Saturday, 28 May 2011

I've been wandoan miles & taroom

I've been wandering early and late too. Ain't gonna stop soon either.
The Darling Downs is a farming region on the western slopes of the Great Dividing Range in southern Queensland.


A section of the western downs lies over coal deposits of the Surat Basin. The large mature sedimentary Surat Basin formed in the interior of the Australian continent with deposition occurring from the Early Jurassic to the earliest Cretaceous (ca 100-180mya) and reaching its peak in the Aptian period. It occupies 300,000 km2 (about the size of the Philippines) of central southern Queensland and central northern New South Wales.
The exploitation of coal seam gas (CSG) in the Surat Basin (and the adjoining Bowen Basin on its north) is a fast expanding industry these times. CSG extraction is the main game for up to eight pipelines projects. The project I’m involved in includes a 540km buried pipeline network from inland Surat to Gladstone on the pacific coast.


The present landscape of the downs is dominated by rolling hills, pastures and broad-acre farms.


These farms are planted to different vegetables, fruits cereals and other crops including cotton, wheat, etc. There are long stretches and networks of roads, bushy ridges, winding creeks, irrigation systems and forests.

There are farms with beef and dairy cattle, pigs, sheep and lamb stock.


My second stint in the gasfields this year commenced a couple of weeks ago. Again we flew into Chinchilla by charter flight from Brisbane. After picking up a hire car we drove to camp in the mid-afternoon where we almost hit a kangaroo. Camp was booked out so we had to travel miles and miles to – Miles.


Miles outback motel was our base for a week while working in a few sites in the west of Wandoan.
At day’s end while my colleagues enjoy a pint of beer or drop of ale, I would retire to a sip of my new favourite drink. I gave up on white red black green or other labels. My new drink of choice is - blue label.


Each night after dinner and during paperwork, I would easily gulp down two or three mugs of this. I’ll need bushels of supplies.

Wandoan, 65km from Miles, is the ideal base for our worksites but all accommodation there have been booked for the next few months. So daily we zoomed up to beyond the hills of the great dividing range.


Our worksites are in the gasfields west of Wandoan. These areas are on rolling hills and backwoods in the boondocks to the north of the great dividing range, situated in the parishes of Juandah, Golden, Rochedale, carraba, hinchley; and in the Counties of Fortescue and Aberdeen.


Sited on the Leichhardt highway between Miles and Taroom, Wandoan was first surveyed in 1902. Wandoan became a rail terminus but by the 1930s more land, up to 60 kms outside town, was opened for closer-settlement.


We worked around the localities of Grosmont, Wandoan, Bundi, Clifford, Woleebee.


We also drove through Guluguba, Gurulmundi, Waikola, Eurombah and parts of the towns of Roma in Maranoa and Taroom in Banana. Some of our worksites are Accrux, Charlie, Polaris, Cam, Phillip, Kathleen and Thackery.


I examined some historical documents for a bit of context. The bigger central towns were opened for settlement soon after the explorer Ludwig Leichhardt first came through in 1844. Documents dating back to the 1850s describe the region variously: brigalow and other scrub very dense in places thick undergrowth with patches of vines foxbush sandalwood scattered pear impenetrable box grassed wilga timber vine scrub tanglefoot brigalow and belar scrub bauhinia box yarran turkeybush clumpy brigalow cypress myrtle bottle softwood brigalow and wilga currant bush, ironbark large areas pulled ringbarked brigalow regrowth forests cultivation.


The country here was originally brigalow eucalypt woodland and grassland but are now mostly crop farms and cattle grazing lands and state forests. The uncultivated land is still eucalypt woodland open acacia and casuarina forests with rainforest and evergreen vine thickets and gurulmindi heath-myrtle and myall woodlands and bluegrass. The undulating landscape is crisscrossed by dusty country roads alluvial floodplains and numerous creeks (at least 10 have names) that make many towns and homesteads inaccessible during rainy seasons.


The cleared paddocks contain grasslands and wattle. Patches of remnant vegetation still hold out. Brigalow forests are considered under threat. Some 800 plant species and 400 animal species have been identified around here.

