The Golden Rock is Gratifying

In most parts of Myanmar, the narrow dirt motorcycle tracks linking villages are perfect for bicycling. If you surround those tracks with a few bamboo and rubber plantations, sprinkle some oxcarts along the way, and map a route in the shadow of the Golden Rock, you’ve got the recipe for a rewarding three-day outing from Yangon.

Fourteen of us took that trip last weekend. We guessed at intersections and rode through streams. When the way got too rough at one point, we abandoned our bikes and went swimming.

All the while, the Rock barely balanced on a ridge three or four thousand feet above us. It was too close not to check it out. I had gone up that ridge by truck just ten weeks before. This time, we chose to reach it on foot. An eight-mile-long trail leads from the village of Kinmon to the shrine. We set off extra early to arrive in time for sunrise.

Naively I expected to have the trail to ourselves. Why would anyone else get up at 2am for a walk in the dark, when they could wait a few hours and pay to be driven the whole way?

Clearly I don’t think like a pilgrim. Thousands of people passed us in both directions, often holding children or candles or both. Many were coming down from the Rock after sleeping on the marble plaza the night before. Some were likely trying to squeeze the journey into two days by catching the first bus back to the big city.

Just as the sun peeked over the dark ridges in the distance, we reached the final stairway. It was shoulder to shoulder with pilgrims and monks and vendors. A few older visitors had paid four porters to be carried on palanquins. On the plaza itself, still thousands more were waking up. Two or three dozen visitors were already adding yet another square of gold leaf to the stone.

I felt night-and-day different from my first visit a few weeks earlier. As the Rock began to glow, its power to inspire sacrifice struck me clearly. Last time, our not-so-hidden agenda was to receive a special blessing through our visit. On this trip I found myself simply grateful that the Rock had not tumbled in the meantime, and hopeful that future generations could also come to appreciate it.

For most of the thousands around me, the journey was not about tourism or recreation. Many of them had probably struggled to get there, or at least stretched their finances. In this land of making do, travel is usually a luxury. Yet acts involving sacrifice may be what Myanmar people feel are most valuable during this challenging time in Myanmar's history.