We rode about 10 km in the morning to the base of Kennon Road, famous in the Philippines for its spectacular switchbacks and views. Near the bottom we passed a toll gate (unmanned) and a big sign that read, "Absolutely no trucks, tricycles or animal drawn vehicles." In the next 200 meters we saw a truck, a tricycle (motorcycle with sidecar) and a pile of road apples.

Even though everyone ignored the sign, traffic was light. The road follows a river up a steep sided canyon. After about 10km we reached another "detour." We came around a bend and a big sign points left while the pavement continues to go off to the right. We tried to keep going on the pavement but got turned back by massive construction. So we had to go down a steep, rocky path to the river. From there the "detour just went up the creek, twice fording it. This river route lasted about one km. We went over the rocks just about as fast as the cars did.

I guess this is why Jeepneys are based on jeeps instead of minivans like their equivalents in Indonesia. You need an off-road vehicle to survive the construction zones in the Philippines.

Despite the narrow canyon, the road passed several small towns, one named "Denver, Colorado." Others were marked "Camp 7" or "Camp 6," with the number decreasing as we climbed. The little towns cling to the sides of the road where it winds into the hillside at feeder creek ravines. An American named Kennon designed the road, which perhaps explains the towns' names.

We stopped at the "camps" for drinks. They were handy and made the enormous climb a lot easier. Fluids were easy to come by. At one place we met a friendly woman whose sister married an American and now lives in Alaska. That's one hell of a change in climate.

The air cooled and the views got prettier, and the road got steeper. The river led to a box canyon. At one point everywhere we looked ahead was way, way up. Eventually the road started ascending the mountains and the switchbacks became really impressive. We could see the cars and jeepneys going up and down the mountain above us like marbles in a kid's toy.

We passed a 40-foot tall lion's head carved in rock, donated by the Lion's Club of Baguio. The weather turned foggy and cool-- just like San Francisco.

The road reached its steepest at the inside bends of the switchbacks but otherwise didn't get impossibly steep until we reached "the top" of the switchbacks. At the place where most car drivers would probably consider the climb over, it actually became the steepest. We started passing lots of houses and businesses. Traffic thickened. We started really working. It was disappointing to reach the "top" of the hill and find out the steepest three km are still ahead.

Filipinos vacation in Baguio more than foreigners do. The streets and sidewalk downtown are more crowded than Times Square in New York City. Really. Way more actually, because the sidewalks are really narrow. It drove us crazy. Just too many people in too little space.

The town has a great park with a big pond, wide sidewalks, and lots of trees--the best park we've seen in Southeast Asia (for the most part SE Asia has not discovered the value of parks. We did see some nice ones in Indonesia, but they were usually in the middle of traffic circles, with big fences all around, so you had to enter and exit the same way, which greatly cuts down on the strolling factor). Also the town, at 1500 meters, has a wonderfully cool climate, though occasionally foggy. What a relief to be somewhere where you could walk outside for 50 feet and not break into a gushing sweat.

The town is built in the hills. The streets are steep and narrow. The place apparently has a lot of summer homes. Walking around the city is like leaving a Superbowl. It was shoulder-to-shoulder people all day long. We saw a lot of clothing shops, bakeries, Dunkin' Donuts. On the already crowded sidewalks some people set up stands to sell cassette tapes, playing cards, jewelry and other trinkets. It was nice to be in a lively city.

The next morning I was dragging. We walked around in the crowds and I felt listless and exhausted. We dropped our laundry off at the hotel and went to a movie ("In and Out") in the afternoon. After the movie I went to the hotel to lie down and Joan went to check email. A couple hours later I had a 103-degree fever. Thank God Baguio is a cool place. Still things like "malaria" and "dengue fever" cross your mind while suffering a fever in the Philippines.

In bed all afternoon I read the last half of "For Whom the Bell tolls" and then had vivid dreams--almost hallucinations--about blowing up a bridge in Spain, nearly dying, and odd memories of high school.

Fortunately by nightfall the fever reached its peak and started to recede. By morning I was almost 100 percent better. In the morning we also discovered that I had accidentally sent my money belt to the laundry. The belt has a zippered pocket where we kept $140 in $20 bills and two checks for emergency purposes. The belt wasn't included in the laundry that had been returned earlier. We rushed to the front desk and asked if they had the belt. The woman said, Oh, yes, we found this and gave us Joan's bike computer, which we didn't even realize we had left in a pocket. Then we asked about the belt again. The woman, who owned the hotel, called the laundry woman. She said the belt was still "drying." Which means they had actually washed it. The laundry woman returned wit the belt. Inside we found $40, but not the $100 pile that was closest to the zippered opening of the pocket.

At first we couldn't remember if we had raided the belt sometime ago and forgotten about it. It seemed strange that someone would steal $100 and leave $40. Then I remembered that we had a stack of five $20s in the front of the zippered opening, and two $20s in the back--ei.e. you had to unzip the pocket all the way to see the last $40.. Perhaps they didn't see the ones in the back. The more we thought about it the more convinced we were that we had not spent the money, and that it had been stolen.

We used to be much more careful with our money. After a year we've started getting sloppy. Of course I never should have sent the belt with the laundry. But that still doesn't excuse someone from stealing it.

The hotel owner apologized and claimed over and over again that her staff was honest. Twice she confronted the laundry woman in front of us, which made all three of us feel really awful. The proprietor said she would fire the woman if the woman had stolen the money. We said that we believed the laundry woman.

The hotel owner said the belt had been hanging on the laundry line, drying for a day. I don't know why they washed a nylon belt. That alone makes me suspicious. Anyway, lots of people had access to the belt where it hung, so we have no idea who stole it. The hotel owner suggested it may have been a guest (Joan: but what guest goes sneaking way out of his way down an alley to the laundry area and snoops around the hanging laundry?). We have no idea who stole it. The hotel keeper suggested maybe it was a blessing in disguise. That was a pretty well-disguised blessing. But maybe she's right. We've been a lot more careful since then.

That's the first thing of value that's been stolen from us in a year of travelling. Before that, the only thing we had stolen was a carton of orange juice, which we had stashed in a communal fridge at a campground in Whangerei, NZ. We figure pro-rated over 12 months, the stolen money is less than $10 a month. It could have been worse.

Next: the real top of the road