Walking the underworld

In a cave in Samar, TRAVELIFE Contributing Editor Gabby Malvar realizes that sunlight is so underrated.

Perched on a knife edged overhang the size of a laptop - hardly enough to fit a boot-wrapped foot - I contemplated my next move. My hands and legs were either pressed or wedged against nooks as I negotiated a rock face named quite obviously the vertical cliff (how a cliff cannot be vertical is beyond me).

My guide claimed it was a 30-meter drop, the height of a 10-storey building. The bottom was not visible so there was absolutely no way to determine the reliability of his assertion. In fact, I could barely make out anything beyond my reach. The shaft of light from a headlamp attached to my helmet merely illuminated the rough surface momentarily hosting me.

A braided, synthetic umbilical cord was fastened to a harness around my torso, the other end firmly handled by an able belayer who managed my descent, ensuring my rope turned taut in problematic situations but generally allowing enough slack in the line to permit unrestricted maneuverability. A blunder without the rope and the darkness would claim me. In measured movements, I lowered myself down the edge, releasing one limb at a time to catch the next hold. The whole feat was daunting enough in broad daylight. Devoid of illumination, it was infinitely more gruelling and perilous.

Langun-Gobingob cave was the name of this spot of bleakness, more prominent for precisely the decidedly uninviting quality lacking - brightness. Underworld, there was a dearth of views: nothing but a relentless, oppressive night spreading out in all directions, infinite and made epic in scale when pierced by flimsy torch beams swallowed before long by nothing. I was used to grand and colourful landscapes, but here in the caverns of Calbiga, Samar, the magnificent scenery became austere under a shroud of darkness.

My light and my guide

Caving or spelunking was not my passion. But while not exactly thrilled with my lack of autonomy in this type of adventure, the draw of confronting the unknown was too strong to turn my back on.

Clearly out of my element, I was at the mercy of quite literally, my light and my guide who, if predisposed to sinister designs, could easily leave me stranded from the outside world. Fortunately, my wellbeing was safe in the trusted, capable hands of local adventurer and spelunker Joni Bonifacio who having dedicated his life to its protection, preservation and promotion of these tunnels, was intimate with their ins and outs. Perpetually eager to share the unique, profound beauty of subterranean Samar, he leads minor expeditions underground.

Where limestone is abundant, there will you find caves. When water and carbon dioxide mix, a limestone-corrosive compound is formed. Over millions of years, cave systems and networks of underground passages have been carved out of limestone bedrock simply from the continual exposure to this potent force. Aside from hosting the largest limestone karst formations in the Philippines, Samar also stretches out along the typhoon belt; besieging this karst country in perpetual and heavy rainfall. No wonder then that Samar is considered the country's caving capital; and despite many known resources, more caves await exploration.

The horizontal main entrance to Langun-Gobingob cave lay at the base of an enormous limestone massif in a minor clearing surrounded by jungle. It was reachable only after an hour's trek from Baranggay Panayuran, a small knot of homes in the hillside at the outskirts of the municipality of Calbiga.

The first section was a massive anteroom with a high ceiling. A trail zigzagged downwards, progressively acquainting me to the hollow earth. As we ventured further deeper, it had darkened considerably and the only radiance came from the cave's mouth behind us, a mere slit against the gloom.

My first tumble occurred not long after it had gone completely dark. The ground was slippery, composed of a powdery, dust-like soil coating stone and loose rock. This was no gentle stroll; it had evolved into a laborious slog, each step on uneven, poorly lit ground requiring focused attention and immense concentration. I made meagre progress. Slips and falls were par for the course. Breaking an ankle however, was not, yet it remained a real possibility.

Surviving the black depths

The enormous chamber terminated in a narrow corridor with an unassuming entrance, necessitating a change in approach. With my head tilted down to avoid the low ceiling, I dug through small passageways, negotiating tight sections in partial crawls. The air was still, the wind noticeably absent. It was hot and extremely uncomfortable. Steam emanated from my body as I perspired, and a halo of mist enveloped me. I wanted to wipe my fogged-up spectacles on my sleeve, but it wouldn't have made any difference: my shirt was drenched with sweat.

We came upon a massive lobby that featured a mini-mountain of calcite on a stage of solidified mud. Tracing the shape of the enormous mound, sparkling crystals played peek-a-boo when caressed by my headlamp's light as it followed my head's motions. Behind the heap was a concealed chamber the size of a football field, pristine in its vast emptiness. On its fringes flowed a clear river: replenishment for our near-empty water bottles. Further on were perfectly layered terraces, sculpted by gracefully progressing water.

Surprisingly, an assortment of creatures - crickets, bugs, spiders, snakes, bats, balinsasayaw (swiftlet) and even blind crab and fish -- survive in the black depths. With few plants to consume, these prey on each other in an apparent predatory scheme. Not only does the dark make life resilient here, it forces it to adhere to a natural order.

Respecting eternity

We retraced our steps back to the stage and marched up a jagged slope strewn with wobbly rocks, rising in a 45-degree gradient. I struggled with the humidity and longed for coolness, stopping frequently to douse myself with the contents of my water bottle. Dehydration, not exhaustion was becoming the primary challenge. At the apex, Joni pointed his torch to a sheer drop on the opposite edge. Our destination lay the bottom of the precipice. I caught my breath, stared at the abyss and prepared myself. Reining in my imagination demanded enormous effort.

