Mt Tapulao Traverse: An Unexpected 3-Day Journey to Heaven

Most people believe in life after death. I, on the other hand, believe in life after birth. If heaven exists, it’s right here on earth. It isn’t hidden in some faraway galaxy, confined to our imagination, or waiting beyond the grave. And on my grueling Mt Tapulao traverse, I found it in the most unlikely places.

At first, the journey felt nothing like heaven. With its raging rivers, scorching sun, slippery hills, and seemingly endless forests, our Mt Tapulao traverse felt closer to hell, with a long detour through purgatory. 

My legs ached, my shoulders burned, and sweat soaked through my clothes. More than once, I wondered why I had voluntarily signed up for this kind of pain and suffering.

But somewhere between the open blue sky and the mountain’s damp, moss-covered trails, I realized that I had entered my own version of nirvana without even noticing.

So how did this behemoth in Zambales teach me to recognize heaven? And what did Mt Tapulao show me about finding peace on a planet addicted to chaos?

My three-day Mt Tapulao traverse 

Day 1 at 09:07 AM 

“You suffer more in imagination than in reality.”

That sounds true until you start climbing a steep slope beneath a blistering sun and a perfectly clear blue sky.

After a surprisingly good start, I felt my right quadriceps burning and tightening. Small knots seemed to move beneath the skin.

With the sun beating down on us and the trail climbing relentlessly toward Mount Kinaulaman, this section of our Mt. Tapulao traverse felt like a journey through the nine circles of hell.

Even so, I kept moving, taking small and deliberate steps. I usually use this technique when I’m exhausted and need to recover. It works most of the time, but on this particular morning, it backfired.

As I continued climbing, my entire right leg tightened.

Shit! Fuck! I was having cramps.

The pain was vicious, and my right leg became practically useless. For a moment, I couldn’t move it at all.

Still, I tried to push forward using my left leg. I desperately wanted to escape the heat and reach the canopies of the forest.

Even though my hikes in Cebu had trained me for hot conditions, heat had become my kryptonite. In the past two years, I had mostly climbed through the colder terrain of the Cordilleras, including Mount Purgatory, Mount Kabunian, and KXC.

I thought making quick work of this exposed section would help me conserve energy and make the rest of the traverse smoother.

I was spectacularly wrong.

Moments later, both legs cramped. For the love of God, I couldn’t stand on my own two feet.

The climb was turning into a nightmare. I had expected the journey to become easier after the wet and wild river section of our 48-kilometer Mt Tapulao traverse.

But it was only nine in the morning on Day 1. Most of the mountain, and nearly the entire journey, still waited ahead of me.

I thought I had already survived the hardest part of the route from Tarlac to Zambales. Once again, I was wrong. By rushing through the heat and ignoring the warning signs from my legs, I had made a mistake that could cost me the entire traverse.

Day 1 at 05:00 AM: Nine River Crossings in Tarlac

Crossing a river is no joke. The current pushes against your legs while the riverbed works against your balance. Every step can land on loose stones, hidden holes, or rocks slick enough to send you tumbling downstream.

Now imagine crossing rivers nine times, with the water sometimes reaching your waist and the current pushing against every step.

That was how our Mt Tapulao traverse began.

The depth and force of the first river caught us by surprise. We knew the route involved several river crossings, but we hadn’t expected them to be so challenging.

I already had plenty of experience crossing rivers. Just a couple of months earlier, I had crossed raging rivers during my Mt. Tuwato hike. But this was a different beast, and the first crossing made that perfectly clear.

The second river was almost as difficult, though its current wasn’t quite as powerful. Between the crossings, we had to climb over massive rocks and deal with wet, slippery trails, wearing sandals and slippers.

To my surprise, the next few crossings felt easier. Perhaps we had found our rhythm and learned how to read the current. Maybe we had become better at choosing our footholds and moving together.

Or perhaps we had just been lucky.

The seventh crossing confirmed it. The river was stronger, deeper, and far less forgiving than the previous ones.

