Rediscovering Nature: A Journey Beyond the City

(12th of ‘Life’ Series)

I’d like to believe I am a nature person at heart. The only reason I still cling to the city is the gravity and the corresponding responsibilities that go with my work. Without it, you’d likely find me lost in the emerald rows of a farm or tracing the shoreline of a quiet beach.

My obsession with the water started early. I remember the sheer, restless anticipation of our vacations from Manila going back to Bohol. While other kids were content with toys, I was drawn to the K of C or Cainggit Resort. I can still feel the salt on my skin and the sting in my eyes from those days when I’d go at it alone, stubbornly refusing to leave the water. I taught myself how to swim through sheer repetition – clumsily stroking from one shallow patch to the next, swallowing mouthfuls of brine until my panic turned into confidence and my dog-paddle turned into workable strides. Later, my obsession with water led me to the wonders of scuba-diving. And much later, it became the whole family scuba-diving together; even doing shipwreck-diving in Coron.

Lately, the horizon has shifted from the sea to the summits. My wife and I have tested our lungs and legs against the thin air of Mt. Kinabalu, Southeast Asia’s tallest granite crown. Recently, we climbed the rugged, sulfuric trails of Mt. Apo, the country’s highest peak. Most recently, we had a family adventure in Alicia, Bohol. Watching my son Carlo, his wife Freedom, and their spunky 6-year-old, Buchi, navigate the ridges reminded me of why I do this. There is a specific kind of exhaustion you find on a mountain – one that doesn’t drain you, but refills you. These climbs make me feel younger and more resilient than the city ever could.

This pull toward the wild isn’t new. Rather, it feels more like a homecoming. I’ve always been an outdoor man. It is a desire I rediscovered during my days as a young lieutenant. Patrolling the mountains with the elite Scout Rangers wasn’t just a duty; it was where I felt most alive. Those were the “fun-times” – mastering the dense canopies, sleeping under the stars, and learning that the wilderness doesn’t care about your rank, only your resolve.

The city may command my presence, but the wild holds my soul. Whether it is the ocean’s steady pulse or the thin, silent air of a high peak, nature is a grandiose mirror – one that humbles me, heals me, and reveals exactly who I am. Having spent much of my early military life navigating maps, scaling summits, and exploring the deep, I have realized that I am never more at home than when I am far from the paved road. Standing where the earth meets the sky, whether on land or by the sea, I am finally able to breathe with my whole heart. In those moments, I am not just observing the world; I feel that I am part of its ancient, unhurried rhythm. The concrete fades, the noise dies down, and I am left with the only truth that matters: I don’t go to the mountains to find myself – I go there to remind myself of who I’ve always been.