Bahala na

Wow! Where to start… majestic natural beauty? Inspiring engineering from 800 years ago? Family traditions that continue through hundreds of generations? Thundering waterfalls? Hanging bridge? Stairs, stairs, and more stairs? Hospitality as a way of life for a whole community? Legitimate gratitude for physical safety as we explored? Ponderings on economic development? I guess the best way to start is with a picture of what greeted us at the start of each day:

This is part of the view from our window-walled bunk room at the Countryside Inn. And from the coffee/breakfast nook. And from the second floor open dining room. I should say this is a representative view, because it was never the same twice. Clouds came went: sometimes resting in the valley, sometimes dancing on the peaks. The sun rose to the right and set to the left, highlighting different shapes and colours minute by minute. Everyone who looked out one of these windows paused, enjoyed, and reflected. You could see it on their faces. Everyone gave this view a second glance. I’m going to try and describe it but I’m going to fail. To get it, you’ll have to go spend a week there; maybe more, but not less.

Come for a walk with our family to find some waterfalls, we’ll talk along the way.

To get to the falls, we need to get to the house with the blue roof, then turn left. The path blends in beautifully with the terraces from a distance, but you can usually figure out where the path lies in front of you. It gets a bit tricky when you have to walk through people’s homes or property, but they generally motion to show you where the path is.

A pretty common sight along the way. Everything gets hiked into this town. Food (50kg bags of rice), cinder block, rebar, bags of cement, drinks, etc. I hope I never again complain about carrying things in from the car…

One we got down to the rice terrace part of the trail, we walked along the edge of the terraces. Not all terrace edges were as smooth as this – some were stones and mud, but this one was smooth enough to stop for pictures. Stairs between terraces varied from this:

To this:

These cantilevered steps were my favourite. They made me feel like I was in an Indiana Jones movie. As clever as these engineers were, I don’t think they had access to the Canadian Pedestrian Safety Manual my engineer brother authored…

Let’s stop and admire the terraces. The walls range from approximately 8 to 16 feet tall. They were all made by hand. I was smart enough to realize they were made without any machinery or engines. But our host told us they were even made without any metal tools! The terraces are perfectly level and the farmers can control the water from the mountains to give each terrace just the right amount. No pumps involved, just gravity and channels. Amazing!

This the view from the house with the blue roof. We found out this was about half way. The second half was a fair bit steeper but the beautiful, powerful waterfall at the end was well worth the effort!

After a nice swim and a snack it was time to start home.

I had a passenger back to the blue house, then he was good to go again. There were several other tourists, but not many kids on this trail. Most of the tourists didn’t swim, though several got their feet wet… crazy Canadians!

We learned that these terraces are farmed for the farmer’s family’s consumption. These are not commercial rice farms. On account of the type of rice and the climate, they only get one crop per year. They all rely on tourism or family members working elsewhere to provide income. I’m so glad they keep this place going and that they welcome tourists to experience it!

Remember how I said we sometimes had to walk through peoples homes? Many of them have little storefronts as part of their home along the path. We stopped at one for some cold drinks and the lady got up from what she was doing to sell us the drinks. Then she was happy to teach us what she was doing – processing rice! The rice she was working on had been out to dry in the sun for a couple days. She was removing the grain from the stalk.

When she was finished, she called her daughter over to pound the rice. This is how they remove the husk from the grain, and it was her daughter’s daily chore. Her daughter was sweet and engaging as she explained what she was doing and allowed us to try.

Then the mom tossed the rice in the basket to let the wind blow away the chaff. I felt like I was in Bible times!

We didn’t get to try this – good thing too because this is the rice her children would take to school for lunch the next day! Such kind people. They have people walking through their place every day, but they made us feel like we were the most important event of their day.

We made it back to our inn exhausted from the stairs and with a whole new appreciation of rice, the terraces, and the people who grow it the traditional way in Batad.

We met one other storekeeper along the way who told us about where to get the best view of the Batad rice terraces. I’m still trying to decide if I love him or hate him for it…