Walking the underworld

A spot of bleakness

Langun-Gobingob cave was the name of this spot of bleakness, more prominent for lacking brightness — a decidedly uninviting quality. There was a dearth of views in the underworld, nothing but relentless night spreading out in all directions, infinite and epic in scale even when pierced by flimsy torch beams that faded out to nothing. I was used to grand and colourful landscapes but here in the caverns of Calbiga, Samar, the magnificent scenery was shrouded in darkness.

Caving or spelunking was never my passion. But while not exactly thrilled with my lack of autonomy in this type of adventure, the draw of confronting the unknown was too strong to turn my back on. Clearly out of my element and comfort zone, I was quite literally at the mercy of my light and my guide who, if predisposed to menacing schemes, could easily leave me stranded in this nether world. Fortunately, my wellbeing was safe in the trusted, capable hands of local adventurer and spelunker Joni Bonifacio. Having dedicated his life to the protection, preservation and promotion of these tunnels, he was intimate with their ins and outs. And perpetually eager to share the unique, profound beauty of subterranean Samar, he leads minor expeditions underground.

The horizontal main entrance to Langun-Gobingob cave lay at the base of an enormous limestone massif in a minor clearing surrounded by jungle. It was reachable only after an hour’s trek from Baranggay Panayuran, a small knot of homes on the hillside at the outskirts of the municipality of Calbiga. The cave’s first section was a massive anteroom with a high ceiling. A trail zigzagged downwards, progressively acquainting me with the hollow earth. As we ventured deeper, it darkened considerably as the only illumination came from the cave’s mouth behind us, a mere slit against the gloom. My first tumble occurred not long after it had gone completely dark. The ground was slippery, composed of a powdery, dust-like soil coating stone and loose rock. This was no gentle stroll; it had evolved into a laborious slog, each step on uneven, poorly lit ground requiring focused attention and immense concentration. I made meager progress. Slips and falls were par for the course. Breaking an ankle, however, was not. Yet it remained a real possibility.

The narrow corridor

The enormous chamber terminated in a narrow corridor with an unassuming entrance, necessitating a change in approach. With my head tilted down to avoid the low ceiling, I dug through small passageways, negotiating tight sections in partial crawls. The air was still, the wind noticeably absent. It was hot and extremely uncomfortable. Steam emanated from my body as I perspired, and a halo of mist enveloped me. I wanted to wipe my fogged-up spectacles on my sleeve, but it wouldn’t have made any difference: my shirt was drenched with sweat.

We came upon a massive lobby that featured a mini-mountain of calcite on a stage of solidified mud. Tracing the shape of the enormous mound, sparkling crystals played peek-a-boo when caressed by my headlamp’s light. Behind the heap was a concealed chamber the size of a football field, pristine in its vast emptiness. On its fringes flowed a clear river: replenishment for our near-empty water bottles. Further on were perfectly layered terraces, sculpted by gracefully progressing water.

Surprisingly, an assortment of creatures — crickets, bugs, spiders, snakes, bats, balinsasayaw (swiftlets), and even blind crab and fish — survive in these black depths. With few plants to consume, they prey on each other in an apparent predatory scheme. Not only does the dark make life resilient here, it forces it to adhere to a natural order.

We retraced our steps back to the stage and marched up a jagged slope strewn with wobbly rocks, rising in a 45-degree gradient. I struggled with the humidity and longed for coolness, stopping frequently to douse myself with the contents of my water bottle. Dehydration, not exhaustion, was becoming the primary challenge. At the apex, Joni pointed his torch to a sheer drop on the opposite edge. Our destination lay at the bottom of the precipice. I caught my breath, stared at the abyss, and prepared myself. Reining in my imagination demanded enormous effort.

The descent of the precipitous rock wall was a prolonged drill. My feet at long last touched level ground and I stepped into a speleothem forest, an arrangement of stalagmites and other rock formations crafted by nature into what looked like pine trees, corals, and snowmen. What my mind conjured, I saw. The patterns varied wildly but all were shaped by the same agents: time and nature. Small calcium-based particles transported by water oozing through rocks, precipitated at particular temperatures. Eventually, deposits accumulated, building up over millions of years into interesting structures and patterns. To behold a three-meter high stalagmite is to stare eternity in the face.

Whole rock configurations, preserved and unbroken, were providentially boxed in by a formidable natural barrier in the cave’s arcane recesses, effectively keeping the outside world and its unchecked greed and unfettered advance at bay.

I wove through the dense array of clustered stalagmites, vigilantly avoiding any contact that could prompt the slightest damage. Noli me tangere (touch me not), they all mutely asserted. A careless and reckless act could alter in an instant what elements had taken aeons to painstakingly sculpt. It calls for the highest order of respect for what nature has created, and an unspoken accord with it when roving these parts. The delicate beauty in a mother’s womb is handled with utmost care. Within Gaia’s (mother earth’s) bosom, her irreplaceable treasures must be treated similarly. Nothing less is expected.

Past the last creamy-white stalagmite, the rocky ground gave way to soil. I welcomed the change in topography, my rambling considerably eased. My quickened pace brought me into a palatial chamber. Here, stalactites dangled from the ceiling, virtually kissing the ground like weighty chandeliers straining the lines holding them aloft.

Puddles appeared. The soil had gradually grown damp, turning muddy in sections at regular intervals. Often, I had to jump from one clearing to another. Even so, my boots accumulated mud, becoming heavier with every stride. The arduous trudge wore me down. I had no idea how long I had been inside the cave since entering at midday. The absence of visual input had disoriented me and I had lost track of time.

The whole experience had turned into an unrivalled ordeal of strength, perseverance, and patience. Underneath the ground and within myself, I discovered much about what I was made of.

Although appreciating my spell in the underworld, I yearned to be above ground, suffused in color and under the lustre of a garish sun. Man was not meant to live underground. If so, eyesight would be superfluous.

Finally at camp, a bath (or what passed for one) with only limited water available was foremost. The adobo and grilled pork were plentiful but conversation was sparse. Completely done in, I turned in early.

After the last light source was extinguished, an initial hush presaged the pulsating night sounds — dripping water, falling stone, the quiver of wings, the chirping of insects. On my back and sprawled on a thin mat spread over soft dirt, I was King Tut, momentarily entombed, although alive, in a mausoleum, in an intimate relationship with the earth.

Eventually, the earth will retrieve me, to permanently declare me its own. Returning to my mother’s fold, I shall fall into eternal slumber. All in good time, but not just yet.

Deprived of vision and rendered immobile by soreness and a variety of aches, I was reduced to a most basic state of being; I simply was. My eyes were wide open yet I could well be comatose under the ebony veil. I yearned for the refuge of a deeper sleep. Physical rest couldn’t come soon enough.

I awoke bathed in light. Sunlight found me first — long before I had opened my eyes — pouring in through an aperture near the ceiling and illuminating the entire surroundings. Apparently, we had camped out in a limestone cathedral punctuated by sprouting stalagmites and dangling stalactites. We were as if ensnared in the jaws of a serpent, trapped within its fangs. The same opening, at the crest of a plant and poison ivy-littered incline, was our way out. As bats returned home from their nocturnal hunt, I considered the final exertion in store. Beyond the exit lay a jungle, cornfields, and hills to be traversed. Further still was civilization, several hours away.