Just a short ride from Chiang Mai City in northern Thailand, a small dirt path leads away from the city outskirts to the dense, green slope of Doi Suthep mountain.
Known to the locals as the Monk’s Trail, this overlooked path was once taken by Buddhist monks and devotees undertaking a pilgrimage from the foot of the mountain to the sacred summit above.
A sculpted hand reaches outward, adorned with garlands left by visitors.//Photo:Chamlong Boonsong
Today, the legendary passage offers a great escape, taking visitors from restless urban noise to stillness in the woods.
The path is not hard to climb, but roots and stones on the trail demand focus. Like slipping through a magic gate, it draws you in quickly.
Within minutes, the forest starts to wrap around the dirt track, casting the sunlight through layers of leaves. The air becomes dense with a strong sense of earth.
Here and there, strips of saffron cloth tied around tree trunks flicker into view. These markers lend the path a clear sense of direction and continuity—less a simple hike than a well-worn route shaped by those who have passed this way before.
And then, without warning, the forest parts, and a temple appears.
The temple of Wat Pha Lat doesn’t appear all at once, but reveals itself in fragments. Here and there, you start to see the moss-softened wall, the curve of a naga balustrade, the faint shimmer of water moving over rock.
The temple feels less constructed than discovered, as though it had been waiting patiently beneath the forest floor.
Founded in the 14th century during the late Lanna kingdom, Wat Pha Lat was never meant to be a destination. It served instead as a place for pause.
Pilgrims on their way to Wat Phra That Doi Suthep would stop here to rest and gather strength then continue upward. Though modern roads have redrawn those routes, the temple’s original purpose lingers.
It remains a threshold—a space between movement and stillness. That distinction is becoming increasingly relevant.
In the age of modern-day travel, the visitor-cum-content creator will probably prioritize speed and arrival: reaching the landmark, securing the view, capturing the moment and posting it on social media.
Moss-covered makara sculptures stand guard at the gateway to Wat Pha Lat.//Photo:Chamlong Boonsong
Wat Pha Lat resists those expectations. There is no single focal point here, and no fixed route through its grounds. Instead, the best experience unfolds gradually—through trees, sound and atmosphere.
Set amid the lush, forested grounds of Wat Pha Lat, you will soon discover a cluster of modest buildings and monuments reflecting the site’s history.
At the center of the site, a standing Buddha sculpture rises from a shaded hollow. Vines cluster at the base and its weathered surface sits amidst dense greenery.
A sculpted hand extends outward, draped with garlands left by visitors. Beads, flowers and small tokens tell you that a number of visitors made it here from time to time, and left a trace in a place shaped over the decades.
Covered by moss and ferns, the old stupa rises from the undergrowth with a softened, timeworn look. Built around the 1930s in Burmese style, its original form is similar to the chedi at Wat Mahawan on Tha Phae Road.
During World War II, however, looters sneaked in, dug up the pagoda, and took all the valuables before leaving the collapsed spire on the ground. What you see today is the result of careful restoration, bringing the monument back to somewhere close to its original form.
Nearby, a modest well—regarded by some as a sacred spring—shows signs of restorations. It is thought to date back to the reign of King Kuena, around the time the Buddha relic was enshrined on Doi Suthep. Beyond its spiritual story, the well served a practical function, providing water for daily use.
Tucked within the lush forest of Wat Pha Lat, the site lingers as a quiet threshold between movement and stillness.//Photo:TAT Chiang Mai Office
Water runs as a constant through Wat Pha Lat. It threads quietly through the grounds, slipping over stone ledges and pooling in shallow basins, its steady, unobtrusive flow forming a natural backdrop to the site.
Around it, the temple’s structures—wooden halls, brick stupas and weathered statues—bear the marks of time and climate. Edges are softened under layers of moss and lichen, lending the complex a muted, timeworn texture that blends almost seamlessly into the surrounding forest.
To spend time here is to adopt a different sense of pace. Beneath tall trees, a seated Buddha sculpture rests in composed stillness, its features worn but intact.
Stone sculptures dot the grounds of Wat Pha Lat, lending the site a quiet sense of mystery.//Photo:Chamlong Boonsong
Nearby, candles—recently extinguished—leave faint traces of smoke in the air.
There are no monks calling out for donations, no lines forming, no vendors, no sense of urgency pressing from behind. Even the buildings and sculptures appear to defer to their surroundings. Two wooden structures are tucked beneath the canopy, while brick and stone are covered by moss.
There is no urgency to move on, no pressure to see more.
Through breaks in the trees, you can see glimpses of Chiang Mai appearing below—fragments of rooftops and roads set against the broader landscape. So close yet so far, the city can be seen from the forest temple, but its intensity and nuisance are muted by distance.
Feels less built than found—Wat Pha Lat emerges quietly from the forest, as if it had been there all along.//Photo:TAT Chiang Office
Wat Pha Lat does not offer any resolution to the uncertainties of the present moment. Its value lies elsewhere—in its capacity to recalibrate attention. By slowing movement, by reducing noise, it creates space for reflection that is increasingly difficult to find.
As the path descends back toward the city, the transition reverses. Sound returns, signals reconnect, and the wider world resumes its presence. Yet something lingers—a subtle adjustment in tempo, a residual quiet that endures beyond the forest.
Places like Wat Pha Lat do not remove us from the world. Rather, they reframe our relationship with it—offering a steadier vantage point from which to engage with its complexities.
At the heart of the sanctuary, a standing Buddha rises from a shaded hollow.//Photo:Chamlong Boonsong
Getting There
The Monk's Trail begins near the Chiang Mai Zoo on Huay Kaew Road. A songthaew or taxi from the Old City takes about 15 minutes. For the return, you can retrace your steps or continue up to Doi Suthep and arrange transport from there
