There is something quietly revolutionary about taking a group of folks from the Filinvest legal department out of their natural habitat — away from case files, contracts, and court deadlines — and pointing them toward a mountain.

Last Thursday, that is exactly what happened when some of our staff traded the office for the trails of Mt. Kulis in Tanay, Rizal.

The idea started innocently enough. Our Docket Officer mentioned that some of the team had been expressing interest in hiking, and being a trail runner myself, I needed very little convincing. We looped in my trail running coach, Tolitz Divina, who wisely recommended Mt. Kulis as a beginner-friendly entry point. A group chat was created, a checklist was shared, and the adventure was officially underway — or so we thought.

Here is where things got interesting. Despite our best efforts at preparation, a couple of our teammates arrived on the day dressed not for a hike, but for a picnic. Hats, casual sandals, the works. To be fair, the confusion was entirely understandable — “let’s go to the mountains” does leave some room for interpretation. We laughed, we teased, and then we went anyway. Because that is what legal people do: we adapt.

The trail itself was forgiving and the journey to the summit uneventful in the best possible way.

When we reached the top, the view made every step worth it — a wide, generous sprawl of Rizal province under a brilliant summer sky. The heat was intense, but somehow the excitement insulated us from it — at least until the final push back up, when the sun had no mercy and the two kilometers of steady uphill reminded us that nature always has the last word.

Along the way, Mt. Kulis offered its own peculiar charms. There was a “Noah’s Ark” — a makeshift boat structure perched on a hilltop that had everyone lining up for photos with the enthusiasm of tourists on a cruise ship.

And then there was the pool: cold, clear spring water that stopped our group dead in their tracks. What followed was a good hour of swimming, laughter, and the so-called “fairy walk” — a hanging rope contraption that turned every member of the legal department into a gleeful five-year-old. Dignity, temporarily suspended.

Lunch was where the real magic happened. Over food and shared photos, the conversation flowed easily — stories from the trail, gentle ribbing about the picnic outfits, and talk about everything except work.

That last part mattered more than it sounds.

It was only last December that the legal department of our real estate subsidiary was integrated with the parent company’s legal department, which I head.

Overnight, we became a team of nearly 50 people — different cultures, different rhythms, different histories. The months since have been a genuine adjustment for everyone. Integration on paper is one thing; integration as people is another process entirely, slower and more human.

What a mountain does — what any shared physical challenge does — is strip away titles and compress the distance between people. On the trail, no one is senior or junior. Everyone is just trying to get to the top.

Word of the hike has already spread. Colleagues from other departments have asked to join the next one, which tells me that the hunger for something real and physical and outdoors is wider than I imagined. As a runner, I have always believed that movement is one of the best things you can do for your mind, not just your body. The trail has a way of putting problems in their proper proportion.

Mt. Kulis was just the beginning. The summit was spectacular. The spring water was cold. The uphill was brutal. And every bit of it was exactly what we needed.