Bottle trees are a feature in these parts.

A bottle tree dwarfs cars in the skyline in the background.
Travelling around these parts we see local fauna: wild pigs, wild dogs, red foxes, various roadkill, rabbits, turtles, frogs etc. I also found this little beauty - a brigalow scaly foot under a log. This reptile mimics a snake perhaps for defense, and is mistaken for a snake. It is in fact a legless lizard.


Cruising home one afternoon we came upon a turtle with a neck as long as its shell crossing the road. I had to swerve as it stopped and ducked its head in its shell.
On the same trip, we passed a lizard slowly moving along the edge of road. I would have thought it was hitch-hiking.
Another time I saw a a 5-ft brown or black reptile. "It was smooth as glass, slithering through the grass. I saw it dissappear near a lake - Ah, ' think I'll call it a snake."

Various birdlife finch pigeon goshawk emus ducks red and grey galahs white cockatoos and brolgas green parrots brush turkeys jack sparrows wedge-tail eagles.
Many small birds end up as road kill when they tempt fate flying off at the last moment when cars approach.

A red and grey galah roadkill.
More than 10 Migratory bird species: eagles, needletail, bee-eater, egrets, snipes, swift and geese, stop over in these parts.

Keeping an eagle eye on things.
After a week of working out of Miles, we were informed that our booking had ran out and had to move base. This business of ‘no room at the inn’ has been a bane to travellers since Joseph and Mary’s times. We rang around and eventually reached Taroom where we found room - ta, or thanks as they say colloquially down under (and in Britain). We moved base miles and miles from Miles (about 75 miles) to camp with cattle in Taroom.


I’ll clarify that – we checked in at the cattle camp motel in Taroom.
Our new base is almost equidistant to our worksites from our previous base in Miles. But now the Roma-Taroom road is our main route.
The countryside north of Taroom abounds in natural attractions, but I prefer the ‘interesting’ to the ‘attractive’. The large Coolibah tree on which Leichhardt carved his initials in 1844 still stands in the main street.


The Dawson River has many fishing spots, but I checked out the Taroom riverwalk instead. Taroom’s unique ‘Steel Wings’ windmill is one of only two known working examples in the world.

Once I deployed to the greener more picturesque hills around Woleebee creek.


This place, a remnant rainforest area, is as good as it gets around here. The dusty twisting and turning Country roads remind of home.


One time I went bushwalking around some Brigalow tree stands. Along the ground were some fossil material - shards of petrified wood which I thought were broken terracotta vases. I also kicked at what looked like a piece of timber, but instead stubbed my toe on what was a fine specimen of timber fossil. There is a great display of more than 5000 geological specimens of petrified Australian forests in Miles adjudged to be the best in the world. I did not see this attraction in Miles but I did explore ‘Dogwood Crossing’ and sighted the many turn-of-the-century buildings in the Historical Village.


Deep in the bush we found a couple of ooline trees, remnants of an ancient rainforest. One, a giant 25-metre high Ooline, had a big 2-3 metre eagle’s nest in it. My ecologist companion estimates the nest as approximately 20 yrs old and perhaps repaired every year by its resident. It's a privilege to sight a rare gigantic Ooline - a proud survivor from ancient times, when this area was a lush green rainforest.



A smaller bird has a nest on the same Ooline tree.
Often we meet herds of cattle on the tracks. One time we had a mob of kangaroos and a herd of cows race alongside our car for a couple of hundred meters. I would not have believed that had I not seen it.


Along the highway too are beasts of another kind. Once on a lonesome stretch of dusty Goldens road we meet this beast.


Another time on the Leichhardt heading south to Wandoan, we had to get off the road for a big tray being transported to the mines.



In these two weeks in the gasfields we traversed many a long and lonesome dusty road. From the Leichhardt highway, to the Roma-Taroom road, to the Crossroads Road near north Jackson, and every rough back country road and creek crossing in between.

Riverwalk in Taroom.

froggy went a-posting.
I befriended a green frog, but it hopped off. It did not like the sunshine one bit.


On the homebound journey at stint’s end, good drenching rains greet us as we approach Condamine just after leaving Miles. Thankfully the creeks were not swollen.

ps we'll hear from dubya next blog.

