Mt. Kupapey Proved That Burnt Toast Can Lead To Something Beautiful

What if everything that went wrong was actually going right? What if a cancellation was actually a redirection? What if the setback was really just part of the setup? Most of us have goals and trips we’ve mapped out for months or even years. We plan for months, picturing how everything should unfold. And yet, it takes just one storm, one cancelled flight, and one shift in the weather to throw it all off course. That’s what happened to us. We were meant to take the mighty multi-day Kibungan Cross Country hike. That was the dream. But the Universe had other plans. And somehow, we ended up hiking Mt. Kupapey instead.

So, was Mt. Kupapey worth pushing through?

Did Mt. Kupapey and Mt. Fato measure up to what we had lost?

My Mt. Kupapey adventure 

Days before our hike in Mt. Kupapey and Mt Fato

The bad news came while we were still in Cebu.

A low-pressure area was about to enter the Philippine Area of Responsibility, and forecasts weren’t looking good.

At first, we shrugged it off. 

After all, the weather and forecast change so often.

But as the hours passed, updates got worse. 

The organizer officially sent us a message.

Kibungan Cross Country is cancelled due to weather conditions.

All that careful planning?

Burnt to a crisp, Like toast left too long in the oven while you’re busy chasing a perfect morning.

No trail. 

No crying mountains. 

And no grand Luzon traverse.

Just smoke, a stubborn storm, and flight tickets we couldn’t even refund.

We had every reason to back out. 

And honestly, I almost did.

It felt like burnt toast, ruined and useless. 

But not all burnt toast needs to be thrown away.

As I’ve said before, some setbacks just need a second look

And we’d probably figure something out in Manila.

Perhaps we’d discover something unexpected along the way.

The truth is, we could’ve just stayed home. 

Our flights weren’t that expensive.

And with no backup plan for the next five days, we were likely to spend more than we intended.

Then a thought hit me: Money comes and goes. Time doesn’t.

And so we flew to NAIA, hoping Lady Luck would be on our side.

Monday at 12:01 AM: Hours after our Mt. Kupapey hike

Everything that could go wrong did go wrong.

First, the KXC climb was cancelled.

Then, it rained for two straight days while we tried to explore the streets of NCR.

And just when we thought we were finally heading home, we got hit with more bad news: flight was cancelled due to technical issues.

Shit!

Seriously?

I know I’m a bit of a disaster magnet, but this was something else.

This whole Luzon trip was chaos wrapped in bad timing and dipped in cold rain.

Running on low sleep and high expectations, I lost my cool.

And who wouldn’t?

But slowly, I started to calm down, and recalled the Stoicism lessons I learned in the mountains.

“Focus on what you can control, and let go of the rest.”

That’s Stoicism 101.

I couldn’t control the weather, and I damn sure couldn’t fix an aircraft.

But there was one thing I could control.

I could calmly negotiate with the airline to make the long wait bearable.

Saturday at 01:10 AM: On the way to Maligcong

I’m no stranger to long, bumpy rides.

But this one was literally a pain in the ass.

Seated at the backside of the van, we could feel every twist and bump on our way to Bontoc, Mountain Province.

The trip felt like overdone toast, crunchy on the outside and bitter underneath.

Originally, we planned to use this time to sleep and relax after a day of sightseeing in Manila.

But guess what?

That plan, like most of our plans on this journey in Luzon, didn’t go through. 

And did I mention that it rained cats and dogs in some provinces along the way?

At one point, I genuinely wondered why I hadn’t just stayed home and binge-watched Netflix all weekend.

At least then, I wouldn’t be chewing through a weekend that felt overcooked and bitter. Another slice of burnt toast, I thought, dry, charred, and impossible to swallow. 

But often, burnt toast just means the flavor’s hidden deeper. 

You just need to chew slower.

And there was also a louder voice inside my head telling me I needed this.

That discomfort was part of the deal.

That this trip wasn’t about having fun, but was about remembering things I had forgotten.

Things like resilience.

Gratitude.

And the quiet patience that only non-stop rain and broken plans can teach.

And that voice told me one more thing:

The Universe doesn’t always give you what you want.

But it always gives you what you need.

Saturday at 09:50 AM: Arrival at our Maligcong Homestay

After 12 hours of twists and turns, we finally arrived at our homestay in Maligcong.

We went straight to our assigned rooms and crashed into our beds.

At that point, I wasn’t even sure what to do next or what to expect from this weekend adventure.

A day earlier, after exhausting all our options, we agreed to hike Mt. Kupapey and Mt. Fato.

