Pathet Lao Caves, Vieng Xay, Laos
NOTE: This blog is NOT based on an organized tour.
This is a group of friends riding the same route as our MotoQuest Tour, and having many of the same experiences that our tour participants have in Laos, but not staying in the same places as the tour participants do. We are traveling on a shoestring budget, and our lodging reflects that. During our MotoQuest Tour, we stay at the highest level of accommodation in each town. DO NOT confuse this blog for our organized tour!
Xong River, Vang Vieng, Laos.
1-7-10
It's early morning in Vang Vieng, Laos, just before sunrise. The light of the sun has not yet touched the mountain tops and the coolness of the air is soothing. It's that magical time of the morning when the crickets give way to the roosters...nightshift for day shift. A clear flowing river named the Xong drifts past me quietly. The backdrop is stunning: enormous limestone karsts reach to the sky and frame in the scene. Silently, these fog-covered giants loom overhead. Now, the occasional hammer can be heard. A motorbike goes by. The day is starting and the temperature is about 70 degrees. There's a feeling of serenity that is almost palatable.
Boats on the Xong River, Vang Vieng
I came to Laos for the first time three years ago on a suggestion from a friend of mine. He said that this was one of the last untouched places on earth - that it still had a sense of a lost paradise. I never thought of coming to Laos...or at least making it a priority before that. I would not say no to going anywhere, but Laos was not high on the list. Now I am back for the third time, and that strange, tranquil feeling is working its way under my skin once again.
The Limestone Karsts of Vang Vieng.
There is a peacefulness in Laos that is hard to understand until you are there. It overwhelms you. It's not a sudden shock to the system, but rather a slow, unrelenting feeling that flows through you silently. It penetrates your soul, picks you up gently and takes you with it....much like the river that is flowing before me.
Rag-tag crew, left to right: Colin, Jason, Lynn, Bill (standing), Simon, Phil
We came to Laos this time to make a documentary travel film. It's a project that a group of us have been working on for the past few years - a motorcycle travel log. We have been choosing different countries, riding around, getting in adventures, and keeping the cameras rolling. We are not sure what direction this project will lead, but its a damn good excuse to get distant friends together and go on an adventure.
We are from all over. Simon is from South London, and comes from a blue collar background, and has mastered a thick South London accent, which at times, is hard for even him to understand.
Jason also comes from England, works for the BBC in Nottingham, and sports the proper public school english dialect. It reflects him well, as he is arguably the most decent, hard working and responsible one of us all.
Colin is originally from Scotland, edits television shows in the real world, and is, how can I say it, Scottish. If you close your eyes while he is talking, you would think that you are standing next to Sean Connery. When you open your eyes, you would think you are staring at a skinhead.
Lynn is from Boise, Idaho and is an Architect in real life. He came to Laos 7 years ago, and has been coming back ever since.He is the one that told me about Laos, and the reason we are all here. He's got the laid-back, western american way of talking and looking at the world. For him, Laos is the paradise that he has been searching for.
Laos is a beautiful country with peaceful people.
Bill hails from Toronto, Canada, and has joined us on several of these missions around the world. By work, he is a trucking agent. By spirit, he is a motorcycle adventurer. His wit is direct, cutting, and positive. He's got a bit of the David Spade about him. He can dissect a subject, purify the essence, and spoon-feed his audience with little pearls of wisdom in a clear, mischievous way. There is no end to the laughter he has created with his remarks of any given situation.
Me? I was born and raised in Alaska, and live in the sleepy ski town of Girdwood. I have been organizing motorcycle tours and rentals there for the past 11 years under the company name of Alaska Rider Tours. I have organized tours here in Laos for the past couple of years and wanted to show these friends of mine this unique and beautiful country. Of the group, It is Simon I first met, when he came on one of my trips in Alaska. Since then, through the business and through Simon, I have met each of the other members. Each year, we pick an exotic destination, meet up, film and ride.
On the road from Vientiane to Luang Prabang.
We arrived in the capital city of Vientiane in waves starting a week ago. Only Lynn and I had been to Laos before, and we were excited to have a great ride here, and show the rest of the group this incredible country. I think what appeals to me about this country most is its exotic and nebulous nature. Mystery still enshroud this far-away enclave. You tell somebody back home you are headed to Laos, and they usually don't know what to say....simply because there isn't anything for them to base an opinion on. It seems that Laos has been, and will always be, off the radar.
Laos has a population of roughly only 6,000,000 people and is the size of California and Oregon combined. It retains its own identity, language and culture eventhough it has been surrounded by larger and much more influential neighbors. Neither China, Vietnam, or Thailand have conquered or kept this small country. How could such a country manage to hold its own encircled by such power players? That is the big question. How could it slip through the period of French colonization and american bombardment and retain its own identity? Laos sits landlocked and time-locked, magically, through it all.