Thursday, 19 May 2011

May music save your mortal soul

Them good old boys were drinkin’ with Marty n Rye...
My. Does time fly? And we're past the ides of May.
Am on the road again, with the working man blues. For some time now, I wanted to quote Dubya, but I'll save that. I'll quote Mark Twain instead (this blog's quotation of the day):

Travel is fatal to prejudice, bigotry, and narrow-mindedness.
Heeding this I put on my travelling shoes, and while travelling, I'll listen to some music.

A spare selection this merry month of May. Just some flowers are blooming.

Ray Charles. The essential collection. 3CD Set - CD1 HALLELUJAH! THE FIRST SOUL MUSIC CD2 - THE GENIUS CD3 - MESS AROUND

Katie Melua. Piece by Piece.



Jack Johnson. Sleep through the static.

Mojo March 2011 has a free CD and a feature on Johnny Cash.

Up In the Air (Music from the Motion Picture) is the soundtrack to the 2009 comedy drama movie. The music featured in the film include songs by various artists such as a jaunty take on "This Land is Your Land" by Sharon Jones & The Dap Kings, "Be Yourself" by Graham Nash of Crosby, Stills & Nash who contribute "Taken At All".



DVDs
 
Serpico
Based on a book by Peter Maas exopsing corruption in the NYPD. The film resulted in the Knapp Commission which was established following the film, and whose recommendations changed the NYPD forever. Serpico is hailed as a classic. Al Pacino's performance in the movie is amongst his best. A must see. Again.

The Road
An adaptation of a Cormac McCarthy book of the same name. The film portrayed  barren post-apocalyptic landscapes, and some violence - of course.

Saturday, 7 May 2011

'Why we are poor', and other books for the bush

Why we are poor is a collection of essays by F. Sionil Jose on the economic plight of the great majority of Filipinos.

But first the rest:

I may be going bush again. Books for going bush.
FICTION.
Books going bush.
Kazuo Ishiguro. Never let me go
A blogger reviewer liked the book so much she said she can now finally watch the movie. I’ll have to go and borrow it again so I can finally read it.
The Narrows by Michael Connelly, again features "Harry" Bosch who joins forces with agent Walling (first name’s not Stone, she’s a female).

Wildfire is Nelson DeMille's fourth novel about former detective John Corey, now working as a contractor for a fictional FBI Task Force. The book follows Corey and his wife (an FBI agent) as they attempt to stop a group of madmen from nuking American cities.

Cormac McCarthy Blood Meridian
About a runaway teenager "the kid", and his experiences with a group of scalp hunters who massacred Indians and others in the Mexico borderlands. The book is highly acclaimed and is widely recognized as McCarthy's best. It doesn’t lack in violence – a seeming necessary ingredient in McCarthy’s books, for which he has been widely criticised.

No Country for Old Men also by Cormac McCarthy.
This follows the events from where an ordinary man who goes out hunting instead chances on a fortune at the desert scene of a drug deal gone wrong, and the ensuing drama and violence (of course). With books that were made into films, I usually favour the book version. I must say I enjoyed the film adaptation better of No Country for Old Men.

Mortal Causes is a 1994 novel by Ian Rankin.
It is the sixth of the Inspector Rebus novels. The plot links Scottish nationalist groups and paramilitaries.

Dead Souls also by Ian Rankin is the tenth of the Inspector Rebus novels. Rankin incorporated his novella Death is not the End in this novel.




NON-FICTION

Siddhartha Mukherjee. The Emperor of All Maladies: A Biography of Cancer.
Winner of this year’s Pulitzer prize in the general non-fiction category.

Shing-Tung Yau. The shape of inner space. The various reviews are mostly positive:

explores many beautiful areas of modern geometry and physics; the book is very down to earth and has a style which not only explains how different ideas have unfolded in the past couple of decades, but how beautifully natural they all fit with one another; gives the layman a remarkable glimpse into the mysterious inner world of one of the most beautiful and important parts of mathematics; The collaboration between a mathematician and a science writer has worked wonders in this book; The book is an entertaining read; A very well-written book, and one that scientifically minded laymen will find easy to follow.

