Doi Suthep has been a constant part of the backdrop during my stay in Chiang Mai. The big mountain west of the city is a beautiful sight, wherever your eyes happen to land on the surroundings. It’s visible pretty much all the time.

Scattered small buildings can be spotted along the mountainside. When you reach the top, there’s a Buddhist temple marked out by its gilded spires. And yes, you can of course get up there by car, or on foot.

Even before I arrived in Chiang Mai, I’d been told on two separate occasions that the temples Wat Pha Lat and Wat Phra That Doi Suthep were unmissable. Wat Pha Lat is halfway up the mountain, and Wat Phra That sits at the top. In fact, I was told to prioritise Wat Pha Lat, since fewer tourists bother with it.

The Magical Trail

My hike starts in the middle of the day. The plan is to reach Wat Pha Lat on foot and then see how I feel about carrying on the rest of the way. I’ve already checked that there’s transport running from both temples and between them, so I’m not worried about the trip back.

From Nimman, where my hotel is, to the foot of the mountain is 3 km. Specifically, I’m going to take the “Monk’s Trail” up to Wat Pha Lat, a hiking path that’s been in use for hundreds of years. No motor vehicles, and clearly marked.

I reach the start of the trail a little after noon. The trail begins at a large gate. There are five dogs lying in the shade of the gate, sleeping off the midday heat. It’s a hot day, and I’m already a little out of breath and slightly sweaty just from walking along the roads to the start.

Monks’ robes hang embroidered from the trees along the trail, helping to mark the way. The path is well-trodden and not overwhelmingly steep. You climb steadily, but the trail flattens out in several places, giving you a small breather.

The trail follows the mountainside and keeps changing constantly. Early on there’s a stretch where the path runs along a ridge, and you can see a drop-off through the undergrowth. Butterflies hide in the middle of the trail, where they feed on fallen fruit. When you step towards them, they scatter up around your ears.

Further on, the fruit trees give way to bamboo that has bent into arches over the path, forming a small natural roof. On the rock face, a little natural stream appears from the side of the mountain and disappears again down a passage away from the trail.

Altogether it makes for a hike that feels like something out of a fairy tale. It strikes me that a similar, if more artificial, experience would be Disneyland. This trail in Thailand feels like the original version of some of those magical forest scenes I was shown as a kid.

In the middle of the bamboo forest, a bridge suddenly appears. Past the bridge there’s a pavilion on a rock ledge, a walkway and a stream leading to a temple. I’ve arrived at Wat Pha Lat.

The quiet, peaceful temple welcomes you with small temple buildings half-covered in moss, faded paint and a missing nose here or some other flaw there. It’s old and well used without being run-down. A lovely little spot to take a break, catch my breath and enjoy the view.

A Steep Clay Cliff

Right from the start of the day’s hike, I’d had it in my head that I was going all the way to the top. The question wasn’t whether I wanted to, but whether I could. The walk to Wat Pha Lat had been fairly easy. A good path, a steady but not brutal incline, and a genuinely beautiful trail that distracted from the physical effort.

From Wat Pha Lat the trail heads back into the jungle. I haul myself up some tall steps with a rushing stream hidden in the undergrowth beside me. Already, the trail has changed character. Orange-brown clay, worn into steps by repeated footsteps. A narrow run of steps climbing through scrub on an increasingly steep hiking track. The steps get knee-high, and in a few places I use tree trunks and roots as handrails.

A short scramble later, and I’m standing on a bigger, three-lane road. I come up through a gap in the verge. One of those gaps you’d suspect started life as an old accident site. But here it is, an actual path, and just as I reach the top, a young Thai couple comes down the rock face in flip-flops.

I wouldn’t say I found it unpleasant to reach the road, but I would have hated to go back down that same path again.

But my route has only just started. I cross the road and head towards a small gap in the jungle. The only clue I have is a sign that says Doi Suthep with an arrow pointing up. I carry on. My legs still feel good, and I now have a road as a point I can return to, from where I can get picked up.

The first stretch is brutal. I’m climbing clay banks again. Not as steep as before, but still tough. At this point I’m fully aware that my t-shirt and shorts aren’t just damp anymore, they’re soaked. Sweat is running down me, and I’ve already gone through one of my two water bottles.

After the initial scramble, the climb eases off. It’s still steep, but not staircase-steep. I manage to walk at a decent pace for a good stretch. Eventually I can work out, roughly from the distance covered, that I’m nearing the end of the trail.

The end of the trail turns out to be one more long scramble that ends up back in scrub. But this time there’s no canopy overhead. Despite the tall bushes blocking my view, I can sense that this is the final push.

I find myself at a small pull-in beside the road. The family who’ve just stopped to take photos of the view look at me, stunned. I must look fresh enough, because they smile at me and go back to their break. I’m not fresh. I’m exhausted. My legs are actually fine, but that last stretch has left me completely out of breath and drenched in sweat.

The Temple at the Top

There’s still a bit of road left, but from here it’s paved. I’ve got two bends to go before I’m there. I head straight for the first stall I see and go to buy some water. The older Thai woman looks at me and fishes an ice-cold bottle out from the bottom of the cooler. I take a big gulp and pour the rest over my head and neck. Refreshing.

The temple entrance is in front of me now. Out front there’s a jumble of taxis, kiosks, souvenirs. My eyes land on a bag of cut pineapple, and never in my life have I been so certain I needed a bag of fruit.

After two bags of pineapple and another bottle of water, I’m ready to see the temple. I climb the stairs to yet another set of stalls with even more souvenirs. The next flight of stairs leads all the way up to the temple. Two large green dragons form the railings, running alongside me the whole way up.

At the top, I finally reach the temple. The grand, ornate gates lead into a large temple complex full of colour, though mostly gold. A tall golden pagoda stands in the middle of a large courtyard. Entrances to prayer rooms with Buddha statues can be found in every direction. Along the sides and in the corners are glass cases holding gilded, life-sized buddhas.

I wander through the temple to the back. My prize is waiting for me, and I’m a little worried, since it’s overcast. But the terrace with the view doesn’t disappoint. A wide panorama over Chiang Mai from several hundred metres up. From the temple I’d been looking up at that morning, I now stand looking down over the whole city. With a bit of help from my phone’s zoom, I manage to spot my hotel in the distance. The clouds hang like a ceiling over the view, dark and grey. It doesn’t take long before it starts to rain.

Home and to Bed

It doesn’t rain for long, but long enough to soak everything and leave puddles behind. The taxi rank is packed with red, converted pickup trucks with two benches and a roof bolted onto the bed. The fare turns out to be cheaper than Grab too.

I wait a bit for more people to turn up and join. Once two Portuguese guys arrive, we’re waved into a truck and driven down the mountain.

The back seat is now entirely mine. The ride is surprisingly long. The road the trucks take is apparently many kilometres longer than the route straight up the rock face. With music in my ears and only my own company, I start singing along to my playlist. One feature of me getting tired is that I go from humming, to singing, to bellowing, depending on how exhausted I am. On this ride, we’re somewhere between singing and bellowing.

By the time I arrive at the hotel, the plan is crystal clear. Bag up the clothes, take a shower, find the nearest washing machine. After 600 metres of elevation and 16.5 kilometres, I need a proper meal and an early night. I barely have the energy to reflect on the day I’ve had. There’s nothing left to give.

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