I briefly went over the Mt. Kupapey itinerary the organizer sent, but honestly?

I still had no real idea how scenic or how challenging the trails would be.

Were they as picturesque as Mount Kabunian, Mount Amuyao, or Mount Pulag?

Even so, I was comfortable with the decision.

I’ve always believed that any mountain, no matter how tall, deserves your full respect.

Easy or not, mountains are never just a checklist.

They’re giants. 

They’re gods. 

They speak the language of clouds, wind, and shifting earth.

And they don’t owe you anything.

So instead of overthinking it, I chose to rest.

No expectations. 

No big questions.

Just a chance to breathe, and catch up on a little sleep before the next climb.

Saturday at 02:00 PM: The hike to Mt Fato

The rain wasn’t about to stop anytime soon. 

It looked like a weekend of mud, mist, and downpours. 

But I showed up anyway.

Even when things didn’t go as planned.

Even when my body was tired and my mind was louder than the rain.

I still laced up, still moved forward.

Because that’s been one of the biggest lessons life has taught me.

“You don’t wait for perfect conditions. You move with what you’ve got.”

There are days when you feel strong. 

There are days when everything clicks.

And then there are days like this, when you’re soaked, exhausted, unsure, and just trying to make it to the next stop.

And that’s okay.

Not every step needs to feel inspired. 

Not every day needs to be profound and memorable.

Some days are just about doing the thing you said you’d do, even when no one’s watching.

I’ve learned that discipline is showing up even when motivation is gone.

That peace doesn’t come from controlling the situation, but from accepting that you can’t.

And the most honest version of growth looks like soaked shoes, heavy breath, zero clarity, and still walking.

You don’t have to feel ready. You just have to keep going.

And when life gets messy and when the plans fall through, the rain won’t stop, and nothing seems to go your way, and the best thing you can do is show up anyway.

This wasn’t about summits or selfies. 

It was about the promise I made to myself.

Saturday at 03:01 PM: Summit of Mount Fato

There wasn’t a single soul around when we arrived at the summit of Mount Fato.

No sweeping view. No golden hour magic.

Just a thick blanket of fog was swallowing the mountains of Bontoc, hiding everything in silence.

The view?

Nowhere to be found.

And yet, there was something oddly comforting about it.

It made me feel how the world could be so still and quiet, even after everything that had gone wrong.

Soon, the rest of the group caught up.

Despite the mist, they were in awe of Mt. Fato’s beauty.

Maybe it wasn’t about what we could see, but what we could still feel.

Still, it wasn’t exactly a good sign for tomorrow’s hike.

Everyone said Mt. Kupapey was the highlight of this trip.

The crown jewel of this weekend trip.

Its sunrise views of the Maligcong Rice Terraces were supposed to be unforgettable.

And if this rain kept going and if the mist never lifted, there was a good chance we’d miss it.

Part of me felt disappointed.

But a bigger part of me knew it was beyond my control.

And then, just as we were about to head down, the fog shifted.

The clouds peeled back like curtains on a secret stage.

And for a moment, just long enough to breathe it in, the trademark ridges of the Cordilleras appeared.

It wasn’t much.

But it was enough.

We had a sliver of hope.

A crack in the clouds.

Hopefully, we’d get lucky on Mt. Kupapey.

Or perhaps we wouldn’t.

But either way, we had to be there to find out.

Because that’s the thing about hope.

It doesn’t guarantee anything. It just invites you to try.

Sunday at 02:30 AM: Waking up in the Cordilleras

I’ve been an early bird lately.

Even though I work flexible hours, I like to wake up around 5:30 AM to jump-start my day.

But let’s be real, no one wants to wake up at 2:30 AM in the Cordilleras.

Especially not when the mountain air is this crisp, this pure and way better than any air-conditioning unit money can buy.

But there we were, rubbing our eyes, layering up, half-awake and whispering to avoid waking the other guests.

The world outside was pitch black.

No sunrise yet. No signs of warmth.

Just the sound of footsteps, zippers closing, backpacks slung quietly over tired shoulders.

It’s funny how often we think clarity only comes when the sun’s up.

But the most important decisions are made in the dark.

Choosing to rise when you don’t feel like it is the clearest act of courage there is.

Because 2:30 AM doesn’t just test your body.

It tests your why.

Why are you doing this?

Why leave a warm bed for a mountain that might be wrapped in clouds again?

Why keep hoping, even after so many plans have fallen through?

And the answer, I realized, wasn’t dramatic or deep.