Call me crazy, but I really enjoyed every minute of it. I don’t enjoy the possibility of dying, obviously. I like hobbies where panicking could get me killed. I enjoy situations that leave no room for distraction. 

When one careless step could send you downstream, you stop thinking about yesterday’s mistakes and tomorrow’s problems. Your entire world shrinks to the current, the rocks beneath your feet, and the next safe step.

I liked what the crossings did to my head. 

Here’s the thing. 

People spend too much time replaying what has already happened or worrying about what might happen next. You can’t do either in the middle of a raging river. You watch the current, find a stable rock, and take the next step. If your mind wanders, you fall.

We eventually completed the ninth crossing and rested on a grassy plain. As I sat there catching my breath, I believed that the most technical and challenging parts of our Mt Tapulao traverse were behind us.

The mighty mountains of Tarlac and Zambales, of course, had other plans.

Day 1 at 10:43 AM: Mount Kinaulaman

I always tell people to hike at their own pace. Whenever they get tired, I tell them to take baby steps, moving slowly and deliberately until their strength returns.

Ironically, I ignored my own advice on Mount Kinaulaman. I wanted to escape the scorching heat and reach the forest as quickly as possible, so I pushed harder than I should have.

To make matters worse, I was running low on water. I had misunderstood the guides and thought the next water source was closer than it actually was.

When my right leg began tightening, I finally switched to baby steps. By then, however, the damage had already been done.

It was the first time I had suffered cramps on a trail that year. The previous incident happened during our Bauko Seven Peaks hike the year before.

The likely causes were the same: dehydration and a serious lack of sleep.

Most of us hadn’t slept properly the night before because we had travelled by van from Manila and then boarded a monster jeep in Mayantoc, Tarlac. My situation was worse. I had barely slept during the previous forty-eight hours.

I had flown from Cebu and arrived in Manila after midnight. I managed to get a little sleep, but I had to wake up early and complete my work shift before meeting the group.

None of that mattered anymore. I had to focus on recovering.

I rested, drank what little water I had left, and waited. 

While recovering and breathing the fresh mountain breeze, a thought suddenly came to mind.

I realized that I also had to slow down in life. 

While I had set boundaries and lived like a recluse, I was still busy chasing something.

I was constantly busy with my books, and I kept writing even though I had released three this year. 

Plus, I hike and travel every month, mostly in the northern parts of the Philippines. I also do some exploration hikes in my hometown.

In some way, all this has taken a toll on me physically and mentally. 

I guess this was a sign to take it slow and enjoy the simple moments, like breathing fresh air and meeting new friends. And maybe it was a sign that I had to spend more time with my unica hija, Adrielle. 

Sometimes, the Universe sends you letters and messages, and if you’re not careful, you’ll miss them. 

This was one of them. 

Slowly, the strength returned to my legs. When I could finally stand again, I continued toward the forest.

The moment I entered its shade, the air changed. After hours beneath the punishing sun, the cool forest felt like another world.

At that moment, heaven was simply strong legs, cool air, and shade from the sun.

Day 1 at 11:01 AM: Shinrin-yoku

There’s a certain kind of magic that takes over when you enter a forest.

Deep beneath the trees, the heat and frustration I had carried from Mount Kinaulaman began to disappear. My breathing settled, and every step seemed to return a little strength to my legs.

In Japan, they have a practice called shinrin-yoku, which translates to “forest bathing.” There’s no bathtub involved, thankfully. It means slowing down and experiencing the forest through your senses.

You listen to the leaves, breathe in the earthy air, and allow your eyes to rest on something other than a glowing screen. Research suggests that spending time in a forest may encourage relaxation and reduce stress in the short term, though it is not a miracle treatment. 

I’m neither Japanese nor an expert on forest therapy. But as I walked deeper into the forest, I understood why the practice existed.

The mountain had exhausted my body and the forest was slowly putting my mind back together.

While I had already fully recovered, some hikers were still struggling in this section of the Mt Tapulao traverse.

Eventually, I caught up with those ahead of me earlier, and I found out a lot of the group’s hikers also had cramps.

Then I took a breather on the water source, stretched, and made sure I still have plenty of energy left for the whole three-day hike in Tarlac and Zambales. 

