Songkran Festivities – fun or folly?

Water guns armed and ready.

Water guns armed and ready.

As I left Laos, everyone was gearing up for the Lao New Year, which is celebrated from April 13th through the 15th and coincides with the New Year’s festivities across many Southeast Asian countries that also follow the same astrological calendar.  I knew that it was a water celebration because everyone was selling water guns, but I didn’t really know the extent of the festivities until I arrived on the eve of what is known as the Songkran Festival in Chiang Rai, Thailand. That night, I checked into my guesthouse and then immediately went out in search of dinner and to explore the town.  My guesthouse was on a street with several other guesthouses, bars and restaurants, so there were lots of people in the streets and some of them seemed to already be testing their water guns to ensure they would be ready for the following day. I got a few spritzes of water as I passed through their territory outside of the bar, mainly because I had walked through the line of fire. Other than that, I made it back to my guesthouse unscathed. The next morning, as I ventured out in search of a good breakfast spot or coffee house, I had completely forgotten that it was officially the start of the Thai New Year celebrations. It wasn’t until I passed by several closed restaurants and shops and observed their posted signs, “Closed for New Year. Returning on April 21st”, that I remembered.  Regardless, I managed to find one delicious breakfast spot that was still open and enjoyed a lovely, quiet morning of reading, writing, and researching.  After breakfast, I decided to drop my laptop back at my guesthouse and then take myself on a tour of the town.  All I took with me was a small satchel carrying my camera, some money, and my room key.

The line of assailants armed with their water.

The line of assailants armed with their water.

It was only thirty minutes later, but as I walked back down my street, it was lined with people. It was as if there was some secret signal that had been given and the games began. I watched as people ran hoses out to the curb and filled large trashcans or barrels full of water, then set up chairs, and even filled coolers full of ice. As I kept walking, one of the kids shot me in the back with his water gun. It caught me off guard and as I spun around to see who it was, I saw another kid running toward me with a pale of water. He threw. I dodged. He missed. I thought, “How exactly does this work? Are there just massive water battles in the streets, whether you’re willing or not… tourists alike”? The answer is YES. That’s exactly what happens. I managed to make it down the rest of the

The Songkran Festival Parade.

The Songkran Festival Parade.

street with only a few sprays from water guns and had to tuck my satchel with my camera in it under my arm to try to protect it. I was pleading silently with the universe… “please don’t let my camera be destroyed”. I thought about turning around and taking it back to the guesthouse but I didn’t know if I would make it down my street again and when I rounded the corner to the main street, a parade had started, so I wanted to be able to take pictures.

Pick-up truck carrying a bed of people and their barrel of water.

Pick-up truck carrying a bed of people and their barrel of water.

Thankfully, most of the people on the main street seemed to be enthralled and distracted by the parade so they were paying little attention to me as I walked behind them. They were more interested in dumping water on people in the street. There were pick-up trucks driving around with giant barrels of water in the back of them along with 3 or 4 people all scooping water out of the barrel and dumping it on anyone that they passed. The people on the sidewalk threw it right back at them in the truck. It didn’t matter if someone was on a bicycle or a motorcycle, they got doused while riding. Parade participant? Who cares… drenched with water.

Motorcycle water battle.  Notice that the third person on the back of that motorcycle has a water gun.

Motorcycle water battle. Notice that the third person on the back of that motorcycle has a water gun.

Songkran, from the Sanskrit work samkranti literally translated is “astrological passage” and the pouring of water is meant as a symbol of washing away all of the bad. At this time of year, everyone cleans their house and the small Buddha statues that sit in front of them and the water that they use to do this is sometimes filled with fragrant herbs or flowers. The elderly men and women that I observed honoring this tradition did so reverently and respectfully by sprinkling some of their fragrant

Parade participants also get doused with water.

Parade participants also get doused with water.

water on my hands, a far contrast from the battles that I was witnessing on the streets from most of the younger generations. I had also read that during this week of the year, traffic accidents nearly double due to drunk driving. Although the article didn’t specify, I wouldn’t be surprised if some of those accidents happened because someone got a pale of water in the face as they rode their motorcycle. It was the only week since I’ve been in Southeast Asia when I’ve seen people regularly wearing helmets while riding their motorcycles. I walked a bit of the parade route and then when it was becoming more and more difficult to avoid a dousing of water, I ducked into a tea shop, made a purchase, and asked for a plastic bag to tie around my little purse in the hopes of keeping my camera dry. As I

Time to battle back.

