Mt. Paliparan in Tanay, Rizal: When the Unexpected Gives You More

Sometimes, when you are forced to decide on something unexpected, you get more than what you expected. That was exactly what happened to me and my fellow climbers last February 16, 2018.

Mt. Paliparan was not our first choice. We had arrived at the registration area in Brgy. Cuyambay to climb Mt. Nagpatong, only to learn that the list had already reached its limit — 500 climbers. We had to decide fast. We looked at each other and agreed on one thing: "We will still achieve our objective — to reach the peak." So we settled for Mt. Paliparan.

Standing at 562 meters above sea level, Mt. Paliparan is one of the rocky jewels of Tanay, the Tourism Capital of Rizal. According to local Dumagats, the mountain was named "Paliparan" because its open, windy summit once served as a playground for their youth's kite-flying contests. Only opened to hikers in April 2016, it is a relatively new trail — a mountain that was once scarred and made barren by illegal charcoal making, but is now slowly healing and turning green again. It offers a stunning reward: panoramic views of Laguna de Bay and the distant Pililla windmills, sharp limestone formations, and a trail that leads to the Dumagat village of Sitio Tuoy and the hidden Tungtong Falls.

Our trek started at 9:00 A.M. The footpaths were visible, but the towering cogon grasses that brushed against our legs told us that this place is not often visited. The climb was relentless. We faced steep ascents, sharp rocky cliffs, and a tour guide who knew the way but barely spoke a word.

The anxiety deepened when we met a group of climbers on their way down, boldly telling us, "Don't proceed to the peak, it's too dangerous."

But our determination was stronger than our fear. We were four women, facing a mountain that offered almost no handholds and footholds. Every grip on the razor-sharp limestone felt like a gamble between life and death. Our gloves were torn, our knees were shaking, but with the help of ropes and whispered prayers, we survived the terrifying fear of losing our grip.

At 12:00 noon, we finally reached the summit. As I stood on the 562-meter peak and surveyed the vast, endless expanse of the Sierra Madre below, all the fear melted into a single, overwhelming feeling — achievement.

But the journey was not over. We took a side trip to the Dumagat community in Sitio Tuoy, trudging once more through the grassy slopes. The sun was merciless. We ran out of water and our throats were parched. After what felt like an hour of walking, we finally found relief — fresh coconut water sold by a local for 35 pesos that quenched not just our thirst, but our exhaustion.

Then we decided to go to Tungtong Falls.

Getting there was even more taxing. We did not wade — we trekked through what seemed to be a drying Tungtong River. The towering grasses were suffocating, the rock-strewn riverbed seemed endless, and the trail was rough — as in ROUGH. I felt chills crawling up my spine, wondering if our silent guide had led us astray. My heart only calmed when we saw a lone man at the far end of the river.

Finally, we arrived at the rocky cliffs leading to Tungtong Falls — the kind of cliff that would end your life in a second if you lost your footing. The sound of the water was drowned by the beating of my heart.

At the falls, some climbers who arrived ahead of us were cliff diving. To me, it was not a challenge — it was a looming danger. Yet young women dared to try. My heart stopped when one of them slipped off the cliff and had an accidental plunge. She fell hard, her scream echoing against the rocks. She was saved, of course, but the terror that gripped us all was unforgettable. We just stood there, frozen, staring at the cruel beauty of the rocks and water.

From the falls back to the station was an almost two-hour uphill climb in the darkening afternoon. Again, ropes and our desperate desire to reach the plains kept us moving.

At 5:00 P.M., we finally arrived at the barangay hall in Cuyambay. The trek was over, but my desire to climb more was not.

The introverted guide, the endless grassy slopes, the life-threatening cliffs, the never-ending river, the horrifying incident at the falls, and that final brutal uphill climb — all of it made this climb remarkable.

Yes, we settled for something unexpected, but we received more than what we expected — a new adventure that did not just strengthen us physically, but above all, spiritually.

My Takeaways from the Climb:

1. Never forget your rock-climbing gloves. The mountain can surprise you with limestone scrambling. Mt. Paliparan is not just a walk — it's all rocks. It was the first time I ever needed gloves to climb.

2. Choose your tour guide wisely. Before settling, ask if the guide is sociable and truly knows the trail. Ours just walked ahead, never looking back, never asking if we were okay. Imagine, we were all females following a silent male guide through waist-high cogon. A guide who cares about your condition is not a luxury — he/she is a necessity.

3. Be emotionally and mentally prepared for the unexpected. The mountain will test you not just with steep trails, but with fear, doubt, and sudden incidents. Mental strength is as important as physical strength.

4. Bring the essentials: At least one liter of water, chocolates, and extra cash. Water for hydration, chocolates for instant energy, and money to buy fresh buko juice or food from the Dumagat locals — you will need all of it, especially when you run out.

5. Respect the mountain and its people. Mt. Paliparan is not just a tourist spot. It is the home of the Dumagat community and a recovering ecosystem. Do not leave trash, be respectful to the locals, and remember that you are a guest in their sacred ground.

6. The best views come after the hardest climb. Literally and figuratively. The pain, the fear, and the thirst made the summit and the falls so much more meaningful.