They said Mount Ambalawag was an 8/9 in difficulty, but as I sat in a tour van organized for our group, bouncing toward Ifugao in the middle of June, I couldn’t help but wonder if they had maybe undersold it. 1,700 MASL, a newly opened trail, and an 8/9 difficulty rating? This wasn’t just your average weekend trek. It was an adventure where the “buwis-buhay” (life-threatening) moments were bound to happen.
Since Mount Ambalawag is newly opened, there isn’t much intel available on what to expect. It felt like we were diving into the unknown. The hike happened on June 2, and even now, we’re all still keeping in touch—plotting a reunion hike because there was no summit clearing, and we simply miss each other’s company. After all, nothing bonds people like slipping and sliding down a treacherous mountain together!
During our post-hike chat, one of us recounted how he ended up solo during the descent, only realizing later just how dangerous that decision had been. Another hiker remembered all the “MAMA! MAMA!” shouts echoing through the climb as everyone called out to their moms whenever they lost their balance or slipped. And yup, I admit it—I was the one screaming “MAMA!” every time I made a step on those steep, slippery parts of the trail.
Some of us are already eyeing a second round at Ambalawag, ready to beat our previous time, while others are still mentally processing what might have been their toughest climb yet. Either way, one thing was clear: Ambalawag demanded everything from us, physically and mentally, and left us wanting more—both as a challenge and as a chance to reunite with our new hiking family.
If you are planning a hike up Ambalawag, here are fresh dibs for you.
The Itinerary: A Step-by-Step Breakdown of the Madness
Our hike was part of the Mt. Ambalawag Traverse Phase 2 Dayhike led by an organized tour. Standing at 1,700 MASL, this mountain is not for beginners (as advertised!), and with an 8/9 difficulty, it promised a full day of trekking that tested both body and mind. The event’s logistics were well-managed, and the inclusion of the essentials was a relief:
- 🚐 Van Transfer
- 🚶♂️ Guide Fee
- 📝 Registration Fee
You can check the full itinerary details on my Trail Guide page for a closer look at what to expect.
Day 0: Departure (Evening Before the Climb)
- 5:00-6:00 PM: Assembly at Greenfield Parking Lot. We gathered at the meeting point, quietly sizing each other up while trying to catch a few hours of sleep. Day 0 is usually silent—no small talk yet, as everyone is a stranger. Most of us were saving our energy for the climb, or maybe just too nervous to chat.
Day 1: The Climb Begins
- 6:00 AM: Arrival at Baranggay Jacmal, Aguinaldo, Ifugao. As dawn broke, we pulled into our destination, greeted by a slightly misty Ifugao landscape. A quick breakfast and last-minute prep followed, with everyone making sure they had enough water, trail food, and sun protection.
- 6:51 AM: We kicked off the trek at exactly 6:51 AM. The first leg of the trail greeted us with humid conditions, and the path was relatively steep right off the bat. Though the weather wasn’t what you’d typically expect in the Cordillera, it gave the hike a different edge—an extra challenge, if you will.
- The climb was more than just walking—it was four-limbed climbing, with hands and feet digging into the earth to pull ourselves up. It wasn’t about elegance—just brute strength and trust in the ground beneath you. Trekking poles? Optional. The trail was already testing us within the first few steps—steep, slippery, and demanding. It was clear that this was going to be a full-body effort, and not just for the legs. Each step felt hard-earned, and yet, we kept pushing forward, encouraged by the thought of reaching the summit and the camaraderie within the group.
Summit: The Reward at the Top
- 10:05 AM: Summit Arrival. Four hours later, we reached the summit. My Strava log shows a total elevation gain of 1,220 meters by this point, with the distance covered sitting at 8.1 km. As we reached the peak, the heat hadn’t let up, but the sense of accomplishment was real. The view from the top—breathtakingly remote, green, and untouched—made it all worth it. Just kidding, it was slightly raining so the view was not as breathtakingly green and blue sky. There was ‘no clearing’ as most unfortunate hikers say. The joy of reaching the top after that grueling ascent was reward enough. “Walang clearing, pero sulit pa rin!” we agreed, laughing as we collapsed onto the ground to rest.
- We snapped some photos (because of course, if it’s not on Instagram, did it even happen?), shared our packed lunches, and savored the satisfaction of standing on ground that few have reached. But as we sat there, we realized: the hardest part was still ahead.
A quick side story: When we reached the summit, we found the signage shattered into pieces, but in true Ambalawag fashion, our group sprang into action like doctors in the OR, using masking tape to patch it up for the perfect summit photo. Through challenges, laughter, and makeshift sign repairs, we bonded in a way only a wild adventure can forge.
