Sagada was the final stop after biking from Tagudin to Cervantes via Bessang Pass. I was hoping the tour’s second day would be just as enjoyable as the first. But the gloomy sky foreshadowed the terror that was to come.

The group had a slow start, probably because of the cold weather. We backtracked to the town center and turned right at the intersection. After crossing a bridge, the climbs resumed as we headed toward Kayan West (not to be confused with Kanye West).

Since everyone was traveling at their own pace, it was inevitable that people would be separated. I wasn’t at the back of the pack, but I wasn’t among the frontrunners as well. One thing for certain was that I was alone for a good chunk of the time.

Two things became apparent upon reaching the border of Mountain Province: The pavement was smooth, but the dogs were no longer leashed. What do you do when a barking dog is chasing you in the middle of the road?

Playing Dog Whisperer wasn’t fun. But I realized that if they seriously wanted to attack me, they wouldn’t have wasted any time. So, the best that I could do was keep as much distance, maintain confidence, and calmly pedal forward.

The group had lunch at Ohana in Bauko since that was the last proper restaurant we would encounter. The food was filling, but the serving time was longer than we’d like. The ride out was already past 2pm, yet there was still 34km to go. If the terrain was flat, we’d have covered that in no time.

I descended on the Tagudin-Cervantes-Sabangan Road until I found myself alongside the Chico River. Based on the Komoot map, I was supposed to make a left to a bridge leading to Bagnen-Sabangan Road. But when I did, I noticed a couple of my friends moving forward.

Thinking they overshot the turn, I continued following the route only to find myself with the worst climb ever. The switchbacks came one after another, and I had to zig-zag my way up because of the sheer incline at each corner.

I updated the others regarding my location, only to find out that I made a wrong turn. Apparently, the group was supposed to head to Halsema Highway and begin the climb on Staunton Road. That was a longer route, but at least the incline wasn’t as extreme.

After catching my breath, I descended through the switchbacks and backtracked to the bridge. Since there weren’t any climbs, I was able to enjoy sprinting along the riverside road while listening to Eurobeat.

The sight of Dantay’s Store marked the beginning of my ascent on Staunton Road. The time was 4:50pm, and I still had 12km to go. I was starting to feel uneasy.

The clock ticked with each turn of the crank. Daylight was beginning to run out. And compared to previous places, Staunton Road felt eerily uninhabited. I probably encountered more dogs than people on foot. Even the passing vehicles were scarce.

As the sky grew dimmer, the atmosphere began to shift. Yes, I was tired from the pedaling, and the climb was as steep as ever. But gravity was no longer the only thing weighing me down, as my mind began wandering off.

Alone in the mountains, I was in a contemplative state as I pondered on deeper matters such as the vastness of Creation, my frail mortality, and the brevity of life. It was as if all the hustle and bustle of city life never existed.

Listening to music made the experience more bearable, especially with the song “Unshaken” from Red Dead Redemption 2. I’m no outlaw running away from the authorities, but the music best described my feeling of helplessness, being at my wits’ end from tirelessly climbing up the mountain alone for hours.

A few minutes before 6pm, I arrived at the “Welcome to Sagada” sign. It wasn’t very welcoming knowing I still had more than 5km to go. The sight of the SAG vehicle passing by gave me a bit of hope to continue pushing.

The closer I got to Sagada, the more treacherous the terrain became. The road wasn’t always paved. And there was no end to the stray dogs harassing me along the way. Eventually, the daylight was no more.

I remember a friend shared his experience biking alone in the middle of the night. He couldn’t see anything but the illumination from his front light, and there was no sound apart from the clicking of his bicycle’s hub.

Upon hearing his story, I wondered how biking in Metro Manila—with all the traffic and the pollution—could be preferable to that. But now that I was in a similar situation, I understood why.

The solitude had turned into loneliness.

I could barely see anything, but I could tell I was no longer by the cliffside. My field of view was flanked by trees on both sides with seemingly endless darkness in front, beyond the reach of my bicycle light.

It’s in moments like this that the mind tends to play games with you. There’s no telling what lies in the pitch-black darkness. And although I don’t believe in cryptids and mythological beings, the fear was very real.

Eventually, I began seeing houses and small buildings—signs that I was in society. Yet, they looked abandoned. And when they weren’t uninhabited, I was greeted by the barking of even more canines.

I was highly distressed. But it’s not like I could turn around and just go home. The only way was forward. This was a path I had to tread regardless of how I felt.

As I continued pedaling, I noticed a two-wheeler parked on the sidewalk. Too small to be a motorcycle, it turned out to be the black Panasonic touring bike of Edge, who was just about on the edge of his limit from the grueling climb.

At long last, another human being.

I don’t remember the specifics anymore, but we were also able to regroup with Edu. The three of us continued moving after I consumed my last snack, a pack of Regent Cheese Ring I had bought much earlier in the day.

It was 6:30pm, and I was greatly relieved upon seeing a brightly lit building. “Bro’s Inasal,” said the sign. I was filled with delight at that moment, and did not hesitate to stop over for dinner.

Making my way to the entrance, I saw three other bicycles parked outside. We joined our companions inside. I wanted to have a full meal, but was told to eat light since dinner would be served at the homestay.

I was recommended the etag sandwich; it was a local delicacy consisting of cured and smoked pork. The freezing cold air made me question whether I was still in the Philippines or in Northern California during winter.

There was still 4.4km until the House of Sol. For perspective, that’s a similar distance between the Cubao and Shaw Boulevard MRT stations. But because of the elevation gain, getting to the homestay took a while.

I didn’t want to get left behind, so I tried giving my all for the final stretch. Yet, it wasn’t enough to keep up. Although we were already passing by the town center, there wasn’t anyone outside—except for the huge dogs I’d encounter at every other building.

Eventually, we arrived at the House of Sol, passing through a gate leading down to the guest house. Not everyone had arrived, and the food was still being cooked. Although the long, grueling ride was now over, I was processing everything that had happened, shaken from the dogs and the darkness.

One day, I was having the time of my life, and the next day, I was alone fending for myself in the cold, dark woods. As beautiful as the world can be, it can also be just as cruel and cold. Was this worth everything I had gone through so far?

I didn’t have the energy to think as I was drained physically and mentally. All I wanted was a good night’s sleep to prepare for the return trip the following day.