Sri Pada, or Adam’s Peak, is a pilgrimage site sacred to all the religions in Sri Lanka. The Buddhists hold that the summit of this mountain, the second highest in the island, is Buddha’s last footprint on earth as he ascended to Nirvana. Christian tradition holds that it is Adam’s first footprint on earth after being cast out of Eden, and some Hindu’s believe it is Lord Shiva’s footprint. There is a remote Buddhist monastery at the top, and the ideal pilgrimage is to make the 7 km hike up the 6,000 foot mountain.

We reached the vicinity of Sri Pada on Friday, only to learn that that day that was a Hindu holy day and the beginning of a three day weekend in Sri Lanka. With the pilgrimage season already at its peak in January and February, this meant that there would be tens of thousands converging on Adam’s Peak. As our driver navigated the narrow winding mountain road with about 18” of shoulder and no guard rails to prevent us from tumbling down the mountain side to our deaths, we turned a bend and saw vans and rugged buses packed with people lined up for a mile. The bottleneck was a checkpoint to check bags and vehicles for explosives. Luckily, as sudu’s we were waived to the beginning of the line and through the check point, arriving at our cute guest house built into the side of a mountain with stunning views of Adam’s peak.

There was a really festive air about, with families and school groups on pilgrimage bathing in the stream behind the guest houses, music and chanting in the air, and kids rough-housing. Birds whirled around the tree branches in the valley and I felt like I was in Rivendale. We grabbed dinner and some sleep before waking at midnight to begin the hike (2am is the recommended start time to reach the peak in time for sunrise, but the crowds required an earlier start). We started out, climbing rough stairs and passing booth after booth selling Buddhas, knit caps to ward off the 55 degree chill, stuffed animals, and World Wide Wrestling memorabilia. With the many vendors and excitement in the air it felt more like a county fair than a pilgrimage. A party-like – not solemn - atmosphere prevailed along the winding route lit by flouresent tubes, with groups of teenage boys making a huge ruckus. Soon we came to a bridge and a human traffic jam, with pilgrims coming down from the mountain unable to exit and pilgrims on their way up similarly jammed. The natural leaders in the crowd emerged, including our driver, who soon teamed up with a man in a red sweater to shout, threaten and cajole people into workable but still haphazard routes of ascent and descent. After an hour, we were on the move again, but about a quarter mile from the top, and thousands of stairs later, we hit another human logjam.

By 4:30am, after an hour of waiting and no body coming up or down, it became obvious we had a problem. It was difficult even to raise my hands to my head (the international sign of frustration, head in one’s hands). The crowd was getting restless and frustrated, and seethed to and fro almost to the point of being very dangerous. We decided to head back and plotted out our exit strategy. Patrick and I each had separate occasions where the crowd’s push took us nearly off our feet on the steep steps. While we didn’t see the sunrise from the summit, we saw it on our way back to the guesthouse, and it was just as beautiful.