Colombo to Anuradhapura and Mihintale: Part 1 of Sri Lanka, Isle of Serendip

Our Introduction to Sri Lanka and Sri Lanka's Introduction to Buddhism

Arriving in Sri Lanka

Sri Lanka

Our bodies said it was 11.30 pm, not a good time to arrive in a new country. The local clocks said it was 4.30 am, which might be worse.

We completed the formalities and located Ravi, who was to be our driver for the next eighteen days.

Dawn was still some way off as we started the 150km drive north to Anuradhapura, the ancient capital of Sri Lanka. I asked Ravi how long the journey would take. 'Five hours normally,' he said, 'but we are early and will miss the traffic, so four hours.' It was also Sunday, still a day of rest sixty-seven years after British rule ended in this largely Buddhist country, so we were even quicker, despite a tea stop at Puttalam.

Sri Lanka
Up the west coast from Colombo to Puttalam, then north east to Anuradhapura

Colombo to Anaradhapura

The airport is twenty kilometres north of Colombo but the journey started in an urban sprawl which extended beyond Negombo. There was little traffic, and not a great deal of street lighting, so we were unable to see much of our surroundings.

There was enough light to see flocks of black birds flying across the road. 'Crows,' Ravi said 'and sometimes you see bats - they roost in the same trees.' We saw no bats.

Dawn broke, though it was some time before a big enough gap in the houses allowed us to see the new day's currant bun.

We had arrived three days after Pope Francis had left and there were still posters advertising his visit. I asked Ravi if there were many Christians in Sri Lanka. 'Many people by the seaside are Christians,' he said, 'but in the interior it is all Buddhism.' [7% of Sri Lanka’s 20m people are Christians, 70% are Buddhists] Ravi, from the Buddhist heartland of Kandy, was understandably vague on the denomination of Sri Lankan Christians but the pope's visit had been a great success and drew large crowds. In the next hour we passed many churches, some full to bursting for Sunday services. We also passed several Buddhist temples, a few Hindu temples [13%] and two mosques [10%], Sri Lanka may be predominantly Buddhist, but there is plenty of diversity.

My road map showed five towns in the thirty kilometres of the A1 between Negombo and Chilaw, but to the casual observer we were in continuous village. Further north the houses became more sporadic, separated by paddy fields, coconut palms and temporary lakes (the monsoon was late and particularly heavy this year). The wet, marshy ground was home to countless egrets.

Lake formed by the late monsoon rains

South of Puttalam the road runs beside a lagoon so big we could not see across it. It is home to vast stocks of prawns and lobsters.

We by-passed Puttalam, stopping for a cup of tea at the Rest House on the city’s eastern edge. Much English tea comes from Sri Lanka, so we should not have been surprised to be served the most English cuppa we have encountered on foreign soil – even down to the jug of milk, though hot UHT milk is not my favourite.

Road signs at home warn of deer, but here, as we turned inland past the Wilpattu national park, they warn of elephants. The beasts are unaware of the park boundaries and, Ravi said, are a common sight on this road at night.

The remaining 70 kilometres of our journey was through countryside, dominated by rice fields and coconut trees, with a sprinkling of cashew plantations.

Lunch, Lion Lager and Lake Nuwara Wewa

The Lake View Hotel at Anuradhapura is, as the name suggest beside a lake, Nuwara Wewa, one of the many reservoirs built when Anuradhapura was the most important city on the island. We arrived just after nine, less interested in ancient lakes than in having somewhere to sleep, an occupation that took up the rest of the morning.

We ate a light lunch on the hotel terrace. The sun was warm rather than hot and with the cooling breeze off the lake it could not have been pleasanter. We ordered omelettes, with onion, mushrooms and chilli. 'It's spicy,' the waiter said with a concerned expression. 'Bring it on,' we said. Both omelettes were perfectly satisfactory as omelettes go, and contained a few circles of fresh green chilli, but spicy? No, not by any realistic standard. Will Sri Lanka, we wondered, be a replay of the battles we have fought in China and India (with varying degrees of success) to be allowed to eat the food the locals eat.

Lion Lager

We drank Lion Lager, overwhelmingly Sri Lanka's top selling brand, as it has been since the brewery was founded in1881. It is a well-made light lager and, served cold, is perfect for the climate.