I'm not here to say that everything is rosy. It is a real world third world: starving puppies in the streets, garbage everywhere, open sewers....it exists below a standard of living that most americans would consider dirt poor. But, what does it have? An identity, a pride, and a rhythm of life that peacefully travels through time. It is perceptible when you arrive for the first time in Laos that this country is moving to its own tranquil drummer. Whatever you left behind you in your fast-paced world, could not be further off..... slow down, you are now in Laos.
Children coming back from school.
The most moving experience I find in Laos are the people. It would be hard to find a more serene attitude. You walk the street and your eyes are met by friendly eyes: children, old men and women, young men and women. It's as if the entire country is trying to outdo each other with smiles. It's a bit of a competition of invitation. At first its surprising, then its understood: the Laotians are living at a slower pace. They are all hard-wired this way.
Our planned journey will take us to the northern part of the country. We have 12 days, and only a few objectives. We want to visit Luang Prabang, the UNESCO world heritage city and old world capital of Laos. After that, we want to head north to the small town of Muang Khua...a melting pot trading cross-roads off the grid. Then, we head to Sam Nue and a tour of the prophetic Pathet Lao caves and the very center of the communist revolution which took place here 40 years ago, and where an entire functioning city within a network of caves endured 9 years of American bombardment. After that, we plan to visit Phonsovan and the famed Plain of Jars - one of the most mysterious archeological sites in the world.
The Plain of Jars
We started riding out of Vientiane yesterday. We loaded our bikes on the busy street in front of our hotel in rising heat. Being that I had just come from winter in Alaska, the 85 degrees is a shocker, and I was pouring down sweat as I tried to figure out the best way to strap on a mountain of luggage onto my bike.
The challenge always is how it will all fit and each trip during the first day I always take the heat from the rest of the group about what a junk show I am. I guess its good for me to be there, so the rest of the group feels better about themselves. We are riding Honda Baja 250's. Not a big bike, but at least they are equipped with luggage racks so that we can strap ungodly amounts of stuff on them. As I was sweating and strapping, I heard the giggles from my compadres once more: snickers of "leaning tower of pizza" and the like. So what, as long as most of it does not fall off!
The Honda Bafa 250's are perfect for this type of riding.
After over an hour, we were ready to go. Bikes were started, the usual nod of acknowledgement went around the group, and we were off...through the busy streets of Vientiane. The traffic out of town was by no means out of hand, but still grabbed our attention: a myriad of mopeds, mopeds pulling rackety carts, cows, dump trucks belching black smoke..it is all brought a smile to my face as I realized we were on the road in an exotic place, out of our element.
As we weaved our way north, it dawned on me that the traffic reflected the mood of the people: tranquil. It's no race course, and you don't have honking nor someone riding right up your $%! the whole time. Rather, the traffic lines are arbitrary, and the whole mood of the traffic has a easy softness....give a little, take a little with no real rushed feeling about it.
After about 40 minutes, the road turned to just two lanes and the buildings fell away to rice fields. Cows started taking the place of automobiles on the road. They just do what they want, and you find that they are the ones with the right-of-way.
Gaining elevation with limestone mountains in the background.
We rallied at a peaceful restaurant overlooking a slow moving river. Colin commented that the Lao people seemed to not see us, or at least , pay extra attention to us. We got the occasional smile as we headed down the road, but for the most part, they saw right through us. We got no attention from the locals as we were stopped at the side of the road. This is a far cry from other countries I have ridden, specifically India. It's this live and let live atmosphere that is forever Laotian.
Most of the ride was flat and straight and the scenery was pastoral. We crossed a few rivers and passed through some smaller towns. We were never riding faster than 40 miles an hour, and still were passing almost everybody. The road was paved and coarse and about a lane and a half wide. We passed hoards of uniformed school children on bicycles, stilted houses with families playing and interacting under them, and farmers planting rice in the fields. There was a farmer pulling a water buffalo down the center of the road by a nose ring.... Yep, we were in Southeast Asia!
Xong River, Vang Vieng
We arrived in Vang Vieng just before sunset. Our hotel sat in one of the prettiest spots imaginable with the river Nam Xong flowing in front of it and limestone mountains that I had described before. As the sun set and the colors changed from yellows to oranges, we recanted the days ride. There were many laughs and a sense of contentment. It had been a long, hot day and some of us were still jet-lagged. Its not long after that that we started to our rooms to catch up on sleep.
