North Luzon Loop: The Ride that changed everything

_{Ni: M. Vargas/Jaunt Bikers}

Alam natin na ang pagbibisikleta ay isang solid na activity na nag-uugnay sa mga tao na ibahagi ang kanilang mga memorable experience at mag-motivate ng iba pang siklista tungkol sa kanilang mga nagawang ride. Ang mga beteranong siklista at vlogger (lokal man o hindi) naman ay nagbibigay din ng inspirasyon sa marami na ituloy ang kanilang mga goal sa pagbibisikleta kahit na sila ay baguhan pa lamang o OG na sa eksena. Isa si M. Vargas sa mga nabigyan ng inspirasyon ng mga kapwa nating siklista na i-push ang sarili para makamit ang pansariling layunin at magdiwang ng isang simpleng tagumpay. Halina’t basahin natin ang kuwento niya tungkol sa 10-day ride nila ng tropa na may halos 1,310 kilometrong layo at 7,056 na elevation sa pinakamalaking isla sa Pilipinas, ang Luzon.

Every cyclist has a dream ride. Some dream of conquering iconic climbs, others aim for legendary routes like Manila to Baguio or Manila to Bicol. These dreams are often shaped by veteran cyclists and popular vloggers who inspire us to push our limits.

I’m Mervin, a small content creator behind Bino TV – Siklistang Mataba (yes, that’s “Fat Biker” in English). I ride a fatbike with massive 4.8-inch tires—not my first bike, but definitely my favorite. I actually bought it secondhand from Facebook Marketplace, after seeing my boss ride one and thinking, “That looks perfect for a big guy like me.”

My cycling journey began when my brother, a seminarian assigned to Italy, left his Merida road bike with me. As a runner, I thought cycling would be easy. I was wrong. My first ride was just 15 km, but it felt like a marathon. I didn’t know how to shift gears, couldn’t reach the brakes from the hoods, and had to lean forward to grab the drops. The next day, my whole body was sore. That’s when I turned to YouTube to learn how to ride properly.

I discovered Angelo Bikerdude, whose racing content was thrilling but hard to apply to my everyday rides. I couldn’t even maintain 20 kph back then! Then came Aira Lopez, and in one of her prank vlogs, I saw Master Ian How—the only cyclist who accepted her challenge to sell his bike. That moment sparked my curiosity. Ian’s vlogs, from Manila to Baguio to Bicol, were hilarious, relatable, and full of real-life cycling struggles. Unlike Angelo, who rides like a Saiyan at 50 kph on public roads, Ian and his crew felt human—just like me.

In 2021, I did my first unplanned 200+ km solo ride: the Laguna Loop. I started at 7:30 AM and finished at 11:30 PM, nearly collapsing from exhaustion. I climbed to Café in the Sky and Mahabang Parang with a 53/39 chainring and 11-28T cogs—pure madness. Later, I trained weekly in Tagaytay with my fatbike, and eventually bought a secondhand Trek MTB with an SLX groupset from a friend who was leaving the country. It was a steal of a deal—barely used and really cheap, considering the quality of the bike. I couldn’t pass it up. By then, I had met Art and the rest of the crew. We called ourselves Jaunt Bikers—weekend warriors chasing quick adventures.

In 2022, Master Jordee, Yoj, and Biker Art invited me to do a ‘One Shot’ Baler ride on our MTBs. It was a huge milestone—imagine biking from Cavite to Aurora in just one day! Inspired by Ian How’s vlogs, we started ticking off his routes: Manila to Bicol (a 3-day, 500 km epic on my fatbike), Manila to Baguio in 2023, and the CALABARZON Loop in 2024 with RideoutPH. To this day, the CALABARZON Loop on a fatbike remains my most challenging ride—more intense than the BATMAN Loop and even the North Luzon Loop.

