It was a Thursday, 14th of January.

The day before, as what happens quite often lately, I’ve realized, I vowed to go out and ride — solo or not. But as the time nears when I’d really have to start preparing for the ride the high I got was starting to wither down.

I was undecided. Quick short ride or stay at home? Then I remembered an old, short entry I did about how Erick of Nema gave me a boost about going out there to train, or just to simply ride.

Because of my fickle-mindedness my original plan to leave at 2:00 P.M. was moved to 3:30 P.M.

Headwind was strong. I even did a simple test. In a downhill section of Daang Hari, specifically the part after the exclusive subdivision of Verdana towards to bridge marking the boundary of Cavite and Muntinlupa, before reaching the new Petron station across the Daang Hari police outpost (north-bound), I stopped pedaling.

Normally, since the road was going downhill a bit, we would freewheel and let momentum and gravity do their thing. But not today. The headwind was literally stopping me in my tracks. If only I didn’t start late on this ride I would have waited for the wind to put me in a full stop. It wouldn’t take long, I was sure, but I was kind of in a hurry to finish the ride.

That damn headwind almost made me turn back and leave the ride as it was: a half-baked road ride. But no, I decided to pedal on and try to finish whatever I can ride in the Malipay trails. I’ll take whatever route I can take in the limited time I have, I thought.

As I was entering the trail from Fernbrook my phones started ringing. It was my wife. After a short chat, I also found out she didn’t get the text message I sent about me going out for a ride, I started pedaling, slowly gaining momentum, but still undecided if I should ride hard.

Then I reached the creek. As always it was rideable, but I wasn’t in the mood so I decided I didn’t want to get wet. At the same time there was a little kid crossing and playing on the rocks. I had no choice but to stop, though I welcomed it.

Riding alone in Malipay, knowing I can go as hard as can or as slow as I want the familiar feeling of the uneven surface under me started to give me a boost, like it almost always does. It was starting to make me concentrate on riding hard, not giving any thought to the route I was about to take. Besides, I’ve ridden these trails countless times. I already have a set route.

As I reached the Plaza (basketball court) I steered left on the main dirt road, only slowing down whenever I see little kids walking home from school. Good afternoons were exchanged with the kids, some were extending their arms for a high-five. Whenever I can I oblige. Then it hit me. Where the hell am I going, I thought? Sure, I was planning on riding the Otso-otso first, but that was at the Amore entrance, the opposite end of where I started (Fernbrook).

I made a U-turn and decided I would try to ride the sections in reverse order. I would start with the Single Tracks that ends under the tamarind tree (I think; when I asked quite a few people what tree that was I got a bunch of different answers; best one was “Puno ng Malipay” (“Malipay Tree”)).

After turning back I saw the small gate pillars that lead to the Single Tracks. I’d have to turn left between them to start that section, but then I would be missing another section we usually ride before entering that “gate”, so I continued to ride the main dirt road, aiming for the Plaza again. I greeted the kids once more and when the coast was relatively clear I continued on past the basketball court then turned left at the first corner, into a mild twisty single track with a dip then climb to a section with small roots creeping in all directions.

I was breathing hard, I was sweating hard, but it was fun. This is one of the fun ways to ride your mountain bike, I thought, on single tracks, going down fast, climbing up hard, natural handling against the dirt and roots. Scary, but exhilarating!

When the ground leveled off I pedaled lightly. Recovering. Regaining my strength.

Then the left turn appeared, as the single track I was on dipped left into a tight double track. Momentum. Gravity. I kept rolling. Using slight body english to steer the Darna, my bike, from small but dangerous obstacles on the trail. Then another dipping left, and more speed.

But I was still not riding as hard as I can. I was still cautious…

I followed the tracks as it turned right. Then I saw the small eroded section with the exposed cement pipe. Rocks were used to fill up the gap. I didn’t think twice about it. This is part of our regular route.

But I wasn’t going fast enough. I pulled on the handlebar to lift the bike. Without the proper speed and momentum the front tire didn’t clear the gap. It landed on the rocks which weren’t tightly packed. Loosened by traffic of community locals and visiting mountain bikers. I felt the bike stop suddenly, but only for a beat. I felt the rear lift up suddenly, but, again, only for a beat. I still had enough momentum to push the bike forward, but not enough that I was able to successfully move my body weight towards the back of the bike.

The front tire cleared the rocks and continued to roll, pulling the rest of the bike away from the rocks. The endo was avoided. The heart was beating fast. The shock not helping. “Shit,” I breathed out.

I shook my head as I continued to pedal. Now I can see where I did the U-turn. Now I can go back through the “gate”. So I turn right into it. Slowly my legs started pumping harder and harder. Slowly gaining speed, unconsciously, I was trying to get away from the near-endo experience.

The Single Tracks now have been “cleaned” of cut branches. Good, I thought. Less risk of damaging my rear derailleur or hanger. I felt the sudden tiredness, and lazyness, burst like a bubble. Replaced with the need to pump my cranks hard, to push the tires to roll faster, to weave in, out, and around the obstacles in my path. And so I did.

Before long the bushes open up to reveal the hard-packed trail start its descent, and change into what looked like a huge rock surface. It curves left, then a fork. Familiar view. I took the track on the left, entering a tunnel-like area made up of branches and leaves of the surrounding trees, but not before releasing the brakes.

I used the momentum to bring me higher up the sudden climb, a natural characteristic of the Malipay trails: downhill section the sudden uphill climb. “Home”.

I started pedaling before reaching the halfway point, taking advantage of the speed I was able to develop. Reaching the top I eased off of my pedaling. Taking deep breaths, smiling, humming.

Then my heart skipped. Caused by what I was seeing. Or rather, what I wasn’t seeing. The single tracks, which used to only have few holes for sunlight to pass through, is now as bright as the rice fields around Malipay. The right side of the tracks are now lacking the trees, though small, that make this section what it is. A beautiful, peaceful, serene stretch of natural tunnel-like maze.

I stared in disbelief. A teenage boy stared back while his arms continue to do its work. Holding, cutting, slashing, hacking. Before long I’m sure a lot more of these small trees will be cut down… to be made into charcoal.

The rest of the ride I tried to concentrate on the trail, on the actual act of riding my bike, but I can’t help but be bothered…

I want to give them something more sustainable. Something that will make them value the land where they live in right now. Where in the long run they will not succumb to land developers — win-win situation for them, and for us… I hope.

Now I ask you: As a mountain biker, as a citizen of the Earth, as a human being; whether we share the same trails or not, what can we do to stop, or better yet, educate the locals and make them understand how short-term these activities are? Is it not our place to do this, to plan this?