Time to battle back.

walked out of the shop, I got no more than a half block before a very innocent looking, sweet teenager dumped a pale of water over me. I didn’t even see it coming. You know what I always say, when all else fails, do as the locals do… that was the end of it. I was already drenched so anytime anyone else came at me with a pale of water, I rushed in and attempted to redirect it back at him or her. I spent the rest of the afternoon on the parade route witnessing mayhem. I was told that this was the same as the festivities happening in Laos, which is ironic, since I had just spent the last month researching and spouting about water conservation. I eventually went home to change my dripping wet clothes and relax for a bit. Later that night, I went out for dinner and the festivities were still in full swing. I barely made it out the driveway of my guesthouse before someone was throwing water at me. So here’s how the Songkran Festival progressed for me: The Eve of Songkran: Huh, everyone’s really gearing up. Look at those water guns. I wonder how this works. Day 1: Oh, wow, this is crazy, but seems really fun… I’m just going to join in. Everyone’s having such a good time. Day 2: Huh, I really wish some more shops and restaurants were open. There’s not much to do other than the water battles. I don’t really feel comfortable trying to rent a moped and drive in this madness and I can’t even find a tour to join. How long do these water battles go on? And am I ever going to be able to sit down and enjoy a meal in dry underwear? This is getting a little annoying. Day 3 – Morning: I’m hiring a driver, not an open caged tuk-tuk… a driver, with a vehicle who can drive me around to a few of the sites and then take me with my bags to the bus station. I’m going to Chiang Mai. Day 3 – Afternoon: Bus ride to Chiang Mai (4 hours) – these people are so crazy. They’re throwing water at the bus windows… what’s the point? Day 3 – Evening: Arriving in Chiang Mai. There are almost three times as many people throwing water here, great.  I guess I’ll have to pull out my rain cover for my pack. Oh, yeah, of course the seats of the tuk-tuk are wet. Did that A-hole really just shoot water into my tuk-tuk and get my entire backpack wet? Oh yeah, figures, he’s not even Thai. He’s American. I guess I’m still going to get wet tonight when I go grab dinner. This tradition is dumb. Why do they need to celebrate for three days anyway? It’s officially only the new year on the first day. The morning after Songkran, shops were still closed, but order was restored and my bad attitude dried up with the warmth of the sun. Unfortunately, I think that bad attitude reared its ugly head because I was often on the defensive. If I ever come to Southeast Asia again during New Year, which I have to say is unlikely, I’ll be armed with my own damn water gun. Revelling, not so much.  Grateful for the passing of the New Year, definitely.

My very own Swiss Family Robinson Tree House

I had been looking forward to the weekend all week and it had finally arrived, Thursday evening. In less than twelve hours, I would be on my way! I was trying to send out a few last emails to let my parents and a few friends know that I would be off the grid, but a thunder storm was passing over Houay Xai and the electricity kept cutting out, which also made packing a little challenging. My pocket flashlight was proving its worth once again as I decided what to take with me and rearranged the items in my bags. I would be leaving my large pack behind in storage and taking only my small backpack with me for the weekend. And although I was brimming with excitement, I needed to go to bed… Friday was going to be a long day and I knew I should get a good night’s sleep.

On Friday morning, I awoke to another thunderstorm, which immediately made me jump out of bed to get an early start since I would need to walk 10 or 15 minutes down the street in the downpour to get to my meeting spot. I took one last look around my guesthouse room to make sure I had everything, pulled out my backpack rain cover, and threw a poncho over the rest of me. I stepped out into the pummeling rain and was mentally patting myself on the back for being so prepared with all of my rain gear. When I arrived at The Gibbon Experience office, one of the office workers was standing outside because she didn’t have a key. The office wouldn’t open until 8am, which was in ten minutes, so I left my packs with her and went across the street to buy a few snacks and some breakfast. By the time I came back, the office was swarming with backpackers, all stowing their packs, double checking final items, surveying the room, and exchanging stories as only backpackers can… comparing who’s travels have been the longest, who’s have been the farthest, the most remote, the craziest night, the cheapest room… on and on.