Eventually, Art and Rai made the switch to gravel bikes, and I could see why—lighter, more comfortable, and perfect for long-distance mixed-terrain rides. I was still on my fat bike, but seeing how versatile their gravel setups were made me curious. So I started looking around and found a deal on Facebook Marketplace—a secondhand gravel bike that I managed to get by trading my drone. It was a fair trade, and honestly, one of the best decisions I made before the North Luzon Loop.

Day 1: Manila to Aritao (234 km) – The Longest First Step

We officially launched our North Luzon Loop adventure at KM 0 in Manila, with the core trio: me, Biker Art, and Rai the Girin Biker. Joining us for the early stretch was Master Reniel, who expertly guided us through the chaotic urban maze up to Valenzuela—a huge help in navigating the evening rush and city sprawl. We weren’t alone. BA and John came along to support and ride with us up to Sta. Rosa, Nueva Ecija, injecting extra energy and laughter into the first leg. Then, in Monumento, we had a surprise encounter with Master Renan of Ahon Hunters, who handed us gifts from Mister Peter Chong—a generous gesture that instantly lifted our spirits and reminded us that we were riding with a community behind us.

That community was strong. We were backed by an incredible lineup of cycling friends and sponsors: Traqs Philippines, J.S. Pascual & Associates, Aerofit, Team Llaneta, Ayscycle, BVG Riders TV, Pareng Cool, Master Chris Haravata, and Bryan Padua. Their support wasn’t just material—it was emotional fuel. Every shout-out, every message, every gesture made us feel like we were pedaling with a whole peloton of love. The first half of the ride was smooth sailing—flat roads from Manila to Cabanatuan, perfect for warming up and settling into the rhythm. By around 10 AM, we reached San Jose, and that’s when the real climb began: a 40-kilometer ascent to Dalton Pass, under the unforgiving heat of the midday sun. The gradient was steady, the sweat relentless, but the views? Absolutely worth it. Lush mountains, winding roads, and that surreal feeling of leaving the city far behind.

As usual, I was riding solo at the back lol, while Art and Rai powered ahead like mountain goats. They waited for me at the summit, and we descended together into Santa Fe, then onward to Aritao. But the descent had its own twist of drama—Rai collided with a dog that darted across the road. The dog bounced toward me, but I managed to swerve just in time. Miraculously, no one crashed. It was already dark, and the area was still reeling from a recent typhoon, leaving the roads eerily unlit and the descent even more intense.

Thankfully, when we reached Leana’s Hotel in Aritao, it had electricity despite the blackout in the surrounding area. And here’s a cool detail: this was the same hotel where Master Ian How stayed during his Day 1 of the North Luzon Loop. It felt like we were retracing the steps of a legend—adding a layer of meaning to our own journey. After nearly 24 hours on the road and 234 kilometers behind us, we wrapped up Day 1 with a couple of San Mig Pilsens—the perfect way to relax our aching muscles and toast to surviving the first leg of the loop. One day down, many more stories to go.

Day 2: Aritao to Ilagan (170 km) – Scenic Roads and Serendipity

We woke up at Leana’s Hotel in Aritao feeling recharged and ready for another long day. But the day didn’t wait to surprise us—right after we exited the hotel gate, we were greeted by a stunning scenic view that we hadn’t noticed the night before. Since we arrived in total darkness, we had no idea what surrounded us. But in the morning light, it was breathtaking—mountains in the distance, mist hanging over the fields, and a peaceful road stretching ahead. It was the kind of view that makes you pause and say, “Wow, this is why we ride.”

The ride started smoothly, with scenic roads and cool morning air. We were deep in Nueva Vizcaya, surrounded by nature and quiet towns with a lot of street food, especially tupig. Somewhere along the way, we passed through a bypass road that was wide open and surrounded by beautiful landscapes. It felt unreal—like stepping into a desktop wallpaper or a phone screensaver. The mountains looked too perfect, too cinematic. And the fact that we reached that place through our own effort, pedaling all the way, gave it a kind of kilabot factor. It’s a feeling you don’t get when you’re just riding in a car—there’s less effort, less connection. But on a bike, every view feels earned. It was so perfect that I stopped to fly my drone—no traffic, just the sound of wind and the hum of our tires.