After a stroll beside the lake, where we observed egrets, huge herons, cormorants swimming with only their heads and necks above water, a man standing in the lake fishing and a picnicking family, Ravi arrived to show us Mihintale.

Man fishing in Nuwara Wewa, Anuradhapura

Mihintale

Anuradhapura was the island’s capital from its founding in the 4th century BC until 933AD. It now consists of the ruined 'Sacred City' and a small modern town distinguished only by its reservoirs and a large number of tourist hotels.

Saving ‘old Anuradhapura’ for the next day we set off for Mihintale, 12km to the east, and, according to legend the place where Buddhism arrived in Sri Lanka.

Sri Lanka’s northern plain is studded with rocky outcrops and grassy hillocks and Mihintale sits on such a hill. To minimise the number of steps Ravi drove us as high as he could, parking beside Sinha Pokuna. The name means 'Lion Pool' and comes from the statue of a lion which once gushed water from its mouth. We walked across the now dry pool to see it, shoo-ing our way through a crowd of monkeys and pausing to watch the infants playing in a tree.

Monkeys, Sinha Pokuna, Mihintale

The lion is badly eroded, but the carvings above it are in much better conditions and very Indian in style.

Badly eroded lion fountain, Sinha Pokuna, Mihintale

Further up there are the remains of the chapter and image houses of a long vanished monastery. Two tenth century stone slabs are inscribed with the monastery rules. The English translation proved rather disappointing; the list of medieval dos and don’ts read pretty much like any set of school rules.

The Image House, Mihintale

Brick built hemispheres are all that remain of many old dagobas. Taking a closer look at one I startled a large monitor lizard which scuttled away and then stood looking at me. I crept up to take this picture [we would discover they are two-a-penny throughout the country].

Monitor lizard, Mihintale

The ticket office stands beside the steps to the upper terrace. Here we paid, deposited our shoes and removed our hats. Bare heads are the rule (for men and women) in Sri Lankan temples. I would always remove my hat indoors, but as few of the temples we visited had an 'indoors' I reluctantly exposed my head, and the large areas of scalp between my increasingly meagre hair, to the full glare of the sun. Bare feet are fine on stone flags but here the surface, sometimes sandy, sometimes rocky but always gritty, was uncomfortable at best and extremely painful when standing on a sharp stone.

On this terrace King Devanampiya Tissa (reigned 250-210 BC) met Mahinda the brother, or maybe son, of Ashoka the Great (see Mughal Serai and Sarnath), the Buddhist ruler of most of India. The king was hunting deer, Mahinda was hunting converts. The dagoba marks where the king stood, Mahinda’s position is represented by a statue so badly damaged I took no notice of it and have no photograph. Given their positions the ensuing conversation must have been shouted.

The Upper Terrace, Mihintale. Mahinda stood just to the right of the camera, the king where the white dagoba is.
A modern Buddha image looks out over the scene

The Riddle of the Mango Tree

'What is this tree?' Mahinda asked the King.
'A mango tree.'
'And are there other mango trees in the forest?'
There are.' The king replied.
'Are there trees in the forest that are not mango trees?'
The king nodded.
'And are there trees in the forest that are not those other trees nor other mango trees?'

At this point any normal medieval king would have said 'stop being a smartarse,' and chopped his head off. Devanampiya Tissa though, thought for a moment and replied, 'There is this mango tree.'

Having solved the 'riddle of the mango' the king was, Mahinda decided, a fit person to receive the ideas of the Buddha.

Aradhana Gala (Meditation Rock)

Aradhana Gala (Meditation Rock) from the Mahaseya Dagoba

Mahinda gave his first sermon from the top of a rocky outcrop known as Aradhana Gala (Meditation Rock). The steps cut in the rock have become worn by time and polished to slipperiness by the sweat of a million feet. Those in direct sunlight were hot, too, but we struggled to the top aided by a robust handrail – a relatively new addition according to Ravi.

Steep, hot, slippery rocks, Aradhana Gala, Mihintale

We were rewarded with wonderful views over the misty plain sprinkled with the reservoirs built by the many kings of Anuradhapura to provide irrigation for the crops and drinking water for the city.