I sat down next to a girl named Julie, whom I mistakenly thought was with a group of Aussies. She wasn’t; she was from Denmark and had just arrived in Houay Xai from Luang Prabang like the majority of us who had come for this experience. As explained on their website, The Gibbon Experience is an eco tourism forest conservation project. It funds forest protection and community projects in the Bokeo Nature Reserve in Northern Laos. Guests stay in tree houses in the nature reserve and participate in one of three different excursions, an express one-night stay, a classic two-night stay, or a waterfall two-night stay. We were all trying to determine who was in which group and share what we had heard from other travelers about the experience. On the website, it indicates that it is best to wear long pants or high socks because there are leeches in the jungle. We debate this fact as we all sit there in our shorts or three-quarter length pants until one girl says she just talked to another backpacker two days ago who had returned from the jungle and said that there were leeches everywhere. We silently looked at each other with wide-eyed fear and one by one, searched our packs for long pants, then discretely slipped away to the restroom to change.

Moments later, one of the office managers welcomed the group and asked us all to quietly watch the video that he was about to play and pay careful attention to the safety instructions. Once questions were answered, we were off. As Julie & I walked out the door, we learned that we were the only two in the group who had signed up for the Classic, two-night excursion. Everyone else was doing the Express, one-night. It seemed a little odd, but we were grateful that they were still running the program with only the two of us and

Julie and I in the back of our truck… on our way to the Bokeo Nature Reserve after a rainy morning.

Julie and I in the back of our truck… on our way to the Bokeo Nature Reserve after a rainy morning.

quickly determined that we would simply become the best of friends. We hopped in the back of a 4-wheel drive truck, which closely resembled a tuk-tuk with a caged back cover and bench seats.   The seats were wet, but it had stopped raining. Without introductions, our driver jumped inside, started up the engine and pulled onto the road. It was 9:15am. As we drove, we made random stops to pick up an elderly woman and a mother carrying a baby, then a guy who turned out to be one of the guides with the program… then another guide, then drop off the elderly woman. It didn’t even faze me. I had experienced the same type of casual stops every time that I was in a vehicle in Laos, whether it was in someone’s personal vehicle, on a public bus, or Soaring along the Mekong. There is very little transportation in remote areas and it seems to be an unspoken rule that the community helps one another get to where they need to go.

Our off-road mountain drive into the Bokeo Nature Reserve.

Our off-road mountain drive into the Bokeo Nature Reserve.

After a little over an hour, we stopped at a small village where the driver said that we would take a five minute rest stop. Julie and I were chatting and getting to know one another so we didn’t care and before we realized five minutes had passed, two more guides hopped in the truck to join us. Julie & I looked at each other, both knowingly doing the math in our heads… two of us, four guides. We started wondering, “How rigorous was this excursion going to be”? As

Remote village on the edge of the Bokeo Nature Reserve.

Remote village on the edge of the Bokeo Nature Reserve.

we started driving again, the truck did not pull back onto the road, but instead headed down a narrow, muddy, dirt road and shifted into low gear. We crossed a river, bounced over some rocks and started uphill into the mountains. It took almost another hour driving up and down hills, through muddy ditches, around sharp curves and fallen trees while branches scraped the truck, to get to a very remote village with about a dozen aluminum or thatched roof houses. Our guides jumped out and motioned for us to follow. Two more guides joined us… now two of us and six guides.

Trekking across open fields to get to the forest.

Trekking across open fields to get to the forest.

The jungle of the Bokeo Nature Reserve.

The jungle of the Bokeo Nature Reserve.

There were no more roads, only trails. We strapped on our backpacks and trekked away from the village, across streams, along fields, through mud, and eventually into the jungle. We had only been hiking for about thirty minutes, when Julie and I peeled off our rain jackets, searched for our water, and pulled our hair back off of our necks. The post rain jungle humidity was thick and we were both already glistening with sweat. Our guides stopped at a spot where there were a few benches and pulled out sandwiches for a quick lunch break. Julie and I each took one without realizing that there weren’t enough for everyone. Each of the guides had torn their sandwich in half to share, but they were still one short. I felt guilty. Despite my growling hunger, I ripped my sandwich in half and handed it to the last guide, who reluctantly took it.

When we started walking again, it appeared that the rest of our trek would be uphill. The narrow, muddy path was covered in wet leaves, the roots of trees, and moss covered rocks. I was consciously trying to look around and absorb the spectacular jungle fauna, but

Julie hiking up our trail in the jungle.

Julie hiking up our trail in the jungle.

found that it was too difficult on the slippery trail and nearly lost my balance on the hill I was climbing. The friendly guide with whom I had shared my sandwich was instantly at my side to steady my footing and find me a bamboo walking stick.  As we continued our arduous ascent, I was deliberately controlling my breathing and carefully placing my footsteps, my heart pounding and my ears alertly listening to all of the jungle noises. The guides walking with us were casually chatting and laughing as they ambled along in their flip-flops as if it were a stroll in the park. It put my level of fitness in a whole new perspective.