As we entered Ilagan, hunger kicked in, and we decided to stop for dinner before anything else. We found a local ihaw-ihaw spot that instantly hit the spot. We devoured isaw, tenga, taba, and other laman loob, grilled to perfection and served with rice and cold soft drinks. After a long day on the saddle, that smoky, savory feast was exactly what we needed. It was simple, flavorful, and deeply satisfying—one of those meals that sticks in your memory not just for the taste, but for the moment.

With full stomachs and a bit of renewed energy, we decided to push a little farther. But then came the twist: we ended up going back and forth through the rolling hills of the town proper, trying to find our way and debating whether to continue or call it a day. It was already 8 PM, and we were still short of our 200 km goal. That’s when we made the call: “Tama na, pahinga na tayo.” We checked into Skypark Hotel—an ordinary motel, nothing fancy, but good enough to keep our bikes safe thanks to its secure garage.

Because of all the back-and-forth, we reached the hotel feeling hungry again. But since none of us had slippers and we were too tired to go out, we just settled for junk food from the motel—chips, biscuits, and soft drinks. Not exactly gourmet, but it did the job. And of course, we capped off the night the Jaunt Bikers way—with another round of San Mig Pilsen, laughing about the detour, and toasting to another day survived. 170 kilometers done, and while it wasn’t the distance we aimed for, it was still a solid ride filled with unexpected turns, beautiful views, and good company.

Day 3: Ilagan to Magapit (156 km) – Breakaways and Rainy Roads

We woke up late—around 7 AM, thanks to the fun we had the night before, reminiscing about Days 1 and 2 over a few beers. Originally, our goal was to reach Aparri on Day 3, but since we didn’t hit our 200 km target the previous day and got a late start, we decided to adjust and end the day in Magapit.

The ride began with long, flat roads that seemed endless. We kept pedaling and chatting, almost forgetting to hydrate properly. I didn’t realize I was mostly consuming chocolates, junk food, and soft drinks from every sari-sari store we passed—blame it on the heat and the sugar craving. Eventually, I found myself way ahead of Art and Rai, unintentionally breaking away.

Since we had plans to visit Art’s cousin Hanna in Tuguegarao, I decided to wait for them at a waiting shed, hiding from the sun and resting my legs. When they arrived, it was already noon, and luckily, Hanna’s house was just a few meters away. Along the way, we met a group of cheerful kids who seemed used to seeing vloggers pass by. They asked me for stickers, and it was such a fun and heartwarming moment—my little new fans.

At Hanna’s place, we were treated like royalty. Big thanks to Hanna for the delicious food, strong coffee, and especially for letting me take a nap on her hammock—pure bliss. She even packed us some snacks for the road. That kind of hospitality hits different when you’re on a long ride. As we left Hanna’s place, heavy rain started to pour—the kind that soaks you in seconds and makes visibility a challenge. Thankfully, we had our raincoats ready and pushed through the downpour. After several kilometers of wet riding, the rain finally stopped somewhere along the long flat stretch of Tuguegarao. The road was quiet, the air was cool, and the surroundings were calm. We decided to stop at one peaceful spot just to appreciate the silence and enjoy the snacks Hanna had packed for us. It was a simple moment, but one of the most memorable of the day. By the time we reached Gattaran, it was already dark. My Front Derailer isn’t working anymore. We decided to stop for dinner and call it a day, especially since we wanted to pass by the Aparri Arc in daylight for some good photos.