Want to see how my hike stacked up? Check out the full stats and join the conversation on Strava or view the detailed data on Garmin Connect. Feel free to like, follow, or connect with me there!
The Descent: A Test of Nerves and Balance
The descent was where Mount Ambalawag truly tested our grit.
- 11:00 AM: Descent to Naumag Falls
If climbing up was tough, going down was downright treacherous. The trail was steep and slippery, with no branches or trees to hold on to for support. It felt like every step was a gamble—either you’d stay on your feet or you’d end up sliding down the mountain on your backside. It was at this point that the jokes started flying. Someone cursed the mastermind behind this trip, while I found myself instinctively yelling “MAMA!” with every step, hoping it would keep me steady. The descent took just over six hours as we made our way back through steep, muddy terrain, slipping occasionally but always moving forward.
The rain the night before had turned the trail into a muddy obstacle course. Slips and falls were inevitable. One of my fellow hikers later said, “First time kong madulas ng ganun kahaba!” It wasn’t just about staying upright—it was about keeping your wits together, knowing that one wrong step could end in disaster.
But what made the descent bearable, even with all its dangers, was the support from the group. Our guides were incredible, showing us where to step and offering a hand when needed. And every time someone slipped, someone else was there to help them up—no one was left behind. “Hindi ka namin iiwan, sabay-sabay tayo bababa,” one of us said, reminding everyone that we were in this together.
At one point, we faced the most daunting section of the descent: a 90-degree wall with flowing water. Yep, you read that right—we were literally traversing through waterfalls. With light drizzles falling from above and waterfalls gushing beneath our feet, it felt like nature had decided to throw in one last test of our courage. The rocks were slick, and the sound of rushing water was both intimidating and oddly calming. It wasn’t just a descent—it was an adventure in itself.
Naumag Falls: The First Glimpse of Civilization
By 4:00 PM, we reached Naumag Falls, our first glimpse of civilization after hours of being on the mountain. The sight of the falls was tempting—the resort looked inviting, and a quick dip would’ve been perfect to wash off the mud and exhaustion. But we were focused on reaching the trailhead and finishing what we started, so we pressed on.
- 04:33 PM Back to the trail head
After what felt like forever, we finally made it back. The victory meal tasted like the best food of our lives—not just because we were starving, but because we’d earned it. As we sat around the table, we shared stories of the day’s challenges, laughed about our slips and falls, and took a moment to reflect on what we had accomplished. The sense of camaraderie was undeniable—this hike had bonded us in a way only a shared challenge can.
https://www.facebook.com/barangay.jacmal.5
Leave No Trace: Respect, Travel on Trails and the Effects of Trampling
Throughout the hike, we made sure to follow Leave No Trace principles. We were laughing and joking around, but we remained mindful of the impact we left on the trail. The rain had already damaged some of the vegetation, and human activity had affected the natural terrain. We prioritized safety, but also respect for the environment, ensuring that we left the trail as undisturbed as possible. Ambalawag may be a challenging hike, but it’s also a fragile ecosystem, and we knew we had to do our part to protect it.
Tips and Tricks for Surviving Mount Ambalawag’s 8/9 Difficulty
- Prepare, Prepare, Prepare: This isn’t your average hike. Make sure your legs and stamina are up for it.
- Wear Proper Gear: Waterproof everything, even though it wasn’t raining in the morning, you can’t predict the weather. True enough, rain started pouring on our way down back to the jump-off. Make sure you’re equipped for both sun and rain.
- Gloves and Reliable footwear: Trust me on this one—the descent will have your knees begging for mercy without them. You’ll find yourself crawling up more than walking, but trekking poles might come in handy for those tricky descents.
- Stay Hydrated: 2 liters of water is the minimum—if it’s as humid as it was when we went, you’ll need it.
- Pack Light, But Smart: Water, energy snacks, and protection from the sun and rain are essentials.
Final Thoughts
Mount Ambalawag wasn’t just a physical challenge—it was a mental and emotional one, especially as a solo joiner. Joining a hike like this without knowing anyone is a unique experience. You’re alone in some ways, but not truly lonely. You’re responsible for yourself, yet surrounded by others who become your allies along the way. There’s something thrilling about being in charge of your own journey, quietly making decisions, and discovering new parts of yourself with each step.
In many ways, hiking solo is like making a bold move in your career or life—exploring the unknown, doing something before everyone else has the chance, trusting yourself even when the path isn’t clear. The fear isn’t just about getting hurt or getting lost; it’s about not being able to return home. When danger strikes, you instinctively think of your loved ones. Have you said everything you needed to say? Have you left things unfinished? Would you get the chance to make things right if something happened?
In the end, the reward is ticking a new mountain off your bucket list, making new friends, and—most importantly—staying alive to meet your family back home.
