Bago

Kyaiktiyo Pagoda - Golden Rock Temple

Just a few hours into my 27-day tour, riding along wide Highway 1 that veers northeast from Rangoon towards the historic town of Bago, it's a sweltering 35 degrees and there's little roadside shade and I'm feeling pretty frazzled.

So, when a string of shops appear, I pull up for a much-needed drink and grab the bike to shuffle it against the kerb, but instead there's a 'ping' and I find myself holding the top part of my Brooks Professional. The twin steel rails underneath have just snapped clean in half. Expletive deleted.

Merely a few years old, this cherished, hand-crafted leather seat suddenly appears useless and my look of disbelief is obvious - a rickshaw guy who sees me gawping at the various pieces gestures for me to follow him. Within in a minute we're at a dinky and dingy roadside workshop that has - apart from a chaotic jumble of engine parts - an arc welding set. I'm in luck.

It doesn't take long for the welder to fuse the rail ends together, but then nobody can get the seat's tension-bolt back in place. Three guys grapple, stomp and lever it - sadly without success - before opting to saw through the fresh welds and insert the tension-bolt. Finally the rails are re-welded back together and the hot seat is chucked into a bucket of grimy water to cool off - for the second time.

It'd been hard to watch my comfy pride and joy suffer such abuse, but I feel truly thankful that it's in one piece again; albeit soggy, slightly saggy and scratched to death. I hand a few dollar bills to everyone - aware this is more than a full day's wages for each - and watch their faces light up. Paying out never felt so good.

It takes me two days to get to Bago. It's all hot and flat, without a great deal to look at.

From dusty Bago, my plan is to detour east to visit Kyaiktiyo Pagoda, more commonly known as the Golden Rock, or Rock Temple. It's a popular pilgrimage site not too far away, but I decide not to ride there now as it seems my time would be better spent exploring the more mountainous north.

I liked this old bell so much that I ended up buying it

At my small hotel in Bago, the helpful receptionist tells me two German tourists are heading to the temple the next morning - they've booked a taxi - and suggests I get a lift. This'll save me at least two days of cycling along more flat, quite boring roads and after we three agree to split the cost, we decide to set off at sixish the next day.

it's a bumpy ride and after the taxi arrives at a tiny village at the base of the mountains, it's time to get out and join everyone else heading up to the sacred top. We pay the entrance fee and climb in the back of a big truck that shuttles us up a steep track to a higher parking area and from here everyone has to walk, which takes a couple of hours.

There's no way you could ride this - it's very steep with lots of steps near the top, so my bike would have had to have been locked up at the bottom if I'd have pedalled here - not something I'd really want to risk.

Finally at the top, we stroll barefoot towards the small pagoda, which stands on top of a golden rock - a huge, round granite boulder that's been given countless layers of gold leaf, paid for and applied by devotees. The rock sits precariously on a cliff edge and seems to defy gravity - according to legend, one of Buddha's hairs stops it from falling off the edge. It's a long way down.

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