The descent of the precipitous rock wall was a prolonged drill. My feet at long last touched the end and I stepped into a speleothem forest, an arrangement of stalagmites and other rock formations crafted by nature into what looked like pine trees, corals, and snowmen. What my mind conjured, I saw.

The patterns varied wildly but all were shaped by the same agents: time and nature. Small calcium-based particles transported by water oozing through rocks, precipitated at particular temperatures. Eventually, deposits accumulated, building up after millions of years into interesting structures and patterns. To behold a three-meter high stalagmite is to stare at eternity in the face.

Whole rock configurations, preserved and unbroken, were providentially boxed in by a formidable natural barrier in the cave's arcane recesses, effectively keeping the outside world and its unchecked greed and unfettered advance at bay.

I wove through the dense array of clustered stalagmites, vigilantly avoiding any contact that could prompt the slightest damage. Noli me tangere (touch me not), they all mutely asserted. A careless and reckless act can irrevocably instantly alter what elements took aeons to painstakingly sculpt. It is the highest order of respect for what nature has created, and there is an unspoken accord with it when roving these parts. The delicate beauty in a mother's womb is handled with utmost care. Within Gaia's (mother earth) bosom, her irreplaceable treasures must be treated similarly. Nothing less is expected.

Past the last creamy-white stalagmite, the rocky ground gave way to soil. I welcomed the change in topography, my rambling considerably eased. My quickened pace brought me into a palatial chamber; stalactites dangled from the ceiling virtually kissing the ground like weighty chandeliers straining the lines holding them aloft.

Perceiving dimensions

Puddles appeared. The soil had gradually grown damp, turning muddy in sections at regular intervals. Often, I had to jump from one clearing to another. Even so, my boots accumulated mud, becoming heavier with every stride. The arduous trudge wore me down. I had no idea how long I had been inside the cave since entering at 2 p.m. The absence of visual input had disoriented me and I had lost track of time.

Joni motioned me to where he stood. Explaining that we were now inside "the mother of all chambers," he ignited the carbide lamp several times in different directions, illuminating small patches at a time. The light bursts hardly made it to the untouched, unreachable walls at the end of the broad, black sea. With individual pieces of the mosaic available, my mind did the rest, making out the dimensions and rendering a mental picture I could fathom.

Italian spelunkers mapped the cave system after discovering it 1987. By their measurement, the hall's dimensions were staggering --- 80 by 120 by 400 meters, much larger than an aircraft hangar. Several airbuses could fit in here.

Strength of a different kind

We were to set up camp after the final leg, a tract of chocolate-like, curdled granules, running perhaps 200 meters. The mud had a different texture -- softer, semi-liquid and easily broken down. Unlike Bohol, Samar's chocolate hills, albeit relatively miniscule, were subterranean. My step weighed in heavily and I sunk into an obliging surface -- guano, of the fruit bat variety. The harsh reek was unmistakeable. Having no alternative, I kept on, dragging myself waist-deep through bat dung. The episode called for different strengths. If ever I coveted an out-of-body experience, this was the time. I was literally in deep sh*t!

The whole experience had turned into an unrivalled ordeal of strength, character, perseverance, and patience. Underneath the ground and within myself, I discovered much about what I was made of.

Nevertheless, although welcoming my spell in the underworld, I yearned to be above ground, suffused in color and under the lustre of a garish sun. Man was not meant to live underground. If so, eyesight would be superfluous.

Finally at camp, a bath (or what passed as one) with only limited water available was foremost. The adobo and grilled pork was plentiful but conversation was sparse. Completely done in, I turned in early.

Dark and light

After the last light source was extinguished an initial hush presaged the pulsating night sounds - dripping water, falling stone, the quiver of wings, and the chirping of insects. On my back on a thin mat spread over soft dirt I was suddenly King Tut, momentarily entombed, alive, in a mausoleum; in an intimate relationship with the earth. I realized that the earth will eventually, permanently declare me its own. Returning to my mother's fold, I shall fall into eternal slumber. All in good time, but not just yet, I thought.

Deprived of vision and rendered immobile by aches and soreness, I was reduced to a most basic state of being: I simply was. My eyes were wide open yet I could well be comatose under the ebony veil. I yearned for the refuge of a deeper sleep. Physical rest couldn't come sooner.

I awoke bathed in light. Sunlight found me first - long before I had opened my eyes - pouring in through an aperture near the ceiling and illuminating the entire surroundings. Apparently, we had camped out in a limestone cathedral punctuated by sprouting stalagmites and dangling stalactites. It seemed we were trapped within the fangs of a serpent. It was that same opening at the crest of a plant and poison ivy-littered incline that was our exit. As bats returned home from their nocturnal hunt, I considered the final exertion required. Behind the exit lay a jungle, cornfields and hills to be traversed. Further beyond was civilization, several hours away.

The slot grew in stature as I approached the egress to the outside world. My anticipation swelled to a resounding crescendo, my limbs reinvigorated as every step advanced me closer towards the glow.

As I stepped into the light, I suddenly recalled Lazarus, called out from the void by a voice graced with divinity.

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