It’s July, overcast, and Kenneth and I are weaving along EDSA after disembarking near McDonald’s-Eton Centris, our designated base camp for this expedition. The air is thick with humidity, punctuated by the occasional drizzle that makes the pavement slick. Cars roar past like mechanical beasts, headlights flickering in the gray light, their exhaust swirling beneath a sky smothered by low, brooding clouds. The sun is nowhere to be seen, hidden behind layers of haze, but the heat still clings stubbornly to our skin. In front of us, the legendary Mount Kamuning Footbridge looms, its concrete expanse stretching across the chaotic sea of vehicles like a dare.
Despite the absence of sunlight, a couple of urban mountaineers are already attempting the ascent of Mount Kamuning, a climb so steep and treacherous that even the most seasoned commuters hesitate at its base. But we are not here to simply cross the road. No, we are here to conquer one of the most grueling expeditions Metro Manila has to offer: a summit of the Kamuning Footbridge using nothing but our own feet and sheer willpower.
Each footbridge functions as a daily Apo or Pulag for the average commuter. Kamuning, though, is special because it’s hilariously, almost comically high. Its stairs are steep, its ascent brutal, and its shade nonexistent.
The Kamuning ascent is, in a word, unforgiving. Every step is a reminder that the environment and the economy are, in this city, “inextricably linked” by concrete and chaos. While some commuters have bypassed this mountain for the easier MRT overpass, for the rest of us, we are drawn to the climb.
To quote George Mallory, “Because it’s there.” At least for now.
Mount Kamuning was formed sometime in the early 21st century C.E., during what is known as the Flyover Era, an aggressive phase of infrastructure growth in Metro Manila marked by uncoordinated elevation and complete disregard for human knees. Scholars estimate its construction to be part of a major DPWH-MMDA uplift between 1999–2005 C.E., though exact dates are shrouded in mystery (or buried in unscanned PDF reports with broken links on .gov.ph sites). Urban legends say the bridge’s final blueprints were emailed at 4:59 p.m. on a Friday.
In 2019, the Philippines doubled down on the call for sustainable urban solutions, though most of these solutions involved building more footbridges and adding more stairs, presumably to train the next generation of mountaineers. According to the MMDA’s 2020 Urban Mobility Report, Metro Manila has over 138 footbridges, most of which were built “to ensure pedestrian safety amid rising vehicle volumes.” Critics, however, argue that these designs prioritize cars over people, with one urban planner famously calling them “monuments to car supremacy.”
And so Metro Manila’s geography began another seismic upheaval that would soon flatten Mount Kamuning. Time is running out for this formidable peak, with the President himself decreeing its removal to “build a better one”—a lower bridge, with elevators.
Most call it progress. But a few mourned it as the end of an era. For the brave who dare the ascent, this is a last chance to etch their names among the greats before the mighty Kamuning is reduced to a mere pedestrian crossing.
The adventure begins about 10 minutes into the approach, when we peel away from the pedestrian lanes and arrive at the fabled McDonald’s Eton-Centris, long considered a sacred resting place for DIY joiners meetups. This is hallowed ground, a place where generations of explorers have refueled on Chicken McDo, Coke Float, and the occasional Quarter Pounders before their assault on Mount Kamuning or a pre-dawn journey to other mountains in Luzon.
Kenneth and I begin the trek in earnest, guided by Kuya Nestor, an expert in local street lore and footbridge superstitions. He pauses to show us a nearby “tambayan ng multo”, a building where it is said commuters disappear, lured by the promise of ayuda and personal loans. Moments later, he gestures to the sun-faded tarpaulins flapping above us like battle-worn flags—relics from long-forgotten political campaigns and two-for-one milk tea promos.
We press on, disinfecting our rubber slippers at a small puddle before tackling the next major incline. The climb is grueling. I fall behind by a couple of steps. We pause for a brief acclimatization break by a rusting railing, said to mark the halfway point. Nearby, I spot a commuter resting on the stair rail, staring blankly into space, perhaps communing with the spirits of past ascents.
Along the walls of the slope, one can still see fragments of what scholars call the Kamuning Script: a system of ancestral markings used by early footbridge climbers to record romantic declarations, philosophical musings, and territorial warnings. Though the meanings of “Sheila ❤ Bryan” and “Pogi ako” remain debated, many believe they reveal an oral tradition of longing and passive resistance. Inscriptions rendered in spray paint and industrial markers now serve as enduring testaments to the cultural richness of the lower slopes.
We finally reach the summit, the apex of Mount Kamuning. The view is spectacular: the shimmering roof of a bus below, the glint of a bus’ side mirror, the distant peaks of GMA-Kamuning’s tangled overpasses. It is said that the wind blows differently here, that you can hear the faint cries of commuters still trapped in the bottleneck near Cubao.
But soon, this sacred site will vanish as the geography of Metro Manila continues to try to move towards a more humane environment. The Department of Transportation confirmed that the Kamuning footbridge would be among the first to be replaced with “a low-slope structure equipped with elevators for persons with disabilities and the elderly.”
Such a move is widely considered a sweet victory for the general public. For us, though, it marks the end of an era. Future generations may never know the glory and the suffering of the Mount Kamuning ascent.
Three and a half hours later (or maybe 15 minutes — time moves strangely on the mountain), we descend toward our final destination: Sweet Ecstasy, a hiker’s sanctuary nestled at the foot of the western slope. Its burgers are warm, making them legendary fuel among the weary. We sit with our legs throbbing and our spirits victorious.
As I savor my calorie-laden brunch, I spot another group of young people as they begin their own trek up the still-standing Mount Kamuning. Perhaps they will be among the last to do so.
Kuya Nestor, a commuter who has crossed several footbridges in Metro Manila and is considered a veteran of the Great Commutes, shares his next mission: a daring traverse from the Shangri-La Mall Base Camp to Star Mall-Mandaluyong, ascending the infamous Shaw MRT Station trail, a route notorious for its elevation gains and unpredictable human traffic patterns.
For now, he, along with us, relishes the sight of the mountain. The impending disappearance of Mount Kamuning signals the low-key erasure of one of Metro Manila’s most unintentionally iconic commuter rituals. Like many urban relics, it now stands at the intersection of progress and nostalgia, a structure once derided but now remembered with strange affection.
Once the crown jewel of the pedestrian Alps, Mount Kamuning is slipping into legend, soon to be flattened in the name of something more humane. The DPWH calls it a necessary step forward, and the public agrees. But for the rest of us, it marks the end of an unintentional fitness program, and the unspoken pride of knowing our calves have known pain.
Mount Kamuning Hiking Basics
Timing
- Start early morning or late afternoon, when the sun’s cruelty is only emotional. Avoid climbing between 10 a.m. and 3 p.m. unless you’re seeking a spiritual trial.
Access
- Take the EDSA Carousel Bus and alight at Quezon Avenue. Traverse a smaller mountain to cross EDSA towards McDonald’s-Eton Centris, the official jump-off point for Mount Kamuning expeditions.
- For the full experience, avoid using the MRT, as it bypasses the mountain entirely.
Essentials
- Rubber shoes or slippers with solid grip, especially in the rainy season
- A bottle of water, Coke, C2, or whatever quenches your thirst
- A deep sense of urban resilience
- Optional: trekking poles (if you really want to lean on the absurdity of this climb and hope your selfie goes viral)
The Tourist Gaze 