Riding Up to Wat San Ku in Chiang Mai, Thailand

[David Martin]

On the EP anniversary hike last year I told Sean that I lived in Thailand part time, and he asked me to send a trip report or two next time I visited, so here goes. I’ll try not to ramble too much but it’ll be hard because it’s so different and fascinating here, and I want to include a lot of background to set the scene.

My wife and I have a place here in Chiang Mai, not far from where she grew up. We love it here but left in early 2020 when covid became a threat, and then the Kingdom closed to foreigners. We really missed the Land of Smiles and last November when the country finally began to re-open we booked tickets, jumped through the bureaucratic hurdles, and headed back here.

I’m a long time Asia traveler. I first came here in ’81, loved it then, and still do. On a visit about eight years ago I was walking around the older part of town on a particularly nice day and realized that this was where I wanted to retire. After years of searching for our dream home (and a few near misses) we found a great upper floor condo in a well known older building in a great part of town. Though I’m not quite retired yet we’ve been coming once or twice a year, usually staying for about three months. Our favorite time here's the rainy season, which ends around October. We missed the last two, but winter here (which locals call the “cool season”) is pretty nice too.

Chiang Mai’s the best known city in northern Thailand. It’s beloved by Thais and gets loads of foreign visitors, or did until covid hit. It’s at the northmen terminus of the Thai railway system and lies on the Ping River, whose headwaters are near the Burmese border, about 200 miles north. Founded in the 13th century, the “old city” is square, surrounded by a moat and crumbling city walls, with dozens of beautiful old wats (temples). Our place is just east of the old city, along the river and close to the historic market area. The fruit and produce sellers are just across the river, and the the flower market's few blocks south. These markets area were among the first local settlements here, because of the riverside location. But these days the only watercraft on the Ping are kayaks and tour boats. There are dams north and south, and outside the rainy season, the water is nearly still.

There’s not much hiking in this country. Bushwhacking is out of the question; only a fool would attempt it. The national parks have some trails, but the few nice ones tend to be crowded, A lot of visitors trek footpaths between tribal villages (some of which are really fascinating) and I do that sometimes, but hiking in the tropics really isn’t my thing.

But this area’s a cycling paradise, criss-crossed with gorgeous little rural roads, most lightly trafficked. Thai drivers are very considerate of cyclists. Pickup truck taxis are available, so sometimes I’ll hire one to drop me off at a remote location (or take the train out of town), and then ride back home. Or maybe do a short cross-country trip, staying at a local hotel or two. I speak reasonable Thai, am comfortable getting around on my own, and little ever goes wrong. Some of the little towns are amazingly scenic and the area has rich, complex history with lots of exotic hill tribes. The Golden Triangle is nearby and I’ve ridden to many of the Burmese and Lao border towns. The Mekong’s not far from here and believe me, riding along its west bank, with Laos on the other side, is one hell of a stunning experience. A few years ago I had a fabulous ride to Tham Luang, the cave where the 12 Thai kids were rescued. And of course, there’s Thai food everywhere.

My usual ride is to Wat Doi Suthep, a famous mountain temple west of town. Profile-wise, it's like riding from my home in Burbank to the Griffith Observatory but with more distance and climb, and more to see along the way. I usually start at about 4 AM so I can ride through town before it get busy, and enjoy sunrise on the way up. Sometimes I press on to Bhubing Palace, a winter residence for the Monarchy that's about 1300’ higher. But in 2018 I became intrigued by a small temple at the summit that I noticed on a map, and decided to go look for it. That ride was one of my favorites up here though it was tough, and I got soaked by an intense monsoon downpour on the way down.

Since getting back here I’d been itching to do that ride again, and it seemed like a good candidate for a trip report. So the day before New Year I set my alarm for 3 and headed up there.

Looking west from our balcony just before four, the sky was clear and the temperature mild. Up on the mountain, the lights from the temple and palace were bright and clear. After taking the elevator downstairs and exchanging salutations with the guard I crossed the Nakhorn Ping bridge, just south of our building. On the opposite side I swung past the vegetable market, which was already open, with customers trickling in. Two blocks south, City Hall and the U.S. Consulate loomed large, vacant but for the ever-present guards.

The old city, surrounded by a moat and what remains of the old wall, is less than a mile from the river. The area has a few busy streets and lots of narrow meandering lanes, like you might see in an old European city. Some are just wide enough for two wheel traffic and pedestrians. Silently gliding past closed shops and a few sleepy dogs I made my way to the moat and Thapae, the main eastern gate. Before covid, Thapae with its large plaza was one of the busiest tourist areas in the city. It was nearly always jammed with visitors and vendors, and even at four AM you’d see groups milling around. But now it was empty, except for holiday lights and New Year decorations.

