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Dondra to Kirinda Puhulwella
Kilometers: 25 Elevation gain/loss: 264m / 255m
A few kilometers from Matara, heading southeast through a quiet little neighbourhood of fishermen, you come to Sri Lanka's southernmost tip, marked by the Dondra Head Lighthouse. Gleaming white and looking surprizingly well maintained, it sits in a charming little garden of manicured lawns and shady palm groves. The 120 year old, colonial era lighthouse was imported brick by brick from England, and claims to be the tallest in Asia. Certainly, it holds that title in Sri Lanka itself, standing at 7 floors, 50 meters, and 196 steps to the top and does make for an impressive sight on an otherwise humble coast.
It is absolutely forbidden to climb to the top of the lighthouse, after an incident in which a visitor damaged a pricey piece of technical kit. Absolutely forbidden! Unless of course you pay 300 rupees ($2.40) to the little man at base, who gives you no ticket and then quickly disappears from view. Right, this is my starting point, I have to give it a go... The steep, narrow spiral staircase can easily make you dizzy, but you are well caged in and cannot get out at any of the floors on the way up. Passing the radio-guy who, bent over his monitors and radar dials doesn't say hello, I found myself starting to huff and puff.
How on earth am I going to walk 800 kilometers and climb 1000s of meters of mountains, when on Day 1, carrying nothing but a camera, I'm struggling up 50 meters of stairs? It was hot and stuffy inside the lighthouse. I wondered why the smileless, silent radio-guy didn't open one of the many windows, and instead sits in that clammy column of air all day. When you finally reach the little portal leading out to the viewing platform, Ah! what a gorgeous blast of cool wind! The views -- as imagined -- are stunning, tourism-board picture perfect, and look down onto idyllic little bathing spots, waves crashing onto rocks, palm-frond lined stretches of beach, and far out to sea. Head south from this point and you hit nothing, all the way to Antarctica.
During the 2004 tsunami, the lighthouse was damaged, although not badly, and today you'll be hard-pressed to see any evidence of it. After the first wave, when the sea receded out 100 meters leaving fish flopping on the sea floor, many people had gone down to scoop up the fish by hand. When the second wave came, the big one that caused most of the destruction, many of those people were able to take shelter inside the lighthouse, running up the steps to avoid the 22 foot wall of water that crashed into the island. While most of the island was badly battered by this wave, with huge death tolls, miraculously the Dondra village was mostly spared due to a slight uphill slope to the land.
From Dondra, I collected my backpack -- a purple monstrosity that weighs as much as a small Volkswagen -- and began the walk to Kirinda Puhulwella, 25 kilometers due north. The pack, designed by the Marquise de Sade, bit into every bone it touched, rubbed my flesh raw, and turned both shoulders and hips into tight, knotted bruises. My feet, already blistering, screamed at me "Screw you!" and threw themselves into hissy fits of acute plantar fasciitis and metatarsalgia. Ah, fun...
Kirinda Puhulwella is a nondescript little village, but I'll descript it nonetheless... Shabby, dusty, grimey. A few crowded shops clustered around a dirty bus station, mandatory mangey dogs yelping as they scoot away from under the wheels of approaching vehicles. Litter strewn by the roadside. Hot and sticky humid air. The sun blasting down on me, my glow-in-the-dark white skin quickly turning a glow-in-the-dark tomato red.
Or at least, this is what the village centre offered. I was met by a friend of a friend of a friend of a friend, and whisked down a green and shady barely-2-meter-wide lane, to a hamlet a world away from the depressing centre of the village. Here, at the modest home of a charming young couple, Chathu and Wijerupa, I was offered such warm-hearted hospitality I was at once encouraged and began to think, "yeah... I think I may just be able to do this...''
