Today’s route does not require a sat nav. Creep 20 kilometres out of Baguio in a traffic jam. Follow the serpentines for 100 kilometres straight on to Sagada. In fact, there is not a single tarmac descent or straight road on the entire route. The “highway” leads up into the clouds to over 2200 metres. The temperature drops to 12 degrees.
It’s pouring with rain. In the clouds, visibility is sometimes only 50 metres. In combination with the sudden appearance of a few hundred metres lowered road halves due to landslides, it is quite entertaining. The excitement is great when the road has completely slipped away and the diversion 50 metres higher up is an unsurfaced gravel track with a clear view down the steep face.
The gradients are so steep that the CO2 footprint of the trucks and jeepneys is expressed in kilograms per kilometre. Black smoke mingles with white fog. There are no normal vehicles here – we are probably the only ones. After a while, I don’t even see any jeepneys. An empty road. In the Philippines. Hallelujah, signs and wonders are happening!
Our car has air conditioning, but no heating. The air conditioning can run at full throttle or nothing at all. If we switch it off, the windows are completely sealed within seconds. We leave it on. I steer the ice-cream van on towards Sagada across the Cordillera and into the first valleys with rice terraces. Huge boulders lie on the road.
The last few kilometres are always the best. The road to Sagada is completely buried from the junction with the motorway. I chase the car up the hairpin bends through mud and rocks. At the top, the road is nothing but dirt track, torrents and rocks. The limits of two-wheel drive under these conditions are around a 35% gradient. The average gradient was probably around 30%. After seven kilometres with a constant glance at the cooling indicator, I almost felt a little warm. Sagada lies ahead of us. We only needed 4.5 hours for the 100 kilometres from Baguio.
When parking at dusk, I overlook a 25cm wide and 40cm deep gutter between the road and pavement – and crash right over it. The car hits it briefly, then one wheel is on the pavement and three on the road. According to certified statements from several residents, nobody has ever managed to do this before. The village policeman helps me out with a few planks.
Find a hostel, go for a meal. In the head shop next door, the international backpacker community is smoking their heads off to good music. I finally get the right credits for my new simcard. For a short time, I almost have an online feeling with my laptop – then the network breaks down here in the middle of nowhere. It’s still raining cats and dogs.
Frank Woelky, born in 1973. Kitesurfer since 1998. Since 2006, I have been combining kitesurfing and web design on trips lasting several months off the beaten track.