It was just this: because I said I would.

Because I’d made a promise to myself to show up, rain or shine.

To not give up on wonder just because it was inconvenient.

Sunday at 04:06 AM: The hike to Mt. Kupapey

Concrete stairs are a hiker’s nightmare.

Especially when they come before dawn and when your legs are stiff, your lungs are half asleep, and your brain is still begging for five more minutes.

Each step felt mechanical, with no rhythm or flow. 

Just the same motion, over and over, slamming straight into my knees.

Unlike dirt trails that let you find your pace and stride, concrete stairs don’t care how tired you are. 

They offer no grace or softness. 

Just impact.

And that’s the thing about concrete stairs.

They don’t just wear down your legs. 

They test your mindset.

Because with every unforgiving step, a question sneaks in: Why am I doing this again?

But I’ve learned something about those brutal stretches of trail.

The parts that hurt the most often lead to the views you’ll never forget.

And the hardest climbs aren’t metaphors. 

They’re just stairs. 

Cold, wet, unrelenting stairs.

But still, you climb.

Not because it feels good. 

Not because it makes sense at the moment.

Because part of you knows that the breakthrough doesn’t come before the burn.

The breakthrough comes after.

Eventually, the stairs gave way to dirt and mud.

And even though the trail was still tough, I could breathe again.

The mountain wasn’t easier, but I was no longer fighting the rhythm.

And that small shift made all the difference.

Sunday at 04:57 AM: Summit of Mt. Kupapey

It was still dark when we reached the summit of Mt. Kupapey.

No crowds. 

No noise. 

Just us, the stubborn hikers from Cebu who refused to go home.

We found our spot on the viewing platform and waited, quietly hoping the mountains would reveal their magic at sunrise.

And even in the stillness, before the light fully arrived, the Maligcong Rice Terraces slowly started to reveal themselves.

Then the sun broke through, soft, golden, slow.

And just like that, the chaos, the cancellations, the concrete stairs, the cold, and the mud all faded.

There it was.

Postcard-perfect.

A view so humbling, it made every wrong turn feel like it led us here on purpose.

We stood there in silence, not just to admire the view, but to honor the road that brought us here.

As it turns out, the cancellations and reroutes weren’t detours. 

They were the trail.

And the Universe didn’t mess up our plans.

Perhaps this was the plan all along.

And I guess it was the Universe’s way of reminding us that certainty is overrated, and control is often an illusion.

The storm doesn’t ruin the journey.

It reveals the parts of you that need to wake up.

Growth doesn’t always happen in the sunshine.

It takes mist, failure, rain, and redirection.

I guess our Mt. Kupapey hike wasn’t just about summits.

It was about trust.

Trusting the process. 

Trusting the reroute.

Trusting that even when the plan falls apart, something meaningful still waits at the top.

This wasn’t the weekend we expected.

But it turned out to be the one we needed.

Enjoying the views from the summit

There was something sacred about standing there in the cold, watching the sky melt from indigo to gold, while the rice terraces slowly came alive below.

No one cheered.

We just stood still, snapped pictures, and admired the views.

And in that stillness, I realized something I should have figured out earlier while I was in Manila.

This trip was never about the perfect trail or the grand summit.

It was about remembering that life won’t always meet your expectations, but it will meet your effort.

The detours, delays, and setbacks didn’t ruin the experience.

They were the experience.

Mountains don’t owe us views.

But they always leave us with something, if we’re willing to show up, listen, and learn.

And that’s the point.

Not everything has to go right for it to turn out beautiful in the end.

Going down from Mt. Kupapey

On our way down to our homestay from Mt. Kupapey, we got a closer look at the verdant Maligcong Rice Terraces.

While the Banaue Rice Terraces are way bigger, I’d say this one is more stunning, especially since there are very few man-made structures surrounding it.

Some say July is the best month to hike Mt. Kupapey.

And after what we saw up there, I’d say they were absolutely right.

Because in July, the Maligcong Rice Terraces are at their most alive.

Every slope and curve in the mountain glows with green so rich, it doesn’t even look real.

It’s not the dry, golden kind of pretty.

It’s the lush and impossibly vibrant kind that makes you pause mid-step just to soak it all in.

That’s the thing about July.

It’s right in the heart of the planting season.

The paddies are full, the crops are thriving, and the terraces reflect the early morning light like mirrors tucked into the earth.

It’s the kind of beauty that doesn’t ask for attention, but takes your breath anyway.

And if you’re lucky, like we were, you’ll catch that sweet spot between downpours.

