The Day After: Twin Lakes, Almost

36 hours after the storm, the ferries are running again – and are well booked. Giant islands of driftwood float in the sea. A thick tree trunk invites our old ferry to sink a round of ships. The ferry wins. We get across to Negros, Dumaguete, for just 20% of the Ocean Jet fare. The ship that capsized outside the harbour was not here when we passed through four days ago. Even the Phlippinos are staring like lemmings.

Harold’s Mansion Hostel, in the centre of the university town of Dumaguete. Finally a place with travellers again. They all have stories and are looking for adventure. No tourists. The rooms are clean and cheap, breakfast is free and the WiFi blazes through the air at a breathtaking 100kB/s by Philippine standards. I am happy.

After a few fun nights with a Breton couple, we pick up a couple of cheap bikes straight after check-in and head up into the mountains behind Dumaguete. The route could be straight out of The Day After. The mountains behind Dumaguete have intensified the rain. The last thick clouds are still hanging around. The rivers to the sea have dug themselves completely new beds within a few hours, tearing away bridges and houses on the banks. I now understand the 400 missing people. Uprooted trees lie on power lines. There were even landslides on the plain. Garages were swept away, large signs simply bent over. Tropical storm Washi raged really badly here – despite the funny name.

Under the given conditions, our plan for today might not be the best one. Up into the mountains, 30 kilometres and about 800 metres up. In San Juan we turn off the tarmac and soon don’t see it again for a long time. The panoramic road leads 15 kilometres through tropical rainforest to the Twin Lakes crater lakes. At first the track is rough gravel and we cross a few streams. Then the track becomes a stream and finally a riverbed – albeit a dry one.

Deep washouts, large rocks, mud. It ends at kilometre 12, for good. A tree trunk over the path is followed by a full clay mound three metres high. It looks very unstable, so we quickly climb over it. A few metres further on, I have met my match. No road has ever forced me to turn back. In front of us is a massive rockfall, 60% gradient, 8 metres high and 20 metres wide. This path will never be the same again. You can’t even go on here with a tank. My shoes sink into 50cm of mud.

Children feed us with plantains. Everyone waves and greets us. No other people up here, just locals. Most of them don’t even have motorbikes. We ride back through bamboo forests and wild sugar cane to Dumaguete. Flat from a tough day. Fuelling up on sushi, chatting about the journey and almost falling asleep.