We checked into Ma. Fremie’s Lodging and Restaurant, the first-ever lodging established in Magapit, Lal-lo. As we arrived, we were warmly welcomed by Ma. Fremie herself, her son, and other family members. While they prepared our room, we exchanged stories and shared laughs—it felt more like visiting relatives than checking into a motel. Their hospitality was genuine and comforting, a perfect way to end a long day. It was a simple but decent place, nothing fancy, but just right for tired bikers looking for a safe, quiet place to rest. And of course, the day wouldn’t be complete without our now-traditional two rounds of San Mig Pilsen, celebrating another day of adventure, survival, and stories to tell. 156 kilometers done, and we were now just one ride away from reaching the northernmost point of our loop.

Day 4: Magapit to Claveria via Aparri (112 km) – Grit, Gout, and the Arc

I woke up with a slight swelling and pain in my right foot. This is it—a gout attack. Good thing I brought my colchicine with me. I took a tablet right away—not to manage the pain, but to expedite the flushing out of uric acid from my system. From that point on, I became more conscious about my intake. No more reckless eating from here on. We had breakfast while waiting for the rain to stop, hoping for a dry start. But by 8 AM, the rain showed no signs of letting up. So we geared up, put on our raincoats, and hit the road once again. From the moment we left the hotel, we were met with nonstop rain and strong headwinds—all the way to the Aparri Arc. It was cold, wet, and physically draining. Every pedal stroke felt heavier than usual, and for me, it was even more challenging because I was technically pedaling with just one foot. With my right foot in pain and locked into the cleat, I couldn’t afford to stop or twist it out of position.

At one point, I found myself drafting behind a speeding tricycle going around 35–40 kph. The draft was strong and carried me for about 12 kilometers. Rai and Art couldn’t keep up when the tricycle held a steady 40 kph, but for me, it was a blessing. I enjoyed it—and I had to. The wind grew even stronger as we neared the arc, pushing against us like a wall. I arrived at the Aparri Arc first, soaked and exhausted. But as I dismounted, the pain in my foot surged. It was intense. I stood there, trying to stretch and shake it off, but the discomfort was overwhelming. I got emotional, thinking, “This might be it. I might not be able to continue.” After everything we had gone through in the first three days—the climbs, the rain, the laughter, the distance—it was hard to accept the thought of stopping here.

We waited until all three of us were complete for a little photo session at the arc, then took a coffee break nearby. I drank pure coffee, no sugar, staying mindful of my condition. The vendor, who served us coffee, also shared a Facebook post warning about flooding along the route to Claveria. That made us reconsider pushing forward immediately. We decided to wait until the rain calmed down, knowing the risks ahead.

The vendor also told us about a shortcut—a boat ride that could take us from the east side of Aparri to the west side, just 200 meters across the river, instead of going back to Magapit Bridge, which was a 20 km detour. Just 500 meters from the arc, we found the boat. The fare was only ₱150, and we shared ₱50 each for the ride—three bikers and our bikes crossing the river together. It felt like a stroke of luck—saving time, effort, money, and, for me, less pain to endure the stretch after the crossing was peaceful. We saw carabaos enjoying the mud, sang while pedaling, and soaked in the calm scenery until we reached the main road again. We stopped for lunch, and I took two more colchicine tablets to help flush out the uric acid buildup. Once we hit the main road, Art and Rai broke away. I was left alone, pedaling carefully to control the pain. It was the quietest part of the ride, just me and the road, until I reached Sanchez Mira around 5:30 PM. It was already dark, and the rain started again.

We regrouped and continued toward Claveria’s Arc, but my headlight had stopped working, probably due to water damage. Rai and Art stayed close to guide me through the darkness. Then came a surprise climb—a steep 15%-17% gradient. Of course, they went ahead, and I assumed they’d wait at the top. But they continued down the descent and waited after the downhill. That descent was the scariest I’ve ever done—steep, pitch-black, and with rough road conditions. I was tense the whole way down until I finally saw them laughing at the bottom. I cursed at them, half-joking, half-relieved. We found El Dia Beach Resthouse, settled in, and looked for food. No San Mig tonight—just rest, recovery, and reflection. Just rest, recovery, and reflection.