After about an hour of trekking, we arrived at a cabin in a clearing. There were men standing idle on the porch, observing our approach. Our guides strolled up and exchanged pleasantries as if they were greeting family and told Julie and I we would take another ten minute break. By that point, we were drenched in sweat, reapplying our mosquito repellant, and discussing whether either of us had seen any leeches. Before we started walking again, two new guides introduced themselves and handed Julie and I each a harness and showed us how to properly adjust it. Their names were Bounleun and Khamphi. Four of the previous guides stayed behind at the cabin, while two of them continued on with Bounleun, Khamphi, Julie & I. The last part of our trek would involve a network of zip lines to get to our tree house, however, the zip lines weren’t all connected. They were just as much functional for crossing the jungle as fun, so there would be some hiking, then a zip line, then more hiking.

When we arrived at our first zip line, Khamphi reviewed the safety instructions and directions, attached his trolley and safety line to demonstrate, then breezily zipped across the line and disappeared into the jungle. Julie was next. She took a few minutes to get her bearings, check her harness and attachments, and take a deep breath. She had never done this either, but she bravely zipped away without hesitation. I was next. Khamphi told us that this particular zip line was 180 m (590 ft.) high and 140 m (459 ft.) long. I was doing

Me on my zip line!

Me on my zip line!

a mental checklist… harness, check. Trolley, check. Safety line, check. Right hand on top, check. Left hand on ropes, check. Deep breath, check. Goooooooooooooo! Legs tucked, check. Lean back, check. “Wow, I’m going really fast”. Break, break, break, check. I stopped about 3 meters short of the landing platform thanks to my extra breaking and had to spin around and pull myself in, hand over hand.

Whew, I made it. It was scary, adrenaline-charged, and exciting!

We unhooked, hiked a bit more and came to the next zip line. The second time, I was able to think less about my technical checklist and actually look at the scenery. It was breathtaking. Mountains, layered with hues of green, stacked against more mountains and more layers of green. Our third zip line took us to a landing on a very tall tree that had four

The safety line - Julie and I hooked into our nexus of zip lines.

The safety line – Julie and I hooked into our nexus of zip lines.

zip line connections. The zip lines throughout the network were one way only, the start of each one marked with green and the end marked with red. This tree had two starts and two ends, four layered platforms, and it was imperative that our safety line was always attached to the yellow line that spiraled around the tree. This tree, for me, was the most thrilling nexus in the network. Because the platforms were so narrow and a bit uneven, every time I looked down, I instantly had a fearful flutter in my gut and the thought of “holy crap, this tree is really tall”. At this point, our guides let us play. When zipping away from this tree, the walk to the return zip line to get back to the tree was only about five minutes, so we tried them all

One of our jungle tree houses.

One of our jungle tree houses.

until we felt really comfortable. Once we finished, we hiked some more and eventually reached our final zip line around 2pm, which would take us to the front door of our tree house. How fantastic is that? The only way to enter any of the tree houses in the forest was by zip line.

The front door of our tree house (tree house #7)

The front door of our tree house (tree house #7)

Our outdoor bathroom with rainforest shower.

Our outdoor bathroom with rainforest shower.

The main living area in our tree house.

The main living area in our tree house.

As we stepped into our little piece of heaven in the sky, we were stunned. We stepped through a spring loaded, waist high, wooden gate into the entrance, where, just like with any Lao home, we left our shoes. Around the other side of the tree on the same level as our front door was a green curtain. When we pulled it back, we stepped down three stairs to our outdoor bathroom in the sky. Next to the entrance was a set of stairs that led up to the main floor, where there was a kitchen, a low, round dining table, a few stools, and the makings for our beds that evening. The tree house was round so we had amazing panoramic views of the jungle no matter where we looked. From the main floor, there was another set of stairs that led up to a crow’s nest, that our guides jokingly called the honeymoon suite because at the top of the stairs, there was a door in the floor that closed to offer privacy from the floor below. Our guides pulled a melon, a mango, and some homemade corn and rice treats out of a cooler next to our kitchen, cut them up and served us so that we could have a snack and enjoy the view. It was 2:30pm and after they shared some fun facts about the forest, they let us know that they would be back around 5pm with dinner, but for now, they would leave us to allow us to settle in and relax. They would be staying in a small cabin at the other end of our zip line and up a short hill, where there was a camp for the guides, cooks, and other workers. This is where our meals would be made.