The next day we loaded up our bikes in 75 degree weather. The sun was warming up, and I was again sweating as I strapped on my luggage to the motorcycle. Our goal for today was the historical city of Luang Prabang. The road started out winding its way through towering limestone karsts. I marveled at the striking contrast of flat fields and sudden rock towers. We stopped at one point where the road cut through a broad valley, framed in by these limestone sentinals. There were hundreds of workers scattered throughout the patchwork of rice fields. Some workers were planting and some were tilling with basic machines. Many of the workers were wearing the trademark triangle thatched hat. It was an idyllic scene of southeast asia. As we stood on the roadway, I took in the entire panorama. One of the workers looked up from planting and smiled. A group of uniformed school children on bicycles enthusiastically chattered with each other as they headed toward us. As they passed, they all smiled and said, "Sabai Dee". (Hello). It still surprised me that when you were greeted by children in Laos. They don't break into English and say "Hey Mister!" or something like it. They always greeted you with their greeting. The country, down to its children, maintained a uniquely Laotian way. This soft spoken way of life ran through the entire country. Is this how Lao had continued to maintain its own culture and language through the ages?
Limestone Karsts of Laos
We headed into the mountains, and the scenery turned more profound as we gained altitude. The road was incredibly curvy as we climbed. The lighting of the clouds and rays of light streaking downward with towering mountains in the background made for a dreamy scene. As we gained altitude, you could see off to the distance range after range of low mountains. We spent hours riding into these, and you got the sense of just how rugged this country was. We stopped for lunch at the small cross roads town of Phou Kone. It was no more but an intersection, and did not have too much traffic. The roads were lined with market stalls selling everything from fruits to hardware. Like most places we visited so far, each scene was packed with interesting people and activities, but not overwhelming that it was overstimulating. And, as we got off the bikes, we seemed to attract almost no attention. When I traveled by motorcycle, this was not usually the case. What a welcomed change!
We sat down to lunch and I ordered the group Pha Kai (chicken noodle soup). The bowl came with chopsticks and a side dish of fresh lime, lettuce, and mint. The table condiments included an arsenal of hot sauces, hot pastes, and dry pepper. The lunch was delicious, no doubt healthy, and only $3.
Chicken Noodle soup, Laotian style.
The rest of the afternoon was one curve after another for the rest of the 115 kilometers. Along the way, we passed many small villages. Each village was literally on top of the road. When children stepped out of their houses, they were stepping onto the main highway. Most of the houses were on stilts and made of bamboo and wood. The lower levels were open-aired and used by the family as the kitchen, playground, and relax room. Often times, you'd see men swinging by a hammock there, enjoying a smoke. Puppies, chickens and pigs were seen scampering about. All of the animals and children were on the road too, so you needed to slow way down when you rode through each town. As you passed through one, invariably the children came out of the woodwork to smile and wave at you as you went by. You could read their lips as the said "Sabai Dee" as you went past. It seemed the entire countryside was overrun by children under the age of 12. You could not help but wonder about the challenges of this country as the younger generation got older. Where will they work? Where will they go? How will such a small country incorporate such a large work force? What will the effects of this be on the country as a whole? I don't hold the answers to these questions, but somehow Lao will have to.
Children work alongside adults in Laos.
In many of the towns, people lined the roads slapping what looked like bundles of reeds on the road surface. I was told they were making brooms, and were knocking off all the small seed-like leaves from the stems. The residue of these "leaves" swirled around on the surface of the roadway, and created small clouds, which smelled like fresh cut grass. Some of the particles in the air worked their way into your eyes, stinging them. As you passed all of these people making brooms, I wondered how much money they earned per day. I knew that it was not much. The other burning question for me was: Who is going to use all these brooms? It seems that half the towns were employed at this. What if a synthetic broom factory started up in Laos? What would all the people do then?
Along the road, nearly the entire way, there was one more great project in the works. Hundreds of people with picks and shovels were digging a trench about three feet deep by one foot wide. At the end of our ride, we came across a truck and a crew unravelling a fiber optics spool. Pick and shovel and fiber optic: This country advanced from one age to the next, the only way it could. Todays technology was seen all throughout life here: A woman lead a water buffalo to the rice paddy while on a cell phone.
A Laotian dog rests by the road.
1-8-10
We arrived in Luang Prabang late in the afternoon. The temperature of the day had been largely perfect, ever since we started to gain elevation. The sun started its first change of hews as we made our way to a sleepy side street, and pulled our bikes into a french-style guest house courtyard. Luang Prabang used to be the capital city of Laos, and had been for centuries. Now it was a UNESCO world heritage city. The downtown area had over 60 temples, and adhered to strict traffic laws so that large trucks and the like could not enter it. They were trying to preserve its original flavor. The town sat serenely at the confluence of the Mekong and Khan rivers. River traffic from Thailand and China came from the north and Thailand, Laos and Cambodia from the south. The river itself was chocolate in color and moved at fair clip.