I love riding through the old city in the dark, early morning hours. Life in Asia begins before dawn, but at this hour most Thais are still sleeping ,and things are still. In an hour orange robed monks would begin making their rounds, collecting food and alms from kneeling locals, but as I glided alone across town, even they were probably just waking.

When I started visiting in the early 80’s, Thailand wasn't yet a major tourist destination. Chiang Mai had a few older established hotels, but most visitors were backpackers with Lonely Planet guides. (Some were “overlanders" who came by land from The U.K. or Europe, until the Iranian revolution and the war in Afghanistan made those countries impossible to cross.) Little guesthouses, cafes, travel/trekking shops, and massage places started popping up all over Thailand. Thais and the hospitality industry were a perfect match and each time I came here, the scene was busier. Then, about 10 years ago, Chinese tourism exploded here. It was mostly low cost package tour groups, plus some couples and a few adventurous solo travelers. “Boutique" hotels became a thing, and the old city became jammed with souvenir shops, seafood places, bungee jumping outfits, elephant experience tours, you name it. Thailand became the 8th world’s most visited country. The city and the locals were still completely charming but things were starting to look overbuilt, and one wondered where it was all going.

Well, Cholada and I found out when we landed here on New Year’s Day, 2020. A few hours before the drive to LAX I’d seen a news story about the “mystery disease” in Wuhan. When we landed Chiang Mai was still bustling but people were worried and donned masks, almost overnight. Then one day it seemed like all the Chinese tourists just vanished. I was spending most of my time working on our condo and cycling, which felt safe covid-wise. But by late February we worried that if we didn’t head back to the States soon we might get stuck here, so we flew home.

Two years later we returned to a completely changed city. There were almost no tourists and at most of the tourist related businesses were gone. A lot of my favorite restaurants and hangouts were gone too. Storefronts were boarded up, many doors bore For Sale and For Rent signs. This city had been impacted much more dramatically than any place I’d seen in the U.S. The silver lining, and I think some locals must feel this way too, is that in a lot of ways the town was back to its earlier, simpler self. The areas that had resembled tourist zoos no longer did. It felt more like the real Thailand. There were few traffic jams and the air quality was much better. (Do those last two comments sound familiar?)

The old walled city I pedaled through that morning was like the Chiang Mai I used to know.

Instead of taking my usual short route through the old city I wandered a bit, taking in temples and the early morning sounds. Dogs barked alerts about a passing motorbike, a jackfruit falling to the ground, or maybe a foreign cyclist. Birds and other animals I couldn’t begin to name would make tentative rhythmic calls, build up to a climax, then go silent. Masses of frogs sang out from the canals that criss-cross the old city; and of course once in a while the cicadas would start up. Sometimes they seem to do their choral screeching thing in a circular pattern -- surround sound! It's really quite amazing.

Near the western moat I glimpsed the narrow golden spire of Wat Phra Singh and stopped to take photos. From a gate behind the compound I heard monks chanting, and stopped for a while to listen. Their voices were beautiful and calming.

I followed the little brick road west, crossed the moat and the roads that straddle it, then swung north to Huay Kaew, the diagonal highway that heads past CMU, my wife’s alma mater, near the foot of the mountain. My dad used to joke “Never pass up a free WC” so taking his advice, I stopped at the Shell station. It had gotten a big makeover in my absence; the men's room would have suited a four star hotel. Amazing. Walking back to my bike, a gentleman on an early morning walk came to say hello. He said he was was a Kurd, originally from Syria, who'd settled here long ago. Though Chiang Mai has a small Indian population, there are very few people from the Middle East. It would've been interesting to learn more about him.

From there Huay Kaew begins to gently climb, passing the entrance to the zoo (which I hear is a sad place now). At the base of the hill it swings right at the Kruba Srivichai monument, an important prayer site that commemorates the elderly local monk who in 1935, as a personal deed with no outside funding, built the first ten KM of the road up into the mountains. It’s a modest place with colorful flashing lights that might not seem very spiritual to westerners, but is deeply revered by Thais. I always take a short break here. Usually it’s busy, with groups of monks setting out for alms gathering and local people praying, lighting incense, and placing flowers at the shrines. Just down the road from here vendors are always present, selling the things that worshippers use for prayer, along with rice and little packages of food that people buy and give to the monks.

Just past the monument is the park entrance, with an information counter and emergency response office. (It would be a busy place in a few hours.)

