Teardrop - Part 3
It was ambitious getting down to Dalhouse, an out of the way town south of the Ancient cities and well into the Hill Country. We had a purpose - get some sleep, then make the pilgrimage up Sri Pada (known to westerners as Adams Peak), the most sacred mountain in Sri Lanka. Sacred that is to Christains, Hindus, Muslims and especially Buddhists.
The biting cold snapped us out of our sleep and transplanted us into an even more surreal landscape. Pricks of light pierced the blackness, not constellations but a dim lit spiralling path to a summit. From the bottom we began our ascent, with sugar supplies, boots, beanies and enthusiasm. From the bottom pilgrims began their ascent too, barefoot, some young, some old, the embodiment of pilgrims.
We quickly heated up as we trod the 6000+ rough cut steps. (I have no idea who hauls the softdrink to the stalls up the mountain.) I got my second wind as a sugar hit kicked in. And then, there we were. At the top. Amid the huddling masses. With waves of low chanting and mumbled prayers swirling around the summit. The darkness relented to the light as the pre dawn haze illuminated the distant hills. A heavenly landscape emerged featuring the mountains own, strange, triangular shadow printed on the clouds.
While we sat in awe a hundred others began their descent. On our way down we passed the odd few still coming up. One man, crippled, hauling himself up on his hands. Respect.
The bus to Nuwara Eliya led through a myriad of tea plantations, speckled with brightly coloured tea pickers. I thought I could smell the clutch. The bus stopped. Did someone call fire? The lady in front of me jumped out the window, people fought for the doors. I jumped out the window. Adrian thought the bus was under attack. Great stuff.
I plotted another early morning trek and got Adrian to see it my way. We woke again before sunrise and drove to the Horton Plains. There we trekked to the end of the world. Worlds End. The Hill Country was lit in a delicate virgin light. The only ones in the national park, we had all the peace in the world. By 10am the directness of the rising sun disrupted the ambience of the vista, about the time those that had a normal sleep rolled into the park.
The train to Ella was late and slow. By chance we were ready to jump on a freight train going our way, with all its merry men. And then we met the driver, also merry, also drunk. We later passed them anyway, at some small station in the tea hills. The locals set the example of hanging out the barless windows as far as you dare.
The past 5 days we had moved on to five different places, biked two days and trekked the other three. We took a well deserved rest day in a homely guesthouse that more than upheld the fine standard of Sri Lankan home cooking we were getting used to. The portions are sized for the gods.
I did climb a good sized waterfall the next day. There we a few tricking bits where there was a lack of footholds, all part of climbing to a point of solitude. As I got over the ledge of one cascade I was startled to find I was already there. Shaved headed and also wearing fisherman’s pants, an English guy sat cross-legged on the ledge above me. Another Austrian guy was further up the falls again. What a feeling to swim in a pool of the top cascade looking down to the valley below pelted by the spray on your back. Back at our the guesthouse, the owner told us the sign at the bottom of the falls written in Sinhalese warns that 30 something people have died at these falls (possibly washed down in the monsoon season). It’s not in English because ‘no tourists have died yet’. Nice rationale.
It took a day train back to Colombo from the mountains. I splashed out on the 1st Class viewing platform. Young guys banged out cool beats (and sometimes recognisable hits) on the cabin walls with bottles, their rings, and hands. As usual happy hands, young and old, waved as we went past.
I really loved it Sri Lanka, the people and the country were equally amazing. A holiday, of sorts, from India.
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