Walking the streets of Luang Prabang was a treat. Again, the peacefulness was overwhelming. As we strolled to the city center, the night market was starting. The main street was cordoned off, and hundreds of vendors, underneath uniform red canopies, sold anything imaginable to passing tourists. There was a quiet air about the entire town, and not a loud sound of any shape could be heard. Monks walked the streets everywhere. It was here that many young men came from the countryside to live a life of a monk for a time before growing into adulthood.
Monks dry their robes in Laung Prabang.
We walked to the steep banks of the Mekong, and found a small family-run open-aired restaurant perched overlooking the river. The sun was dipping on the horizon, and the colors of brilliant oranges, reds and yellows filtered through the palm trees. We watched the boat traffic cruise by. Tourist boats, working boats...all of them seem to be of the same elongates style, no matter the size. We were served by a girl about 7 years old, who obediently took our order without writing it down. The family owned a curio shop across the street, and the girl took the order to the back room of their shop. Industrial people they were, running a tourist shop and restaurant out of the same place.
I spent the next day walking the streets of Luang Prabang. The atmosphere was safe, comfortable, slow paced and friendly. I could not help but admire the day-to-day activities of the locals. Some were cooking over open pots in the street, some were playing with children, and some are chatting. No locals seemed to pay too much mind of you as a foreigner. There were many tourists from all over the world here. You could hear a dozen languages as you walked the streets.
A statue of Buddha in Luang Prabang.
Monks were everywhere. They walked usually together, silently, and many times with their heads down. They floated seamlessly between buildings, through passage ways, and past temples. I could not imagine what it would be like to live their lifestyle. I wondered if I could do it. As I walked, I saw one older monk with a little monk in a headlock. They are both giggling. Then I passed by an opening and spied one monk boy pulling the others robe, who was trying to get away. Both were laughing. Yep, boys will be boys!
We ate at an elegant restaurant that evening. It was a boutique hotel of french architecture with lofted ceilings and hard wood floors. We sat out on the second story balcony and overlooked the courtyard and main street. A minstrel played some laotian music as an elegantly dressed girl danced on a bed of rose peddles. The food was excellent, and the price was astoundingly low. The music drifted through our group as we recanted stories. Luang Prabang always set a stage of magic and tranquility.
We would be leaving the next day, so we should hold on to this memory.
1-09-10
We rode out of Luang Prabang started along the Mekong river north. The day started off hot as we left town. We crossed a motorcycle only bridge on our way north. This country lives and breaths motorcycles. They are a fundamental element of life here in Laos. Motorcycles are used to commute, to haul people as taxis, to haul entire families and are generally the main source of transportation throughout the country. You'll see girls talking back and forth between their mopeds as they ride home from work. You'll see 3, even four people at a time on a 150 cc moped, on their way to somewhere.
The ride took us by dozens of small villages. Pigs, turkeys, chickens, dogs, cats, goats, and children lined the roads through each town. When the first bike of our group passed, the children became aware that a foreigner had ridden by. By the last bike of the group, the entire road was sometimes lined with children, all waving a and smiling, mouthing the words "Sabai Dee". To see these children with such open smiles welcome us as we rode past could only bring a smile to my face. Such dirt poor level of living by our standards, but you could see that the population was well-fed and welcoming. I realized that these children don't know anything else but this way of life. They have no expectations like we do. In fact, during our entire stay here, I rarely heard a child scream or cry out. It seemed that there was this general contentment with life here throughout the country. How is it that people are so content without all the material wealth that we are taught to have to make us happy? Here there is food, family, and identity.
We lunched at the town of Oudem Sai. It was a fairly large trading crossroads. We passed trucks hauling mopeds south from China. We headed north east towards the small town of Muang Khua that afternoon. The road was known by local foreign riders as the "Sabai Dee Highway". This was a road off the beaten track, and when our group passed through a town, we almost got a rock star welcome by all the children. "Sabai Dee...Sabai Dee!!!" they all yelled as we raced past. The road was in great condition, and dipped and turned as the sun pushed us from our backs. We passed rice fields, bamboo forests and rode along a river for most of the time with the sun slowly setting. Yet again, the colors of the sunset enhanced our elongating shadows. The group rode in uniform: one long serpentine, as we rolled on and off the throttle through the countryside.
Muang Khua, Laos.
