By Conrad J. Benedicto

“Is there anything more magical than a lake in the sky? Near the Daguma and Talahik mountains there is such a lake.”

The roar of two-stroke engines announced the coming of the Habal Habal posse. Around the bend of the mountain road, the single yellow headlights peered through the pouring rain. The prospect of riding on a motorcycle with two other people in the dark, during a downpour back to our resort was, well, terrifying. All I could think of was how to possibly dismount and somehow skid on my backpack without hitting my head on the concrete road if Ronald ever lost his grip as we rounded yet another slick corner or revved up an upcoming incline at twice the speed. Gabriele and I were very talkative on the previous legs of this habal habal journey but our mouths were shut this time. The only communication between us were my fingers digging into their shoulders. We had also ziplined across a several thousand feet deep ravine the previous day. That was nothing compared to the terror of this last motorcycle ride. Finally, Ronald put his boot down on the muddy parking lot of our resort to steady us and I breathed a sigh of relief. I gave that man a big tip.

Is there anything more magical than a lake in the sky? Near the Daguma and Talahik mountains there is such a lake. Its waters were collected within the sinuous dark of a mythical woman’s hair. Its lore is preserved by a powerful circle of women’s voices. In the woods and valleys that surround it riders guide their iron horses through the night rain. One day when you come upon it at the turn of a mountain road and it appears before you as it once did emerging from the mists of time, may its people be free.

Lake Sebu lies just beyond that mountain.

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Memories of Mindanao, Part 18