Day 1 at 01:45 PM: The never-ending forest of our Mt Tapulao traverse

The forest seemed to stretch forever.

We had already been walking beneath the trees for hours, and there was still no sign of the landscape changing. Wherever I looked, I saw the same trees and the same damp trail continuing deeper into the mountain.

One of the hikers said he was tired of seeing the forest and wanted the section to end.

I couldn’t blame him.

That morning, entering the forest had felt like a blessing. It protected us from the sun and gave my legs a chance to recover. A few hours later, the magic had faded. I was ready to see something else.

As we continued walking, I started thinking about how bad we had become at waiting. Whenever we get bored at home, we reach for our phones. We order food, watch a video, or scroll until something catches our attention.

We couldn’t do any of that in the forest. There was no button that could move us forward or show us a more exciting part of the trail. We had to walk through every meter of it.

Most hiking posts show the summit and the beautiful views. Nobody gets excited about five hours of looking at trees. But that boring part is also part of climbing a mountain.

The forest taught us patience in the most annoying way possible. It kept going, so we had to keep going too.

Day 1 at 04:31 PM: Crossing into Zambales

After hours inside the mossy and bamboo forests, we finally emerged onto the grasslands.

The sun was already sinking, so we didn’t have much time to admire the change in scenery. We hurried across the rolling hills, hoping to reach the campsite before dark and bring the exhausting first day of our Mt Tapulao traverse to an end.

Below us, I could see the raging Zambales River, which marked the border between Tarlac and Zambales.

Beyond the river was the wild landscape of Zambales. Somewhere within it stood the giant we had come to face: Mt Tapulao.

We crossed the river, pitched our tents, ate dinner, and rested. Not long after that, the campsite went quiet.

The following day would probably be tougher. Day one had already wrecked me and nearly made me tap out, but it had also humbled me. I no longer saw Mt Tapulao as another mountain I could simply power through.

That night, I went to sleep knowing that the giant would make me earn every step.

Day 2 at 07:07 AM

I made a crucial mistake on the first day of our Mt Tapulao traverse. I didn’t admit it immediately, but lying inside my tent that night made me realize how badly I had underestimated the mountain.

I had climbed many mountains, including the five tallest peaks in the Philippines. Maybe that experience made me overconfident. I thought Mt Tapulao would be just another mountain I could power through.

Usually, the first day of a three-day major climb is easier and less strenuous. Mt Tapulao was different. It punished me before I could even adjust to the trail.

At least I now knew what I had to change.

When we resumed hiking on day two, I started slowly. I stopped whenever I needed to breathe and took time to look at the scenery. On the first day, I had been too focused on reaching the forest and campsite to enjoy anything around me.

Why was I rushing? Mt Tapulao wasn’t going anywhere.

Perhaps I didn’t want to be left behind. Nobody wants other hikers to think they’re weak or incapable. That fear can turn a hike into a race even when nobody is actually competing.

But if I reached the campsite a little later, so what? I would still see the same mountains and sleep beneath the same sky. Nobody was waiting at the finish line with a medal.

It was my hike, so I decided to walk at my own pace. Some people moved ahead, and that was fine.

If heaven was somewhere along that trail, rushing past it would have been stupid.

Besides, being left behind didn’t mean being abandoned. At the end of the traverse, the van wouldn’t leave until every hiker was accounted for. Everyone had to arrive.

As morbid as it sounds, that reminded me of death.

We move through life at different speeds. Some people collect more money, titles, achievements, and followers along the way. But eventually, we all arrive at the same ending. Our bodies return to earth or become ash, and most of what we spent our lives chasing gets left behind.

That thought didn’t make me sad. It just made all the rushing seem silly.

Day 2 at 07:37 AM

The views along this section of the Mt Tapulao traverse were almost too beautiful to be real. The rolling hills of Tarlac and Zambales looked like the landscapes I used to see on postcards and paintings.

The weather was also much better. The sun was up, but it wasn’t as brutally hot as it had been on day one.

