The Golden Rock glowing in the soft electric lights that illuminate the pagoda after dark.

HEMMED in by thick jungle on either side and shrouded in soupy fog, the rocky trail rises steeply in front of me. I can see no more than five metres in any direction, and the only sounds I can hear are moisture dripping from the trees, and my own breathing.

And there is that odd feeling that I am being watched. Maybe it’s only a curious animal hidden in the trees, or maybe it’s something . . . different. I am walking, after all, on the sacred slopes of Mount Kyaikhtiyo, where rumors abound of ancient hermits who meditate deep in the woods for hundreds of years, and of invisible spirits who guard the holy sites and relics in the area.

The goal of my four-hour uphill trek is the Golden Rock Pagoda, one of the most revered Buddhist pilgrimage sites in Myanmar. It rests on the peak of the mountain, its mystical aura permeating the hills, valleys and forests of the surrounding region. The pagoda, I had been told, always arouses a sense of wonder in those who make the trip to see it.

The stupa itself is only about 7.3 metres tall, but it rests on top of large gold-leaf-covered boulder that sits on the edge of a cliff about 1100 metres above sea level, balanced as if held in place by magic. The pagoda is known to locals by its Mon-language name, Kyaikhtiyo, which means ‘Pagoda on the Hermit’s Head’. This is a reference to the legend about how the boulder was brought to the top of the mountain and how it maintains its precarious position without tumbling into the valley below.

According to the story, there lived in the 11th century a hermit who secretly carried in his topknot three hairs presented to him by the Buddha. Before the hermit died of old age, he told his followers to search for a boulder shaped like his own head and enshrine the Buddha hairs in a pagoda on top. A Mon king, named Suvanabhummi, sent people out to look for such a rock. When they returned in failure, the King of the Celestials flew down from heaven, found the boulder deep under the sea, and transported it to the top of the mountain. The three precisely placed Buddha hairs in the pagoda on top ensure that the boulder maintains its balance.

Kyaikhtiyo is about 160 kilometres from Yangon, and can be visited as a two-day trip from the capital via bus or hired car. The bus ride takes about five hours and ends at the foot of Mount Kyaikhtiyo at the Kinpun ‘base camp’, where visitors can find guesthouses and restaurants. The camp is also the starting point for the crowded trucks that carry pilgrims along the road that winds for 20 kilometres up the mountain to the drop-off point. From there it is another 45 minutes or so by foot to the top. There are teashops along the way for those who need to stop and rest, and there are pallbearers for hire who can carry the elderly, weak, infirm or lazy to the top in chairs suspended between bamboo poles.

While the trucks are convenient, many visitors (myself included) opt for the far more interesting and rewarding, if somewhat more rigorous, way to the top of the mountain: by walking the entire way along a picturesque 11-kilometre hiking path. The four-hour trek is often started at the crack of dawn to avoid the heat of the day, and some people even do it at night by the light of torches, flashlights or battery-powered headlamps.

The walk begins on a narrow lane lined with small restaurants and shops selling packets of fruit jam and souvenirs. These businesses soon give way to a small settlement of houses, and then to thick forest as the path gets narrower and steeper, alternating between a dirt-and-rock surface, and cracked stone stairways. Trees and plants grow thickly in every direction, close enough to reach out and touch, and occasionally thin out to reveal increasingly spectacular vistas of the surrounding countryside.

The density of the jungle and frequent mists only heighten the sense of mystery on the slopes of Mount Kyaikhtiyo. The mountain forests are laced with paths leading to hidden Buddhist shrines and other sites of spiritual importance. There is a monument to Shwe Nan Kyin, a girl who died of exhaustion while running from a tiger that had been sent to kill her because she neglected to worship her family spirits. Then there is the stone shaped like the beak of a crow at which people throw coins – if the money lands in the crow’s mouth, it is believed, their wishes will come true.

It is also said that walking to the top requires crossing 33 mountains or peaks, a reference to the fact that the path often flattens out and fools climbers into thinking they are near the top, only to rise again around the next corner. Many of these ‘peaks’ have intimidating names such as Phoe Pyan Taung (where the old people give up and turn back) and Shwe Yin Sout (where the golden heart gets tired). The final mountain, from where the Golden Rock can first be seen by trekkers, is somewhat more inspirationally known as Shwe Yin Aye (where the golden heart refreshes).

Despite the seeming remoteness of some parts of the trail, civilisation is never very far away, in the form of small villages, trailside drink and food vendors, and rest areas for pilgrims. And there are plenty of other walkers as well. During my early morning trek to the top I am greeted and encouraged by people heading back down from the day before, with smiles, thumbs up gestures, questions about where I am from, and sometimes even requests to pose for photographs.

After a few hours of effort, I reach the end of the dirt path and join the paved road to the peak. Here the crowds multiply as even those who have taken the trucks to the upper drop-off point must finish this last section on foot. There are more vendors and teashops here, and the air is charged with powerful energy as those walking up know they are nearing their destination.

The pagoda complex at the top of the mountain is swathed in a blanket of intense spirituality. All through the warm days and cool, breezy nights, worshippers chant, meditate and light candles. During the Festival of Light leading up to the Full Moon Day of Thadingyut, which falls in October and marks the end of Buddhist Lent and the rainy season, throngs of pilgrims start arriving from all across Myanmar. The platform is aglow with the light of 9000 candles and perfumed with scent of a like number of flowers, which are placed as offerings to the Buddha.

The Golden Rock Pagoda is of course the centre of attention at the top of the mountain. Men rub gold-leaf squares onto the surface of the boulder to gain merit. Others place wooden sticks, affixed with monetary offerings, in the space between the bottom of the boulder and the cliff on which it rests; some say that it is possible to see the sticks flex as the boulder rocks back and forth. And many believe that it is possible to pass a thread under the rock from one side to the other, proving that the boulder supporting Kyaiktiyo Pagoda is actually hovering above the cliff on which it appears to sit.

Adding to the enchantment is the Golden Rock’s ability to exude both agelessness and infinite changeability. It seems to have been sitting on the cliff edge since the beginning of time, yet in the course of a few hours it can pass through myriad transformations, from hiding dully in the mountain mist, to glinting in the strong tropical sun, to reflecting the orange and purple radiance of sunset, to glowing in the soft electric lights that illuminate the pagoda after dark.

Buddhists say that making three visits to Kyaikhtiyo will ensure that they have a rich and fulfilling life. For me, the experience of walking the path to the top, under the watchful eyes of the spirits of the mountain, to study the pagoda as it passes through these variations is its own reward.