Day 5: Claveria to Pasuquin (101 km) – Rain, Relief, and Recovery

It was still raining when we woke up, so we decided to stay put and wait for the weather to calm down. After breakfast, we finally rolled out around 10:30 AM. As we passed through the town, we couldn’t help but notice the storm damage—houses and structures visibly battered by the previous day’s weather. There was a short climb early on, and I met a motorcycle rider who shared that they had been stranded due to a landslide just the day before. Fortunately, the LGU was already clearing the road when we passed, but we still had to navigate through muddy terrain.

It started raining again—not a downpour, just a light shower, but it was oddly comforting. I was still pedaling through pain, and I couldn’t imagine doing it under the scorching sun. The cool rain helped ease the discomfort, especially during several 8% climbs. I had to stop several times to urinate—my system was clearly flushing out toxins. At one point, I was also trying to hold on because I was experiencing LBM. Thankfully, I found a store where they kindly allowed me to use their toilet. By then, Art and Rai had gone ahead, and I had to take the risk of leaving my bike outside unattended. Good thing that most people in the provinces are honest—my bike was still there when I came out.

Santa Praxedes marked the last town of Cagayan, and by noon, we had officially entered Ilocos Norte. The climb was done, and the descent toward Patapat Viaduct was absolutely mesmerizing—even in the rain. We regrouped there and took a few photos despite the gloomy weather. From there, we rode through rolling hills, passing the iconic Bangui Windmills, then regrouped again at the Pagudpud Arc. We reached Bangui town proper around 3 or 4 PM, where we had to buy reflectorized vests—a requirement for riding in the dark, and we anticipated reaching Pasuquin around 8 PM.

We had lunch and took a few moments to go on Facebook Live, updating our families and friends that we were still alive—“Still pedaling, still surviving,” haha. The route from there was mostly flat, and we decided to cut the ride short at 91 km, avoiding the risk of passing through Pasuquin town proper late at night without a guaranteed place to stay. We found Macato’s Place, and it turned out to be a great find—₱1,500 for a spacious, clean, and well-equipped room. The caretaker even helped us wash our used clothes using their washing machine. We had dinner and finally got the longest and most restful sleep of the journey so far. It was a much-needed break. My gout was almost gone the next morning. I felt recharged and ready. Let’s do this. C’mon.

Day 6: Pasuquin to Vigan (120 km) – Fast Flats and Cultural Feasts

Coming off a full night’s rest and, more importantly, waking up with a painless foot, I was genuinely excited for this ride. From the moment we rolled out, the wind was wild—it felt like we were being carried by tornadoes, especially when crossing bridges. It was exhilarating, almost cinematic. Somewhere along Bacarra in Ilocos Norte, we took the outermost route and did not realize that it was an unexpected detour (Rodolfo F. Fariñas Jr. Bypass Road). There was a relatively short but steep segment (15% gradient), and finally, we found a bike shop that could fix my bike after 3 days; at last, my front derailer was fixed, thanks to Tango Bike Shop.

One of the highlights of the day was our visit to the Paoay Church, officially known as the San Agustin Church. Built in 1694 and completed in 1710, this UNESCO World Heritage Site is famous for its Earthquake Baroque architecture, featuring massive coral-stone walls and 24 enormous buttresses designed to withstand seismic activity. The church’s blend of European Baroque, Gothic, and Asian influences makes it one of the most iconic landmarks in Ilocos Norte.

