A one-night stand with enchanting Mayon Volcano

Her mouth glowed with fire while thick cumulus clouds streaked across the sky that was lighted by the radiant full moon. The slopes of the mountain near the crater towards the foothills on the southeast flank glimmered, like the faint lights of distant fireflies. It was my first night in Legazpi City on New Year’s Eve, having hatched a plan two days earlier to wander around majestic Mayon Volcano at night so I could catch a glimpse of and photograph red hot lava cascading down her slopes. It had been 16 days since the volcano started showing signs of imminent eruption, and I was there to see for myself what it was all about. It wasn’t the type of thrill-seeking typical among those who are willing to risk their lives just to experience an adrenaline rush, but more a cautious urge to capture and memorialize a rare event. Eight months earlier — one early morning in April — I had ventured towards the village of Bonga (pronounced Bo-ngá) in Bacacay town to capture Mayon’s beauty with giant lava rocks on the foreground. Back then, I had to hike for about an hour and climb an almost vertical incline of solid rocks formed by molten lava that had cooled. One nasty slip between the wobbly igneous rocks and you could fall to your death. A local told me at that time that the rocks had hurtled five to six kilometers from the volcano’s summit during the eruption in 2004. It was, therefore, with much anticipation that I started my journey to Legazpi from Manila an hour before midnight on a Thursday, after impulsively thinking about it the night before. I barely felt the 10-hour bus trip, and I was awakened by the bright light coming through the window eight hours into the voyage. I peered through the window, and there it was – enchanting Mayon Volcano on a clear day, with clouds covering her perfect cone every now and then. I dozed off again and after two more hours, I arrived at Legazpi's Satellite bus station, where I took a jeepney towards Hotel Rex just across busy Peñaranda St. I spent the next six hours killing time and at exactly 3 p.m., I headed for Lignon Hill in time for a late afternoon shoot. It was just a 10-minute jeepney ride, but it was enough to give me an idea where to position myself for a unique vantage point. I got off the foot of the hill and started the trek towards the top of the paved hill, but what was supposed to be a taxing climb turned out to be a quick and easy ride after I was offered a hitch by a Philippine Daily Inquirer van. Lignon Hill, which has been converted into some sort of a mini-park, gives you an unobstructed view of the volcano on a clear day. Clouds cover the summit much of the time, but those who are willing to wait are rewarded with an awe-inspiring vista of Mayon every few minutes. I noticed that the gullies were more prominent this time, like chocolate syrup on a mound of ice cream. It was a busy afternoon, and a number of tourists, mostly locals, had congregated on the hill to witness the volcano's night display. After a two-hour wait and some test shots, it was time to see some action. The sun started its descent towards the horizon exactly 31 minutes after moonrise, and soft orange light started painting the clouds around Mayon just before the last sunset of 2009. As twilight drew to a close, the warm glow was replaced by cold blue light, making the crater glow and the twinkling lava rocks on its slopes more discernible. It wasn't like the thick lava flows from the past days, but it still took my breath away. At night, the wind became even stronger, while lights from the towns near the foothills of Mayon twinkled. I had thought of paying Bonga another visit for a sunrise shoot, but I was told this time that it had been off-limits since December 14. “Nagsilikas na ang mga tao roon. May mga sundalong naka-istasyon ngayon (People there have been evacuated. Government soldiers are stationed there now)," Zeny, a resident of Pawa in Malinao town, told me while I was on Lignon Hill. Pawa is within the eight-kilometer danger zone, but Zeny and her family have opted not to leave their home and have seized the opportunity to make money by selling snacks and soft drinks on the hill. "We are not afraid of the volcano. Our only fear is the Yawa River, which brings hot lahar from the mountain when it rains," Zeny told me in Filipino. I contented myself with planning to photograph Mayon from below on the southeastern side, where I thought I could get an impressive view of her under the full moon. But what was supposed to be a three-day excursion ended up as a one-night stand. New Year's Eve was the only opportunity that I got. Friday was overcast, while it rained the whole Saturday. Still, I was glad to have made the trip. This may not be a walk through the tree canopies of the Amazon Rainforest, a camel caravan across the Sahara Desert, or a trek to the Mount Everest base camp, but a night with entrancing Mayon Volcano has given me travel bragging rights for a lifetime. — YA, GMANews.TV