Dondra to Kirinda Puhulwella
Kilometers: 25 Elevation gain/loss: 264m / 255m
A few kilometers from Matara, heading southeast through a quiet little neighbourhood of fishermen, you come to Sri Lanka's southernmost tip, marked by the Dondra Head Lighthouse. Gleaming white and looking surprizingly well maintained, it sits in a charming little garden of manicured lawns and shady palm groves. The 120 year old, colonial era lighthouse was imported brick by brick from England, and claims to be the tallest in Asia. Certainly, it holds that title in Sri Lanka itself, standing at 7 floors, 50 meters, and 196 steps to the top and does make for an impressive sight on an otherwise humble coast.
It is absolutely forbidden to climb to the top of the lighthouse, after an incident in which a visitor damaged a pricey piece of technical kit. Absolutely forbidden! Unless of course you pay 300 rupees ($2.40) to the little man at base, who gives you no ticket and then quickly disappears from view. Right, this is my starting point, I have to give it a go... The steep, narrow spiral staircase can easily make you dizzy, but you are well caged in and cannot get out at any of the floors on the way up. Passing the radio-guy who, bent over his monitors and radar dials doesn't say hello, I found myself starting to huff and puff.
How on earth am I going to walk 800 kilometers and climb 1000s of meters of mountains, when on Day 1, carrying nothing but a camera, I'm struggling up 50 meters of stairs? It was hot and stuffy inside the lighthouse. I wondered why the smileless, silent radio-guy didn't open one of the many windows, and instead sits in that clammy column of air all day. When you finally reach the little portal leading out to the viewing platform, Ah! what a gorgeous blast of cool wind! The views -- as imagined -- are stunning, tourism-board picture perfect, and look down onto idyllic little bathing spots, waves crashing onto rocks, palm-frond lined stretches of beach, and far out to sea. Head south from this point and you hit nothing, all the way to Antarctica.
During the 2004 tsunami, the lighthouse was damaged, although not badly, and today you'll be hard-pressed to see any evidence of it. After the first wave, when the sea receded out 100 meters leaving fish flopping on the sea floor, many people had gone down to scoop up the fish by hand. When the second wave came, the big one that caused most of the destruction, many of those people were able to take shelter inside the lighthouse, running up the steps to avoid the 22 foot wall of water that crashed into the island. While most of the island was badly battered by this wave, with huge death tolls, miraculously the Dondra village was mostly spared due to a slight uphill slope to the land.
From Dondra, I collected my backpack -- a purple monstrosity that weighs as much as a small Volkswagen -- and began the walk to Kirinda Puhulwella, 25 kilometers due north. The pack, designed by the Marquise de Sade, bit into every bone it touched, rubbed my flesh raw, and turned both shoulders and hips into tight, knotted bruises. My feet, already blistering, screamed at me "Screw you!" and threw themselves into hissy fits of acute plantar fasciitis and metatarsalgia. Ah, fun...
Kirinda Puhulwella is a nondescript little village, but I'll descript it nonetheless... Shabby, dusty, grimey. A few crowded shops clustered around a dirty bus station, mandatory mangey dogs yelping as they scoot away from under the wheels of approaching vehicles. Litter strewn by the roadside. Hot and sticky humid air. The sun blasting down on me, my glow-in-the-dark white skin quickly turning a glow-in-the-dark tomato red.
Or at least, this is what the village centre offered. I was met by a friend of a friend of a friend of a friend, and whisked down a green and shady barely-2-meter-wide lane, to a hamlet a world away from the depressing centre of the village. Here, at the modest home of a charming young couple, Chathu and Wijerupa, I was offered such warm-hearted hospitality I was at once encouraged and began to think, "yeah... I think I may just be able to do this...''
Yes!! You doing great. Amazing journey.
ReplyDeleteMay your troubles be less on this journey. And May the sun bring you new energy every day. And these rains wash away your worries. Then may you walk gently through the sri lanka.
bless you Olivia.
(May all the gods be with you)
Hi Oli,
ReplyDeleteWish you all the very best. May the almighty bless you with strength to achieve your goal...
a fan from Lakdasun
Tony