As we admired the church’s grandeur, a hilarious moment unfolded—giant decorative balls around the church grounds were being tossed around by the strong winds. One of them chased us, and Rai, caught off guard, fell off his bike. I couldn’t help but laugh—it was one of those unexpected, unforgettable moments. We had lunch at a small carinderia nearby. The food was simple but delicious—and cheap, which meant we had extra for dessert. I tried Ben’s Spicy Halo-Halo, topped with real chili. It was surprisingly good, a perfect match for the hot weather and the fiery ride. We passed through the Currimao bayside, soaking in the coastal views, and stopped at the Ilocos Norte Arc as we entered Ilocos Sur. Just after the arc, we found Calle Café, where we enjoyed siomai and a good cup of coffee—a perfect mid-ride treat.

The ride was mostly flat, and with the wind behind us, we found ourselves cruising at 35–40 kph with ease. Even with occasional slowdowns to enjoy the towns and scenery, we still averaged 23 kph. It was one of those rare days where everything just felt right—no pain, no rain, just pure joy on two wheels. We reached Vigan just after a beautiful sunset, smiling from ear to ear. The city was vibrant as always. At first, we thought there was a fiesta, but it turned out to be a regular program and the usual crowd of tourists. Vigan always feels festive.

We visited Rai’s old house along Calle Crisologo—yes, he used to live there, and he’s related to the prominent Florentino family, known in the area for their historical and cultural roots. We were welcomed by his cousin Kuya Jerome, who introduced us to his wife Ate Mau and their mother Nanay Nancy. They hosted us at what we fondly called Florentino Residences—a humble yet spacious and comfortable home. Dinner was a feast: Vigan Ilocos Bagnet, calamares, and the rare, tiny fish called “ipon”, which costs around ₱800 per kilo. It was a meal to remember—rich in flavor and Ilocano heritage.

By this point, we had covered 892 km from Manila, and since Aparri marked the official start of the second half of our North Luzon Loop, we were now cruising through it—stronger, lighter, and more joyful than ever. With no pain to worry about, I treated myself to two bottles of San Mig Light—a quiet celebration before a good night’s sleep.

Day 7: Vigan – A Day of Stillness and Stories

After six days of pushing our bodies and spirits across Northern Luzon, Vigan welcomed us with open arms—and perfect timing. We took a well-deserved break. No pedaling today—just exploring, eating, laughing, and letting our minds catch up with our legs. There was something poetic about resting in Vigan. Like the seventh day in the story of creation, where even the divine paused to admire what had been made, we too found ourselves in a moment of stillness and gratitude. The road behind us was long, and the road ahead still unknown—but for now, we were here, and that was enough.

Vigan, founded in 1572, is one of the oldest and best-preserved Spanish colonial towns in Asia. Recognized as a UNESCO World Heritage Site, its charm lies in its cobblestone streets, ancestral houses, and the unique fusion of Filipino, Chinese, and European architecture. Walking through Calle Crisologo felt like stepping into a living museum—where every wall, window, and wooden beam whispered stories of centuries past. Kuya Jerome took us to their private rest house by the beach, where we spent the morning swimming under the sun, letting the saltwater wash away the fatigue of the past week. It was the kind of rest that didn’t just soothe the body—it restored the soul. We wandered around town, indulged in local coffee, and, of course, ate a lot of food. Vigan’s culinary scene is as rich as its history, and we made sure to savor every bite. The day was slow, intentional, and full of laughter—a rare kind of joy that only comes when you’ve truly earned your rest. As the sun dipped behind the colonial rooftops, casting golden light on the cobblestones, I couldn’t help but reflect: this journey isn’t just about distance—it’s about presence. And today, we were fully present.

To cap it all off, Kuya Jerome invited a few friends over to the rest house, and the evening turned into another round of beer, laughter, and stories shared under the stars. The table overflowed with food—most of which wouldn’t exactly help my gout—but I couldn’t resist taking a small bite of each. Just enough to taste, just enough to remember. It was one of those nights where the joy outweighed the rules, and the camaraderie made every indulgence worth it.