The road steepens here and the real climb begins. There are two uphill lanes, so passing cars have plenty of space, but it hardly matters at this hour when about the only traffic is cyclists, runners and walkers. Ten years ago I rarely saw anyone else this early in the morning but road biking has really caught on in Thailand, and unlike the old days, when outdoor recreation was not very popular and maybe even looked down on, walking and running are popular now too. Many of the walkers and cyclists I see are university students heading out from the dorms for some morning exercise. Over the years I’ve recognized a few regulars, including an older fellow who I'd often see pulling a makeshift cart up the hill with his handicapped dog on it, wrapped in a blanket. One morning my wife stopped to talk with him. He was a poor man who found the dog on the mountain road one day, injured by a car. Every morning he took the dog out, patiently towing it up and down the mountain.

I'm accustomed to Thai cyclists whizzing past me on the hill, but it hurts a bit when a runner passes me on a really steep section. On the other hand, I’m often cheered on by a group of pretty girls in a car.

The road passes a waterfall, a couple of small temples, and some trail crossings. I’ve done a little hiking in Thailand, though never around here. I’m told that some trails in the park here are really nice, and one leads to a interesting Hmong village.

About halfway up to Wat Doi Suthep, there’s a little rest area / lookout at one of the hairpin turns. Vendors sell grilled meats, fruit, drinks, and roast corn on the cob. On weekends and holidays a caricaturist sets up there and it’s fun to watch him work. The first part of the climb heads south but beyond the lookout the road crests a ridge, then swings west for a while. The microclimate changes at that point and while the previous section is often a little cloudy and humid, the sky usually turns blue after the lookout and the air feels much fresher, crisper, more Californian. If I’ve been having those “why am I doing this at six in the morning” thoughts, that little improvement in the weather and the drier air spur me on, and the next few KM’s usually pass quickly. There’s another little viewpoint further on, and a narrow road up to the local observatory. (So far, the sign warning of dogs has discouraged me from trying it.)

After a sharp turn and a short steep climb you reach the grand stairway, whose 306 steps lead up to the Wat. Before covid this was a very popular place for foreign tourists and visiting Thais. There’s a bazaar area lined with cafes and handicraft shops, but now it's mostly deserted. A few shop owners and touts hang about, placards in hand, trying to interest the few tourists that show up. But it’s a rather sad scene. There’s a girl who runs a little waffle stand. A warm cashew waffle with honey washed down with a Thai ice coffee juiced me up for the rest of the climb.

Beyond the Wat the road gets steeper and narrows to one lane in places as it heads up to the Palace. Unlike their counterparts in China and Vietnam, Thai drivers rarely sound their horns (thank God!) but here, signs encourage it to warn approaching drivers at blind curves. The honking detracts from the beautiful, serene feeling as one climbs up through pines, but there’s usually little traffic. Heading up, I recalled to the other time I rode to San Ku. At the ruins I'd heard distant thunderclaps, then a light rain began. At first it was no big deal, but then going down the mountain it became a total monsoon downpour, with the gutters overflowing and sheets of water washing across the roadway. That was my wettest bike ride ever — every part of my body and my clothing were soon completely soaked. But typically, within an hour it suddenly stopped, the skies became blue and sunny, and before long the road was dry again as if nothing had even happened.

But this was the dry season, and rain was unlikely. I pushed on to Bhubing Palace. It was built in the 60’s as a summer retreat for the royal family and visiting dignitaries. Visitors are allowed and I’ve long wanted to see the place, but long pants are required and I’m always in shorts on these rides. Some day I’ll pack a pair of pants and go inside. Like Wat Doi Suthep, tourist activity at the Palace since covid had almost ceased but this morning, most of the parking spots were already taken. Since it was December 30, maybe locals were there for New Year festivities. I took a break near the Palace entrance, people-watched for a while, and continued up.

Many locals seem to think that Bhubing is at the top of the Doi Suthep, but it isn’t — the true peak is north of the Palace, almost a thousand feet higher. San Ku, about three KM beyond the palace, is very close to the summit, though not at the very top. Marked by a small sign, the narrow dirt road to it branches right. Then it’s just a few minutes to the simple, isolated site.

San Ku is thought to be the earliest temple in the area. Most of Chiang Mai’s older wats were built in the 14th and 15th centuries, when the region was an independent Kingdom known as Lanna. San Ku is estimated to predate Lanna by at least 200-300 years. It’s history is unknown, but it was a sanctuary of the Lawa people and the Hariphunchai Kingdom (750-1292 AD), in the valley below. It was “lost” until 1984, when a local monk brought it to the attention of archeologists at CMU. San Ku (“ridge stupa”) is its modern name; the original name is unknown.