FILIPINIANA
Why We Are Poor (Termites In The Sala, Heroes In The Attic)
by F. Sionil José

This book was first published in 2005, but I only first laid my hands on it last month.
Jose’s essays tackle matters of Filipino national development, the Filipino character and other issues. He readily admits that "most of the essays can really be divided into those that are critical of Filipinos, and quite a few that are commendatory. It is for this reason that I have used a title about termites and heroes to define that differentiation."

I like his analogy. I think it’s right on. He savages the termite who
hoists the mediocre and the inane on pedestals. In this, media are largely to blame, especially the talk show hosts on television and some editors of the entertainment and features sections. They pander to the crassest tastes.
Jose's other pet termites are
...the non-entities, the phoney nationalists, the crass poseurs who preen on our TV screens, and who are anoninted with honors, we show them off like the heirlooms that adorn our living rooms, not realizing they are actually the termites that will eventually bring our house down.
On heroes, Jose bemoans
 Indeed, we have willfully relegated our sterling heroes in the attic where they are conveniently forgotten--the role models that could easily redeem us.
Jose suggests some of the reasons of 'why we are poor': education, modernization, ravaging of our non-renewable natural resources, overpopulation not helped by the Catholic Church’s conformity with doctrinal purity, the vestiges or moral malaise of colonialism, indolence (echo of Rizal more than 100yrs ago), materialism, 'Yabang' – inward looking nationalism, agrarian reform, faulty moral compass or loss of ethical moorings.

Many reactions to Jose’s essays do not take kindly to the reasons he mentioned as to why we are poor. Some take it personally and are quite scathing in their responses. Jose merely pointed out that the emperor had no clothes.
Who would deny that they are lazy or corrupt, if not the lazy or corrupt?

To quote Jose Rizal "We should not be content to simply deny it. We must “examine the question calmly with all the impartiality of which a man is capable who is convinced that there is no redemption unless based solidly on virtue."

The solutions to our socio-economic plight in the Philippines have been debated ad nauseam. There's no need to stoke the fire. Some suggestions have been canvassed by Kishore Mahbubani in The New Asian Hemisphere.

Back to F Sionil Jose
Look at our history. We are the first in Asia to rise against Western colonialism, the first to establish a republic...
If there’s one thing I am not enamored with in the book, it is this dwelling on past glories. To use a sporting analogy: you’re only as good as your last game.

Martin Polichay
Filipino to a fault.

Saturday, 30 April 2011

Straight-up Rambling. In the gasfields.

Running causes leg aches, sore feet, blisters, or some sort of injury to hip/thigh knee/leg ankle/foot, not to mention backpains and other body pains. To escape from running, I retired. I ran away. To Chinchilla.
Chinchilla is a vital centre in the coal seam gas fields of southern and central Queensland. I had a working stint there back in November 2009.

One early morning in mid-April, I boarded a charter flight on a Dornier 228 from Brisbane to Chinchilla, to serve another stint in the gasfields – what was that they said about the wicked?
The day was fine from the coast to the inland. The twin-engine DO 228 is a noisy little aircraft and with a width of 1.34m is much narrower than a car. Its low flying height though is a great bonus for viewing the countryside from a bird’s eye view.

We flew from Brisbane towards the northwest over the great dividing range, thence the lockyer valley and beyond to the western/darling downs. Parts of the downs were blanketed with fog that morning and though we flew through to Chinchilla, we had to divert back as the fog wasn’t lifting. The plane circled the Chinchilla aerodrome twice before turning back towards Dalby. It had to save fuel for the return flight to Brisbane.
In Dalby we waited for a bus to take us to Chinchilla. While we were waiting, another plane likewise diverted from Chinchilla due to the fog, landed there.

The Dalby international airport consists of a sealed stretch of tarmac and some buildings (International means that there’s more than one nationality represented there).

It’s pretty much like the Mainit International airport, except the MIA is still under construction and with not even a shack, but the Chonglian domestic airport is operational – with helipads wherever a pilot can find them.