Day 8: Vigan to San Fabian (200 km) – Vomits, Flats, and Flying Drones

After a day of rest and indulgence in Vigan, it was time to saddle up again. The loop wasn’t over yet, and the road ahead promised another 200 kilometers of grit, grind, and unexpected turns. Spirits were high, legs were slightly less so—but we were moving. We kicked off the morning with a feast fit for a king. Fueled by the memory of yesterday’s culinary adventure and the looming distance ahead, I overindulged—let’s just say my plate looked more like a sampler of everything Vigan had to offer. I figured I’d burn it all off anyway. Famous last words.

The ride started easily, cruising through sleepy villages with the sun gently rising behind us. But as we hit the national road, things escalated. Rai and Art broke away, pushing a steady 30kph on a deceptively sloping 1–2% gradient. I tried to chase, but something felt off. A wave of nausea crept in, and when I coughed to shake it off—boom. I threw up. On the bike. Mid-ride. I had to pull over, catch my breath, and let the team know. When I finally caught up, round two hit me. I guess my body decided to purge every bite from Day 7 and breakfast. Oddly enough, I felt better after. Lighter. Ready. Then came Quirino Bridge—and wow. Just wow. The timing was perfect. Sunrise bathed the structure in golden light, and we couldn’t resist flying the drone. The footage? Cinematic. It was the kind of view that makes you forget the pain and remember why you ride.

The route turned into rolling hills and long descents, the kind where gravity does the work and you just hold on. We met fellow cyclists and runners along the way, exchanged smiles, and soaked in the rock formations by the bay. Every moment felt like a gift, especially knowing tomorrow might be the final stretch.

But drama wasn’t done with us yet.

After Narvacan, we found Art on the roadside with—flat tire. He thought it was just the climb slowing him down, but Rai spotted the real issue. We patched it up and rolled into Candon for lunch. Not long after—boom. Another flat. At 12:18 PM, we were hunting for a vulcanizing shop, dubbing Art with a new alias: Biker Flat. The sun was relentless. By 2 PM, we exited Ilocos Sur and had to take a power nap just to let the heat simmer down. Once back on the road, Rai and Art surged ahead again. But then—another twist. I found them walking on the roadside. Rai had clipped Art’s rear tire while drafting, forced to brake hard when a pedestrian crossed unexpectedly. The result: a stumble, some bruises, but thankfully no fractures. Just another story for the books. We hit the 100km mark by 3 PM in Bacnotan, greeted by a glorious downhill stretch that carried us effortlessly into more rolling terrain. The momentum was so strong, it felt like the hills were cheering us on.

By 5 PM, hunger struck. Art called for a pit stop at Tristan Bulalohan, where we devoured hot bulalo and snuck in a quick nap. The food was comforting, and the break was much needed. At around 7 PM in Agoo, we met Fafa Roxy of SarapMagbike South, who welcomed us on his motorcycle with the warmest hospitality. He hosted us for the night in his humble home in San Fabian, Pangasinan—free accommodation, good vibes, and a reunion long overdue. We arrived around 9 PM, and of course, the night wasn’t complete without pigar-pigar, cold beer, and endless laughter. Another 200 kilometers behind us, and we wrapped up the day not just with tired legs, but full hearts.

Day 9: San Fabian to Capas (107 km) – Playing Through the Final Stretch

After eight days of adventure, Day 9 felt like a celebration on wheels. The route from San Fabian to Capas was smooth and familiar, with light traffic and perfect weather. While it was raining in Manila, we were blessed with ideal riding conditions—no scorching sun, no downpour. Just cool, calm skies that made every kilometer feel effortless.

