Exploring the Sky Pagodas of Lampang: Wat Chaloem Phra Kiat

We left Lampang early the next morning, driving about 90 minutes north to reach Wat Phraphutthabat Sutthawart.  Our plan, and our strong recommendation to fellow travelers, is to begin the climb while the long path up the mountain is still in shadow.  Even in Thailand’s coolest season, an exposed hike in direct sun can be punishing.

Just what’s at stake becomes clear when you turn off Highway 4023 and look west to the sheer walls of the Pu Yak mountains.  Scattered across the highest pinnacles of the ridge, gleaming white, silver, and gold in the morning light, is your destination.

Officially known as Wat Chaloem Phra Kiat Phrachomklao Rachanusorn, this extraordinary site seems to hold almost as many names as the number of peaks its chedis crown.  Locals also know it as Wat Phra Bat Pu Pha Daeng, Wat Phraphutthabat Sutthawart, or Wat Doi Pu Yak, and among foreigner visitors it’s simply, and aptly, called the “Sky Pagodas.”

Missed the last installment? Catch up with Lampang: Northern Thailand’s Most Effortlessly Cool City.

We parked at the base of the mountain and bought tickets for the mandatory songthaew transfer to the start of the hike. What this will cost a full family is anyone’s guess: adult tickets are THB 290, which includes transport, while small children are charged some varying but significantly smaller amount.

The drive up the mountain is steep and winding. Given that Isobel’s enjoyment of a ride generally correlates strongly with how dangerous it feels, her steady grin throughout the 15-minute ascent suggested a somewhat risky trip.  The road only accommodates one-way traffic, so if you’ve just missed the last truck, expect a wait of up to thirty minutes.

Early on a weekday morning in mid-October, however, there was no wait at all, and we stepped off the truck as the first visitors of the day.  A roughly 300-meter walk along a paved road follows the drive up.  Walking in the cool morning shade, I was already glad at the early start.

Glad soon turned to smug as the level path steepened and then turned into a series of steel staircases zigzagging straight up the mountain.  The maintenance fees folded into the ticket price have been well spent. Despite the sharply vertical ascent, even our five-year-old handled the sturdily built path with nothing more than the occasional handhold.

Accounting for such a small walker, the climb took maybe 45 minutes—though it’s a pleasant ascent with excellent views, and I wasn’t checking my watch.  You’ll arrive soon enough at a landing offering two paths: to the right and south, a wat housing the Buddha’s footprint; to the left and north, a final climb to the prayer hall and the best views of the whole complex.

Were this simply a hike to admire the views from the top of the Pu Yak mountains, it would already be worth it.  The gleaming chedis ornamenting the gray limestone spires, the fluttering prayer flags, and the tinkling bells announcing the mountain breeze, all elevate the experience further.

The views are stunning, and the varied sizes of the spires and chedis throw off any sense of perspective.  Is that a massive peak crowned with a tiny chedi, or a tiny chedi atop an enormous spire?  Most of what lies beyond the paths and prayer hall is inaccessible, so the illusion remains intact.

It’s a surreal creation, made even more remarkable for having been completed only in 2004.  Before the steel staircases existed, monks and local workers spent years hauling bricks, mortar, and bags of concrete on their backs up the sheer cliffside to build all of this.  What a delight that in the 21st century, people still create such things. 

The walk down was even faster, though we lengthened it as much as we could by taking every side path and suggested detour.  By now, the sun had crept over the ridgeline and was shining onto the trail.  As we passed other pilgrims just beginning their climb, the downside of a late start was evident in their sweat-soaked shirts.

At the bottom of the 300 steps, we were again in the shade. On the songthaew ride down, I held Henry in place with one hand and reviewed the rest of the day’s schedule with the other.  A short drive, my itinerary promised, and then some time by the pool, only… what pool?  There was no hotel listed and nothing booked.  

Since the kids came along, Kat and I plan far more carefully.  Sure, we miss the spontaneity, but spontaneity loses its charm when it means placing unnecessary burdens on kids who already shoulder a lot of extra challenges.  I’d done a bit of violence to my self-awarded reputation as a master planner, but even if everything in the area was booked out (it was) we’d be fine.

Thanks to Thailand’s near-universal mobile phone coverage, I soon found a place roughly in the direction we were headed and, thanks to a cancellation, willing to take us.  The bad news was that it was an hour further away and twice as expensive.  The price of learning, I suppose.  

A compensating treat was a stop at Chae Son National Park, conveniently located on the route.  Chae Son is a field of natural hot springs, where mineral-rich water bubbles up from the earth at temperatures reaching 80°C (176°F).   It’s hot enough to boil an egg and people do—17 minutes is said to make a perfect “onsen egg.”  

Set among manicured paths, the geothermal springs are about as park-like as a place filled with child-mutilating hazards can be.  We even soaked our weary feet in one of the more survivable pools, which flowed into a cool river that offered instant relief whenever the heat became too much. 

Farther up this same river is Chae Son Waterfall.  When we visited, it was swollen with monsoon rains and running a deep, muddy brown.  Recent rain had even transformed the stepped path beside the falls into a miniature version of Chae Son’s seven tiers.  I hoped the rains feeding this torrent had passed, as we would soon need to drive over the mountains that drain into these falls.  

Route 1252 is one of the steepest paved roads in Thailand. In the 25 kilometers between Chae Son and Mae Kampong, it climbs at a sustained 15 percent gradient, steeper still at the summit switchbacks.  I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t at all concerned, especially given the heavy rains of recent weeks.

It also turned out to be one of the most beautiful drives we have ever taken in Thailand.  A damp road with such a steep gradient demanded careful driving, but rays of late-afternoon light cut through the canopy and illuminated the mist rising from the asphalt.  The views down mountain ravines from absurdly sheer cliffsides were more exhilarating than they were terrifying—though, occasionally, a little terrifying for sure.

The road was surprisingly empty, with just enough traffic to reassure me the drive could be done.  The sky had cleared by the time we reached the Kiew Fin viewpoint, which marks the border between Lampang and Chiang Mai. As we began our descent toward Mae Kampong, the road steepened further, but I’d found my stride and truly loved the drive.

As we drove further down the mountain, the wilderness gave way to scattered holiday homes.  But it wasn’t until we reached Mae Kampong Waterfall that we really saw anyone else at all.  Then they arrived in a flood.  First, we braked for a man taking a selfie in the middle of the road. Soon, we were weaving through clusters of people doing the same.  Before long, dozens of people milling around aimlessly had blocked the road entirely. We were in the center of a storybook village that could only have been Mae Kampong. 

I couldn’t reconcile the bizarre scene we’d just stumbled upon with the loneliness of the drive that preceded it.  I was vaguely aware of Mae Kampong as a popular day trip from Chiang Mai, but it hadn’t occurred to me just how popular.  The reason was obvious—it’s a gem.  We drove to our hotel past vignettes like a riverside wat covered in moss so thick it looked like an illustration from a fantasy novel.

That evening, we sat on our balcony overlooking the village.  The smell of woodsmoke hinted at how cold the mountain air would become once the sun set.  Few restaurants in Mae Kampong stay open once the day-trippers leave, so our hosts had arranged a hotpot for us on the terrace.  As Kat and I shared a bottle of wine while the kids restored themselves with rich bowls of beef broth, I wondered whether this whole “having a plan” business was not seriously overrated. 

Follow us as we drive south on stunning Highway 1048 in search of the Sea of Clouds at Phu Langka.