“Sometimes, the second time around isn’t about discovery—it’s about seeing with familiarity and still finding wonder.”

🌤️ Return Without a Plan

It was Holy Week in 2014 when I made my way back to Banaue—this time on another impulsive solo trip with no itinerary, just a backpack and instinct. After visiting Manila Cathedral and grabbing a quick bite, I caught the 9 PM bus in Sampaloc. The long weekend traffic extended the trip to almost nine hours, and true to habit, I slept through two stopovers and missed the restroom breaks.

🚏 A Familiar Frenzy

I arrived at 7 AM to a scene I knew well: passengers spilling out, half-awake; tricycle drivers calling out offers to Batad and Sagada; and summer air buzzing with energy. Most inns were already full, and I hadn’t reserved a ticket back. The ticket seller’s words hit hard—no buses tomorrow, and tonight’s trips were selling out fast. With no place to sleep and no return guarantee, my short escape began folding itself into a day trip.

☕ Moments, Still

After paying the Php20.00 environmental fee, I wandered to Sanafe Lodge for coffee, hoping caffeine would bring clarity. I asked around at Uyami Green View Lodge and other guesthouses—but they were all booked. So I returned to the bus station and reserved my ride back to Manila, embracing a new challenge: make these hours count.

🏞️ Wandering Between Viewpoints

I walked to Chango and Banaue Viewpoints—familiar, comforting, and still breathtaking. Skipping the tricycle to save money, I embraced slow travel and relished the scenes on foot. I bought a dreamcatcher at one of the souvenir shops, then stopped at Banaue Heritage Café for lunch, where rice terraces stretched just beyond the roadside window.

🛵 Kindness on the Road

On the way back, Kuya Virgil, a local tour guide, offered me a free habal-habal ride. It’s a uniquely Filipino mode of transport, especially common in rural and mountainous areas where regular vehicles can’t easily pass. His warm gestures and tips were the kind of travel moments that aren’t planned, just lived. Grateful, I spent my last hours at the Cordillera Museum, admiring carved bulols—the Ifugao rice gods—and reflections of a way of life deeply rooted in earth and spirit.

🌌 Homebound Again

By sundown, I was back at the bus terminal, Manila-bound. The bus was full, the day brief, but this unplanned trip still gave me gifts: silence, motion, and stories tucked into narrow windows of time.

Silence, like a companion I hadn’t known I needed. Motion, steady and grounding, as if the road itself was teaching me how to let go. And stories—tucked into narrow windows of time, between a stranger’s smile and the scent of pine.

Short escapes don’t have to be empty—they can be enough. Enough to remind you that wonder doesn’t ask for permission, and meaning doesn’t need a map.

🔗 More from the Cordillera Chronicles

The Cordillera has a way of staying with me—its quiet mornings, winding trails, and stories etched into stone and soil. If you’d like to explore more of my reflections from this region, here’s where the trail is:

📍 Backpacking Banaue Part 1

📍 Backpacking Banaue Part 2

“Thanks for walking with me through these mountain memories. May your journeys be just as grounding.”