Since my Auntie’s house was along the way, we took a quick visit to my relatives and headed to Manaoag Church, which was also just along the way. We made a meaningful stop at the Minor Basilica of Our Lady of the Rosary of Manaoag. Established in the early 1600s by Dominican missionaries, the church is one of the most revered pilgrimage sites in the country. Legend tells of a farmer who saw an apparition of the Virgin Mary on a treetop, asking for a shrine to be built. Today, it stands as a symbol of faith, miracles, and devotion, drawing thousands of pilgrims each year. From there, Fafa Roxy led us through a lesser-known diversion road—a wide, smooth stretch that bypassed the usual traffic and brought us swiftly to Urdaneta, Pangasinan, where we stopped for a quick lunch. The road remained flat and forgiving, and with the weather on our side, we cruised through Pangasinan and Tarlac with ease. We stopped every hour for water breaks and coffee, chatting and enjoying the relaxed pace.

By 2 PM, we were just 25 kilometers short of our 100 km target. We felt strong—like we could finish the loop that very day. But we made a conscious decision to hold back. We wanted to arrive in Manila during daylight to make the final stretch more meaningful. We also planned to visit Sir Ronie in Bulacan, and hopefully meet some Jaunt Bikers at KM 0. So we agreed to stop at 5 PM, not because we had to, but because we wanted to savor the final chapter. The roads were wide open, and with no pressure to rush, we played. We rode no hands, sang songs, danced on our bikes, and took photos at every town arc we passed. It was joy in motion—pure and simple.

As we neared Capas, we made a meaningful stop at the Capas National Shrine around 4 PM. This solemn memorial honors the thousands of Filipino and American soldiers who perished during the Bataan Death March in World War II. The shrine stands as a powerful reminder of sacrifice, resilience, and the cost of freedom. Just beside the shrine was Zitto’s Inn, where we decided to stay for the night. Conveniently, there was a carinderia right across the road. With no other footwear but our cleats, we walked barefoot across the street—laughing at the moment and embracing the simplicity of it all. We filled our bellies with warm, comforting food and settled in.

No San Mig Pilsens tonight—we had one goal left: to finish the loop. And tomorrow, we would.

Day 10: Capas to Manila (107 km) – The Final Hug at KM 0

The final stretch. The last sunrise of the loop was still hours away when we rolled out of Zitto’s Inn at 1:40 AM, headlights on, hearts full. The air was cool, the roads quiet—it felt like the world was still asleep, and we had it all to ourselves. Somewhere along the way, we grabbed breakfast and even tried out a helmet cleaning machine—because if we were going to finish this loop, we might as well do it smelling fresh. It was a small detail, but it added to the sense of ceremony. This wasn’t just another ride. This was the finale. As expected, Rai and Art turned MacArthur Highway into their personal racetrack, flying through segments at 40 kph, devouring the flat roads like they were chasing ghosts. I tried to keep up, but a bump on a bridge in San Simon, Pampanga, sent my water bottle and power bank flying. It was pitch dark, and it took time to recover my gear. Rai and Art didn’t notice—they were too deep in the zone, racing toward the finish.

As I passed through Pampanga and entered Bulacan, I made a detour to visit the legendary Batcave of Sir Ronnie, aka Batman. Sir Reniel met me there, but Rai and Art had already overshot the turn (missed the turn, as we say). The road to the Batcave was flooded, adding a layer of drama to the early morning visit. The gate was wide open, but Batman was nowhere in sight—turns out, he had gone out to buy pandesal for our breakfast. Soon enough, he returned, and about 45 minutes later, Rai and Art arrived. We gathered around the table, sharing stories, laughter, and hot coffee. It was a moment of warmth and camaraderie—one last pause before the final push. Huge thanks to Batman for the hospitality and the heart.

We took off again, and by 8 or 9 AM, we reached KM 0 in Manila. The loop was complete. There were no grand ceremonies, no finish line banners—just a group hug, sweaty jerseys, and smiles that said it all. We didn’t mind the sweat and grime. We had done it. Ten days. Over 1,300 kilometers. Countless memories. We were grateful—to each other, to everyone who supported us, and most of all, to God, who gave us strength, safety, and favorable weather throughout the journey. The loop was more than a ride. It was a story. And now, it was complete.