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Published: July 24th 2008
Our Trusty Steed.
Not much to do on this thing!!. Lucky the scenery was so awesome!.Prologue
Having spent 6 weeks touring through Cambodia and up through Laos it was high time we split up and headed on our ways. Sophie had a mother to meet in Hanoi and I had to find civilisation, breach the outer walls of Asia and stamp my mark on Australia.
I really didn’t think it was going to be this hard!!!!........
Day 1 - The Beginning Of The End.
So here begins the tale of the longest week of mine, and possibly anyone else’s life.
Myself and Sophie 2 (apologies to both Sophies, it’s just easier this way and seems to have stuck now) arrived on the 20-something of April in Luang Prabang (I think it was the 25th). Fresh from a particularly nasty bus journey through the mountains of Laos from Vang Vieng - during which we managed to take 8 odd hours to travel 250 km - we headed straight for the hostel to meet with Epke.
Luang Prabang was nice. Lovely views over the sludgy Meekong (think River Ankh) to the surrounding mountainsides, lots of temples and the world’s most pointless market. Seriously, this bloody market is like slowly walking
Epke living the dream.
Pretty indicative of the on-board entertainment available. past the background for Scooby-Doo endlessly, with about 5 different types of useless hippy tat being sold at over 200 market stalls. Still I got some nice paintings of monks for the old dear (thinking about it, I still haven’t sent them back to her).
It was decided that as our entrepid Dutch friend - and general nightclub enticing, trouble courting madman - Epke needed to get back to Bangkok for a flight to Rangoon (what a mistake that would turn out to be as he landed in Burma the day after the now infamous hurricane!!) he would accompany me up the Meekong for 2 days to Huay Xai and across the Thai-Laos border to Chiang Kong before heading down to Bangkok together.
Much curry was eaten, much Beer Laos was drank and the next day off we went: Myself and Epke to the docks, Sophie to the Plain of Jars and another Dutchie, Yolande, to the airport for a flight to Hanoi (cheater!!).
Being the first of the falang to board the long-boat (and I do mean long) we sat ourselves down for what turned out to be a good hour and a half of waiting.
By the time the boat cast off into the murky, pond coloured water of the Mekong, myself and Epke had been joined by a French couple (lovely) an Aussie from Perth (awesome) and a small motley collection of locals (stoic, poor and quiet but not un-inviting).
So we were off. Lots of kiddies fishing, nice hills, open river, mist etc and so forth. As the boat chugged loudly (read-deafeningly) up stream cameras where slowly replaced into bags, bananas where eaten, frivolity turned to quiet conversation; quiet conversation turned to silent contemplation; silent contemplation turned to mind destroying boredom. This in turned yielded to insane excitement as the banks closed in and superb limestone cliffs crowded towards us (see photo of far off cliffs). With the introduction of the rainforest either side of us the river is funnelled through a channel half the size as downstream.
Forcefully blasting it’s way through the highlands of Northern Laos, the Meekong had now transformed into a raging torrent of eddies, whirlpools and rapids. The weather, meanwhile, continued to taunt my flu ravaged body with bitter winds and the odd spattering of rain. I bravely - some would even say curmudgeonly - battled
on. Shrouded in my trusty Reef hoodie I sprawled against the edge of the boat with the hood over my head, Krafy Kuts in my ears studying the passing rainforest.
And so continued the first day of our journey, painfully inching our way upstream for a 8 full hours.
At regular intervals huge outcrops of rocks sprouted through the water, channelling the river’s fury into even tighter passages. The boat would battle on full throttle whilst a glance at the banks would reveal that our progress had slowed to a negligable crawl.
As the end of the day approached, with the sun sinking ever closer to the mountain peaks all foreign hands aboard began to despair of not even reaching
before night fall. Travelling up-river trying to dodge the submerged rocks and assorted flotsam had proved difficult enough with the benefit of navigable light, how would our esteemed pilot fare in the darkness?.
As it turned out we made it to the dock just as day light failed. We would come to wish we had died on the river……
Now Pak Beng, the halfway stop on our nautical meanderings to the Thai border, is - and do not mistake my venom for frustration from the day’s tedious passage - quote, A FUCKING SHIT HOLE, unquote.
