Trekking to Mal’lumagpak Falls in New Bataan, Davao de Oro

After our short stay at the Manurigao Highlands, where we had the chance to shake off some stress, we were ready to commence another adventure ride on our habal-habal to Purok 3—our main destination of the day. Our driver informed us that it would be another one-hour ride and to expect a bumpy journey. From the Manurigao Highlands onward, some roads are still under construction, but mostly, they’re still rough and unpaved. I didn’t like the sound of it, but I had no choice but to experience the so-called bumpy ride to Mal’lumagpak Falls.

And off we went. The start of the ride was smooth and fine. There were a lot of heavy equipment in the area, as the road is still under construction. At first, it was fun and easy, but as we went further, we reached a point where all we could see were rocky, uneven roads. I struggled to stay balanced and tightened my grip on anything I could touch just to remain seated. I tried to distract myself with the beautiful scenery—the lush green forest and all—but the struggle was real. If I was struggling on my seat, I could also see how our driver was doing his best to maneuver over the big rocks and inclined roads without losing balance.

I felt secure, though, because the driver assured us that he had been doing this for years, and to him, the road felt like a highway. I don’t usually like bragging, but at that point, I wanted him to brag more just so I could feel safer. True enough, what seemed like a difficult road became “easy peasy” for our driver, so I’ll give it to him and his expertise.

After around an hour and crossing several rivers, we finally reached Purok 3. I sighed in relief—we had arrived safe and sound. Kudos to our habal-habal driver. Not once did I feel that he was intimidated by those rocks. We rested while waiting for the others to arrive. It was around 8 a.m. on a Sunday morning when we got there. I liked how their small community thrived on its own. There were several houses in the Purok with a small population. Although electric posts were already installed, they weren’t functioning yet, so the residents relied on solar power. They even had Piso WiFi, a sports gymnasium, and a sari-sari store. The people in the Purok were very friendly. And since it was Sunday, they also had church services going on.

We stayed in the Purok to eat breakfast, drink coffee, and recharge, as we were about to hike for another hour to reach Mal’lumagpak Falls.

At around 9 a.m., we began our hike. The weather was nice. We passed through native rice fields that seemed to cheer us on. I loved the view of the mountains—they were all green, and we could even see a lot of waterfalls from afar. Surely, there are so many hidden waterfalls in the forests of New Bataan just waiting to be explored.

After about an hour of walking, we reached another Purok, a small community. I liked how every community we passed felt like its own little world. It’s as if their lives revolve around one another, being far from other settlements. We later found out that they belonged to the Mandaya tribe.

As we continued in the direction of the falls, we were amazed by the view. I imagined waking up every morning to green forests and cascading falls. There’s something about lush mountains that calms the mind—something we all want to experience. But then again, this place is very remote, hard to access, and has a history of NPA activity. Though we were assured it had been cleared, the negative image still lingers.

The real challenge began when we started walking through muddy trails—and I mean really muddy, up to knee level. It felt like we were in a rice field. Some parts of the trail were extremely steep, making it even more difficult to pass. Honestly, it felt more like climbing a mountain than hiking. After crossing several rivers and navigating ups and downs, we finally heard the gush of water from the falls. We got excited—we were almost there! So we continued following the trail.

But then I noticed the sound of the waterfall fading. Instead of getting closer, it felt like we were walking further away. There were no visible trails branching off, so we just kept going. After another hour of endless ascent, we were drained—but the falls were nowhere in sight. We met a stranger along the way and asked how much farther the falls were. To our surprise, he told us we had already passed them!

That’s when we realized we were completely lost. We had to retrace our steps. Our guide, who was actually behind us, had been trying to catch up to redirect us to the correct path.

He suggested we try river trekking instead of going back through the same trail. It seemed like a good idea—until we found out that river trekking had no defined path and might even be more difficult. But we had no choice. We were already there, and we had to go with the flow.

River trekking was extra tricky. We had to maneuver over large rocks, steep terrain, and even rappel down slippery paths. One misstep and we could’ve ended up in the river—or worse. And just to make things harder, it started raining. We had to push through despite everything.

After almost an hour of battling through the river, we finally arrived at the marvelous Mal’lumagpak Falls. The view did not disappoint. It was even more stunning up close. We just stood there, taking in the sight and feeling the cool mist from the falls gently touch our cheeks. The rain continued, but it didn’t matter. We savored the moment.

After a few minutes of soaking it all in, it was time to head back. Yes, we had to go through the same difficult route again—but no biggie. If we made it there, we could definitely make it back. I already felt the muscle pain kicking in, but honestly, who cares? I had enjoyed the journey, and I had never felt this satisfied.