There is a deafening silence as I enter the Horton Plains in the wee hours of the morning. Above me, the silver sun is still trying to find its way back into the sky. It is not an easy task.

A thick blanket of mist and cloud engulf me, the golden blades of montane grass, and the sand-spattered 3.5-billion-year-old Precambrian-era boulders. Every now and then a slight drizzle kisses my upturned face. I peer through the mist, strain my ears for another human sound. A footstep, laugh, threads of a conversation. All I can hear is my own breath. I look at my phone. There is no signal.

At the fork ahead, I take the left turn. Almost instinctively. The path is inviting with its appearance of simplicity. But it is not long before it transforms into the very opposite, turning against its own promise. Deep gullies, piled with rocks, are carved into the dried riverbed, one after the other. I pep-talk myself that this is temporary. Till eventually I am so far down the path, that going ahead or going back weigh the same.

Perhaps if I was not alone on this trail, it would be easier. Another human hand to help me over a slippery slope. An assurance I was safe. Instead, all I have for company is the deafening silence and soft rain. I eventually get a hang for it though. What my feet cannot handle, my bum does. I slide over the cascading, now muddy, riverbed.

My destination is Greater World’s End. A look-out point across a deep valley in the heart of Sri Lanka’s central highlands.

Covered in mud, sand, and scratches and bruises, I finally find myself at the Horton Plains’ star attraction. I was expecting to find a glorious stretch of green, bathed in clarity. World’s End turns out to be a wall of cloud this morning. It is appropriate, I whisper to myself. For what do we really know of what is at the end. Maybe it is a string of valleys which we believe we see. Maybe it is something else. Maybe it is nothingness.

After staring at the wall of cloud, through which every few minutes a glimmer of beauty shines through, I pick myself up and walk on. This time grasping at moss-covered roots to Bakers Fall. Past endless mountain grasslands. Juggling my camera and umbrella along. Often sitting cross-legged on the ground, just enjoying the present moment I am in. And then looking up and asking my creator to see me through till the end. Without a broken bone, sprained ankle, or concussion.

I eventually do emerge out of the plains. Back at the fork I had taken some hours ago. The sun is now out, and the sign clear. It reads ‘Level: Difficult’ in bold letters against the left turn.

As I look down at my grazed hands and bedraggled clothes, I hear my stomach growl. My phone signal is still incognito. I feel a huge smile creep over my face, crinkling my eyes and nose. The silent plains are singing at me: “You made it.” I sing back at it: “I was not alone. You were with me. And together, we made it!”

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Horton Plains National Park is part of the UNESCO-listed Central Highlands of Sri Lanka. Located 32 kilometres from Nuwara Eliya, the 3,160 hectares park lies 2,100 – 2,300 metres above sea level, and is covered with montane grassland, cloud forest, and Precambrian-era rocks.

Note: The 7.2-kilometre-long ticketed World’s End Trail is open from 6:00 AM to 2:00 PM only.

For a visual version of my hike, please scroll down. ❤

Beginnings can be deceptive. 🙂

What appears to be a simple path ahead wrapped in silence and mist, soon takes me into the depths of a cloud forest.

Where the path transforms into a riverbed slashed with gullies, slush, and Precambrian-era boulders, to World’s End.

World’s Ends—the mini and the greater one. Both grey walls hung from the sky.

And it is then on through gnarled roots, sparkling springs, and montane grass. This time to Baker’s Fall.

Past miles of silence to reappear hours later where I had started out from.

Beginnings can often be deceptive.

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[Note: This blog post is part of a series from my solo independent travels to Sri Lanka. To read more posts in my Sri Lanka series, click here.]