Into the Darkness

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Bats are not quiet sleepers. Maybe if there were just a few, you wouldn’t notice so much. But pack some 10,000 bats all sleeping upside down in a dark cave, and you’ll definitely hear them. It’s a constant hum of high-pitched, symphonic screeching.

Descending into the wide opening of the cave, the lush green jungle gave way to cool, humid air. And darkness. At the edge of the light, our guide fired up a kerosene lamp, and we ventured deeper inside.

The rocks were slippery. Maybe from condensation dripping down, maybe from rainwater seeping dirt and mud in from outside, maybe from mold, maybe from bat droppings. I really don’t know, but when I felt something wet drop down onto the back of my neck, I immediately suspected the damn bats and heaved up a curse at their assembled mass.

Slipping and sliding down the rock formations, trying to see and feel my way by the dim light and myriad of shadows projected by the lone kerosene lamp, I followed the guide down deeper into the earth, ever so careful to not twist an ankle or slip and brain myself on a nearby stalagmite.

Imagine my surprise, then, when the guide stopped, turned to me and said “be careful, from here it’s slippery.” What?! Like it wasn’t slippery before?

Only he wasn’t kidding. Slippery really isn’t the right term. From that point on, let’s just say that each and every rock had been personally and very generously hand-lubricated. Friction ceased to exist. You could have wrapped yourself in heavy-duty sandpaper and still slipped around those rocks like on your backyard Slip-and-Slide. I was legitimately concerned about breaking something, and all this lurching and flailing around in the dark like that made me feel ridiculously retarded and uncoordinated.

Thankfully, the Slip-and-Slide section of the cave gave way to the take-off-your-shoes-and-go-barefoot section. Traction at last! A relief even if it meant a) slowly wearing off the layers of skin on my feet and b) cold water everywhere. But so beautiful, with little waterfalls and streams and crystal clear pools of water—some deep enough to swim in—all deep inside a dark and mysterious cavernous underworld.

On the way back to Sagada, the guide showed us some of the area’s “hanging coffins,” burial places set into cliffs according to ancient local traditions. A few years ago a couple students from Manila decided to “borrow” one of these coffins to study it. They apparently were not aware of the curse befalling those that disturb the dead: one of the two died shortly thereafter, and the other hurried to bring back the coffin to its rightful place, but our guide assured us that it’s too late for him as well. So no disturbing of coffins for me.