A Peak at a Pilgrimage

Trundling past a sea of green tea plantations on a rusty, clapped-out bus, Sri Lankan reggae pumped from the radio as we advanced along the dusty mountain road, the conical Adam’s Peak looming in the distance. It was time for me to tick off a bucket list entry – summit a mountain.

I was here to see a sunrise, but for most visitors, it is a pilgrimage to see Sri Pada, the sacred footprint, a 1.8 metre rock formation at the peak, believed by Buddhists to be the footprint of Buddha, while Hindu’s regard it as Shiva’s, Christians believe it to be Saint Thomas’ and Muslims maintain it to be Adam’s.

At 2 am I determinedly marched down the dirt road in the dark, to the beginning of the 5,700 steps. Ahead, the illuminated path snaked up the side of the mountain in a pretty ribbon leading to the stars.

The steps began slowly. Inviting tea stalls lined the trail, and as I lumbered up the rock face, the scents of deep-fried chickpeas, roti, samosas, popcorn and fresh bananas were irresistible. Eventually, the frequent offers of “tea madam?” became too enticing, and I stopped for a hot brew, made from leaves harvested in the surrounding countryside.

Refuelled, I continued. Surrounded by dense, cool forest, the stairs were now steep and constant and becoming crowded with fellow whistle-stop hikers, Sri Lankan families, Buddhist monks and other pilgrims.

I marvelled at the elderly, often barefooted, who calmly paced upward. Some take days to complete the trek, evidenced by the number of sleepers at the sidelines.

About two-thirds of the way, at a point called Indikatu Pana, pilgrims tied a fresh thread and dragged it along to join masses of white cotton, pinning down their sorrows forever.

Eventually, exhausted, I schlepped up the final steps.

Buddhist flags flapped in the chilly air, while hoards huddled in anticipation of the sunrise. I rang the giant golden bell, once for the one successful ascent I’d made.

Dawn revealed the silhouettes of mountains in a 360-degree spectacle. The serene atmosphere was dotted by drumming, as pilgrims lit candles, viewed the footprint, and warmed their hands by a small fire.

Staring at the vista, I was filled with a sense of what I’d accomplished. I’d not only reached the summit of a mountain. I’d walked the steps of thousands before me. I’d touched on, for a moment, the sacrifice people make for something they consider higher than themselves.

And with that, and breakfast, in mind, I began my wobbly descent.