎙 On the Podcast: Behind the Scenes of the D2-K2 Traverse — What We Learned, What We Regret, and What We’ll Never Forget
📸 On Instagram: Visual highlights from the trail, including the infamous “slippery death drop” and Lemuel’s birthday bash
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