Hiking to Heaven

What kind of place is this that we have landed on? The terrain of Sri Lanka is incredible, everything from white sand beaches to red wood forested mountains. A train ride through the hill country is all you need to take your breath away. The old rickety trains ride along the edge of the mountains, giving a breathtaking view of the valleys below. The mountains surrounding the valley stretche so high they pierce the clouds and cause sunlight to spill onto the small colorful villages below. The hillsides are decorated with bright green tea bushes. Redwood and palm trees grow alongside each other and whiz by the train window. Every now and then we pass a sparkling waterfall, or plunge into a stone tunnel carved into the mountain that is dripping with dew and moss. Any minute now I feel the train will pull up to Sleeping Beauty's castle.

Instead we land in Dalhousie, home of Adam's Peak, or more poetically, The Temple in the Sky. Stretching over 7,300 feet into the sky, the temple holds the magical footprint of Buddha, causing pilgrims from age 2 to 92 to clutch with white knuckles the rickety steel railings and to acscend the crumbling stairs to pay their homage. Tradition has hikers waking at the wee hours of 1 and 2 am to hike to the summit to witness the sun rise. I had no desire to be a rebel, so I dragged myself out of bed at 1:30 am and began the climb. The path was well lite, which allowed me to distract the male hikers who don't seem to find any moral dilemma in hitting on women on their way to church. Vendors sold crackers and tea along the root, and Buddhist monks stopped to give me a blessing (for a small donation). I reached the top at 5 am, and huddled and shivered with the crowd as we waited for the fashionably late sun to rise. There is no words nor photographs that can do that sunrise justice, it would be like trying to put the splendor of heaven in ink or describing the way chocolate tastes. It can only be experienced by the individual to grasp the magnitude. However, since I pretend to be a better writer than I am, I will make an attempted.

The sun, always going at it's own lazy pace, peaked it's sleepy head over the skyline, and spilled over the mountains like melted butter. The earth below appeared to light up from underneath. The lakes rippled as if from a buried heartbeat and the pulsations caused the water to dance and sparkle. The hills on the opposite side of the sun's face were covered in a blue haze that slowly evaporated with the morning heat. Low hanging clouds slither through between the layers of mountains with irritated movements, as they are not ready to wake up and face the day. The monks are chanting in a tune that is slow and deep and matches the movement of the sun. And then, it a quick jerk movement, the sun pops to full view and the rise is over. The monks are silenced and the sojourners immediately begin their descent. And I continue to be overwhelmed at the incredible and extraordinary beauty that my two very ordinary eyes have seen.