On Top of the World

I first saw Sigiriya Rock from the road, a tall column of stone rising about 200 metres above the flat plains of central Sri Lanka. Even at a distance it looked unusual, a solitary island of rock in a green sea. Known as Lion Rock, it is one of the country’s most recognisable landmarks. As I approached, I felt both curiosity, and a touch of apprehension. Heights have never been my favourite, and the idea of climbing this famous outcrop felt challenging, but worth the effort.

At the base, shaded by tamarind trees and low stone walls, the path began gently. It wound through landscaped water gardens planned more than 1,500 years ago. These channels, pools and islands form part of King Kashyapa’s legacy; he seized the throne from his father and built Sigiriya as both fortress and palace. Walking through this ordered landscape gave the rock’s story more depth before the ascent started.

Stone steps cut into the hillside led upward through shaded lanes and narrow passes. The air was warm and humid, the sun filtered through foliage. I paused occasionally, less from nerves and more to take in the view unfolding below. The higher I went, the more clearly the rock’s size and history became apparent.

Halfway up, the stone steps gave way to a metal staircase fixed to the rock face. My hands held the railings tightly, especially when I saw many of the support bolts were missing. I focused on the steady rhythm of my feet, and the not so calm movement of other climbers. Soon the Lion’s Paw Terrace came into view.

The Lion’s Paw Terrace offered a natural break. Two enormous stone paws mark the remains of a lion statue that once formed the entrance to the palace above. Standing there, I could imagine the welcome it gave visitors fifteen centuries ago. It was also a good place to rest before the final climb.

The last stairway rose more steeply and was open to the wind. My legs felt the effort, but each step brought a wider view and a stronger breeze. Looking ahead, rather than down, helped. When I reached the top, any lingering unease gave way to spectacular views.

The summit is flat but uneven, ringed by low stone walls. The royal palace has long disappeared, but foundations and bathing pools remain. Water was once hauled up by hand, gardens were set out in precise patterns, and lookout points offered views in every direction. Walking across the summit, I felt respect for the builders who transformed this isolated rock.

From the top, the panorama spread out without interruption. Rice paddies glinted in the sun, jungle reached to the horizon, and distant hills softened into blue. Birds circled on the air currents, and the wind felt cooler. I found myself lingering at the edges, taking in the view, and the achievement of reaching it.

Macaques were everywhere, and one even tried to grab my lens cap. Fortunately my hand was quicker than his, but if looks could kill, his gaze would have done me in.

I glanced at my watch and realized the sun was about to set. With a good two hour descent, I decided to begin my journey down, knowing i would probably arrive in the dark.

The descent was faster, but still required care. From above I noticed details I had missed on the way up: the mirror wall, still faintly reflective after centuries; frescoes painted on sheer rock with pigments that have held their colour; the hum of the countryside far below. Each feature added another layer to the story of Sigiriya.

Beyond the rock the plains stretched out, dotted with red-roofed villages. Water buffalo grazed in rice fields, and narrow roads wound through coconut groves and mango trees. Nearby lay the town of Dambulla, known for its cave temples carved into rock. Monks in saffron robes walked between temple grounds and market stalls, a reminder that life here continues much as it has for centuries.

Climbing Sigiriya was not only manageable but rewarding. Standing on the summit, looking across the green expanse of central Sri Lanka, my fear of heights faded into appreciation for a place where history, ingenuity and nature, meet in one memorable ascent.

Jonathan van Bilsen is an award winning photographer, author, columnist and television host. Follow his travel adventures at photosNtravel.com.