The Pathfinder | C-6 Last Part

The C-6 expedition was a test of skill: To prove that the once hardy explorer still resides within him. Living in an old house along a cranky alleyway as a kid, he learned to explore pathways leading to a sure exit. It doesn't matter what street he found himself in. Somehow, he would find again the narrow bend leading back to his home. What mattered was to briefly savor the open road after getting out of an almost suffocating passage. And then he would set course for another obscure alley until he finally charts the entire network of walkways.






There are no public transport routes that ply along the new road. Most vehicles still converge at the heavily congested Manuel L. Quezon, where slow-moving and insidious jeepneys hoard for passengers along the two-lane street. On the contrary, private vehicle owners who turn right at General Paulino Santos Avenue will find the highway all for themselves. C-6 remains a relatively unknown parkway whose hidden charms appeal only to the denizens of a lakeside city.

Built over land reclaimed from Laguna de Bay, the paved road may appear finished but its stretch spans only a handful of villages. Signs of civilization may have began to appear - like the street lamps installed by the government to illuminate the road. But online sources tell the electric bulbs don't work. A useless garnish perhaps. In a land where the very stones beneath the highway were unearthed from unnamed places, nobody questions why the light bulbs along the road never spark.






There were also nipa houses nearby. Built from light wood which floats when the lake swells after a heavy rain, these were the true settlers who learned to live alongside the waterlilies. The two-lane strip, whose sides remain surrounded by greens may appear pristine, but smoke rising from the burning piles of trash has already smudged the watery landscape.

Walking over the earth dike, the panoramic view unravels as the lakeshore begins to take shape. Across the Bai were the hills of Tanay, whose barren face hides behind the reclusive haze. Far beyond were the faint peaks of Sierra Madre. Diffused sunlight, whose rays gleam over the summit reminds everyone that a day has come to an end.

My journey is nearing completion. Alongside lovers, friends and families alighted in their motorcycles; joggers finishing a lap or two before heading home; locals living in their boats and water homes, whose rustic way of life has been forever tampered by the two-edged superhighway, we all gazed at the mother lake as darkness swallows the horizon. I may never know how much land I covered while my heavy bag, my digital camera and my iPod Mini clung over my body but it was worth every step.

Turning my head before crossing the road where the Hagonoy Floodgate controls the flow of a nearby creek, the rolling plains reveal the reward for undertaking such expedition.






The seemingly bleak void is suddenly filled with distant lights.

The next time I find myself there, I will most probably be inside a speeding car.