Mt. Mariglem: The Joiners Ep. 1
Best shared to those who have the same passion for travel.
The Mountains Were Calling.
And This Time, I Stayed.
I have always been drawn to mountains. But for the longest time, that pull took me across Asia — to the trails of the Tiger Leaping Gorge, the ridgelines of Taroko, the trekking circuits of Nepal. The Philippines, for all its geographic drama, never quite registered on my hiking radar. it was probably the heat, or the better appeal to do so elsewhere. I was one of those people who assumed we'd cornered the market on beaches and left the mountains to someone else's bucket list.
Mt. Mariglem in Zambales changed that assumption entirely.
"I was not prepared for what I saw at the trailhead. Thousands of young people, geared up and glowing, making their way up in the pre-dawn dark."
It was my first time to take a joiners tour - locally called more affordable shared tours. We started early — the kind of early that makes you question your life choices while still half-asleep. I arrived at the meet-up point, and saw the already scores waiting. At least I knew I wasn't scammed. The driver messaged me that they were near the meet-up point. The process was quite seamless, and I got on the van, that carried ten other tired adventurers. But as we drove into Zambales and pulled up to the jump-off point, any grogginess evaporated immediately. I was not prepared for what I saw. Thousands of young people, geared up and glowing with excitement, already making their way up in the pre-dawn dark. The energy was staggering. It felt less like a hike and more like a movement.
The trail up to Mt. Mariglem — the scale of the crowd only makes sense when you see it moving.
I have hiked popular trails in Asia where the crowds can feel overwhelming and, frankly, disheartening. But this was different. There was a certain collective joy to it all. These weren't tourists ticking off a destination — they were Filipinos, most of them young, choosing to spend their weekend doing something physically demanding and genuinely beautiful. It gave me a lot of hope.
Up to the Peaks
The trail itself is well-maintained. This is something I have to give full credit to — the infrastructure is there. Guides are available, the path is marked, and the support network for a safe, manageable hike is clearly in place. It's the kind of setup that would make even a first-time hiker feel confident. For someone like me who has relied on tour operators abroad for logistical assurance, it was a pleasant revelation to find the same level of organization right here at home.
Somewhere along the ridge — where the views start to open up and the effort starts to feel worth it.
Mt. Mariglem is known for its series of peaks, each one marked and offering its own distinct vantage for one thing - a photoshoot. I guess the hikers are mostly Gen Z'ers who love a photo. So the hike took long. It was like a long line for a photo stop. But all of those side thoughts were dminished as soion as I looked over the view. And it was BREATHTAKING. No wonder the hikers were obsessed with photos. So I fell for it as well. I am not really a photo perosn, but I could't stop taking pictures left and right. All were spectacular. Even the crowds looked nice. By the time we reached Peak 4, the clouds had cleared and the panorama was nothing short of spectacular. Layered mountain ranges faded into the horizon in every direction, the grassland slopes catching the early light in shades of ochre and green. It is a view that rivals what I've seen in places that cost a plane ticket and a visa to reach.
And then there was the group photo. Our crew at Peak 4, eleven of us crammed around that red-and-cream signboard, all grinning through our exhaustion. It's funny how peaks do that — they strip away pretense. You forget about everything else and just feel the accomplishment of having made it up there together.
The River Reward
What made this trip more than just a hike was what came after. The descent took us down to a river system that I can only describe as a hidden paradise. A wide, clear natural pool — the water a remarkable blue-green, ringed by smooth boulders and dense tropical foliage — was waiting for us at the bottom. After hours on the trail, jumping into that water felt like a full system reset.
Further up the same waterway, the river became rockier and more dramatic — big boulders breaking the current into little cascades, with lush green hills rising steeply on all sides. A few members of our group were already wading through it, looking impossibly small against the scale of the landscape. It is the kind of scene that makes you put your phone down for a second and just take it in.
And Then We Ate
No proper Philippine adventure ends without food, and this was no exception. Post-hike lunch included a spread that was deceptively simple and absolutely satisfying. There was a tofu and tomato salad dressed with something peanut-based that had no business being as good as it was. Alongside it, a plate of fresh greens — what looked like pako fern — tossed with small shrimp, glistening and vibrant. And in the background, something wrapped in banana leaf that I didn't wait long enough to identify before it was gone.
It is exactly the kind of meal that tastes better because of everything that preceded it.
A New Direction
I left Zambales genuinely recalibrated. For years, I defaulted to going abroad for this kind of experience — the elevation, the trail culture, the sense of scale. But Mt. Mariglem reminded me that the Philippines has been quietly building something real here. The guides are knowledgeable, the infrastructure is sound, and the mountains themselves? They are world-class. We just haven't been talking about them loudly enough.
I've since heard that Mariglem is just one of several mountains in the country gaining momentum. Good. It should. And if the next generation of Filipino hikers is any indication — those thousands of young people I saw moving up the trail before sunrise — then the mountains are in very good hands.
"I've been looking at the map differently ever since. There are a lot of peaks left to climb, and most of them are right here."
I've been looking at the map differently ever since. There are a lot of peaks left to climb, and most of them are right here.
One More Thing — About That Fall
I should not leave this out. On my way down, umbrella in hand, I slipped through a crevice and fell hard on a rock. The next thing I knew, I was bleeding all over my arm.
My trail mates swarmed over immediately to check on me. And then, almost out of nowhere, a medic appeared — at nearly noontime, somewhere on the trail — with a first aid kit and, of all things, a diaper, which he promptly wrapped around my bleeding arm. I was genuinely stunned. Not just by the pain, but by the fact that someone was out there, prepared, and ready to help a stranger.
He vanished just as quickly as he appeared. I never got to say thank you. If you're reading this somehow — thank you.
Now. The umbrella. I closed it shortly after and subtly, quietly, blamed it for the whole incident. Who carries an umbrella hiking? I asked myself that question several times on the way down. I probably lost my balance because of it. I had just come from India, I was feeling confident, and I had mentally filed this hike under "easy." My confidence, it turns out, took the best of me.
"So lesson learned: be prepared with the right gear, no matter what. Confidence is not a substitute for it."
As soon as I reached the base, my trail mates and our tour guide helped me properly disinfect the wound. The infrastructure, once again, held up — even for the accidents.
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