After a long day, we finally pulled into Muang Khua just as the sun slipped behind the hills. We found rooms at a backpackers hotel, unpacked our bikes and got settled in for the night. The accommodations were less than a half a star, but the price was right, and the location was great. We sat overlooking a river scene that was something out of 1800's expedition novel. Long boats lined the turquoise river. Chickens and dogs scavenged the sandy river beach. Boat people sat quietly around campfires on the beach. There was no bridge crossing the river, eventhough this was becoming a trading crossroads with Vietnam. Hanoi was only 200 miles to the east. An old chinese river boat pushed a ferry attached to a cable and pulley system back and forth across the river. Trucks, people and motorcycles crossed as the old dinosaur of a diesel engine belched black smoke and resounded a great roar throughout the river valley. Who knows how long this system had been in place. Where was this old river boat built? How long had it been is service? We were told that the rivers' water level fluctuated so much, that a bridge was not in the immediate plans. The town was a real ethnic mix: you could hear Chinese and Vietnamese being spoken in the street.
The ferry crossing at Muang Khua, Laos.
That night, we slept to a cacophony of toads, roosters, the occasional river boat, and some random cougher. The roosters seemed to think that dawn started around midnight. The toads were just being toads. No one in our group slept very well. But at $3 a night, what were we complaining about?
Awaking early the next morning, the fog enshrouded the hill tops and the temperature was just on the cool side. The old chinese river boat was up and running and pushing people across the river. People washed their cloths in the river, some washed their hair. A few people were brushing their teeth. Some young men worked on constructing a river boat. The usual cast of characters of chickens, dogs and pigs, still rummaged around on the beach. Life had started in its usual way in this remote river town.
People wash their clothes, their hair and brush their teeth in the Nam Ou River.
1-10-10
We went down to the river where the main boat office was and asked if it was possible for us to load our bikes on a couple of their boats. We wanted to head down the Ou River to the small town of Nong Khiaw, about a 5 hour boat ride south. After much bartering, we arrived at a price and a promise: they could load three bikes and three people into one boat, for a total of two boats. Then, with a little extra incentive (A case of beer) a group of men and women agreed to load the bikes into the boats. They talked for a while after that, holding a makeshift tape measure - a strand of bamboo - this way and that and there was much of discussion. I could see that the roofs of the boat were too low for the bikes to fit, so we went around and loosened all of the handle bars and turned them down as far as they could go. The bike loaders were very pleased about this, and then went about their business, loading one bike at a time. It must have taken an hour, with many on-lookers. After much grunting and group lifting, the bikes were finally positioned inside the boats, strapped down and ready to go.
A group loads a motorcycle onto a boat in Muang Khua, Laos.
A case a beer appeared in front of the group of bike loaders, and as we pulled away from this distant outpost, the group was smiling and all drinking beer and waving us goodbye. 10 AM in the morning and we leave a happy group of people, splitting a fat hog. We turned our thoughts and eyes to the river. There was a new road that went along the river for quite a while. Apparently, its the new road to Vietnam. This country was changing fast. There was progress everywhere you looked: new buildings and new roads were popping up each year. I thought to myself how interesting it will be to see how this country progresses over the next few years. There isn't even a McDonalds in the entire country....for now.
Riding down the Nam Ou River.
The river parted from the road, and immediately the river life took over. We passed several very small villages. Only a few huts could be seen from the river. Water buffaloes wallowoed on the sandy beaches, ears lazily flapping at flies. Some of them sat content in the water, their noses and eyes only perceptible above the water. Boat traffic was slight. Some boys were out casting fishing nets. One boat hauled tourists. A man sat in his boat and fixed his fishing line. There were children playing in the sand below a village. They waved to us. The cows had a monopoly of all the good sandy beaches. The river was everything. It connected all life. After several hours, large limestone peaks inched towards us. Before long, we were surrounded by these sheer cliff walls and heavily forested slopes carpeted with exotic trees of all kinds. Immense trees. Some of the slopes were too steep to cultivate, so the first generation of trees still went on. It was nice to see that not everything had been deforested.
Limestone canyon on the Nam Ou River.
The canyon at the end of the day was simply spectacular. After hours of riding down the river, you became entranced. The drone of the engine lulled me to complacency. There was nothing to do but to watch the river life go by . The sky was clear save for a few white puffy clouds and the air was clean and fresh. The temperature hung around 80 degrees and a cool wind poured through us. More children waved as we passed by. The day went on like this until we reached Nong Kiaw.
Nam Ou River from Muang Ngoi.
