The landscape is both a stunning and dreadful reminder of the death and destruction that occurred when Pinatubo blew its top in June 1991, after more than 600 years of dormancy, writes Girlie Linao

The sun rose as the red Land Cruiser off-roader made its way through dusty and rough terrain, littered with rocks that cracked under the weight of the vehicle.
A thin coating of dust covered everything and everyone inside the jeep, making eyes water from the dirt.
The bone-jarring 24-kilometre ride is the start of a day trek to the crater of Mount Pinatubo, one of the Philippines’ active volcanoes.
The mountain’s 40-kilometre base straddles the northern provinces of Tarlac, Pampanga and Zambales.
The most accessible jump-off point for the trek is Santa Juliana village in Capas town, Tarlac province, 100 kilometres north of Manila. The tour requires visitors to ride 4x4 vehicles before going on foot for 7 kilometres to reach the volcano’s crater lake.
The ride passes through an army camp and a former bombing and gunnery range complex that was buried by pyroclastic flows during Pinatubo’s eruption 23 years ago, leaving behind a wide, barren expanse.
Streams and rivers break the parched stretch of land, which is sandwiched on both sides by what seem to be jagged-edged mountains, some covered in green outgrowth. But these are just shifting piles.
“Those are fake mountains,” Edwin Ventura, 45, said as he navigated the jeep over a shallow slope that ended in a gushing river. “Those are actually volcanic debris spewed out from Pinatubo’s belly.” “Every year, the trail’s contour, shape and route changes,” he added.
“Where there were mountains before, now there are only plains,” he said. “Rain and water that flow from the real mountains washed out these fake mountains. New ones are built. Even veteran off-road drivers can get lost in this place.” The landscape is both a stunning and dreadful reminder of the death and destruction that occurred when Pinatubo blew its top in June 1991, after more than 600 years of dormancy, burying towns and cities and killing more than 800 people.
The second largest volcanic eruption of the 20th century sent columns of fine ash and gases into the stratosphere, forming a huge volcanic cloud that encircled the world and cooled global temperatures by as much as 0.5 Celsius, according to scientists.
It was mid-afternoon when Pinatubo’s strongest eruption occurred on June 15, 1991. Night-like darkness enveloped the villages at the volcano’s foot as it spewed grey ashes and huge boulders that turned farmlands, forests and villages into wasteland.
Even many years later, the deposited volcanic debris turns into deadly mudflows during heavy rain.
Jojo Rodejero, 30, who has been a tour guide since 2010, said dangers still lurk in the volcano, but the tours that began in 1996 were giving a good livelihood to those displaced by the eruption.
In August 2009, two French hikers, a Belgian and three local guides were killed when their vehicles were caught in floods and landslides after heavy rains during a similar trek.
In January 2013, a Filipino tourist died after jumping into the summit lake, while a Canadian hiker died from heatstroke after reaching the summit three months later.
“We want the tourists to keep coming, so we take precautions to keep them safe,” Rodejero said. “All guides are required to bring a first-aid kit during the hikes and no tours are allowed when there’s a slight chance of rain.” Swimming has also been prohibited in the lake.” After what seemed like an eternity of the back-breaking ride, the Land Cruiser stopped in between two huge volcanic ash cliffs, just a few metres after a sign that read, “No shouting please. Noise can cause soil erosion.” From afar, two groups of hikers could be seen walking in single file, negotiating a wide bed of sand, rocks and boulders. Along the way are towering walls of volcanic ash, streaked by erosion. The trail is broken by streams of sulphuric water that turn stones to red, yellow or black.
“This is an easy hike,” Rodejero assured the group, as he murmured what he later said was a little prayer to keep everybody safe. “You wouldn’t notice the ascent except in the last 20 minutes.” During the last leg, the trail narrows and turns into a rocky incline covered in wild foliage. A sharp, tight turn on wet and mossy stones is the last hurdle before a cool breeze greets the sweaty hikers upon reaching the top of Pinatubo.
At the bottom of a steep flight of cemented stairs is the lake filled with turquoise water and surrounded by green and brown peaks on all sides.
The 2-kilometre-wide lake was formed when rainwater pooled in the volcano’s caldera, a depression which formed when the mountain’s summit collapsed by 300 metres to 1,440 metres’ altitude during the 1991 eruption.
From the shore, the sulphur-laden water falls to a sudden depth of up to 800 metres, Rodejero said.
At the top of the stairs, British brothers Nick and Daniel Caley sat on a rock that provided a good calming view of the lake. Nick rubbed his sore feet, and smiled when he found no blisters.
“It’s breathtaking,” said Nick, a 21-year-old student of anthropology. “It’s as if a great hand has taken a scoop out of the earth and then put water into it.” “We’ve seen something similar but on a smaller scale: Mount Snowdon in Wales,” added Daniel. “It’s very beautiful, very quiet.” On the way back, hikers met and took photos of a family of Aetas washing their clothes on a stream. The Aetas are among the aboriginal inhabitant groups of the Philippines who were displaced by Pinatubo’s eruption.
Taking a shade from a huge rock, Juanita Develina, who estimates that she is in her 60s, was watching over a boiling pot of wild beans that she was cooking early for lunch.
“It was like midnight here when Pinatubo erupted,” she recalled. “You cannot see anything and the dust was suffocating. They forced us to evacuate, I was fighting it because this is our home.” But Develina said that after seeing the destruction, she was thankful that they listened to the authorities. Now, when they hear any thunderous sound, they immediately rush to an adjacent mountain to escape rampaging waters.
“The government wanted to resettle us, but the resettlement site is crowded, so we decided to stay here,” she said.
All my four children and my 11 grandchildren stay with us. That’s my husband up there,” she said pointing to a thin bearded man with silvery curly hair, squatting on a hillock while quietly watching over his family.
“Life is hard but we will survive. We always do,” she assured the visitors as they began the hike back.