Within An Inch Or Two Of Death…
Ever had a near death experience, one where the danger you’ve just been in doesn’t really dawn on you till afterwards? Sipping a beer later, you start to think, “actually, that could’ve been curtains for me”, followed quickly by, “guess I better get another beer then”. Well, it happened in the Philippines. And went something like this.
We’re in Sagada, on Luzon, the Philippines’ biggest island, dodging rain showers and soaking up the unusual town which is Sagada. The rental car is parked somewhere up behind the church, to be left untouched for the next few days – Sagada is for walking.
Walking is what we are doing today, meeting up with our guide shortly after breakfast, although partaking in breakfast has required a dash down the street to grab a coffee and something instantly forgettable and then returning to our less than salubrious digs, simply because the guy at those digs, nice as he is, manages to create breakfasts for which the word dreadful would be a misplaced compliment. Driven either by coincidence or local economics, our fellow walkers today are a trio of Filipinos staying at the same lodging as us – two guys and a girl. One guy speaks a little English, the other has none, and the girl has some kind of infection which requires her to cough roughly every thirty seconds and make no attempt to cover her mouth or even turn away from other people. We quickly deduce that it’s not advisable to face her, especially if you’re downwind.
Our guide for the day is Thomas who soon shows himself to be considerably less communicative than his job spec undoubtedly advises, issuing information on a strictly ask-me-and-I’ll-tell-you basis. He volunteers precious little, yet when asked is clearly well informed, which only serves to make his reticence all the more frustrating. The girl coughs more regularly than the guide speaks. Maybe he doesn’t want to catch whatever it is that she’s got.
Anyway, our walk takes us past the church which we’d already seen when we parked the car, up through the tropical greenery towards Sagada’s most famous attribute, the hanging coffins. At this point I have no inkling that I will on this very hike pass within inches of being a candidate for coffin internment myself, though it’s unlikely that I’d be granted a hanging one.
It’s long after the hanging coffins, long after the slippery steep descent under the dripping trees, beyond the rudimentary coffee farm with its caffeine-heavy dreamlike produce, even beyond getting our feet wet as we pass through the dark river tunnel beneath ground level, that the Grim Reaper almost pays me a visit. None of these perceived dangers even come close to bringing about my demise – oh no, the dice with death is to come from an infinitely more unexpected source.
We’re on the return arc of the circular walk, heading through the former rice paddies now mostly waterlogged or overgrown or both, the two Filipino guys and the coughing girl lagging some distance behind as their lack of fitness simultaneously restricts their progress and improves our perception of our own stamina. Thomas is leading the way, in silence of course, a few yards ahead of us two but a considerable distance ahead of the three dawdlers, probably intentionally putting as many yards as possible between himself and The Cough. Following his lead, we enter a narrow pathway between long grasses on our right and a significant drop of about fifty feet to our left. I slot in behind Thomas, Michaela slots in behind me.
Lurking in the long grasses is something large and dark. It’s a bull. A huge, heaving, moody bull. Thomas glances over his shoulder as if to say “just carry on walking, it’ll be fine” and quickens his pace as he passes through the danger zone, a danger zone which has a bull with attitude on one side and a fifty foot drop on the other.
As I pass into this danger zone there’s a snorting sound off to my right, the kind of sound one associates with a bull grinding its heel into the dust just before charging horns first towards a matador. He sounds so displeased at our presence that I steadfastly avoid eye contact – obviously if I don’t look at the bull then he in return won’t see me – and stride forward staring intently at Thomas’s back. But then I sense movement. Big, dark movement. The bloody thing is crashing through the grasses towards me.
Unable to divert left due to the precipitous drop and without time to run, I give a kind of back-arching forward lurch that probably forms an inverted letter C. I feel the warm rush of air as the angry bull misses me by an inch or so. The snort is all but tangible. And now, at last, I run. Michaela, some yards behind me, shouts in horror: from her angle it looks like the bull has made contact, that’s how close he has come.
It turns out that the beast is tethered, but to a flimsy tree and on a leash long enough to enable him to cross our path comfortably. Thomas ushers us on, then preoccupies the bull while the three Filipinos pass safely through the danger zone. Reunited with Thomas half a mile on, I joke that it must be great for him to have walked the path with a qualified matador. He chuckles a little forcedly.
It’s only later in the restaurant that the reality of being between a raging bull and a drop to death, and of being a matter of inches from a proper goring, starts to dawn on me. The only appropriate next move is to have another beer and not think about bulls any more.
20 Comments
Toonsarah
How incredibly scary! But I can see how that realisation wouldn’t come to you until later. The adrenaline of the moment would have diminished, with a proper understanding of the situation and potential outcome taking over. I’m very glad it wasn’t any worse (and I suspect taciturn Thomas was too)
Phil & Michaela
And yet another story to add to our collection….
Monkey's Tale
Yikes, something similar happened to Richard except instead of a cliff, a street bull (India) charged Richard and pinned him against a brick wall. A crowd of locals distracted to bull so he released Richard and we ran back to our hotel to disinfect his arm. Luckily it was only a few scratches.
Phil & Michaela
An even closer close encounter!
Heyjude
Scary indeed. Not to mention the Cough! Don’t you hate it when people don’t cover their mouths? There was a chap in the library a few weeks ago, coughing like that. I nearly said something, but decided to make a hasty retreat.
Phil & Michaela
Good move! Of all the things we encountered that day, it wasn’t a bull charge which we expected!
The Flask Half Full
I keep a pile of masks in my purse to hand out to the coughing girls of the world. Kidding. But I think about doing that a lot. And the bull? Nopity nope. I would have needed a beer with a Xanax chaser. How’s the ol’ spine after that move?
Phil & Michaela
Twisted. Which fits my mentality rather neatly 😂
Lynette d'Arty-Cross
Yikes! I don’t know which is worse; the mysterious Cough or the bull. I’m guessing that escaping the bull was probably the best choice as that was at least over quickly. The Cough, on the other hand … who knows where a dose of that might have lead. But after that bull I would probably have been reaching for several beers afterwards!
Phil & Michaela
Sometimes the reality doesn’t dawn till later
Eha Carr
Oops – known for my fast reactions, I would probably have been right down that chasm ’cause I would have felt that black beastie my worse enemy at the moment – well > you ended with a story to tell your great-grandchildren 🙂 !
Phil & Michaela
This is true……😂
Annie Berger
Yikes, what a scary experience that must have been for you to go through it, and for Michaela watching. Glad you are both ok. Hope you have great travel insurance!
Phil & Michaela
Ha, not sure whether bull running is a specific exclusion on the policy
ThingsHelenLoves
That tether was a touch too long, then! I am glad all was well!
Phil & Michaela
Definitely was! A close shave but a good excuse for an extra beer!
Julia
What a story! I’m glad you are both okay. Why is it that the things that go wrong end up making the best stories. It took me a while for the realization of my near death horse riding experience in Croatia to set in, too. After I put it into words it now frames that trip for me. With distance comes perspective as they say.
Phil & Michaela
Whenever I tell the bull story, I’m grateful that it contains words like “nearly” and “almost”! 😂
MrsWayfarer
That was a close call! I’m always scared of bulls, almost always when I see one they charge.
Phil & Michaela
I may be a bit more wary in future too!