I remember looking down below—it was steep ravines and the deep blue river at the bottom seemed so angry, its raging current crashing against the rocks with a wild intensity. I quickly averted my eyes forward. The endless sharp curves as we snaked our way through the rugged mountains made me feel dizzy. Occasionally, my brother, who was the driver at that time, would stop and fetch water from a nearby spring or waterfall- not for us to drink, but to cool the car as it revved up and tackled the 45-degree inclines from time to time.

It was raining, and thick fog obscured much of our vision. I don’t know how my brother managed to drive through all that, but apparently, he was used to it. It felt like a real-life roller coaster ride. The only difference was, instead of relying on a safety harness, you had to buckle your seatbelt tightly and hold on to anything within reach as the car traversed the sinuous curves of the Cordillera mountains.

Not long after, we finally reached Barlig, my paternal grandmother’s hometown. A crisp, cold breeze greeted us as we stepped out of the car. One of our relatives directed us to the kitchen, where a pot of warm beef soup was waiting. The aroma alone brought a sense of comfort. It was a happy moment for everyone since it was our nephew’s wedding the following day.

Since it was my first time visiting, my sister and I took the opportunity to roam around. It was still drizzling, but nothing could stop our curiosity. We took photos here and there, completely mesmerized by the verdant vistas. Everywhere we looked, it was a blanket of green- the kind that makes you stop and breathe deeply. The houses scattered across the hills looked like white polka dots sprinkled across lush vegetation.

The following morning, my siblings and I decided to hike to the famous Lake Tufob. The lake nestles peacefully on top of a mountain, so we had to climb steep steps winding their way upward. As we ascended, the air grew colder, thinner, but somehow more invigorating. When we finally reached the top, it was just magical. The lake lay still, shrouded in mist that hovered above the surface like rising smoke. Jewels of morning dew clung to leaves and blades of grass, glistening under the soft light. The quiet was almost surreal. You could hear your own footsteps, the snap of twigs underfoot, and the occasional bird call echoing in the silence, as if nature herself was announcing our arrival.

My brothers paddled the boat as we slowly made our way toward the middle of the lake. The water was so still that every stroke left ripples that lingered for a while before vanishing into the calm. We soon drifted toward the grassy banks and reached out to touch the soft green moss growing at the edges. The feeling of the moss was unlike anything else- soft, cool, and springy, like a sponge caressing our fingers. It was strangely comforting, as if the earth itself was welcoming us.

We sat there for a while, not saying much, just soaking in the beauty around us. The fog began to lift slightly, revealing more of the surrounding hills, and for a moment, it felt like time stood still. Nature has a way of making you forget about everything else- no noise, no stress, just you and the world, breathing in sync.