Mountain's foot

Refuge from the Mountain

The motorcycle dance in the road built in the mountainside. Ragged and bent like a snake on it’s fleet, the motorcycle cannot go faster than a turtle’s run. A three minute peace and we are facing again a straight mountain that our motorcycle must climb. The engine roared as we go up. Still as a rock, a small movement from any of the four of us might send us all into the depths of the Aklan river below.
Few meters left and we will reach the mountain top where we can have a perfect view of the mountains we passed and the blue river. A sudden jolt made our ride stop and tilt sideways. We fell in the hardened mud and I felt the hot pain in my right leg. We walked through the scorching sun to the top. The driver is now dragging the motorcycle. A lot more mountains to go, my father told me before we will completely walk by foot.
And he was right. It took two hours for us to reach the end of what locals called road that I cannot recognize as such. The rest of the journey sent us fighting with the current of the Aklan river.
Its so surprising for such a river to be so strong. It only reached my thigh but I have to hold on to my father to cross. I'm so tired with the three hour walk after we get down from the motorcycle and here is my father telling me we're just half the way.
Few locals passed us by with sacks in their heads. It's so amazing how they can balance the cargo and fight the river. It seems that their feet are planted in where they step. Rocks are so slippery but I can see them sway to get their balance. Children with no slippers run after their mothers and have cargo too. Few more minutes and they vanished from our sight. That fast!
I beg my father to let me rest for a while and I have chosen the rock the size of a house. Some part of it is colored white and shiny.
"This used to be a ship but was turned into a rock by the baloy," our guide said. A baloy according to him is a bird in the old days casting chants to turn things into stone. And sure, the stone is shaped like a ship.
Cicadas are singing when we reached Dalagsaan, Libacao, Aklan. It took us eight hours to finally set foot in the place caged by mountain and isolated by distance from modern culture. My refuge too against being blind to the crucial part of understanding and appreciation of diverse culture.