The Rice Terraces of the Cordillera Mountains
‘Rice is great if you’re really hungry and want to eat two thousand of something.’ – Mitch Hedberg.
We were provided with tantalising glimpses of the rice terraces before we even began walking downhill. We were dropped off by our trike driver at a viewpoint at the highest point we reached before descending once more. He leaned against his vehicle and smoked a cigarette and watched us quietly whilst we took photos and prepared ourselves for the hike downhill. The air was hot and humid, insects droned past and a small black dog with disfigured back legs made us coo and fawn over him. The clouds were slung low over the mountain tops, casting the vibrant green slopes in shadow here and there.
We walked steadily downhill for about half an hour. The road we were on hugged the contours of the mountain, on our left a sharp incline and to our right a steep drop into the lush green valley below. All around us there was evidence of landslides – the broken tarmac was littered with debris and there were harsh gashes of exposed soil and rock on the hillside where the ground had slipped away in heavy rains. The road petered out and we found ourselves amongst the trees, following a heavily rutted dirt path. After another ten or fifteen minutes, we walked into Batad village itself and found ourselves at a vantage point overlooking the entire rice terrace amphitheatre.
The Batad Rice Terraces are a UNESCO World Heritage Site and by some, they are described as the eighth wonder of the world. The scale of engineering is deeply impressive, miles of concrete, stone and mud walls holding back millions of cubic litres of water so that the rice can grow. The amount of work that must go into maintaining the terraces is incomprehensible. At the bottom of the almost sheer mountain side, a collection of houses with colourful roofs beckoned us in amongst the paddy fields. We set off, following the narrow dirt paths that ran through the village, well-trodden by visitor and local alike.
Our way eventually led us along the tops of meandering terrace walls and our pace slowed as we concentrated on our footing. A slip or trip could lead to a short, sharp fall on one side, and at the very least a soggy, muddy foot on the other. Several times we lost our way amongst the paddy fields, having to retrace our steps and ask for directions. Even here, in this remote outpost, the locals spoke some English and understood our requests, pointing us in the direction we should be going with a smile.
Eventually, we reached a point of higher ground with a good vantage over the amphitheatre. Whilst my companions carried on to find a nearby waterfall, I elected to stay behind with my camera and take photographs while I awaited their return. It was quiet, for the most part, and peaceful. From this viewpoint, I could see the reflections of clouds, trees and buildings in the mirror-flat ponds stretched out below me. Several people were working diligently in the fields, tending to their rice crops. The sheer size and scale of the rice terraces dwarfed the farmers and made them seem as small as ants in their vast surroundings.
At one point, as the clouds overhead thickened, someone lit a small bonfire. It burned brightly and a cloud of grey smoke wafted up the side of the mountain. Within minutes, the fire had died down once more and the smoke all but gone. I bought a bottle of coke from a wizened old woman who was selling it nearby and ate a packet of peanuts, leaning with my back against the sun-soaked wall and enjoying the stillness and the warm air.
We chose a different route back across the amphitheatre, climbing steeply up and then making our way along the winding terrace tops towards the village. Halfway back, we came across a small stall with a smiling man selling wooden trinkets and necklaces. Sucked in, I bought presents for my mother and a friend, and sat admiring the view whilst the others bartered and haggled to try and get cheaper prices. The air was close and humid, the clouds growing in size and number overhead. It was late afternoon, we had been hours.
The next day, two of us travelled further afield to see more rice terraces. These were different – the land wasn’t so steep, the amphitheatre not so pronounced. These rice terraces sprawled up the hillsides, disappearing into the valley, fed by a gushing river that flowed right through the middle of it all. The clouds were even lower than the day before, threatening rain. We got lost countless times, always corrected by villagers who pointed us in various directions. We got more and more confused and nearly gave up, nearly didn’t reach our goal, but finally we caught sight of the hot pool we had been searching for and stripped down to our swimwear to sample the tepid waters.
As we walked back after our dip, joined by two new friends, I was struck by how placid the scenes around me were. Whilst the Batad terraces had been incredible and were clearly a huge engineering feat, these terraces felt more serene and more embedded in the landscape, rather than the gigantic carved out basin-like amphitheatre. Here, the terraces truly followed the contours of the land and ran, unconstrained, for miles.
The clouds glowering threateningly overhead added to the atmosphere. It felt like a lull, the calm before a big storm. The mirror-like paddy fields and the reflections caught my eye briefly and I paused to take another photograph. Then I picked up my pace and followed my friends as they wound slowly back along the tops of the terraces, eyes glued to the ground to ensure they didn’t miss their footing. I didn’t want to miss the conversation with the two new friends we had made – I wanted to enjoy their company and get to know them a bit before we went for dinner together later on.
The rice terraces of the Cordillera Mountains were truly stunning. Of all the places I went to the in the Philippines, Batad and Banaue were perhaps my two favourite spots, mainly because of the fantastic scenery and amazing, endless terraces and paddy fields. Regular readers will know I’m also a sucker for mountains – any sort, anywhere! If you’re ever in the Philippines, I highly recommend that you take the time to go to Banaue and visit the rice terraces. We spent three nights in the area and I could have stayed longer.
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