the trail to the top
though time felt suspended on our perfect little beach, it steadily charged on, impervious to our pleas to hold on just a little bit longer. We carried on much in the same way, sunning ourselves and enjoying our swedish company, but we felt the pressure of soon having to pack up and move on; the new year was brought in over bottles of wine and arrack, and much love dancing around a big beach bonfire. i joined my swedish crew for another day trip to unawatuna, this time by local bus (insane, insane, insane—if i thought israeli buses were insane, i was terribly terribly confused); our morning mission was to go SCUBA diving off the coast, and though there wasn’t much to see and the current had us huffing and puffing our way through our air, it awakened the old flame within and i realized how much i missed the sport. alas, the day came when we had to bid our teary farewells to our much-loved gang, and set off on our next adventure.
we took a rickety train through the jungle back to colombo, and i would have been vomitaseously nauseous had it not been for the open window i hung out of most of the ride, and the sweet ginger i bought off a man for 10 cents. back to the polluted chaotic hustle and bustle of the city, we grabbed a tuk-tuk (whose driver wove through rush-hour traffic like an expert video-gamer) to our hotel and adjusted to our new roomscape, preparing for the next few days ahead. we were picked up at 4:30am by our new driver, Ravi, and set off to pick up Ruta’s sri lankan friend-of-a-friend Suresh, with whom we had planned a trip up to Adam’s Peak, a mountain pilgrimage hiked by the devout and curious alike (http://sripada.org/). but first, a day of exploring the hill country, driving through towns whose names i couldn’t pronounce and waving at people hanging out of doorways. we went to Udalawe National Park/Wildlife Reserve, and enjoyed a jeep safari guided by a very able and very fit old man. we saw wild elephants, buffalo, and an extremely rare sighting of a leopard chasing a peacock into a tree.
we wove through the windy roads of the hills, astounded by the beauty of the lush mountains that were part palm jungle, part tea plantation, part pine forest (with hints of eucalyptus and dashes of mango and avocado, papaya, and banana), and part rice paddy—it was magic, and smelled even better. we visited a tea factory, and i was drinking tea through my nostrils; it was intoxicating and wonderful. we arrived at our guest house a few minutes’ walk from the base of Adam’s Peak a little after sunset, and i immediately fell asleep; good thing, too, because a few hours later (at 1:30am), Ruta was shaking me awake to get ready to climb. i groaned as i rolled over and looked out the window at the eerily lit up mountain that stood not too far in the distance, and mentally prepared myself for the arduous trek i was about to stupidly embark on. the things Ruta gets me into, i tell you.
we knew the stats: 5900 stairs, 7500 ft, 3 1/2 hours—the swedes had whined about how cold and awful it was, so we were ready for war. it started off on a slow incline, and we passed many statues of deities and prayer flags (and monks working the night shift tying strings around climbers’ wrists) before coming to the real stairs. the route was lit up, but the higher we got, the sketchier the layout of the stairs became, and the more gloomy and chilled the air. everything got cold and damp, and after an hour and a half, i broke from my companions to set myself into a solitary meditative mode, and focus my thoughts on sorting through the beach memories still swirling through my head, while my legs took care of the rest. soon thinking became an added chore, and my brain shut off to give all my energy to my body; i pushed onwards and upwards, repeating to myself “each step is the first step”. i think i understood something of the nullification of Self, or losing myself in the pure moment of Being; either way, i was caught in the eerie mist of a damp dream, climbing the neverending staircase to the top of a friggin’ mountain at 3 in the friggin’ morning in the middle of friggin’ sri lanka.
it astounded me to walk past groups of families carrying their sleeping children up the precarious stairs, or 90-year-old barefoot grannies smiling half-mocking toothy grins and laughing “ayubowans” at us as they sailed by; i was relieved to be reunited with Ruta and Suresh at the last stop before the top, enjoy a hot cup of tea, and coax my tired body up the last stretch to finally reach the temple at the top and join the crowd of the familiar faces of our fellow pilgrims. i sunk into a stupor, amazed that we had actually made it, and drifted up and up and up as the big orange orb of the sun rose and the clouds rolled by below us…and then the spell broke, and i realized with horror that now i had to climb down.
the soundtrack was replete with moans and grunts and yelps of pain as our muscles gave way beneath our lagging weight and we tumbled down stretches of stairs, hanging onto the railing for dear life and yelling at the people ahead “make way! no brakes!”. we had a shred of humour left in us to laugh at our sorry state, but i found it far from laughable when my bladder was exploding and i had to use every ounce of willpower left not to fall over as i squatted over a disgusting hole in a smelly bathroom stall. once again, i will say it…the things Ruta gets me into. i tell you.
the rest of the day passed by in a haze; i drifted in and out of sleep in the car ride to the town of Nuwara Eliya, where we stopped for lunch, and continued on our way to Kandy, where Ruta and i would set up camp for the next few days.