I slowed down and admired the hills. This time, I wasn’t trying to catch anyone or finish the section quickly.

There was no sea of clouds, pearly white gate, or Saint Peter, but the place still felt like heaven to me.

Some people spend their lives preparing for the afterlife because they believe heaven is a place of eternal beauty. But as I walked through those hills, I wondered why we rarely talked about the beauty already around us.

The world is chaotic, but it isn’t entirely ugly. Places like Mt Tapulao, Zambales still exist.

Of course, we have to protect them. If we allow greed and careless development to take over, we may eventually lose the places that make this world feel like paradise.

When we reached the famous rock section, we stopped and took plenty of photographs.

I had no intention of rushing through that part of the trail.

I forgot about the news, politics, work, and my messy and perfectly flawed life waiting beyond the mountain. I stood there and enjoyed the view.

Day 2 at 10:04 AM: Another long forest in Mt Tapulao 

Before we entered the forest, I already knew how I wanted to approach this section of the traverse.

Our guides had warned us that it would be another long and repetitive walk, possibly as long as the forest section on Day 1.

This time, I wanted to take everything in. I paid attention to the sounds and smells around me and allowed the forest to clear the remaining negativity from my mind.

I also wanted to walk alone.

Whenever possible, I let the others move ahead. I didn’t want anyone walking close behind me because that would tempt me to talk with people.

Long, solitary walks usually help me think. Once the noise in my head settles, ideas begin arriving without much effort.

Soon, my mind felt like a blank canvas, and the forest began filling it.

I thought about unfinished books, possible chapters, and random lines I might use someday. At home, I sometimes spend hours staring at my laptop and forcing myself to produce something. Inside the forest, ideas arrived while I was simply watching my steps.

Maybe walking gave my restless mind something to do. My body focused on the trail, leaving my imagination free to wander.

I didn’t try to remember every idea. I allowed some of them to pass and disappear into the forest. Not every thought needed to become a book, a blog post, or something productive.

That was difficult for someone like me. I had spent years turning almost every experience into material. On this part of the Mt Tapulao traverse, I let my mind wander without giving it another job.

Along the way, I passed some hikers who were resting beside the trail. They were the same people I had allowed to move ahead because I wanted to walk alone.

I’ve always viewed long, major hikes as marathons rather than sprints. Moving quickly means little if you have to stop every few minutes to recover.

So I maintained the same slow and steady pace through this section of the Mt Tapulao traverse. The forest was long, but I didn’t feel exhausted.

My strategy for day two was working.

Day 2 at 02:25 PM

After hours inside the forest, I finally saw the silhouette of the behemoth through the trees.

“That must be Mt Tapulao,” I told myself.

At first, the summit appeared close. But after climbing several giants, I knew how deceptive distance could be in the mountains. We probably still had another hour or two of hiking ahead of us.

We continued through rough terrain that appeared to receive very little foot traffic. Our guides had to clear parts of the trail with their machetes.

Prickly plants crowded the path and scratched my arms and legs. By the time we began the final ascent to Mt Tapulao, I was already a bloody mess.

The trail became wilder as we moved closer to the mountain. We climbed over fallen trees, squeezed through tight spaces, and pushed through vegetation growing across the path.

It was easy to see why only a few hikers attempted the three-day Mt Tapulao traverse.

Everyone looked exhausted by this point. I wouldn’t have been surprised if some of them were also wondering why they had signed up for the hike.

I ask myself the same question during almost every major climb.

Instead of physically punishing myself, I could have stayed home and watched Netflix all day. I could have spent the weekend reading and finally made my TBR list a little shorter.

But I knew the answer.

I’m a crazy son of a gun who enjoys finding out what happens when I attempt something beyond my current XP level. Comfort is wonderful, and I enjoy it as much as anyone. But staying comfortable all the time has never helped me discover what I’m capable of.

Maybe people occasionally need giants and monsters that appear stronger than they are. We don’t always have to defeat them. Sometimes, showing up and refusing to run away is enough.

That was partly why I hadn’t studied every detail of the Mt Tapulao traverse. I researched enough to prepare safely, but I left some parts unknown. I wanted the mountain to surprise me.