View from our Tree House

View from our Tree House

After more than a five-hour voyage into the forest, Julie and I were exhausted, but I found it hard to stand up from my little stool, either because my legs were too tired to work or I was still in shock. I’m not sure. I was overwhelmed by our magnificent surroundings. In due time, I managed to muster myself to my feet, unpack my bag, and venture down to test our outdoor bathroom. Standing naked under our rainforest showerhead, staring down at the trees and the wide, open expanse of the jungle, I’ve never felt more connected with nature. It was also one of the best showers I had experienced in Laos because the architect of this tree house managed to tap into a mountain stream that offered fresh water, albeit cold, and fantastic water pressure. After I changed and set up my mattress for bed, I just sat there listening to the birds chirping, the insects buzzing, and the cicadas humming. The jungle was alive and full of energy.

Our delicious dinner options.

Our delicious dinner options.

At 5pm as promised, Bounleun and Khamphi zipped over to the tree house with dinner, four different dishes and enough food for four people, but they didn’t stay to eat with us.  After the sandwich situation earlier and now this, I was beginning to realize that they probably weren’t allowed to eat with us, but in this case it seemed silly since it was just Julie and I.  The food was delicious and exactly the refueling that Julie and I needed after our adventurous day! After dinner, we set up our mosquito nets and ensured that we were ready for bed since it would soon be pitch dark. The sun had suddenly disappeared in the sky shortly after

The storm coming!

The storm coming!

dinner as dark clouds rolled across the mountains. We were sitting there watching those clouds blow closer toward us; lightening flashes illuminating the sky while thunder was rumbling in the distance. Like a whirlwind, we heard Bounleun and Khamphi zip into the house almost simultaneously and rush up the stairs. “Put on your harness”, they said, “you need to come back to the hut with us. There is a storm coming”. This we knew and were actually kind of excited about watching from our tree house but apparently the guides get a little nervous about leaving visitors in the tree house when there is lightening, so they whisked us away. The storm rolled in quickly so we sat with the cabin crew practicing our Lao, learning about the upcoming Lao New Year, and asking each person how he or she had gotten started with this program. There were three cooks, all teenage girls, two other guides, and a young guy who helped out wherever they needed him, whether it was clearing trails, transporting groceries, or checking zip lines. He was young and eager and he wanted to learn everything about the program. It was a little unfortunate that these young kids weren’t in school, but they all seemed really passionate about the work that they did and pleased to be part of the reserve.

Julie and I playing cards with flashlights under our mosquito net.

Julie and I playing cards with the help of flashlights under our mosquito net.  They know how to play Rummy in Denmark.

Once the storm passed, we zipped back over to the tree house. It was only 7:30pm, so Julie and I played some cards by the light of our flashlights, and then went to bed around 9pm. I thought that I would fall asleep instantly after all the exertion of the day, but it took me a little time to get used to the sounds in the jungle. I woke two or three times during the night to unfamiliar reverberations that I was certain were either possums or rats. I didn’t want to look. Unfortunately, the zip lines couldn’t keep all of the critters out of our house… after all, we were technically visitors in their neighborhood.

In the morning, just before 6am, we were thrilled to be woken by what we were hoping to hear… singing black gibbons. In 1997, a once thought extinct population of Western Black Crested Gibbons was discovered in the forest, and shortly after that time, The Gibbon Experience was created to help raise awareness, funding, and create conservation projects. In the southern part of the Nam Kan National Protected Area, there are only 11 distinct groups of gibbons, so there is no guarantee that visitors will see them while there.

A misty, foggy forest.

A misty, foggy forest.

However, the gibbon’s siren-like singing is distinct and echoes through the forest so even if they can’t be seen, they can often be heard, especially around sunrise. We heard the singing for at least a half hour off in the distance and sat there scouring the forest in the hopes of getting a glimpse, but there was a mist hanging over the trees from more overnight rain so we never found them.

Dishing up a tasty breakfast.

Dishing up a tasty breakfast.

