“The journey matters more than the destination.”

In the past three days, I took the bus from Cubao to La Union, and joined a friend’s bike tour. After biking for almost 200km with an elevation gain of more than 4,000m, I finally arrived in Sagada.

Now that the ride was over, what was there to do?

The landscape photographer in me wanted to catch the sunrise first thing in the morning. But I was too tired and beat-up. Sleeping was far more enjoyable.

The fact that I made it to Sagada didn’t matter. I could have been anywhere in the world, yet all I wanted to do was get rested and return home.

My friend told me the last bus bound for Manila would depart at 3pm, so I had better get my ticket ASAP. But that wasn’t possible since the Coda Lines office opened at 9am. This allowed me to go around town a bit and visit Tam Tam Café and Yoghurt House.

The bus ticket was P1,080 with an additional P350 since I had a bike. Apparently, there were two kinds of buses. The one with a bathroom had less storage space and could accommodate only three bikes. The other could carry as many as five.

I didn’t actually have a choice since only the one without a toilet was available. This didn’t sound comforting as the bus ride was said to be 11-12 hours long. At least I didn’t need to bike all the way back.

After getting my ticket for the 2pm bus, I biked back to the homestay and packed my things. The steep gradient reminded me of my time in Baguio. Going back and forth would have been a great hassle. That was why I made sure not to leave anything.

I had lunch at Salt and Pepper Diner. The Black Pepper Steak seemed tasty, but I regretted it after a few bites—take away the black pepper overload and the pork became bland. How I wished I had ordered a normal steak or hamburger.

I arrived at the bus terminal at 1:30pm to make sure that my bike would be loaded properly. Although it fit in the cargo storage, I had to accept that it could get scuffed and scratched in transit.

The bus left on time, and I was excited to go home. Little did I know that this would be the most dreadful part of the trip—yes, even more so than being chased by stray dogs.

There’s no one direct route between Sagada and Metro Manila, but I hoped the bus would pass through TPLEX to minimize the travel time. Instead, I was taken on a tour through different provinces that I had heard about in sibika and hekasi during grade school.

The next province was Ifugao. And if it’s famous for anything, that would be the Banaue Rice Terraces.

After descending the mountain pass, the bus was now in Nueva Vizcaya. It was dark already, so I couldn’t make out the landscape.

The only thing I noticed was that the place was much more urbanized than Ifugao, seeing the many shops and businesses along the national highway.

Apparently, the bus wasn’t point-to-point as it stopped in the cities and towns along the way whenever someone needed a ride.

Comparing this to my previous travels, 12 hours is a long time—almost the same amount needed to fly from Manila to San Francisco. But at least an airplane has food and a bathroom, even in economy class.

It was eye-opening to realize that this miserable bus ride was how ordinary Filipinos traveled between provinces by land. On the other hand, looking at the foreign tourists, I wondered if their destinations were worth such a trip.

Stopovers were few and far between. Eating and hydration were difficult if you had no idea when the next bathroom break would be. Legroom was minimal at the back. And it didn’t help that the guy in front reclined his seat until it pressed hard against my knees.

Having peace of mind was difficult when the bus driver had to constantly overtake trains of huge, slow-moving trucks on dark, twisty two-lane roads. I could feel the weight shifting and hear the brakes squeaking, just like my bicycle.

One wrong move and the trip—as well as my life—could be over. Thankfully, nothing bad happened, unlike the other bus from Sagada that broke down in Ifugao.

The first major stopover was at 8:30pm, more than six hours after the bus had departed. We had around 30 minutes to grab dinner and relieve ourselves in the bathroom. The next and final stopover was in Nueve Ecija, right before entering the Central Luzon Link Expressway (CLLEX).

While I don’t believe expressways are a solution to traffic congestion, I was glad to know I was on the homestretch going from CLLEX to SCTEX to NLEX and then to Skyway.

From there, the bus went down at Quezon Avenue and passed through the Scout Area in Quezon City to reach E. Rodriguez Avenue, before arriving at one of the many bus terminals in Cubao at 1:40am.

Finally.

I don’t know if I should be glad that I was back in Metro Manila with all the noise, the traffic, and the pollution. But at least I could go home now. Had I known how grueling the bus ride would turn out, perhaps I would have extended my stay in Sagada.

Normally, one would feel a sense of relief after arriving home from an out-of-town trip. But after everything I had gone through in the past four days, I felt like I needed a vacation from the vacation.

Do I regret going on this tour? Certainly not. Would I do it again? Once was enough. This was no ordinary vacation. One way to tell if a trip was memorable is to see the mark it leaves on you as a person.

I love bicycles, and this trip has only further deepened my passion for riding them. But if I want to go cycling in far-off places, then I will have to be prepared to face great discomfort and inconvenience—whether that’s getting chased by dogs at night, or sitting in a provincial bus for countless hours.

The lows were low; the highs were high. And that’s why this bike tour to Sagada was the ride of my life.