Every difficult experience had changed me in some way. Hundreds of older versions of me had disappeared so this one could exist.

And this version kept walking toward the giant. I was ready to conquer the giant, and I was inching closer to it. 

Day 2 at 3:40 PM: Reaching the top of Mt Tapulao

I could hear voices and excited screams from somewhere ahead.

A group of young hikers had reached the summit and were celebrating. When we finally arrived, they still looked fresh as daisies.

We, on the other hand, looked like contestants from Survivor after a particularly brutal challenge.

I explained that we had taken the longer Mt Tapulao traverse from Tarlac, while they had climbed the shorter, though still challenging, trail from Zambales.

We rested and waited for them to finish taking their summit pictures. Once they left, it was our turn to pose beside the Mt Tapulao marker.

Unfortunately, there was no clear view from the summit. Fog covered almost everything, giving every photograph a plain white background. Our summit pictures looked like passport photos taken after two days without proper sleep.

It was pure bond paper, as Filipino hikers like to say when the mountain gives them nothing but white.

I wasn’t disappointed. I’ve said it countless times before: the view isn’t the whole point of hiking. It’s only the icing on the cake.

After everything we had crossed and climbed to reach Mt Tapulao, standing beside that marker was already enough.

Reaching a summit feels a lot like coming through a difficult period in life. While you’re inside it, you rarely know how close you are to the end. You only know that you’re tired, hurting, and still trying to move forward.

Mt Tapulao had given me cramps, scratches, dehydration, and hours of walking through forests that seemed to have no end. On a couple of occasions, I wondered whether I had enough strength to finish the traverse.

But I kept walking.

Eventually, the suffering became something behind me. I had gone through hell beneath the scorching sun and spent hours wandering through what felt like purgatory. Now I was standing at the summit.

The summit looked nothing like the heaven I had imagined. Even so, standing there after everything I had endured felt heavenly.

Even so, I felt as though I were in heaven.

The feeling didn’t come from what I could see. It came from knowing what I had survived to stand there. I had struggled, nearly given up, and continued anyway.

Sometimes, overcoming adversity doesn’t give you a beautiful reward. The struggle ends, you catch your breath, and the world looks almost the same.

But you’re  no longer the same person who entered it. And sometimes, that feeling alone is enough to make an ordinary place feel like heaven.

Day 2 at 04:10 PM

From the summit, we began our descent toward the campsite.

Once again, I was in no mood to rush through the next part of our Mt Tapulao traverse. Even though I was tired and slightly bloodied, I had no urge to speed up.

Whenever someone approached quickly behind me, I stepped aside and let them pass.

I continued walking at my own pace and enjoyed the scenery. As we approached the campsite, the sun began to set. The trees and cold mountain air reminded me of my hikes in the Cordilleras.

The wind was strong and chilly, a sharp contrast to the punishing heat of day one.

When we reached the campsite, we pitched our tents and took a nap. The organizers later woke us for dinner, which turned out to be an absolute feast. It helped everyone refuel and recover after two brutal days of hiking.

The persistent wind forced us to end our socials early and call it a night. At times, the gusts felt strong enough to carry our tents away.

Even so, everyone slept peacefully. I could hear someone nearby snoring as loudly as a dump truck, completely unbothered by the wind.

Day 3 at 07:25 AM: The tail end of our Mt Tapulao traverse

The third day of our Mt Tapulao traverse began with another generous breakfast. The organizers had prepared a smorgasbord of mouth-watering food to give us energy for the final stretch.

After eating, we packed our things and began the long descent toward Dampay-Salaza.

In hindsight, this was the easiest part of the traverse. It still had a few tricky sections, though. The trail was slippery and covered with moss, and I fell a couple of times before we reached an area filled with massive boulders.

I wanted to be alone with my thoughts again, so I stepped aside whenever someone behind me wanted to move faster.

We continued descending for several hours. My legs grew heavier, but nothing felt as punishing as the first two days.

