By: Jun A. Alindogan

I remember growing up in a neighborhood that was surrounded by nature. Our yard was filled with guavas, duhat (java plums), atis (sugar apples), tamarinds, coconuts, and bananas. Outside the yard, there were mango, santol (cotton fruit) and caimito (star apple)  trees. Across from our bedroom windows, in a neighbor’s yard, stood a mabolo tree (velvet apple) beside a large anthill mound. On the way to our grandparents’ house, we had to pass by a roadside lined with an old balete tree, tall bamboo stalks in clusters, a huge acacia tree, and thick overgrown bushes and shrubs. Passing by this area always evoked an eerie feeling. This area was common in the entire town. This small forest and other sites shielded our hometown from typhoons and their environmental consequences for a long period.

Before my senior year, my walks were limited to short distances on connected mall footbridges to and from my place of work in the city. From the elevated walkway, I could see a man-made pocket forest of tropical plants and an overarching tree with a lush leaf cover as its centerpiece, beside a small lagoon. I preferred walking over enduring an hour-long road congestion for just a few meters.

For many years, I lived at a close friend’s house in the city due to safety and accessibility concerns. However, as I grew older, I had to move to a residence in the mountains to better maintain my health. Since my new residence is located in the boondocks east of the city, I decided to explore what my province had to offer in terms of its natural forest cover and connect it to my well-being.

One site I visited with a friend on a motorbike was a waterfall known for its crystal-clear, bluish water. It was surrounded by a canopy of huge trees in a municipality located two hours away from my residence. The road leading to the area was paved, but vehicles had to be parked a few meters away from the main entrance. The entire stretch from the main highway to the park was lined with forests on both sides, creating a mysterious atmosphere. Additionally, there were different varieties of birds perched on trees, endlessly and cheerfully chirping.

In a way, the location was accessible, but it was limited to guests who had private transportation. Commuters had to adhere to a scheduled jeepney trip that would travel along a winding road crossing various municipal borders. Moreover, tricycle drivers would charge a large sum to bring guests from the highway to the waterfall. Additionally, there is no accommodation of any kind near or within the area. Food stalls also do not offer a variety of reasonably priced choices.

In my municipality, there is a small forest of banana plants and dwarf mango trees that run along a river downstream. To visit the area, I had to navigate through a narrow, uneven path of rocks next to centuries-old caves that have unfortunately been vandalized by residents, despite being in a supposedly protected landscape. An admission fee is collected at the entrance of the caves for environmental purposes, yet the attraction does not even have public toilets. To explore other surrounding forests, a boat ride is necessary unless one chooses to walk uphill past stray dogs, animal and vegetable farms, a shallow stream, and peculiar residents. The cost of the boat ride is quite high.

On one occasion, I fell off a motorcycle while on my way to a campsite because the road was rocky. This resulted in injuries to my palm and knee. It would have been preferable if the main road had been paved and the path to the site had been clear of debris, garbage, and sharp objects. Additionally, there was a lack of clean and drinkable water available for guests. The activities at the site only included stargazing, bonfires, cooking, singing, and sleeping. Much is to be desired in how owners of campsites must be educated on the historical, geographical, and topographical uniqueness of these areas, which could be a starting point for discussion and reflection about the true meaning of accessibility to guests.

During other road trips through forested areas, I have also observed a lack of pit stops where I could take a break along the journey. These stops don’t have to be food stalls necessarily, but rather a place where one could recharge their mobile phones, relax in the breeze or rain, and maybe even take a nap without worrying about being robbed or assaulted.

Accessibility is not limited solely to physical infrastructures; it must also be seamlessly connected to natural, social, and even spiritual networks. This allows guests to enjoy various types of forests, including the most remote ones.

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Manuel A. Alindogan, Jr. (Jun A. Alindogan) is the Academic Director of the Expanded Alternative Learning Program of Empowered East, an NGO based in Rizal Province, the Philippines, and is also the founder of Speechsmart Online, which specialises in English test preparation courses. He is a freelance writer and a member of the Freelance Writers’ Guild of the Philippines (FWGP).