We passed hundreds of jeepneys, cars and buses for the first five kilometers to La Trinidad. Traffic was so bad we went far faster than all the motorized vehicles by sliding by on the right shoulder. (The Philippines is one of the few countries in SE Asia where they drive on the right). The jeepneys actually seemed to move over for us to give us more room.

From La Trinidad we got on the Halsema Mountain Highway, formerly and more aptly named the "Mountain Trail." the "road" follows a ridge of mountains. It's the only road I ever bicycled on that went down to the saddles.

(Joan: Warning to other cyclists. We looked at the map and figured that since we were "Up" at Baguio, that our planned 90k ride to Mt. Data would be Down. It wasn't.)

The road is notoriously bad but the first 15 km or so deceived us because they were nicely paved. It climbed, descended and climbed again. The views among the pines were spectacular. We looked down on other mountains, some covered in rice terraces. The morning was sunny, clear and crisp. Everything was greener than any green I've seen. It occurred to me that green means rain.

The pavement suddenly disappeared at Guerilla saddle. It was replaced with a pile of rocks. This was not a gravel road. It was a rock road. We bounced over fist-sized boulders. Most off-road riding I've ever done is smoother than this road was. the pavement returned for a kilometer then disappeared and reappeared occasionally. Eventually it disappeared just about for good.

The Philippine road crews appeared now and then but Mother Nature seemed to be eroding the road faster than the crews could fix them. The road is literally carved into the side of the mountain, gradually angling up or down to get over high places. In several places half of the road has washed over a steep cliff and no one is working to repair it.

By mid-afternoon the views disappeared behind a thick fog, followed by heavy rains. Apparently it rains every afternoon this time of year (wet season begins in May or so). The rain added a little mud to our rocky road. When we had to share the now- one-lane road with Jeepneys, we were stuck riding on a thin strip of thickening mud. As we climbed in the muds, rocks, rain and fog, we moved at less than 10 km/ hour. That was a low point of our trip, although it was also the highest point of the Philippines highway system, 2,250 meters (7400 feet). We finally rounded a bend where we saw the sign marking the spot. We stopped long enough to take a picture.

I did a little accounting on top of the mountain: We had 45km to the next hotel; we were at the highest point on the highway; and we didn't know how high the hotel was. We could expect some downhill but not 45km of downhill (Joan: foolish me. I did expect 45km of downhill). How do we know the second highest point isn't between here and Mt. Data? After all, K2 is only tens of feet shorter than Everest, and is right next door. I knew we couldn't expect to descend for more than 30 km. That left 15km of potential climbing.

Also, the hotel we were aiming for was named "Mt. Data" hotel, not the "Valley Inn." Would it be five km off the road, up in the mountains? That could be one hell of a driveway. Or does the road climb up the mountain? Baguio is the biggest mountain town. The road has been less and less paved as we got further away. Can we really expect more pavement?

I imagined all these worse case scenarios and almost all were right on. Fortunately I was wrong about the pavement. (Joan: and fortunately he didn't share them all with me, or I would have had a heart attack, since I was already covered with mud and dog-tired and even cold).

Just after the highest point, the pavement returned and stayed for about 30 km of downhill. We were able to descend quickly even though it was raining heavily. The fog got very thick for awhile near the top but we soon descended below it and saw spectacular views of clouds pouring over the mountain tops into the ravines and valleys like dry ice out of a cauldron.

At a food stop, a little wooden stall clinging to the mountain side with a magnificent view, we talked to a woman who told us that bike tourists came by about once or twice a month, though not this time of year. "This time of year" means wet season. She noted that we spoke English well. Most of the cycle tourists are European and apparently smarter than us.

The mantra the children yell at all tourists is "Americano!" even though most visitors are from Europe. It made us mad that they are right about us being American. It must irritate Europeans even more.

We descended fast on the paved road and felt like we might actually make it to the hotel before dark. Then about 15km away, we started to climb. And kept climbing. With about 10km to go, the pavement gave way to rocks. The road got steeper and steeper. Ironically the sun came out from below the clouds just before sunset. Climbing on that muddy rock road was sometimes just too difficult. I lost control of my bike several times as I bounced off baseball-sized rocks.

It got dark and we ended up walking about one km until the pavement started again as we crossed the border into Mountain Province. At the same time the road leveled out a little and we passed through the small town of Mt. Data. A couple people were very friendly and directed us to the Mt. Data hotel.

Of course it had a hell of a driveway. It was 500 meters long with two switchbacks. Just what we needed at the end of that day. A brochure at the hotel claimed the hotel is elevation is 2,250 meters--exactly the same as the altitude at the highest point in the highway. I think it was close to that, but not that high. I think a lot of people on that road think their town is as high as the highest point.

We loved the Mt. Data hotel though at about US$48, it cost four times more than we had paid for any hotel since Singapore. It was worth it. We were the only guests that night. We arrived at 7:30 pm and the staff wasn't expecting anyone. This happens to us a lot in SE Asia, and it usually means the staff tries to ignore us. But this staff acted happy to see us. The receptionist told us they would "turn the boiler on" to draw some hot water for our bath (actually a mandi, where you bathe by pouring a bucket of water over yourself in the shower) before we selected what we wanted for dinner.

The hotel is sort of a ski lodge without the skiing. They had a raging fire going in the fireplace in a huge living room. After we ordered our food we took our hot mandis, put on all our thermal clothes we've been toting around unused since New Zealand, and warmed up in front of it. They had a table with candles all set for us and a staff of four for all our needs. Joan asked if we could eat in front of the fire. It was completely inconvenient for them but they did it. The food was good too. (Joan: I could not get away from that fire. If they had refused to serve us at the huge low table by the fire, I would have skipped dinner. Well maybe not).

We were paying so much we decided to lap up as much luxury as possible during our stay. We slept in, ate a leisurely, great breakfast and hung out cleaning our bikes until after 11 a.m. to get our money's worth. We left so late that one of the staff pointedly asked if we would be staying for lunch.

We had only 30 km to ride to Bontoc, and for once it really was all downhill. It was a gradual descent but mostly unpaved and rocky. It was one of the few descents that made us wish we were going uphill. Clenching our brakes while banging over rocks really hurt our wrists. Several times we had to stop just to give our hands a break. Later we both had sore arms. During this descent we almost lost Joan. A few times while we were riding we had seen small rocks tumble near the road. As we were riding along one rocky road cut, very close to the sheer cliff in a light rain, we heard a huge banging somewhere overhead.

Joan: Earlier, when a rock had landed near me I barely noticed it. I thought the noise was something falling off my bike, and I thought Eric was yelling because I dropped something. He had to tell me that a big rock had come skipping down the cliff. Luckily that one was just the size of a grapefruit and bounced behind me.

This one was the size of a 17-inch computer monitor. As soon as I heard the rumbling ahead, I figured I better either slow down or hurry the hell up. I chose the latter. Eric was behind me and stopped. The rock came bounding down the hill and crossed the road about three feet behind me. Eric was sure it was going to hit me.

ERIC: The rock was left sitting on the road. I had to swerve to go around it.

Anyway, we had magnificent views. At the end of the day we looked at Joan's odometer and saw that our average speed that day, despite all the downhill, was just 13.6km/ hour.

Next: the hill towns of Bontoc and Banaue.