Footprints seem to mark the beginning of life for humans. When our kids were born, one of the first things we did was to dip their little feet in ink and imprint them. This was their ‘official’ beginning. In Sri Lanka the birth of the main religions also came to life with a footprint – a sacred footprint. However instead of being imprinted on paper, it’s imprinted on the top of a steep peak 7,295 feet above sea level. If you want to see this footprint, you have to give your own feet a workout.
At the top of Adam’s Peak (referred to as Sri Pada in Sri Lanka) is a huge ‘footprint’, claimed by Muslims to belong to Adam, who stood there after being thrown out of Garden of Eden. However things can't be quite that simple. Same footprint is believed by Buddhists to be the mark of Buddha, Hindus hold the print to have been made by Lord Shiva, and Christians claim it is the footprint of St. Thomas. We did not venture to guess who is correct, but we did know that the footprint continues to draw pilgrims from all religions to the top of the peak for over one thousand years.
We decided to join that pilgrimage, less for religious reasons, and mainly for adventurous reasons. The climb to the top is a mere 5,000 stairs; and it is best done in the middle of the night so that you arrive at the top at sunrise privy to spectacular views.
At the top of Adam’s Peak (referred to as Sri Pada in Sri Lanka) is a huge ‘footprint’, claimed by Muslims to belong to Adam, who stood there after being thrown out of Garden of Eden. However things can't be quite that simple. Same footprint is believed by Buddhists to be the mark of Buddha, Hindus hold the print to have been made by Lord Shiva, and Christians claim it is the footprint of St. Thomas. We did not venture to guess who is correct, but we did know that the footprint continues to draw pilgrims from all religions to the top of the peak for over one thousand years.
We decided to join that pilgrimage, less for religious reasons, and mainly for adventurous reasons. The climb to the top is a mere 5,000 stairs; and it is best done in the middle of the night so that you arrive at the top at sunrise privy to spectacular views.
After a bumpy three-hour drive we arrived at our guest house in Dalhousie. It looked like something out of the 19th century, even though we have been told it was only four years old. After I engaged with the owner in a heated discussion about communism over Arak (the traditional coconut alcoholic drink in Sri Lanka) and beers, we finally went to sleep.
At 2:15AM everybody was up and ready to start hiking, following a meandering string of what I’d normally call “street lights,” only no vehicle could drive here. The lamps illuminate a zigzagging path. High above at the top, a glaring yellow floodlight marks the finish. There, we hoped to catch the sunrise and an eerie natural phenomenon, in which, on mornings when nature cooperates, the mountain’s shadow floats upon the clouds for the first few minutes of the day.
The first hour of our hike was easy – a concrete path, a mild incline with a single step up every ten to twenty feet. When I did the math, the easy part made me nervous. A one-kilometer altitude gain on seven kilometers of trail meant an average grade of 14 percent. If the first part was not steep, the later part was going to be killer.
And now, the killer part is beginning. The stairs have tightened together – concrete in some spots, stone in others. Some steps are missing, necessitating awkward lurches. Teahouses were peddling hot drinks and fresh-baked samosas. Buddhist monks in thin, orange robes greeted us at shrines.
There’s a distinct difference between those of us going up and those coming down. The uphill climbers are foreign tourists. The Sri Lankans, the pilgrims, are here for something bigger than a sunrise. So the pilgrims have trudged to the top at saner hours. They’re on their way down now.
The higher we climbed, the steeper and more ragged the path became. Some steps were higher than our knees. Adrenaline was waning.
“How far is the summit?” we started asking.
“Fifteen minutes!" came the answer every single time.
We were suddenly exposed. The wind unleashed a chilling assault. After sweating all the way up, now, we’re 7,000 feet above sea level and it felt so cold. We dug in the backpacks for more layers.
“The sun’s about to rise,” We began chugging and yanking the guard rails to propel ourselves.
We reached the top, the grounds of a Buddhist monastery. A sign instructed us to remove our shoes. The sky started to ignite. Psychedelic pink. Hundreds of climbers – pilgrims and tourists – jostled for views.
We found a nice spot and we’re elevated above the masses. Once the sky lightened, dozens of mountain ridges appeared below us, poking up through puffy white clouds to form an infinite, mystical view. Inside the monastery, monks began chanting guttural prayers, accompanied by drums, cymbals, and nasal-sounding flutes. The wind is battering eardrums. The monks emerged, and continued their chanting in a procession around the monastery. We didnt understand, but that didn’t matter. Whatever bigger power exist in the universe, we're feeling about as close to it as we ever have.
And then, the “eerie phenomenon” happened. Relegated to the back of the monastery at sunrise, we now had a front-row view of Sri Pada’s shadow – a massive black pyramid hovering in the sky like an otherworldly ghost city.
Of course, there is one more thing we still need to do. What goes up must come down. We have another 5,500 steps ahead of us.
At 2:15AM everybody was up and ready to start hiking, following a meandering string of what I’d normally call “street lights,” only no vehicle could drive here. The lamps illuminate a zigzagging path. High above at the top, a glaring yellow floodlight marks the finish. There, we hoped to catch the sunrise and an eerie natural phenomenon, in which, on mornings when nature cooperates, the mountain’s shadow floats upon the clouds for the first few minutes of the day.
The first hour of our hike was easy – a concrete path, a mild incline with a single step up every ten to twenty feet. When I did the math, the easy part made me nervous. A one-kilometer altitude gain on seven kilometers of trail meant an average grade of 14 percent. If the first part was not steep, the later part was going to be killer.
And now, the killer part is beginning. The stairs have tightened together – concrete in some spots, stone in others. Some steps are missing, necessitating awkward lurches. Teahouses were peddling hot drinks and fresh-baked samosas. Buddhist monks in thin, orange robes greeted us at shrines.
There’s a distinct difference between those of us going up and those coming down. The uphill climbers are foreign tourists. The Sri Lankans, the pilgrims, are here for something bigger than a sunrise. So the pilgrims have trudged to the top at saner hours. They’re on their way down now.
The higher we climbed, the steeper and more ragged the path became. Some steps were higher than our knees. Adrenaline was waning.
“How far is the summit?” we started asking.
“Fifteen minutes!" came the answer every single time.
We were suddenly exposed. The wind unleashed a chilling assault. After sweating all the way up, now, we’re 7,000 feet above sea level and it felt so cold. We dug in the backpacks for more layers.
“The sun’s about to rise,” We began chugging and yanking the guard rails to propel ourselves.
We reached the top, the grounds of a Buddhist monastery. A sign instructed us to remove our shoes. The sky started to ignite. Psychedelic pink. Hundreds of climbers – pilgrims and tourists – jostled for views.
We found a nice spot and we’re elevated above the masses. Once the sky lightened, dozens of mountain ridges appeared below us, poking up through puffy white clouds to form an infinite, mystical view. Inside the monastery, monks began chanting guttural prayers, accompanied by drums, cymbals, and nasal-sounding flutes. The wind is battering eardrums. The monks emerged, and continued their chanting in a procession around the monastery. We didnt understand, but that didn’t matter. Whatever bigger power exist in the universe, we're feeling about as close to it as we ever have.
And then, the “eerie phenomenon” happened. Relegated to the back of the monastery at sunrise, we now had a front-row view of Sri Pada’s shadow – a massive black pyramid hovering in the sky like an otherworldly ghost city.
Of course, there is one more thing we still need to do. What goes up must come down. We have another 5,500 steps ahead of us.
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