Along the Pacific fringes of the Sierra Madre Mountain Range and in the heart of the San Ildefonso Peninsula in Aurora province lives a man named Vic and his dog that he fondly calls Suntok. They have a bond, not just master and animal but even much deeper than that. Suntok is a mongrel and he was raised by Vic since he was a pup, not as a pet or a guard animal but a hunting dog.
I met Vic one humid summer during an exploratory hike deep in the jungles of Casiguran. He presented himself as a guide and he offered to show us a cave that his father discovered years ago during one of his treks. I was with a team of adventurers, ready for whatever surprises may be in store for us. Equipped with ropes, harnesses, head lamps, GPS and maps we headed off from a fabulous beach in Dalugan. Our hiking boots dug deep in the soft white sand that during the rainy months is battered by humongous waves sought after by seasoned surfers. But since it is summer, the sea is flat and very inviting.
Dalugan is actually a secret paradise, specially for surfers. It is laced with a long stretch of white sand beach pockmarked with rocky tidal zones that had been carved by the elements. Deep depressions on the rock had been formed into lovely pools that serve as a playground for the local kids. When the tide is low these pools trap water and provide a few hours of swimming pleasure for those who wish to indulge. Amazingly some pools are big enough for a few laps. When the season is right Dalugan beach is washed by amazing barrels that even international surfers seek.
After hiking for thirty minutes along the coast Vic motioned us to enter the beach forest. It was actually a remnant of an old growth forest that had been subjected to pressure from the need of humans to convert them into agricultural land. A few agoho or tropical pine trees sway in the breeze sprinkling small cones and needles on the ground. They are not related to the pine trees that grow in higher elevation, but they also have cones and needles. Upon entering the grove of trees we started hiking up a slope covered with grass. From the top of the hill we were treated to a magnificent view of the cove, the reefs, the small coves and the majestic Pacific. When we turned our back from the view to resume our hike Vic’s dog Suntok rushed ahead of us as if he knew exactly which way to go.
“Pasensiya na kayo sa aso ko. Sanay kasi siya maghanap ng baboy damo kaye laging nauuna (My apologies. My dog is used to hunting for wild boar, hence he loves to be ahead of everyone) ,” Vic remarks.
Amazed that a mongrel would be hunting for wild boar I asked if there are still boars around. After all they are known to attack specially if they feel threatened. Vic said that sadly there’s very few left. As more people came to live in the peninsula, the population decreased due to uncontrolled hunting. The population could not catch up with the speed by which they were being caught. I thought that many animals share the same story. I wondered if Suntok even noticed the change.
A two hour walk deep in the jungles was rewarded by a discovery of a woody climber called jade vine. As we were traversing a creek we noticed green and purple flowers scattered on the ground. Some were even being carried by the water. I have only seen jade vines in pictures and I couldn’t help but be overwhelmed. I had the same feeling the first time I saw a field of pitcher plants somewhere in the forest of Isabela. Jade vine flowers are clustered in a bouquet, 60 to 90 centimeters long, which hangs gracefully from the stem. The flower itself is beautiful, resembling lobster claws. Each one is five to seven centimeters long, boat-shaped, and gently curved like an upturned beak of a bird. Unknown to many, the Strongylodon macrobotrys is no longer common because it is one of the most threatened groups of plants in the Philippines. The unique aquamarine-jade color is highly appealing such that hikers are usually tempted to pick them. It is also called liana, and is abundant in the rain forests of Aurora. They are found mostly near rivers and streams.
Suntok seem to read my mind as he pawed at the flowers floating on the water. Then unexpectedly he leaped across the river and ran through the bush. He disappeared momentarily and reappeared panting. He stopped along the trail and waited for his Master. Vic said that we are near the cave. It was obvious that the dog knew it too. We entered a forest where trees rose to the sky and formed a thick blanket of canopy over us and everything else. Long strands of vines fell and looped from tree to tree. I could smell guano mingling with the earthy odor of rotting wood and leaves. Fungi in various shapes, colors and sizes bloom as they contribute to the decomposition of fallen logs. After clambering over boulders and large trunks of dead trees Vic said that we have arrived.
I could not see any large cave opening anywhere but the smell of pungent bat urine was unmistakable. Then Vic pointed out a hole on the ground and a dark void beneath it.
“Dyan tayo papasok (We go in there), “ he declared with no indication that we can object.
Ropes, carabiners and harnesses were taken out and soon we were scrambling our way in a small hole and dropping in a deep dark cave. Suntok sat quietly as if he knew that he could not come with us. The cave haven’t been named and it is still virtually unexplored. We entered some of its narrow corridors and small chambers with bats hitting our lamps every now and then. Stalactites and stalagmites decorate the chambers but according to Vic the best ones are found further deeper into the dark corridor. New stalagmites are being born as egg-like droppings are clustered close to one another . As long as water percolates through the rocks this process will continue. The integrity of the caves however rely on the forest above. When trees are cut the ability of the soil to hold water is reduced and this affects the ability of caves to create amazing formations.
Having enough adventure for one day we clambered up the hole and out into the forest where Suntok the hunting dog waited. There may be no need for his services anymore because there are no animals to hunt. Having him around though reminded all of us of the fact that most of nature work in predetermined cycles and processes, some following instincts that make them do what they had been doing, expecting the same events over and over. Suntok the hunting dog cannot hunt anymore but he is clearly a metaphor of what lies ahead for most life forms including humans.