The Northern Plain from the top of Aradhana Gala

Mahaseya Dagoba

Mahaseya Dagoba is on a second outcrop, but the climb is much easier, though still hard on the soles of the feet. Painted white and frequently restored it is said to enshrine a hair of the Buddha. Unusually it is not solid and inside there is a rather camp reclining Buddha and several other smaller statues.

Mahindu Saya (front) and Mahaseya Dogoba (behind), Mihintale

The much older Mahindu Saya is now a hemisphere of bare bricks. Like many others around the site it is reputed to hold relics of Mahinda.

Reclining Buddha, Mahaseya Dagoba

Kaludiya Pokuna

We picked our way gingerly back to the ticket office and then, reshod, strode with more confidence back to the car. 500m down the road we parked and walked to Kaludiya Pokuna, a tranquil man-made lake.

Kaludiya Pokuna, Mihintale

The remains of a tenth century monastery stand beside the water, but whether the unusual cave-building was a bath house or a monk's dwelling is a moot point.

'Cave Building' Kaludiya Pokuna, Mihintale

Rice and Curry

The light was fading when we arrived back at the hotel. We decided to go out to eat and asked Ravi's advice. He offered to drive us and took us a short distance to another hotel where we sat on a balcony with only one other couple overlooking a vigorous children's party. It was not ideal but Ravi said the food was good and it may have been unfair of us to suspect he was on a retainer.

Rice and Curry, Anuradhapura

‘Rice and curry’ - always on that order - is the archetypal Sri Lankan meal, so that was what we ordered, one vegetarian and one with beef. The piles of rice would have made Sir Edmund Hillary reach for a rope and breathing apparatus. There was mango chutney, chilli flakes and three dishes each of curry, three veg for Lynne, two veg and one beef for me, all six of them different. Dhal was involved, as were aubergines, a floury root vegetable that might have been taro, beetroot, caramelised shallots and several more that will have go unnamed, though the young waiter was keen to help us understand what we were eating. The spicing varied from subtle to fiery, and the variety made for an excellent meal, even if the beef was distinctly tough and the ambience not quite what we were expecting.

Sri Lanka, The Isle of Serendip

Part 1: Colombo to Anuradhapura and Mihintale
Part 2: Anuradhapura Ancient and Modern
Part 3: Polonnaruwa and Kandalama, An Ancient City and a Modern Hotel
Part 4: Sigiriya Rock and an Ayurvedic Massage
Part 5: Dambulla and on to Kandy
Part 6: Kandy and Around
Part 7: By Train to Nuwara Eliya
Part 8: The Horton Plains, Nuwara Eliya and a Cup of Tea
Part 9: Through Bandarawela and on to Ella
Part 10: Ella, Little Adam's Peak and the Demodara Bridge
Part 11: The Sinharaja Rainforest
Part 12: Kataragama and the Yala National Park
Part 13: Through Hambantota to Mirissa
Part 14: Galle, Fish and a Fort
Part 15: Colombo, National Day and a Full Moon

Cannock Chase Through Fresh Eyes: The (N + 4)th Annual Fish and Chip Walk

In the time honoured, if not quite yet ancient, tradition, a coalition of the willing met on Cannock Chase for yet another annual Chip Walk.

As in 2012, we started from the Punch Bowl, but this time not in torrential rain but on a mild December day that started overcast, though sunny spells were promised later. Everybody else looked cheerful, but I was worried - this was (roughly) the fifteenth chip walk and (exactly) the fifth to appear on this blog. How could I possibly find anything new to write?

As before, we made our way round Hart's Hill and veered left towards the Sher Brook. Four of the usual suspects were present, Francis and myself as ever-presents, Brian, just back from Hong Kong (as usual) and Alison C, up from Cheltenham for her first Chip Walk since 2011. We were also joined for the first time by Anne. Lynne (my non-walking wife) met Anne when they were colleagues in Warwickshire in the late 1970s and began a friendship which has endured for well over thirty years. Anne now lives in Cardiff and had stopped with us en route from Cardiff to County Durham for Christmas especially to take part in the Chip Walk.

Round Hart Hill, Cannock Chase

We reached the Sherbrook Valley and set off up it, passing the stepping stones. Having photographed them the last three years, doing it again seemed otiose.