Once there, we pulled up to a very steep and long stairway. It was too steep to ride, and bikes had to be carried up one-by-one to the town level high above. We bartered once again with a group of motorcycle lifters, and agreed on a price. The group was mostly barefoot women. One by one, the group hauled each motorcycle out of the boats and up the stairs. The sun was now setting as we crossed the bridge and went down a goat path to our bungalows overlooked the river. The scene was fantastic from my bungalow. I stepped out of on the deck and the river flowed below me at the foot of a towering limestone karst. You could not fit it all in one photo....so it was best just to take it in. The river life slowly went on as the sun set, and pulled the curtains of the day.
The bungalow was clean with hard wood floors, and a king size bed with a safari-style mosquito net. It was so nice to relax and lay back......not having to worry about the scurrying of fist size cockroaches...
The next morning, the mist was still hanging above the river and and all was silent. We would be headed through tiger county to the town of Sam Nue through virgin forests and by way of thousands of curves.
The group leaves Nong Khiaw.
1-11-10
Yesterdays ride was a long one. We rode over 200 miles of narrow paved roads winding through incredibly mountainous country. We started the day early and were on the road by 9AM. The road was headed east up and over mountain after mountain. We again passed dozens of small villages with the usual scenes: kids lining the streets waving, cows, pigs, chickens and goats walking in the road. It was curve after curve with little or no traffic. Each town was adorned with Lao and the sickle-and-hammer communist flags. We stopped only briefly a couple of times during the day. Indeed, this was a long day, and we needed to arrive in Sam Nue before dark. I stopped on a bridge and looked into the clear river. Dozens of fish darted to a fro, feeding on something. Small bamboo fences surrounded gardens along the river. A child stopped his bicycle to ask me where I was from in English. A couple of others stopped and watched the conversation silently. The children were the true ambassadors. They were fearless when it came to something new or something strange. It was the children under the age of 8 that were always waving. Anyone over the age of 10 usually did not wave. Its curious that something happens when we grow older and are taught rules and conformity and the proper way of doing things. I guess our real insecurities are not formed until we are older. In reality, nothing stops being new and exciting. But we act like it does.
Children carrying children is a common sight in Laos.
I passed a small town where they had row upon row of brooms drying in the sun. I laughed out loud when I saw a water buffalo chewing a bunch of them down. There go the profits! There was a 60 kilometer section of road that was paved, but no wider than a bicycle path. Every corner seemed to have gravel strewn across it. The vistas from the highlands were amazing. Layer upon layer of mountains drifted into infinity. You could not spend too long looking at it, as the next gravel-strewn corner was upon you before you knew it. Its the scenery, not the traffic, that is the true danger when traveling by motorcycle.
Most of the day was cool, and the shade was even cooler. It was refreshing and I was glad for this. The ride out of Vientiane was hot. Not miserable hot, but enough to sap you of your strength. We approached 5,000 feet and entered a forest of pine trees. The sun started to hit that magical angle where the colors of everything were highlighted. I looked at the group ahead of me as they skirted rice fields. A herd of water buffalo grazed throughout the field. The entire field was bordered by pine trees. In that light, cruising at a brisk pace with the fresh air, friends and an exotic surrounding, I could only think of how exciting life is. How, in such a wonderful setting, you can put yourself if you want to take a chance. It is only up to ourselves to experience this world to the fullest.
Night fell as we pulled into Sam Nue. The town was not very big, but very busy. There were only a couple of hotels in town, and we rode up to one and arranged some rooms for the group. We checked in and went looking for a restaurant. This was not a tourist town, and it was refreshing to see life go on, as usual, with the locals.
A cobra sits suspenden in Lao Lao - The Laotian Mooshine.
We found a restaurant and ordered chicken wings, which were not just wings but random pieces and parts of tough meat. I commented as I pulled a piece of bone from my mouth that eventhough the meat was tough, it was probably better for you than the hormone-injected meat that we ate back home. I laughed as I leaned back in a plastic chair. It shattered and I sent the beer on the table traveling. Everyone laughed at this, and I handed the waiter a $5 bill to cover the damage. He declined to take it, then finally did. Later, he came back with change. $3 for a plastic chair.
That night, I settled in for some sleep but could not. Sharp pains meandered through my stomach. It fealt like a small porcupine was rolling around in there...or a christmas tree that was going through my system backwards. I didn't get sick, but there was no comfortable position for over 4 hours. Well, that is traveling: sometimes its fun, and sometimes it's not!
The next day the group as a whole seems tired and we opted to do nothing for the day. We checked e-mail, walked the market and took naps. Some of us went out for a day ride. It was a good day, as we were all healthy and recharged for another day of adventure.
