Ha ha, OK. Time for an update.
When last you heard me, I’d scaled this mountain all night long and was shivering in a dog-pile with some other folks who’d climbed the mountain with me.
This was actually the part that sucked the most--it was close to freezing point, no one had any food, and it was still 6 hours til dawn.
There were buildings for pilgrims to sleep, but at this time, most were already filled with other pilgrims. So, we sat on cold concrete steps and shivered and starved together. I managed to roll into a ball and doze off for about 30 minutes. That was all.
Finally, dawn came…and this was the part that ruined Adam’s Peak for me, unfortunately.
First, as the lighting changed, it was apparent that the peak itself kept getting covered in mist (or rather, clouds given that we were at 7000+ feet). But as the sun rose, it became apparent that there was a high-altitude cloud cover on the horizon, as well as the landscape below. We were sitting in the middle of a gray, misty, colorless sunrise, which was distinctly NOT what I'd expected. To make matters worse, even this was obscured by a megaphone spitting out a corny sunrise theme song.
I was like, Dammit!
When you climb Adam’s Peak, you’re supposed to watch the sunrise. It’s a spot where you can see the sun literally plop over the horizon. One second it’s dusky, the next second, all is bathed in the light of a golden sunrise. The only other place in the world that exhibits this phenomenon is somewhere in Arizona. How cool is that? And, on the one day out of the year I managed to climb the peak, brave the elements, and wait all night---it was FUCKING CLOUDY.
And I don’t understand it…everyone was eagerly watching the grey clouds lighten. Taking pictures. And stuff. But not me. No way was I taking a picture of a crap sunrise obscured by a megaphone. Hell, I wasn’t even going to look in it’s general direction, so angry was I at the world ruining my hard-sought sunrise.
It was like this:
I only knew one thing for sure…I wasn’t going to hang around there anymore. Picking up all my gear, I pushed my way through the multitudes and headed down the other side of the peak, towards Ratnapura. Disillusioned, I didn’t take any pictures, nor did I bother to see Krishna’s/Adam’s footprint on top of the mountain. I didn’t pass Go. I didn’t collect $200. Not me. I was getting off the damn mountain.
Still operating under the delusion of invincibility, I then hiked down 14 km of steps under the rising sun. At first, that was really nice. It was a great nature trail which quickly soothed my rage at the world. It looked like this:
Something I learned while doing this is that the path to Ratnapura is much more arduous than going down the peak to Dalhousie (the one I‘d climbed the night before). Longer, more beautiful, but more arduous. I assumed that because it was longer, it would be much less steep…ha ha. It actually takes you down out of the mountain range itself, not just to the foot of Adam's Peak.
Worse, because you’re walking down hill, you don’t even feel the exertion. I didn’t even realize what I was doing to myself until after about 10 km, when I began to realize how hard it was for me to control my legs. Walking down 4 more km of steep, railless steps was probably not an ideal way combat this problem. There were times when I honestly thought I was going to pitch forward and tumble hundreds of stony feet to my death.
Like this:
Yes, those were steps all the way down to the mountains below you. And then some.
Apparently, you’re supposed to use a walking stick as you descend. However, because I’m blithely unaware of my physical body and of the fact that I’m not invulnerable to physical exertion, I had just sort of disregarded all advice to bring a walking stick. And I wound up regretting that.
Eight hours later, I reached the bottom of the trail, which becomes a bunch of bucolic gardens and houses and dead ends into a village. My legs were so stiff I could hardly walk them at that point, but I still managed to get to the bus stop and get a slow, un-airconditioned bus that went to Ratnapura along narrow, winding roads over-looking steep rock faces. I made it there by about 4 pm, meaning I had been constantly traveling for the last 30 hours. And hell, the only thing I’d eaten was an old cheeseburger, a couple of chapattis on the Ratnapura trail, and several cups of chai.
I still don’t know how I did that. ADVENTURE.
In Ratnapura, I found a guest house where I instantly went to my room, rolled into a ball, and gratefully went to sleep for the next 12 hours.