There’s a few light planes, maintenance hangars, crop-spraying terminals and gliding facilities in the Dalby aerodrome. We were treated to some hang-gliding while waiting for the bus.


Chinchilla is just under 300km from Brisbane, a 3.5hr drive by car, or a 45-minute flight. The district known as the ‘melon capital’ of Australia, has evolved from a crop economy to now a broad-acre farming mixed with coal and gas exploration site. Agriculture with beef, pork and sheep products and horticulture are still the main economy around the region. The dairy industry, like the timber sawmills, has declined, but the people here, like most rural Australians are nothing if not resilient. They have diversified into cattle, grain, cotton and fruit production. The future looks rosy and with the coal and gas exploration and exploitation, Chinchilla is a vital centre in the growth and development of the southern downs. I worked in the gasfields for two weeks.

Some days were slow. Once on a rainy day I resorted to itemising delivery equipment.


It’s quite a task to make sure that the material go to the allocated vehicle. Sometimes it’s a headache.

But I even found time to play with a tiny local red and white moth. On the days it rained, and we could not go on sites even if we wanted to. Early in my stint I could not work in field sites pending safety inductions.

The weather was kind for most of my stay there, and five crews managed to make preliminary deliveries to three blocks.


These blocks comprise an area 30 km by 10km, more than twice the size of Baguio and la Trinidad. But within a few fieldwork days we traversed an area as wide as Benguet.

Some of our delivery points were difficult to establish.

These are generally located at the vicinity of fence posts defining the property corners.

At times we only had trees to go by.

Many of the fences are quite old and in various states of disrepair. In despair, sometimes we had to dig holes to pinpoint our location.

Some of the places I saw or passed: Berwyndale, Kenya, Barney, Clunie, Jen, Derby county, Parish of Weranga, Localities of Greenswamp, Crossroads, Goranba, Daandine, Ducklo, Braemar forest. Along the highway are Warra and Brigalow. Out of the way places: Beelbee, Montrose, Hopeland.
Some places had names like Wieambilla, Coondabilla and Kumbarilla.
I think these places are sister towns to Bauko-Bila in Mountain Province. In yesteryears the people of Baukobila used to trade their pottery for salt with the people of Chongnila.
The I-Bila are essentially good people. I visited there once in my youth, and was treated very warmly - like family. However in recent times, the odd wealthy man from there resorted to buying favors from all around the province to build his pillar of salt. I suppose you gotta serve somebody, and it might be the devil for this high degree thief. I don’t blame those communities or clans forced to sell their vote under economic threat, nor do I blame the voters directly intimidated and with veiled threats. I just hope they don’t rue the bitterness of the rice, or the bland sardinas, or the bad smell emitting from their phones' cells. Was it all worth it? This is what they call democracy?
Now we hear of guns. I dreaded this day as a youngster. Yet it had come to pass. Will guns, goons and gold become part of our electoral culture? Quo vadis Montanyosa? Tell us where we’re headin. On the straight and narrow, or Armageddon?

Some philosophize and say that:
perhaps why so many rich, powerful … people descend into… the basest depths, is that deep down they sense the material things they have are really very empty and temporal— They experience disappointment after having acquired… wealth and power …and go into denial that they still are not fulfilled and at peace. So they actually believe that having these things is some sort of an accomplishment. So the game goes on - the more money and fame they get, the emptier they feel. The more empty they feel, the more money and power they seek. And the cycle continues…
(paraphrasings and errors are all mine).
How despicable. I shed tears not for them - the wealthy and mighty, but for the poor pitiful people that they coerce. The good people of Mountain Province will not be duped for long. In future they will choose their leaders freely at the ballotbox, or they will get the leaders they deserve. (It's been 12 months since the May 2010 elections in the Philippines. And there was this blog I meant to write...)
When I was a child I read stories from the bible – the same book that many claim to follow. It said there from what I remember: "What will it profit some to gain great wealth, and lose their souls?" Or their name, reputation, legacy? (I think my memory does not serve me well). But this could well apply to many people in high office. A good moral injunction really. But I don’t read bible stories no more. I just try and remember the stories of my apo, my lola.