1-13-10
We decided to go to Vieng Xay, a town just 30 kilometers out of Sam Nue. It was here that the Pathet Lao communist political movement took refuge between 1964 to 1974 in a network of caves. The caves numbered in the 100's and acted as a functioning city complete with hospitals, barracks, administrative offices and entertainment halls. There were over 20,000 people living here while the United States conducted their secret bombing campaign against them. Almost every day for 9 years they were bombed by a country that most of the people knew nothing about. We took a two hour tour of some of the caves that day. Each of us was outfitted with an audio guide, which we all listened to as we followed our laotian guide by motorbike from cave to cave. The audio program was new, and was very well done. It does not take a stance either way, but merely tells the story with candid interviews from people who lived through that time.
Vieng Xay, Laos.
We visited the main administrative caves, the barracks and the main entertainment hall. The scale of the network of caves was amazing. We walked through these natural caves, listening to the audio guide, and tried to imagine how it was, living in such conditions.
The story of these people, and how they finally came to power against the will of a much stronger country was moving. It was not a story that made you proud to me an American. But then again, this story happened in another time and political atmosphere. I could only hope that we had learned from this experience as a country. I thought that the tour of the Pathet Lao caves should be a prerequisite for each and every American. Though we are the most powerful country on earth, we don't hold the wisdom to control it. None of us do.
United States ordinance dropped during the secret war.
When we left the caves, I felt anger and disbelief at what countries would do to each other. And, as we rode out of Vieng Xay, a couple of boys ran to the side of the road and smiled and waved at us yelling "Sabai Dee."
1-14-10
We headed up into the clouds and rode the mountains tops blind for most of the day as we headed south to Phonsavan. At times, the fog was so thick that we would be crawling along slowly, trying to determine what was ahead of us, and find out that we are in the middle of a village! At one point, we rode through children playing a hopscotch-style game. The children saw us, jumped back from the game and cheered as we went by. We did not expect it to be so cold in Laos, especially after the heat of Vientiane.
The road was in good condition and by the end of the day, the cloud level lifted, and we were able to pick up the pace. The Bajas 250's were underpowered, but we grew used to them, and they were fun to throw around in the corners. They were perfect bikes for over there, as the roads were narrow, steep and twisty. A bigger bike would not have helped you here. And, since it was the biggest bike in the country for rent the ego did not take a hit either!
We lunched at the small town of Nam Neun. It was a small town at the bottom of a steep valley with a beautiful river running through it. Near the bridge, you could see V-shaped rock constructions in the river. They were walls funneling the current to a point where there was a bamboo frame securing small electrical generators. The generators where running off a propeller being spun by the current. Only a solo wire connected each generator, and was suspended across the river back to the town. The town ran off maybe a dozen of these. Though not a high output of power, there was enough green energy being created to satisfy this towns electricity needs.
Umbrellas at a market in Laos.
We rode down into the town and went into one of the stalls for lunch. There was an open-aired market with many people buying and selling foods and goods. Brooms were laid out drying in the sun, and a truck full of firewood was being unloaded by a group of people. We sat down at a table kicking up a swarm of flies. A minibus was parked out front with a streak of vomit out of one of the windows, down the side.
Jason is from Nottingham, England.
We ordered egg soup and settled in, enjoying the flies. The soup was excellent. In fact, this was one of the best lunches of the trip. We were in a Laotian town off the beaten track, and were the only foreigners in town. Some boys stood off to the side and watched us curiously. Bill said that if there was a suggestion box, he would have suggested that they get rid of the flies.
Bill is from Toronto, Canada.
We came down the mountains at the end of the day and made a straight shot across the valley to Phonsavan. The temperature finally warmed up, though it stayed cloudy. The road was empty as we really had a chance to crack the throttle open and enjoy some sweepers. The usual scenes flew by: stepped rice fields, stilted bungalows, water buffaloes, cows and geese on the roadways. In fact, the cows owned that particular roadway. There were more of them on the road then trucks!
Simon is from London, England.
We pulled into our hotel, got settled in, and went across the road for a BeerLao. We ate dinner and recanted the ride and the experience at the Pathet Lao caves. The weather continued to be cold, and we could see our breaths when we sat outside. After dinner, Simon and I went across the street to a bar to have one more beer. As we sat down, a group of Laotians called over to us from another table, and asked us to join them. This happened all the time, and it always turned out to be fun. We sat with this group, as they cooked over a central mettle platter. The platter had a mound in the center with a trough all around. It sat on a bed of coals. The group took turns laying pieces of meat and pork fat on the top of the center mound. They poured a broth made of cilantro and other herbs into the trough. The fat of the pork would drip down through the pieces of meat and into the trough. They took one piece of meat at a time, with chopsticks, and would dip it into the broth before eating it. Simon and I tried it and it was very good. They also drank together, but all out of one glass, to be filled up, passed on to the next person, and completely emptied by that person. The cup would be filled again, passed clock-wise, and emptied again. The man to my left was from Vientiene, and he did not speak any English. He took it upon himself to tell me to keep drinking. He would tell me to drink my whole drink. I would tell him no. We would both laugh. Then the dialog would start again. When we got up to leave, we tried to pay for the beer, but they would not accept our money.
