The long day’s journey into night began with a 7 a.m. pickup by our driver, Bong. The first stop was the gas station to fill up with 2500 pesos’ worth of fuel for the trip. Then we met fellow Hasher Beth (BF’s Wet Spot), loaded her camping gear into the car, and were ready to hit the road. I put the destination into my Google Maps app, and we were on our way.

It was an uneventful drive until we reached the end of the expressway. Google told us to go one way and driver Bong wanted to take the route to Baguio he was familiar with. I told him, “up to you,” and we proceeded his way. Normally, the map apps recalibrate to follow the chosen road. Not this time. The Google voice kept telling us to turn around, so I knew something was wrong. I advised Bong that since we weren’t technically going to Baguio City (the venue is actually in Tuba, Benguet), we should go the way Google wants us to. That turned out to be the right call. I spoke with a Hasher who went the other way, and it took him an additional 2.5 hours due to heavy traffic in Baguio.

I’ve always been fond of mountain drives and enjoyed many journeys in the Rockies and Sierras when I lived in the USA. That said, I don’t recall a more narrow, twisty-turny, steep route than the one that took us to our final destination. The excitement was heightened by blind-corner passing, necessitated by idiots who parked and blocked one of the two lanes. It was both a beautiful and a scary ride, but Bong got us there alive.

I opted to stay in a kubo instead of a tent.

That’s kubo #2 (out of three units). Inside, there are FOUR separate rooms, two down and two up.

Oh, there were two toilets behind our kubo, shared by the four guest rooms. The toilets didn’t flush, so you scooped buckets of water into them until the nastiness went away.

Also, the kubos weren’t at the campsite; you had to walk down quite a few steps to get to them. I didn’t count how many, but I was sweating bad when I walked back up to camp.

But the worst part of the kubo experience was the noise. I swear, every time the person sleeping upstairs from us rolled over on the bed, we could hear the bamboo loudly creaking through the floor. And whoever it was did a lot of tossing and turning throughout the night. All in all, a tent with an air mattress would have been preferable.

Oh, and speaking of noise, someone at the campsite was doing karaoke until one in the morning or so. Luckily, we were far enough away that it didn’t bother us much. I mean, it couldn’t drown out the creaking floor from upstairs. Bong, in his nearby tent, said it kept him awake.

Anyway, enough bitching about the minor shit like accommodations, we came for the Hash! We were checked into our room a little after twelve. A Hash lunch was scheduled for 1:30 with the trail due to begin at 2:30. So we had some time to look around.

I was surprised to see that food delivery was available up here (presumably from Baguio), but at the appointed time, a motorcycle rider pulled up with twenty boxes of pizza. Each Hasher was afforded two slices, and I ate mine in due course.

I was really on the fence about the Hash trail. There was no “easy” trail available, and the Hare assured me that shortcutting wasn’t possible either. On the plus side, the trail wasn’t long (around 5K), but on the flip side, it was steep downs and ups the entire length.

And then, when we got to the top, the trail almost immediately headed back down through the jungle. Fuck that! I could see some nice houses and figured there must be a road to reach them, so the search was on. And by golly, we found not only a road, but the actual highway leading back to the On-Home campground. Better yet, it was part of the Hash trail. I consulted Google Maps just to make sure, but we were on the road to success. Which, of course, is always uphill. Also, I’m a master shortcutter!

And I decided to call Bong to come down and pick me up. Yeah, I’m not proud of it, but I was wiped out.

Back in the safe confines of the Hash On-Home, I do what most Hashers do after a grueling trail: I opened a bottle of beer, sat down, and waited for dinner to be served.

La Union Hash Circles are much more mellow than the ones in Subic, and that’s fine with me. We all pulled up our chairs around the bonfire and enjoyed the comraderie.

I stuck around later than usual, hoping the beers would help me sleep through the night. As I mentioned earlier, they didn’t. I slept in bits and pieces, eventually giving up around 6 am. We packed our gear and headed up the stairs to the campsite.

Bong and Beth were up and about shortly after we got to the campsite. The Hash breakfast wasn’t scheduled until 9, so we packed up our gear, said our goodbyes and thank-yous, and headed for home. Google Maps unsurprisingly took us back the same way we came.

Going down the mountain, I thought to myself, those rock retaining walls wouldn’t keep a vehicle from plummeting over the edge into nothingness.

And now I’m back in Barretto safe and sound. Feeling tired, though, for some reason.

So, dear readers, I’ll leave it up to you: Did I rough it, or am I a pussy? At least I lived to tell about it.

I’ll get back to the usual posting BS tomorrow. Thanks for stopping by.