Oi Polichay. Ay apao ka. Back to Chinchilla! Oh thanks. Did i doze off? Ahh digressions.


The Clear skies beckon. Let’s go.


Chinchilla suffered from flooding disasters early this year. Many of its roads, rail, schools, fields, homes and businesses sustained some damage.

Initial payments in the hundreds of millions of dollars from the government helped the affected councils, from the Western downs to Gladstone, Toowoomba and the Lockyer valley region, through to Ipswich and Brisbane. It will be some time before full recovery, but for now these regions are back on their feet.


And so am I. Back on my wings...

Thursday, 21 April 2011

April listens too

Might be away this late April to some out-of-town assignment. Will need some music for company.
Music.

David Gray. Draw the line. 2009

Jackson Browne and David Lindley. Love is strange. En vivo con tino From a tour in Spain from five years ago. Includes some of Browne’s older songs: Take It Easy, For Everyman, These Days, Running On Empty

Norah Jones. Featuring some of her friends: Ryan Adams, Ray Charles, Herbie Hancock, Willie Nelson, Dolly Parton, Gillian Welch & David Rawlings etal.

Flood Relief. 3 CDs featuring various artists from around the world for the Flood Appeal. Midnight Oil, Springsteen, Sting, Go-Betweens, Dylan, Tom Petty, Johnny Cash, among many others.

Allison Moorer. Mockingbird. Some good covers: Ring of fire, Revelator, Both sides now.

Uncut magazine. January 2011. Reviews 2010 and features Paul Weller

Celia Cruz. 3CDs. The Queen of salsa.


Music. Andrew Zuckerman. Portraits and interviews. A picture book about musicians. Includes some of the thoughts of Rosanne Cash, Sinead O'Connor, Chrissie Hynde and others.

The definitive Ray Charles.

The Essential Janis Joplin. With concert performances.

Wednesday, 13 April 2011

Pinnacles Classic 2011

April is the gruellingest month, breeding
hightracks out of the race lands.
(with apologies to T.S. Eliot).

Pinnacles Classic – 18km and 18 hills. 9th April 2011.
I am now in my second year of fun running but very much still a novice in real running. Last week I heard some running mates talking about an upcoming run over some hills in the Brisbane Forest Park. It is called the ‘pinnacles classic’ and organised by Trail Running Association of Queensland (TRAQ). I asked some details just to be polite, not even thinking of actually running. Late entries by email are still being considered so thinking that they’re limiting the field, I emailed the organisers soon as I can. What can be so hard about a few hills? I thought to myself. Just this year I ran the ‘uphill’ in the recent sandgate run, the ‘incline’ of the Ted Smout bridge in the ‘cliff2cliff’, and the ramps of the Eleanor Schonell bridge in the ‘twilight run’. Those were all ‘hilly’.

The organiser accepted my late entry and emailed me some race information.
The route for the 2011 Pinnacles classic went anti-clockwise.
Runners don’t make excuses, especially not me :-). We don’t even mention little mishaps – like the checkpoint man taking a wrong turn while driving back to base. The post-race website did not mention that, did it? Apparently they went admiring the scenery under the powerlines.
In that spirit of racing etiquette, I won’t tell about my pre-race blues either. Like the night before the event was a restless one. It rained for some time, and I was tossing and turning. Earlier I was packing some things at work and strained my long-suffering lower back. I had an upset tummy and suffering from that ailment we call boris in my homeland. I think the English word is that which precedes diary b in the dictionary. So I had troubled and little sleep. But I won’t mention all that.

I actually had some doubts, fears even, about the ‘hills’. So on race day I drove out to the race site early, intending to run with the ‘early starters’ at 6:30. Westwards past Mt Coot-tha, Chapel Hill, and Kenmore Hills, I drove along green and lush vegetation out to the end of Gold Creek Road in Brookfield. I got there some minutes before the ‘early start'. I picked up my race bib and was pinning it on when old tummy grumbled for some relief. I ducked away to the sheds and missed the early start as a result.

They look serious. It's just a few hills fellows.
I looked around the hills and felt very daunted. I ran Mt Coot-tha last year, but I haven’t ran a series of hills before, and I was worried about what these 18 hills entailed. The hills looked so high and so far. I overheard some talk that 'the aim is not to win but to finish'. Uh oh. There’s chills in dem dar hills.