Colin is from Scotland.
1-15-10
We spent the entire day in Phonsavan, and first rode to the Plain of Jars. As we rode out to the site, I could see on the grassy hillsides large pockmarks - craters from B-52 bombs. We walked through the Jars. The stone jars were arranged in clusters and there were hundreds of them. They ranged in size from the size of a household trash bin to van. Some of them lay broken and some of them had lids. When you peered inside one, usually water had collected. It was hard to imagine where these jars came from, who made them and why. Some say they were used for storage. Some say they were used for burial purposes. The rock of the Jars is said to come from a long distance away. Among the jars, there are large craters - more evidence of the violence that rocked this valley in the 60's and 70's. When the B-52's carpet bombed, they left a destructive swathe 1 kilometer wide and 3 kilometers long.
The mysterious Plain of Jars.
After the Jars, we had lunch, and went to the MAG office. MAG stands for Mines Advisory Group, and is an organization dedicated to clearing the unexploded ordinance (UXO) left from the war. Every year, hundreds of people, many children, are wounded and killed by ordinance dropped during the Vietnam war era. We watched a movie about this at the MAG office. It is hard to believe that the american military purposefully targetted civilians illegally and secretly for so many years. Yet, the United States refuses to acknowledge or even help these people with the current UXO problem. More bombs were dropped on Laos than were dropped on Europe and Japan combined during the second world war. Per capita, Laos has been bombed more than any country in the world. This was all being done covertly, with the American public and politicians in the dark. The movie stated that statistically, this was one of the largest war crimes of humanity in history.
At the MAG office, after watching the film and looking and reading the information on the walls, you cannot but be sad about this history. I wondered who was in charge at the time to make such decisions, or was it a product of group idiology? Would something like this happen again, given that todays technology would make it harder to cover up? I made a contribution for the upcoming tour that would be coming through this town in a couple of weeks. I walked out of the MAG office sad at what had happened here, and happy to have made a contribution. As I road back to the hotel, people would smile at me as I went by. Again I was hit by a profound sense of hope. People do forgive such atrocities?
Pathet Lao and North Vietnamese soldiers fight side by side in this memorial.
11-16-10
We left Phonsavan headed east back to Vang Vieng the following day. The road was flat with long sweepers as we edged out of the broad valley and entered the mountains once more. We rode past the largest cultivated fields of the trip so far. Laos was so mountainous, that it hardly had any area for good honest farming. We passed stilted houses, rice fields and pine trees. Once we entered the mountains, we enjoyed the best road of the trip. The serpenting strip of pavement wound its way to the tops of the mountains. Many of the curves were over 90 degrees, with some doubling back on themselves. You hardly finished one curve before you entered another. There was almost no traffic for over two hours of glorious riding. We stopped at a small stilted restaurant overlooking a pond and a limestone karst. Looking at the Lonely Planet guide book, we realized we were only 15 kilometers from the secret CIA city of Long Cheng. Access was restricted there, but still the Canadian wanted to take a "short cut" there. During the height of the secret war in Laos, Long Cheng was the second largest city in Laos, and had, at one point, the busiest airport in the world. This was all hidden from the public!! There are still roving bands of armed Hmong there, and so access for the general public by the Laotian government was prohibited.
Lynn is from Boise, Idaho.
We pulled into the crossroad down of Phou Kone for the second time of the trip, and sat down for some chicken noodle soup. 11 days had passed since we were last here, but it seemed like a month. I remembered when we were there the first time, and everything was so strange and new. This time, we were accostomed to Laos. Its amazing how fast you can adapt to your surroundings. And, it's even more amazing how one generation can heal from the violence of the past.
Laos is an amazing country in so many ways. It gives the visitor, if anything, hope in humanity. And, to me as an American, a profound sense of humility. Though I did not live through the Vietnam War era, I feel like I have been a part of it. And, coming to Laos has taught me so many things on so many levels. I can remember the first time I returned from Laos back to the United States. I saw a child at the mall with a cell phone, act up against their parent. The child screamed at the parent while holding their cell phone in the other hand. This scene shocked me, after seeing so many children with absolutely nothing but a smile to give. If anything, come to Laos to gain perspective of your own country. Do yourself a favor and become humbled.
Phil is from Girdwood, Alaska.
-Glad you liked the blog. You will love riding Laos!
-Phil