Taking to the dirt roads in the fading light, we ran across another fantastic sight, and yet again, we were the only one's present. We walked around the Ywa Haung Gyi Pagoda, but saw that this one only had first floor access... but then we ran across one of the barred off gates leading to the stairs, and this one had been pried open ever so slightly. The opening looked impossibly small, yet we decided that we - as two adventurous, skinny (and stupid?) males - may as well try the squeeze. We made it! And beyond, an unusually large and tall staircase leading upward. This was not like the other locked pagodas, which were clean and well kept; this staircase had a layer of dust and grit over a millimeter thick, and insects - mainly mosquitoes - that rose in hordes of hundreds as we made our way up by headlamp. Gaining access to the upper level, we looked out at the landscape victorious. Eager to explore more, we made our way into the Buddha chamber where a Buddha sat so peacefully, he didn't even bother to wipe the bat droppings which covered him from lap, to plump and pleasant smiling-face. To our surprise, we found tucked away, a raised, smaller entrance to yet more stairs! We made our way up these, and exited these to a small balcony, with five more stairs leading to an upper veranda more than three stories up from where we started. From here we got an incredible view out above the jungle canopy, and of the uppermost stupa, looming another couple stories above us. We decided to walk around it in the rapidly increasing darkness.

It was a very narrow walkway strewn with rubble and a sloped wall (of stupa) on one side, and an unprotected drop of ~12 meters on the other - it was precarious, with many things to trip over - then Evan found a small entrance by the narrow edge. He took of the backpack, and got down on his stomach to crawl through, and naturally I followed. It was an eerie feeling being deep inside of locked-off and disregarded pagoda, and our every step, we hoped we wouldn't hear the sound of crumbling bricks. We were making our way through the tunnel encircling the inside base of the stupa, ducking to not hit our heads, when suddenly a the air seemed to move all around us WUMPH WUMPH WUMPH - our hearts skip a beat - the thundering echo of huge wings flapping. Relieved to find out the sound was no more than a large bat, we try to laugh away our sudden surprise, and decided we had spent enough time in that low, wide corridor. Crawling through the tiny hole back into the darkness of night was a welcome change from the claustrophobic inner promenade. Reaching the safety of the upper veranda, we switched off our headlamps so as not to be noticed - as we were after all 'out of bounds' in a wildly different world. The nighttime view from our new-found vantage point was terrific, and we decided this must be the place to view the mornings' sunrise, and hopefully catch a glimpse of the balloons over Bagan. 

Next Morning:

Heading back down the dirt roads to our new favourite haunt, we parked our bikes on the backside of the temple, so as to make it look like no one was there, then squeezed past the tight, slightly bent metal gate that freed us to the upper levels. Back into the Buddha chamber, and again up the secret stairway to the very top. We made it before sunrise, and were rewarded with the most incredible dawn of a new day experienced all trip. Huge flocks of hundred of birds stirred and took flight above the green expanse of the forest canopy, and in the distance, unnaturally round shapes grew in the horizon, blooming rapidly, mushroom-like. As hot air inflated them fully, the balloons lifted slowly from Earth, and began their flight across the brightening sky. We looked over to the nearest temple a couple of kilometers away, and noticed a tiny swarm of tourists all watching from their maybe two-story viewpoint. Evan and I sat alone, in pristine silence nearly 4 stories up, and experienced the morning like no other soul in the whole of Bagan. Though I missed out on viewing the sunrise from the famous Shwe San Daw Phaya, not a single bit of me regrets it.