The Mountain Roads and the Rice Terraces

After a few restful days in Olongapo, we packed up again and headed for Baguio. We had rented a beautiful home, Whyte Pyne Transient House, for four nights. The house felt like a peaceful mountain retreat: clean, spacious, and thoughtfully arranged, with cool Baguio air drifting through the windows.

Our host Joseph was waiting for us onsite, ready to give a full orientation—where everything was, how things worked, and what we might need during our stay. Though we never met Rose Ann in person, she was equally delightful, always replying quickly to any question we had. Their warmth made the house feel like a true home base.

The plan was simple

Night 1 in Baguio → Overnight trip to Banaue → Back to Baguio for two more nights of exploring.

The Plan Meets the Mountains

The next morning, we packed light overnight bags for our trip to the Banaue Rice Terraces. The idea was to view the terraces, enjoy the scenery, and return to Baguio by evening.

People’s Lodge was rustic, welcoming, and overlooking rice terraces — just not the ones I had in mind.

Some in our group decided to ride like the locals!

But the terraces had other plans for us

What was supposed to be a simple viewing turned into a full‑on mountain hike—up and down steep, ancient steps carved into the landscape. It was breathtaking, but also strenuous, the kind of climb that makes you question your life choices halfway through.

Onieh stayed at the trailhead, wisely avoiding the climb the rest of us underestimated.

When we finally reached the target viewpoint, we took a well‑earned break and, believe it or not, enjoyed fresh fried lumpia right there on top of the rice terraces. Only in the Philippines can you hike a mountain and still be fed like family.

750 Steps to the Waterfalls… Each Way

From the viewpoint, the guide told us the waterfalls were 750 steps each way. As it was explained to us, that sounded doable. In reality, the terrain was steep, uneven, and unforgiving — and I obviously did not hear the part where the 750‑step count didn’t even start until the blue house, which itself was already at least 250 steps down

I decided to stay back with Ella, Ryzen, and Obet, while the rest of the group pushed on toward the falls. The day was slipping away, and the trail was long.

While we waited, we settled into a little hut, grateful for the shade and the chance to rest our legs. We ordered a fresh coconut, cracked open right in front of us, and sat there sipping and catching our breath.

What we didn’t know yet was that this humble hut would turn out to be a lifesaver.

The Internet That Saved Us (and Our Underwear)

By late afternoon, it was clear we would never make it back to Baguio that night—especially not poor Obet, who had hiked every step with us and still had to drive. We were nowhere near the starting point, the sun was dropping fast, and our legs were staging a full rebellion.

While we were sipping our coconut, Ella casually asked the coconut vendor about internet. Without hesitation, the woman gave us the password — one hour of access for five pesos, maybe fifty. At that point, we would’ve paid anything.

Thanks to that precious hour of internet, I was able to get onto Booking.com and secure a place for the night.

And then reality hit us:

We had only packed clothes for ONE night — but at least we had our sleepwear from the night before.

Still, the situation sparked a whole round of “creative problem‑solving”

• Some were planning to re-wear everything.

• Others debated washing clothes in the sink.

• A few decided they would just wear the same clothes they wore for the drive to Banaue the day before.

• And yes, the idea of turning underwear inside out absolutely came up.

Normally, I travel with disposable underwear, but this time—of all times—I didn’t have a single pair in my backpack. Not one.

And then there was Ella, who solved the problem in the most practical way possible, she simply decided she would wear her pajamas the next day. No fuss, no drama — just pure, efficient survival mode.

The Hike to Our Unexpected Home

When we finally made it back to the trailhead, the group split:

• Six of us hiked to our lodging for the night.

• Obet, Ronell, and Ronald rode back to town with the guide to retrieve our van and bring it closer to where we were staying.

The lodging was a 10‑minute hike from the exact spot where we had been dropped off that morning. And it turned out to be everything I had hoped our first stop would be—right in front of the rice terraces, with a view so beautiful it felt like the mountains were welcoming us in.

By the time the three returned with the van, dinner was ready—freshly cooked and exactly what our tired bodies needed. Thank goodness the place offered meals, because none of us had the energy to think, let alone walk, anywhere else

The Perfect Place We Didn’t Plan For

But what made the place unforgettable wasn’t just the view — it was the staff and the cats.

The staff were warm, attentive, and genuinely kind, the sort of people who make you feel cared for without ever hovering. And the place was full of cats — friendly, curious, well‑fed mountain cats who treated the lodge like their kingdom. There was a mama cat with her kittens tucked into a cozy corner, and a Siamese cat who made the rounds like he owned the place.

We were exhausted, hungry, and sore, and none of us—least of all Obet—could have handled the long drive back to Baguio.

The mountains had changed our plans, but they also gave us a story we’ll never forget.

We found this sign at our lodging and immediately thought of home — it’s nearly the same as the one I leave for Randy and Julie. Julie, of course, is the softie the cats always charm with their hungry faces!

The Next Morning

When we woke up the next morning, the first thing we saw was the breathtaking view of the rice terraces glowing in the early light. Layers of green stretched out in front of us like a living staircase, quiet and majestic. And drifting up from the kitchen was the warm, comforting smell of breakfast cooking — garlic, rice, something frying, something simmering. It felt like the mountains themselves were easing us into the day.

As we opened our door, the Siamese cat came trotting in like he owned the place, doing his morning inspection. He hopped onto everyone’s bed at least once, but he took a special liking to Obet. Maybe it was his calm energy — whatever it was, the cat claimed him. Watching that cat curl up beside him made me miss our own kitties even more.

Breakfast was simple but perfect — hot, fresh, and exactly what our tired bodies needed to start the day. There’s something about eating a meal in a place like that, surrounded by mountains and morning light, that makes everything taste better.

After a great breakfast to start our day, we packed up and made the 10‑minute hike back to the van, ready for whatever the mountains had planned next.

Our next stop: the Hanging Coffins — a place we hadn’t meant to visit, but one the road led us to anyway, long before we realized how unforgettable that detour would become.