Safe in the knowledge that ignorant westerners are only here for a single night, either on their way in or out of Laos, the locals are made up of scraggy, mingeing, horrible little urchins foisting crappy weed and fuck-knows-what masquerading as opium onto weary travellers. The hostel owners are no better. Myself, Epke and our aforementioned Australian boatmate struggled our way up the dodgiest, gnarled, ramp resting gently on what passes for a gunwale. Ubiqutous backpacks strapped to our backs we marched 50m up hill to the village. Upon arriving at said refugee camp for travellers we were beset by the usual smatterings of hostel runners and drug dealers and picked the one that looked least un-trustworthy. (I am aware of my use of the double negative. This is the only way to convey, in English, how to pick your landlord for the night whilst in these bizarre parts).
This hostel will forever live on in my memory as the most awesome place I ever stayed in Asia. Because it was the shittest. It was wicked fun.
Contained within the usual paper thin plastic walls of our room were two double beds with mosquito nets (unusually generous, I must say), about 20 of the loudest mosquitos ever to exist in Laos and 50 million bed bugs. But this was ok, bed bugs hate me. In fact down south whilst staying in Sekong, a town perched on the edge of the Bolaven plateau, Sophie came away with bites down an entire arm while I walked away without so much as a tickle, despite sleeping in the very same bed. Ha ha ha ha.
As is my tradition when arriving anywhere in the world, with the possible exception of work of a morning - and assuming I am not working on a building site - I bunged some tunes on and rolled a huge joint. Overworked bodies and woefully under-excercised brains hapilly satiated we headed out for dinner - spying, on the way out of the room, the biggest insect I have ever seen. Apparently it is a Christmas Bug. I wasn’t a fan.
Spilling out into the balmy night we headed for some food and possibly, if luck was shining down on our sinning asses, a venue to watch the Champions League final.
Having charged our way through various restaurant owners and dubious opium sellers we settled down for a few beers and opted for an early night, tomorrow’s arduous journey foremost in our minds.
Day 2 - As You Where.
Waking up the next morning, mercifully beg bug free, I chose to celebrate the impending expedition of doom with the old faithfull - breakbeat and a phatty.
At this point I should share some new found knowledge that you may be unaware of: neither Australians nor the Dutch enjoy being woken up by the Plumps vs Stanton warriors at 6.30 in the morning. Who knew?.
Upon surfacing from the veritable vivarium that is our room is was greeted by the most awe inspiring sight of the trip. Across the river from the town, partly shrouded by clouds, the mountains rose - dare I say it - majestically. (I couldn’t be arsed to use the thesaurus function here) If not inviting the traveller into the river, then at least charming away any forgivings he may have towards getting on it for another day.
Much as the day before, our second instalment of river madness flew by in a blur of walkman listening, eddie dodging and the endless games of shithead that have now become synonamous with travel days. It was halfway through the day when we all got our first sight of what would become a sad memory of the scenery: mass deforestation.
Where before we had been clinging to the outside of the boat, staring into the cornucopia of flora, craggy peaks and silent but audible animal life, we were now confined to sitting on the boat musing the destruction of one of the few sanctuaries of rainforest left undisturbed in Asia. Well, papers gotta come from somewhere, eh?.
As the second day finally came to a close we were spat out the other end of the mountain chain and on to a wide, flat valley stretching from the Thai border all the way to Chiang Mai. After another couple of hours of teasing Chiang Kong finally hove into view. At which point we swung over to the other side of the mile wide river and docked in Huay Xai on the Laos side. D’oh!. Don’t get me wrong, I loved every minute of being in Laos but fuck, I was ready for a 7-11.
As befitting our final night in Laos I did what I always did. Skinned up and headed out for a night of cheap Asian food and plenty of Beer Laos. Awesome!.
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Martin Coendoz
non-member comment
Eloquence
Yo Nick, Such eloquence and literary flow obviously emanate from the paternal contribution to your gene pool!! Old Man xx