Eventually, we arrived at the store near the end of the trail. The organizers welcomed us with good food, and we celebrated completing the three-day Mt Tapulao traverse.

Some people celebrated with alcohol. I didn’t. I follow a straight-edge lifestyle and haven’t had a drink in years. The food and company were enough for me.

After the celebration, we loaded our bags into the van and began the long journey back to Manila. In the early hours before dawn, I boarded a plane bound for Cebu.

Only then did the traverse feel truly finished.

On the way home, I kept thinking about heaven.

People had spent centuries looking for it. We imagined heaven somewhere beyond the clouds, hidden among the stars, or waiting for us after death.

Maybe we had been looking too far away.

Heaven was already here on earth. Mt Tapulao had shown me that it didn’t require clear skies or a perfect summit view. The summit had given us nothing but fog, yet I had experienced heaven several times throughout the traverse.

I felt it when I entered the cool forest after suffering beneath the sun. I felt it while walking alone without worrying about my pace. It was also there at the campsite and at the store, where I shared food with people who were just as exhausted as I was.

Heaven wasn’t one particular place on the mountain. It was a state of mind.

For me, heaven and inner peace were practically the same thing. Being at peace didn’t mean that my problems had disappeared. My life beyond the mountain was still messy and perfectly flawed. Work, responsibilities, unfinished books, and personal problems would be waiting when I returned.

But they no longer needed to control every thought inside my head.

The traverse also reminded me that life is a series of setbacks. Sometimes, you get cramps before nine in the morning. You run low on water, slip on wet rocks, and discover that the trail is much harder than you expected.

You rest, recover, and continue.

I had wasted energy worrying that the other hikers might see me struggling and think I was weak. That fear partly explained why I had rushed on day one.

The truth was that everyone else was struggling too. Some had cramps. Others were exhausted or dealing with pain they never mentioned. Most were concentrating on the trail and trying not to fall.

Nobody was studying my every mistake. On a hike, it’s easy to think everyone notices when you struggle. Most people don’t. They’re too busy dealing with their own shit.

If you slip, a few people may notice. Someone might help you stand. Others may not even acknowledge what happened because they’re watching their own footing. A few minutes later, everyone moves on.

Life outside the mountains isn’t much different. We worry that people are watching, judging, and remembering every mistake we make. Most of them are too occupied with their own problems to think about us for very long.

Once I understood that, I stopped treating the hike like a performance. I didn’t have to look strong every minute or keep pace with everyone around me.

I could struggle and look vulnerable without feeling ashamed. I could rest without believing I had failed. Once I recovered, I could continue.

By the time I boarded the plane for Cebu, my body was exhausted, scratched, and sore.

My mind, however, was quiet. That, to me, was heaven.

Is Mt Tapulao a major hike?

Yes. The standard Dampay-Salaza backtrail is classified as a major climb, with a difficulty rating of around 5/9 and a round-trip distance of roughly 36 kilometers. The Tarlac-to-Zambales traverse is far more demanding, covering about 48 kilometers and commonly rated 8/9.

Is Mt tapulao for beginners?

Mt Tapulao isn’t recommended as a first mountain. The standard trail is not highly technical, but its length, rocky terrain, elevation gain, and limited water sources require good endurance. Beginners should complete several easier hikes and train for long-distance walking before attempting it.

The three-day Mt Tapulao traverse is strictly for experienced and well-prepared hikers because it includes river crossings, rarely used trails, long forest sections, and nearly 48 kilometers of hiking.

When is the best time to hike Mt Tapulao?

The best time to hike Mt Tapulao is during the dry season, particularly from December to February, when temperatures are cooler and the trails are generally more manageable. March to May is also relatively dry, but the exposed sections can become extremely hot.

Heavy rain can make the rocky trails slippery and the river crossings on the traverse more dangerous. Always check the weather forecast and confirm the mountain’s status with the Palauig tourism office or your organizer before the climb.

How to experience the three-day Mt Tapulao traverse?

The best and most convenient way to experience the 48-kilometer Mt Tapulao traverse is join an organized tour. I recommend contacting Papi Win through his Facebook page at Rabas Outdoors.