And that's about all I can say about Adam's Peak. Check all sunrise-oriented expectations at the gate and remember your walking stick.
When last you heard me, I’d scaled this mountain all night long and was shivering in a dog-pile with some other folks who’d climbed the mountain with me.
This was actually the part that sucked the most--it was close to freezing point, no one had any food, and it was still 6 hours til dawn.
There were buildings for pilgrims to sleep, but at this time, most were already filled with other pilgrims. So, we sat on cold concrete steps and shivered and starved together. I managed to roll into a ball and doze off for about 30 minutes. That was all.
Finally, dawn came…and this was the part that ruined Adam’s Peak for me, unfortunately.
First, as the lighting changed, it was apparent that the peak itself kept getting covered in mist (or rather, clouds given that we were at 7000+ feet). But as the sun rose, it became apparent that there was a high-altitude cloud cover on the horizon, as well as the landscape below. We were sitting in the middle of a gray, misty, colorless sunrise, which was distinctly NOT what I'd expected. To make matters worse, even this was obscured by a megaphone spitting out a corny sunrise theme song.
The stuff that blocked my view
I was like, Dammit!
When you climb Adam’s Peak, you’re supposed to watch the sunrise. It’s a spot where you can see the sun literally plop over the horizon. One second it’s dusky, the next second, all is bathed in the light of a golden sunrise. The only other place in the world that exhibits this phenomenon is somewhere in Arizona. How cool is that? And, on the one day out of the year I managed to climb the peak, brave the elements, and wait all night---it was FUCKING CLOUDY.
And I don’t understand it…everyone was eagerly watching the grey clouds lighten. Taking pictures. And stuff. But not me. No way was I taking a picture of a crap sunrise obscured by a megaphone. Hell, I wasn’t even going to look in it’s general direction, so angry was I at the world ruining my hard-sought sunrise.
It was like this:
Call me an ungrateful douche.
I only knew one thing for sure…I wasn’t going to hang around there anymore. Picking up all my gear, I pushed my way through the multitudes and headed down the other side of the peak, towards Ratnapura. Disillusioned, I didn’t take any pictures, nor did I bother to see Krishna’s/Adam’s footprint on top of the mountain. I didn’t pass Go. I didn’t collect $200. Not me. I was getting off the damn mountain.
Still operating under the delusion of invincibility, I then hiked down 14 km of steps under the rising sun. At first, that was really nice. It was a great nature trail which quickly soothed my rage at the world. It looked like this:
Worse, because you’re walking down hill, you don’t even feel the exertion. I didn’t even realize what I was doing to myself until after about 10 km, when I began to realize how hard it was for me to control my legs. Walking down 4 more km of steep, railless steps was probably not an ideal way combat this problem. There were times when I honestly thought I was going to pitch forward and tumble hundreds of stony feet to my death.
Like this:
Yes, those were steps all the way down to the mountains below you. And then some.
Apparently, you’re supposed to use a walking stick as you descend. However, because I’m blithely unaware of my physical body and of the fact that I’m not invulnerable to physical exertion, I had just sort of disregarded all advice to bring a walking stick. And I wound up regretting that.
Eight hours later, I reached the bottom of the trail, which becomes a bunch of bucolic gardens and houses and dead ends into a village. My legs were so stiff I could hardly walk them at that point, but I still managed to get to the bus stop and get a slow, un-airconditioned bus that went to Ratnapura along narrow, winding roads over-looking steep rock faces. I made it there by about 4 pm, meaning I had been constantly traveling for the last 30 hours. And hell, the only thing I’d eaten was an old cheeseburger, a couple of chapattis on the Ratnapura trail, and several cups of chai.
I still don’t know how I did that. ADVENTURE.
In Ratnapura, I found a guest house where I instantly went to my room, rolled into a ball, and gratefully went to sleep for the next 12 hours.
And that's about all I can say about Adam's Peak. Check all sunrise-oriented expectations at the gate and remember your walking stick.
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