It’s a small unassuming place; nothing like the mind blowing ancient temples one sees in Bagan, Myanmar or Angkot Wat, Cambodia. You see the remains of a square chedi (meditation room) and a viharn (monk’s quarters). The chedi is only about 10 feet high but most of the upper section is missing; originally it was much taller. Probably much of this site was looted at some point. The entrance to the viharn would have views of the valley and city of Chiang Mai, but for the trees that have grown there.

The place has a peaceful but slightly spooky feeling — it’s remote, abandoned and far from human habitation. I didn’t see anyone else on this or my previous visit, but it’s obvious that San Ku gets occasional visitors. You see offerings there, and stubs of incense and candles. At the front of the chedi, which apparently is still used as a prayer area, animal figures have been placed. I’ve read that these are meant as offering to the gods, as a substitute for animal sacrifice (rare in Thailand now), and that bottles of red Fanta are sometimes displayed in place of blood. To a Thai the luridly colorful statues surely add a spiritual element but to a Westerner like me, they somehow exaggerate the loneliness of San Ku.

Mounting my bike for the ride down, I saw gray clouds to the west and thought I heard thunder. Again? Yep, rain soon began to fall, but this time it wasn’t a monsoon drenching. I just slowed down a bit and stopped at the lookout below the temple to wait it out. So the rain didn’t affect me much, but further down I passed three wrecks, caused by drivers that had lost control on the slick pavement.

By mid-afternoon I was back in town, heading home. Because of the one way streets and the moats I zig-zag on little lanes through the old city when I head out, but the way back is a straight shot on busy streets, racing to keep up with with all the cars, trucks, bicycle rickshaws, motor rickshaws, and countless motorbikes. A fellow cyclist here calls it “surfing”, which is about right. You catch a wave of vehicles that are going about the right speed, then do what you can to keep up and make the greens. When you do hit a red, you make like the motorbikes and weave your way to the very front. The stop lights often have long intervals, so there’s plenty of time to squeeze forward and it’s fun to people watch while you wait. When the light turns green, it’s pandemonium at first — the motorbikes break free in a roar, cars jockey for space as the road narrows or opens up. Besides all the traffic there might be a dog near the curb, a guy pulling a stack of air conditioners on a cart, a bicycle rickshaw, a slow motorbike with a family of 4, or a group of nuns walking on the road. It’s like a complex organism with maybe 62 brains, 248 limbs, and a couple hundred wheels. Yet somehow the organism knows you're there, knows what you intend to do next, and gives you more than enough space to do it. Nobody honks and it all feels right. Past all the temples and the occasional police checkpoint (cyclists are always waved through), past the markets and the U.S. Consulate, up the motorcycle lane on the little bridge over the Ping, and back to 1705.

https://www.strava.com/activities/6445269241

(Photos to continue...)

[David Martin]

More photos.

[David Martin]

Last photos...

[Sean]

Thank you very much for this fantastic report. You certainly made me feel like I was riding along with you. That's such a touching story about the man taking the handicapped dog up the hill. If you buy Taco a couple burritos and a plane ticket, I bet he could clear out those jungle trails for you. Great photos, as usual!

[Girl Hiker]

Awesome! Thanks for the report and pics. I have a very good friends who tesches English at the university. He's been living in Thailand for many, many years. He comes home during the holidays but speaks very highly of Chiang Mai. He says the trails are beautiful. He loves the lifestyle of Thailand just like you. It truly is a beautiful place and peaceful.

[Uncle Rico]

Cool report David. Gorgeous country. That fruit and vegetable market near your place looks awesome.

[dima]

Thanks for the report, David. That's awesome! How "normal" is this ride for you over there? Is the place full of cool roads through jungles to temples?

[David Martin]

Dima, this was sort of a "greatest hits" ride since it included a little bit of most everything, which was why I chose it for the TR. It was a fairly typical ride for northern Thailand in terms of sights, sounds, and people, but the climb (4500') was more than I usually take on.

Yes, Thailand is full of cool roads through jungles to temples. Every town or village has at least one temple and the hilltops often have one too. Many are historic and unusual in some way. But there's much more here because of the variety of terrains and cultures. I do a lot of rides along the Ping river and through the valley here, which is super green and vibrant in the rainy season. I've also done road trips to hill tribe villages and explored those areas by bike. If you guys are interested I'll do another write up on some previous ride in another part of the north.

[Sean]

So cool, David. Please share your trips. Thanks.