Khao Ra Mountain

Journey with Me Blog Series

Location: Koh Pha Ngan, Thailand

Khao Ra is the highest mountain in Koh Pha Ngan. Climbing it is a medium-difficulty hike that can be done in less than two hours if you walk briskly and know the way. You’ll walk along a windy road, pass a dam, and then enter a trail that will take you through a thick rainforest until you reach the mountaintop and enjoy some stunning views of Ko Pha Ngan’s coastline.

My experience there

I climbed Khao Ra many times, but this one time will stay forever etched in my memory. I was going through a time of uncertainty and loss of control, trying to find my new form and feeling like a caterpillar that’s out of the chrysalis but not quite a butterfly yet. I had had visions that I was to “meet an old man” who was waiting for me—but I had to arrive at the meeting “unwilling and unexpected.” Imagine my shock when, at the top of Khao Ra, I discovered a little shrine with the statue of a meditating old man! I sat in front of him and realized I had found one of my guides. That guide hasn’t left me ever since, and he’s the one who shows up consistently when I give sessions that involve bodywork and touch. 

The “old man of the mountain,” as I call him, was both compassionate and demanding. One of the requirements he had for me was that I come back to the mountaintop every day! That wasn’t going to be easy. On the following day, I was free, but the following two days were busy. How was I going to do that? Leaving these thoughts for later, I enjoyed some peace on the summit and set off for the descent. The way down turned out to be much harder than I thought. The soil was very slippery (we were in the rainy season) and I fell, hitting my head against a fallen trunk. Yet, my knees took the worst the worst hit. By the time I made it back down, my right knee in particular felt like it was going to break any moment. 

The next day, I woke up with a swollen knee and cramps all over my body. I had promised the old man of the mountain that I would come back every day, so I took my bike and rode back to the mountain base. When I started walking up I realized that this was going to be my private tropical version of hell. I began wondering how on Earth I was going to make it when all of a sudden, on my left, I noticed a wooden stick with a V-shaped end. That was exactly what I needed! Armed with this new weapon, I kept on walking. Climbing up Khao Ra this second time was excruciating, like a little personal via crucis. I was walking like an old man with pain in his legs. The trail ahead seemed infinitely long. The stick was definitely helping, yet oftentimes, I literally had to plant it on the ground and draw myself up with the force of my arms, because my knees simply couldn’t. About one-third of the trail up, I decided to stop and make a pause. This was a little ritual of self-support, giving myself the time to stop and recover the forces, preparing for the road ahead. Once I reached the end of the asphalt road,  the second half of the hike, a forest trail, appeared. 

Although this was early in the morning, the forest was dark with heavy clouds in the sky. Soon, it started raining heavily. I had a raincoat, but after a few minutes, it no longer made a difference whether I wore it or not.  I was soaked from head to toe. Little rivers were pouring down the trail, so at times it felt like I was walking upstream a waterfall. At times, I felt disheartened. What if one of my knees gave up? Surely, sooner or later someone would come along, but it could take a day before that happened. For the first time in my life, I seriously considered the possibility of being unable to walk. 

What kept me going was a simple thought: “The only way out is forward.” At some point, the rain stopped. I had climbed above the clouds. And still, the last few hundred meters were the hardest. I knew I couldn’t be far from the summit, but it just seemed to never appear.  

Suddenly, in the distance, I saw an arch of trees enclosing a circle of bright sky. The entrance to the summit! My heart beamed with joy, although I knew that the hardest part was yet to come.

The view the day before had been stunning, but this time, it was even more breathtaking. I found myself literally above a sea of clouds. Below me, a gray carpet covered the valley below. The air was filled with vapor that moved swiftly according to the changes of wind. It wasn’t raining anymore, but the air was fresh and humid.

Photo Credit: Christophe95, CC BY-SA 4.0, via Wikimedia Commons

I sat in front of the altar, and immediately felt that the old man of the mountain was “pleased.” In a stern yet caring voice, he instructed me to sit down, relax, drink some tea, and eat a biscuit. I looked at the V-shaped stick as if it were an old friend. The old man of the mountain told me that I wouldn’t have to come back the following days; what I had done was enough. He promised that my knees would be fine, that the way down would be painful, but that nothing serious would happen. He asked me to rest briefly, and then go. I tried to make the most of the few minutes of rest I was allowed, and then started my walk down…

Going down was very much like stepping down a staircase: exactly the kind of activity my knees did not long for. I realized that the only way to do it was by planting the stick a few meters down, leaning on it, and then hoisting myself down with the strength of my arms. It took me hours to make it back to my motorbike and, when I reached home, I spent the rest of the day in bed. Yet, the next morning, I was relatively OK.

This whole journey allowed me to meet one of my most stable and supportive guides. Meeting our guides is an inner pilgrimage that can be reflected in an outer adventure, search, or vision quest—although it might as well happen in the comfort of our bed. Oftentimes we will have to surpass obstacles and endure some kind of physical or emotional pain in order to meet our guides. We will also find allies both in the form of living beings and objects. Meeting our guides often involves a moment of “getting lost” or being asked to do something that feels unfeasible and unrealistic. From a psychological standpoint, these trials and tribulations allow us to connect with parts that are beyond our rational, calculating, sensible self. In the end, when we look back, it all makes sense.  

When you are there

If you decide to climb Khao Ra, take time to meditate at the altar on the top. This isn’t some kind of official altar, it is a spontaneous creation. It might not even be there when you go—in that case, you can build a new one. These kinds of altars reconnect us to a more ancient, more primal way of adoration and spirituality. For millennia, humans weren’t in need of a church or a priest to set up an altar and pray. Our temples used to be in nature, in spots where we felt a higher concentration of energy, force, meaning, and symbolism. This capacity to worship and connect to Spirit in a simple, natural way is available to all of us.