We left Banaue behind and made our way toward Sagada for a quick stop at the Hanging Coffins before heading back to Baguio. All of us were excited for another night in that beautiful home — a chance to rest, breathe, and enjoy the night market without rushing. That was the plan, anyway…..

The Hanging Coffins

I had only ever heard about the Hanging Coffins, a burial tradition practiced by the Kankanaey people for more than two thousand years. The idea of raising the dead high on the cliff face comes from ancient beliefs — that the higher the body, the closer the soul is to the ancestral spirits watching over the living.

The coffins themselves are carved by the elders while they are still alive, a way of preparing for the next world. The bodies are placed in the fetal position, returning to the posture they entered life in. Some coffins are centuries old, weathered and gray; others are newer, larger, and marked with names and dates.

The tradition blends pagan and Christian practices today. Families still honor the old rituals — the death chair, the smoking of the body, the belief in ancestral spirits — but many now include Christian prayers and blessings as well, which is why some coffins have crosses on them. Two belief systems, woven together on the same cliff.

After visiting the Hanging Coffins, we started the drive back, already talking about how good it would feel to stretch out in that peaceful house. Ronald was in charge of the map, and somewhere along the way, he closed his eyes for what he swore was “just two minutes.”

That was all it took

We reached a roundabout, and instead of going straight, we made a left. None of us questioned it at first, Obet was confidently at the helm, the scenery was beautiful, the road was smooth, and the mountains were doing their usual magic. I even mentioned that I was waiting to see a landmark I’d spotted on our way up so I could take a photo of it on the way down.

That’s when Rica said, “We’ve never been on this road before.”

That’s when Ronald woke up, looked around, and realized we had made the wrong turn. We were in Ilocos Sur — a place none of us had planned to visit that day, and a place none of us had ever been to before. We would still get to Baguio this route, but it was going to take longer. Much longer.

Obet kept driving, calm as ever, while the rest of us tried to process the fact that we had somehow drifted into an entirely different province. The van went quiet for a moment — the kind of silence where everyone is thinking the same thing but no one wants to be the first to say it.

Then Ronald cleared his throat and said, “It’s okay… it’s just one more hour.”

We all looked at each other. We had heard that before

And that was it — the moment the detour officially became a story. The wrong turn, the unexpected province, the scenic route none of us asked for but all of us would remember. The mountains rolled on, the road stretched ahead, and we settled into the kind of laughter that only comes when you realize you’re too far in to turn back.

At this point, we were all hungry and started looking for a place to eat. The thing was… we were in Ilocos Sur, a province none of us had ever set foot in before. The dialect was different and the food was also different. Their specialties weren’t the dishes we cooked at home, and we had no idea what we were about to find.

And that’s when the detour turned into a discovery

That’s when Ella found DB2 Panciteria. She spotted it on her phone, and it immediately rang a bell. Both she and Ronald had heard about it before, though none of us had ever been to one. So even though it looked like a total hole‑in‑the‑wall from the outside, the fact that they recognized the name gave us just enough confidence to pull in.

Inside, we realized it wasn’t just a random roadside eatery — it was part of a local chain, clearly loved by the community. The menu was full of comfort foods, with one dish we didn’t usually cook at home. Some were familiar, but Batil Patong was completely new to us.

After the meal, with full bellies, we got back in the van to make the final stretch to Baguio — a stretch that was clearly going to take way longer than any of us expected.

Ronald checked the map again and said, “One more hour.”

We all stared at him. Ten minutes later, he looked again. “Okay… maybe two more hours.”

That’s when Rica let out the most dramatic “Ay naku!” — and the funniest part was that she barely speaks Tagalog and only knows a handful of words. But this one? She used it perfectly. The whole van burst into laughter because at that point, what else could we do? We were already committed to the scenic route, the accidental province, and the long road home.

The sun was dropping lower, the mountains turning gold, and the van was filled with that mix of exhaustion and hilarity that only happens when a simple plan turns into an all‑day adventure.

And still, Ronald kept saying it. “One more hour.” Always one more hour.

By the time we finally made it back to the Baguio house, the sky had already gone dark. It felt almost funny at this point — once again, we were arriving late, too tired to enjoy the place the way we had hoped. We slipped inside, grateful for the quiet and the cool mountain air, but there was no time to linger. We showered, repacked, and got ready for the early morning ahead.

Even with the little time we had there, the house left its mark. It was peaceful, welcoming, and thoughtfully cared for — the kind of place that feels like a retreat the moment you walk through the door. If I ever return to Baguio, this is the house I would seek out again, and I would recommend it to anyone making this trip. Some places stay with you, even if you only get to borrow them for a night.

Tomorrow, we head to Bataan — the next chapter, and the final stretch of our homecoming journey as a group.