A window of light.

A clearing in the mist.

Just enough sun to let the terraces sparkle, and enough rain to remind you that all this life and all this beauty came from the storms too.

Monday at 06:30 AM: Breakfast at Kingsford Hotel Manila

I’ve dealt with cancelled flights before.

The last time it happened was in Bacolod.

So when our return flight got delayed again, I didn’t panic. 

I didn’t complain.

I just asked for help, and somehow, we ended up at Kingsford Hotel, with warm beds and a breakfast buffet waiting for us in the morning.

As I scanned the trays for something familiar, I looked for French toast.

There wasn’t any.

And I laughed, quietly, because of course there wasn’t.

But here’s the thing: I wasn’t really craving French toast.

I was craving something to go as planned.

This trip was a buffet of burnt toasts, from flights rerouted and hikes scrapped to surprises we never saw coming.

But that’s the whole point of the burnt toast theory.

That often, what feels like a setback is actually a small, quiet rescue.

The toast burns, so you leave the house five minutes later.

The flight gets delayed, so you end up at a hotel you never planned for, eating breakfast you didn’t expect, and feeling oddly at peace with everything.

It gave me mountains I didn’t ask for, but needed. 

It gave me clarity in a foggy summit. 

And somewhere between the flight delays and cold rain, it gave me a version of peace I hadn’t felt in a while.

And funny enough, it gave us a free domestic flight too.

So missing French toast wasn’t a loss.

I guess it was just another reminder that the best parts of life often come after the toast burns.

Sometimes, we think life messed up the recipe. 

But it’s just toasting things a little longer to bring out the flavor.

You just have to trust that the best bites come after the burn.

Where is Mt. Kupapey located?

Mt. Kupapey is located in Maligcong, a barangay in the town of Bontoc, Mountain Province, Philippines. It’s part of the Cordillera region in Northern Luzon and is known for its scenic views of the Maligcong Rice Terraces.

When is the best time to visit Mt. Kupapey?

The best time to visit Mt. Kupapey is during the green or harvest season, typically May through July. That’s when the Maligcong Rice Terraces are lush and vibrant, especially June and July when the terraces shift from rich green to golden before harvest. 

Is Mt. Kupapey beginner-friendly?

Yes! Mt. Kupapey is one of the most beginner-friendly hikes in the Cordilleras. The trail is mostly gradual, shaded by pine trees, and takes around 1 to 90 minutes to reach the summit. It’s rated about 3 out of 9 in difficulty, which is great for first-time hikers or anyone looking for a manageable but rewarding climb. Just bring comfy shoes, start early for sunrise views, and you’re good to go.

How to get to Mt. Kupapey?

The easiest and most convenient way to get to Mt. Kupapey is to join an organized tour or hike. It’s easy, hassle-free, and affordable too. I recommend Wanna Byahe if you’re looking for an operator that offers hikes and tours in Bontoc.

Sample Mt. fato and Kupapey itinerary

Day 0

• 08:30 PM: Assembly at Alfamart Five E-Com Center, Mall of Asia
• 09:30 PM: Greenfield Shaw Pickup 
• 10:00 PM: Jollibee Rock Plaza Mindanao Ave ETD to  Banaue 

Day 1

• 06:00 AM: ETA Banaue Rice Terraces. Breakfast. Photo ops
• 07:00 AM: ETD to Maligcong 
• 11:00 AM: ETA Maligcong (homestay)/rest 
• 01:00 PM: LUNCH (Hosted meal)
• 03:00 PM: Start hike to Mt. Fato 
• 04:30 PM: ETA Mt. Fato summit /photo ops 
• 05:00 PM: Start descent to homestay
• 06:00 PM: ETA homestay / banlaw 
• 07:00 PM: Dinner (hosted meal)
• 08:00 PM: free time 
• 10:00 PM: Lights off 

Day 2

• 03:00 AM: Wakeup Call. Breakfast
• 04:00 AM: Start Trek to Mt.Kupapey
• 05:00 AM : ETA Mt.Kupapey. Photo ops. Enjoy the View
• 08:00 AM: Start Descent via  Maligcong Rice field 
• 09:00 AM: Back at Homestay/Breakfast
• 10:00 AM: Banlaw/pack out
• 11:00 AM: ETD to Manila 
• 01:00 PM: Lunch at Mt. Polis / buy gulay
• 03:00 PM: ETA Banaue Arc/ buy pasalubong 
• 03:30 PM ETD Manila (Dinner along the Way)
• 11:00 PM ETA Manila back to reality