 

The Sher Brook, but not the Stepping Stone, Cannock Chase

It was the first time Anne had been to the Chase and she was looking at it through fresh eyes. Brian and Francis live nearby and value having so much open country on their doorsteps. I live a little further away and visit the Chase a couple of times a year, regarding it as somewhere to go when alternatives are unavailable or unattractive - Staffordshire clay does not make for good winter walking, but a hundred metre high pile of pebbles inevitably remains well drained. In my head Chase walks involve straight forestry roads through ranks of dark conifers, but having Anne there as a visitor made me look at it again - and I discovered it isn’t like that at all.

I know that the Punch Bowl is an area of older, non-coniferous trees, but I had not realised, or had forgotten, how large that area is. We walked up the winding Sherbrook surrounded by silver birches.

 

Silver hair and Silver Birches, Sherbrook Valley, Cannock Chase

The valley flattens out as it reaches the plateau that tops off the western end of the pebble pile. 'It's different again,' Anne said as we crossed the open moor-like ground.

Near the top of the Sherbrook Valley, Cannock Chase

A swing right brought us in sight of the first conifers of the day, though we certainly were not walking through them. Views opened up to the north-east over the Trent Valley as a shaft of sunlight penetrated the clouds.

Continuing towards the minor road we reached the German War Cemetery, one of Cannock Chase's several oddities. During the First World War the Chase was used for training camps and also for a prisoner-of-war hospital. Those who died there were buried nearby and in the 1950s the graves of most German military personnel killed on, around or over British territory during both world wars were moved here, to a site administered by the Commonwealth War Graves Commission in collaboration with their German equivalent. This year I photographed the outside....

 

The German Cemetery, Cannock Chase

.....but in the past I have photographed the inside. There are some 5000 graves, split almost equally between the two wars. There are is one Field-Marshall, a General and the crews of four airships downed in 1916 and 1917.

 

German Military Cemetery (Dec 2012)

I have visited the German Cemetery before, but I was oddly unaware that there is a Commonwealth Cemetery a little further on. In the spirit of the Christmas truce of 100 years ago Francis suggested we kick a football from one to the other; a good plan but with a fatal defect – we had no football. There are some 150 graves here, 50 of them overspill from the German Cemetery. There is a sad row of graves of men who died on the 8th and 9th of November 1918 - so near and yet so far - but the largest group are from the New Zealand Rifle Brigade who were stationed here and died not in the war, but from influenza. Anne pointed out that Phormium (New Zealand Flax) was prominent among the flowers between the gravestones.
 

Commonwealth War Cemetery, Cannock Chase

The flu pandemic, starting in January 1918 and lasting into 1920, killed more people than the war, some 50 to 100 million world-wide. The deaths were disproportionately among those who were young, fit and previously healthy, like the unfortunate New Zealanders here - and indeed Lynne's great-great uncle who survived the fighting, but still ended up in a military cemetery in northern France.

We drank our coffee sitting on the steps outside the cemetery, then walked down the other side and found, hidden behind the two cemeteries, a couple of benches that would have been far more comfortable than the cold marble steps.

We headed north towards the Katyn Memorial, for the only time in the day on an unfamiliar track. ‘I wondered where this path came from,’ Francis remarked as we approached the memorial. Staffordshire has had a sizeable Polish community since the end of WW2, long before the recent influx, but I still do not fully understand why they choose this spot to commemorate a massacre that happened a thousand miles away. Nonetheless here it is, and here is another photograph of it – very similar to the pictures I posted in 2012 and 2011.

Katyn Memorial (again), Cannock Chase

From the memorial there is only one route to the Chetwynd Arms, our fish and chip providers for the last three years. We crossed the lightly wooded Anson's Bank and turned down Oldacre Valley. The valley has more topsoil than most of the Chase and can be relied upon to provide some mud - soft and black rather than the sticky grey stuff Brian and I slogged through in the Churnet Valley earlier this week. I do not recall if Anne remarked on this further change of aspect, but if she did it could not have been with pleasure - this is nasty stuff.

The muddy Oldacre Valley, Cannock Chase

The bottom of the Oldacre Valley is a place where the footpaths on the ground do not match those on the map. As usual it took us a zig and a zag to find our way past Brocton Pool and down to the road.