7:00 and we started off – straight up the first hill. I saw that this trail run is on dirt trails used by rangers only. It is rough and seldom used. There were 70 other runners. I kept pace for a long 1,000 cm, but within a few minutes they’ve all gone from sight past the many bends going uphill.  That was the last I saw of them until the finish, except for one runner who hurt himself. I caught up to him and asked if he’s okay. He’s gallant as many runners are, and said he’ll trudge up to the checkpoint at the halfway mark.

I plodded on, and soldiered on, sailed against the headwind, arrgh. The winding steeply rolling route was marked with white ribbons and I kept checking that I have not strayed off course. I started counting hills. I reckoned I counted 19 hills before I stopped. I was about to call for help, when I finally saw the checkpoint at the race halfway mark. 19 hills and this is halfway? I jogged up, got my race number ticked and checked my watch. 67 minutes for the first 9km.
I chatted a little with the volunteer checkpointers. One looked like gary cooper and the other could easily be the male version of cameron diaz. They both resemble cary grant. They kindly granted me some water, lollies and an electrolyte drink. They told me the return leg was easier, that there was no more hills, just speed bumps. It’s what I wanted to hear, and I wasn’t born yesterday, but I believed them anyway. I wanted to just stay and ask for a ride back with them, but I could not really take the place of that injured runner coming up behind me. I grunted thanks to the grants, (volunteers do make these events possible) and resumed my own battles.

I felt spent but managed to catch another runner, who promptly sped past me again. He was doing drills - speedwalking up hills, and then pausing. I was impressed. He actually walked quicker than I could jog up the hills. There was hills and then some more hills, and then some more hills. but wait there’s more... I got up to 34 hills on my count then I gave up counting them, and I could not jog up them anymore. ‘Speed bumps’ indeed. My donkey. If I see that gary cooper fellow again...

The hills had names like “the mother”, or “brute”. Very aptly named. The inbound section of the trail looked to be closed, even to rangers’ 4wd vehicles. It’s now used only by horseriders and hikers. It was very rough in parts with ruts, loose rocks and gravel, and surfaces slippery from the overnight rains.

On the ‘brute’ my race was over. I lost the battle with my legs. They were no longer responding to my brain, and even though I wanted to keep going, I just could not. My water had ran out too, and was parched. Treading carefully, I finally stopped running/jogging at about the 14 km mark and walked the last 4km and last 4 hills back. I barely managed to catch some female walkers before the finish.

Just a few hundred metres before the finish, I came to the reservoir. I ran 17.7km around the ridges of its catchment just to see this. Had I gone the other way - it was only 300m!
Shrivelled and with my face creased with pain I stepped over the finish line. I felt high.

An exhausted exhilirated straggler. Photo by Granta very cool trail runner.

Seconds earlier, my legs though were rubbery and oozing something. I looked at them. Mud was splattered all along the back. There was more mud there than if I went plowing ricefields (with a water-buffalo) back home. I washed some of the mud off at Gold Creek, only 100m back from the finish line.


My time for the 9km return leg was a bloated 82minutes. Total race time for the 18 km and 18hills - 2h30m. At least I saved the organisers the trouble of searching for me.
A prized trophy. For conquering 81 hills.
Afterwards, I picked up a brochure from the TRAQ tent. There the ‘pinnacles classic’ was described as 18kms of the ‘toughest trails’. Still later back at home, I looked up a website which said that “This is a course for seriously fit runners, with 18 hills over 18km!” I counted 38 hills, but maybe I was delirious. But I would not have dreamt of running this race had I known all that beforehand.

There's a race report, with links to the results and photos.


I may consider running it again. When I grow up.

The equivalent hilly trail run in the Cordillera is the Mainit-Sacasacan trail (approx 17.10'N and 121.0'E). It took me 8 hours to complete a 20km trek (Mainit-Ampawilen including lots of detours), so running the 9km direct route from Mainit to Sacasacan, should only take a lazy couple of hours, there and back.