Anne passes Brocton Pool



We reached the Chetwynd Arms and Lynne arrived to share our repast - though without having done the work to earn it. I have long considered it unfair that she takes little exercise yet remains so trim while I ….. (see the well-nourished individual, left of next but one picture!)

The Chetwynd Arms, Brocton

It was the Fish and Chip Walk so everybody had fish and chips, except Lynne had scampi (which is acceptable) and Alison had gammon. With a medical reason for avoiding battered fish, this was forgivable - unlike Sue's perfidious bowl of chicken and pasta a couple of years ago. Whenever a group of over sixties get together there is always someone with a new medical condition to discuss. A day will come when we no longer bother with the walk, just meet in the pub to compare operations. Oh, the joys of getting older.

Me, Brian, Francis, Alison, Anne
Chetwynd Arms, Brocton (and Lynne took the picture)

We returned to the Chase via a track between houses and a field followed by an excursion round the back of Brocton where a grey wagtail was hopping from stone to stone in the stream. In the field we had spotted the first spring lamb of the year, though other signs of spring were conspicuously absent. It looked cute, as all new lambs do, but I suspect its life will be short and cold.

The climb up Tar Hill seemed easy, despite having to carry fish, chips and a couple of pints of Banks's Bitter to the top. The sun again peered out from behind the clouds, sparkling on the Argos distribution centre at Junction 13 and its mirror image at Junction 14. Sadly, they bracket the view of Stafford and rather define the town, though today the light also gave prominence to the small hill topped by the remains of Stafford Castle, the reason this unlikely, marshy spot had once been chosen for a settlement. The Wrekin was, as ever, a distant landmark, whilst, much further away, the bulk of the Long Mynd was clearly visible against the horizon. Unlike last year, I chose to point my camera into the near distance and at the gentle folds of the hill’s sparsely wooded summit.



Near the top of Tar Hill, Cannock Chase

The Chase is home to some 800 Fallow Deer, but so far we had seen none. Approaching Coppice Hill we glimpsed a small herd on the bank above us [As Brian points out in the comments, these were Roe Deer]. For the next kilometre or so there were deer in the forest on either side, dozens of them, always half hidden, but feeling little need to run; they are used to humans and do not expect to be harmed by them.

Deer on Coppice Hill
(I know its not a good picture, but it was the best I got, sorry)



A little further along we paused at a bird feeding centre. The trees were alive with a multitude of tits and finches, including a splendidly self-important bullfinch. 'All Britain's woodland birds in one place,' Francis remarked. We (or rather Francis and Brian) had earlier seen fieldfare and waxwings - though the mild Scandinavian winter has meant few have bothered to make the journey south this year - and a redwing or two. As we moved on, an ingot of goldfinches (no that is not the correct collective noun, I just made it up) fluttered busily past.

As we strode on towards Mere Pool the sun in the rapidly clearing sky brought out subtle colours in the bare tree trunks.



Subtle colours near Mere Pool, Cannock Chase

After the pool we turned right and descended back to the Punch Bowl and our cars, arriving just before the sun set at five to four. It had been a lovely day's walk. Anne had seen the Chase for the first time and her frequent remarks about how the landscape changed as we moved across it helped me look at the Chase with refreshed eyes. I am grateful; it is a beautiful place, and I have been undervaluing it.



Back down to the Punch Bowl, Cannock Chase


And that was not quite all. As we drove home under a clear blue sky, the light lingered long after the sun had set giving a summer-like twilight. From tomorrow the days start to lengthen promising that eventually summer will return. I look forward to it.

The Annual Fish and Chip Walks

The Nth: Cannock Chase in Snow and Ice (Dec 2010)
The (N + 1)th: Cannock Chase a Little Warmer (Dec 2011)
The (N + 2)th: Cannock Chase in Torrential Rain (Dec 2012)
The (N + 3)th: Cannock Chase in Winter Sunshine (Jan 2014)
The (N + 4)th: Cannock Chase Through Fresh Eyes (Dec 2014)
The (N + 5)th: Cannock Case, Dismal, Dismal, Dismal (Dec 2015)
The (N + 6)th: Cannock Chase Mild and Dry - So Much Better (Dec 2016)
The (N + 7)th: Cannock Chase, Venturing Further East (Jan 2018)
The (N + 8)th: Cannock Chase, Wind and Rain (Dec 2018)
The (N + 9)th: Cannock Chase, Freda's Grave at Last (Dec 2019)
The (N + 10)th: Cannock Chase in the Time of Covid (Dec 2020)
The (N + 11)th: Cannock Chase, Tussocks(Dec 2021)
Dec 2020 - no walk
The (N + 12)th: Cannock Chase, Shifting Tectonic Plates (Dec 2023)

November - and where to spend it

November is not my favourite month. It is still Autumn but the season of mellow fruitfulness has long gone, the leaves changed colour, gave a show for a while but now lie rotting by the roadside.

Leaves lie rotting by the roadside. Betley, Nov 2008

Thomas Hood
National Portrait Gallery, unknown
artist, image from Wikipedia

December starts badly, too, but then comes the winter solstice and the start of a slow, painfully slow, improvement. And the Christmas and New year holidays provide a little light relief at the darkest time of the year.

January is at least the start of something new.

February is mercifully short - and spring might be just round the corner, though sometimes it dawdles.

I do like cold, clear, crisp winter days with blue sky above and crunchy white frost below, but you don't get those in November. Without a doubt, November is my twelfth favourite month.

And others feel the same way. Thomas Hood put it nicely almost two hundred years ago.

"November"

No sun--no moon!
No morn--no noon!
No dawn--no dusk--no proper time of day--
No sky--no earthly view--
No distance looking blue--

No road--no street--
No "t'other side the way"--
No end to any Row--
No indications where the Crescents go--

No top to any steeple--
No recognitions of familiar people--
No courtesies for showing 'em--
No knowing 'em!

No mail--no post--
No news from any foreign coast--
No park--no ring--no afternoon gentility--
No company--no nobility--

No warmth, no cheerfulness, no healthful ease,
No comfortable feel in any member--
No shade, no shine, no butterflies, no bees,
No fruits, no flowers, no leaves, no birds,
November!

This year we have spent November at home. I am not complaining, we have ventured abroad four times in 2014, not to mention sundry trips around Britain so I have nothing to complain about - indeed we are very fortunate to be able to travel as often and as far as we do - but that does not change the basic fact: some places get a better deal out of November than Staffordshire.

Here are some photos of several such places, none have appeared in the blog before, either for reasons of space or because they predate it.

Egypt

Lynne in the 'White Desert' Farafra Oasis, Egypt
The valley floor is covered with chalk - there is no water down there

In November 2009 we took a trip from Luxor through the oases of the New Valley, then west to Siwa near the Libyan border before turning east along the Mediterranean coast and through the delta to Cairo.



Siwa Oasis, Egypt

Northern Egypt had warm days, but the evenings could be a bit nippy. Further south it was balmy.

On a barchan dune, Kharga Oasis, Egypt
Blown by the wind, these crescent shaped dunes march slowly across the valley floor engulfing anything that stands in their way

China

In November 2010 Kunming, The City of Eternal Spring, failed to live up to its name but our journey through South West China warmed up as we travelled further south. We finished in Guilin with a warm if rather misty trip on the Li River.

On the Li River, Guilin

Even further south in Hong Kong the sun shone brightly and across the estuary in the former Portuguese colony of Macau the temperature was close to the boundary where warm becomes hot.

Portuguese remnants, Macau

Myanmar

November in Myanmar is the start of winter and communities club together to provide new warm cloaks for the monks. That is what they said, but it was no sort of winter we could recognise. Yangon was hot and tropical.

Yangon, hot and steamy (November 2012)

while in the higher lands around Lake Inle it was much cooler - like an English summer's day.

Yawana Village, Lake Inle, Myanmar

Thailand

In Bangkok the heat never lets up, though the few days we spent there in November 2012 were not exactly free from rain.

Lynne goes to visit the Emerald Buddha, Bangkok

Portugal

Even in Europe there are places where November is pleasant. October is a far better month in the Algarve, but I have swum in the Atlantic in November (once) and even on the cooler and windy west coast November is still tee-shirt time.

Praia de Odeceixe, November 2008