Around 6:30am, Bounleun and Khamphi arrived with a kettle of hot water to make morning tea and brought four more distinct Lao breakfast options. Once again, they did not stay to eat with us, but said that they would be back around 8:30am to take us for a hike in order to explore the forest and visit the other tree houses. The food was delicious and like dinner, we were not able to finish it all. As the forest came to life, so did we. We rolled up our mosquito nets, made our beds, and started to get ourselves ready for the day. I was standing in the “bathroom” brushing my teeth… watching the mist roll off the mountains, thinking… “wow, this view is so much better than looking into a mirror over the

My first Western Black Crested Gibbon sighting in the jungle.

My first Western Black Crested Gibbon sighting in the jungle.

Brothers and sisters - a happy little family of gibbons.

Brothers and sisters – a happy little family of gibbons.

Momma Gibbon - recognized because of her lighter brown color.

Momma Gibbon – recognized because of her lighter brown color.

sink”. Then I saw it, two black arms, then it’s head before it swung to the next branch and the tree rustled. I raced up the stairs with a mouth full of white foam and my toothbrush hanging out the side, grabbed my camera, and just pointed in the general direction for Julie. She knew exactly what I meant. I went back downstairs where I had such a clear view, finished brushing my teeth, and stared in awe as three more black gibbons appeared. They were playing, talking, doing tree branch gymnastics, wrestling… they were so amazing with their long black arms that were twice the length of their body. Then a female appeared with her light brown fur; this group was clearly a family. Gibbons are monogamous and have a low birth rate with only one offspring at a time, which is usually spaced out every 2 to 3 years due to an 8-month gestation period. Gibbons never really leave the tree canopy, living their lives at about 50 meter altitudes, so our tree house afforded us the opportunity to be the nosey neighbors with an amazing view through the window of the house across the street.

We could see the gibbons move across the treetops on their own little excursion to find food until they were out of sight about forty minutes later. It was like going to the theatre and watching a movie that was so riveting, when it ended you needed a moment to let it all sink in so you just sat there watching the credits, unable to move, wondering who created that masterpiece… what a phenomenal past 24 hours.

Some kind of root that is used for medicine.

Some kind of root that is used for medicine.

After shaking off our astonishment at getting to witness the spectacle, we finished getting ready for our hike and zipped over to the cabin to meet with Bounleun. We set out on the still wet, muddy, slippery trails exploring our surroundings. There were bamboo plants, enormous palm fronds, beautiful varieties of trees covered in vines, and as we walked Bounleun showed us the roots and plants that the villagers used as jungle

Hardened sap from one of the trees.  Bounleun will use it in their New Year's campfire.

Hardened sap from one of the trees. Bounleun will use it in their New Year’s campfire.

medicine for things like headaches, stomach aches, and infection. We were hiking uphill to visit two other tree houses and there were a few zip lines along the way, so we adopted a steady pace, glided through the jungle like Tarzan across our zip lines and enjoyed our morning until we returned to our own tree house for lunch. By this point, Julie and I had forgotten all about the possibility of leeches, had grown accustomed to the incessant mosquitos, and made friends with the spiders who were living with us. In the afternoon, we did another strenuous uphill trek to two other tree houses in the opposite direction, cautiously maneuvering along trails that looked as though they hadn’t been used in weeks, and came back to our tree house exhausted. After showers, dinner, and setting up our beds and mosquito nets, we relaxed as the sun set over the forest to showcase a picture perfect frame. I meditated on the energy filling our jungle home, relished the moment, and memorized the feeling…

Overnight, I awoke a few times again curiously wondering about the nocturnal noises that I was hearing. This time, I even turned on my flashlight and peered into the darkness trying to get a glimpse of what animal might have joined us in our tree house during the night, but I couldn’t see anything. The next morning, Khamphi explained that they were probably bats hanging from the thatched roof, which is why I didn’t see them. I eventually fell back asleep until a loud clap of thunder startled me at 4:30am. The rain started shortly following it and continued for three hours. We rose again around 6am to singing gibbons, despite the rain, but the mist made them impossible to see. We ate breakfast, cleaned up our tree house, packed our bags, and sadly made our peace with parting from our magical Swiss Family Robinson home in the sky. About an hour later, as if to say their goodbyes, our family of gibbons made a final appearance for us. They were far off in the

Gibbon in the mist.  King of this jungle.

Gibbon in the mist. King of this jungle.

distance and we couldn’t see them as easily as the prior morning, but the parting gift was just as sweet. The rain stopped as we zipped out of our tree house for the last time. The cabin crew that had been supporting us during our visit was joining us on our two-hour trek out of the forest because they were all getting a break to visit with their families over the Lao New Year, which started the following day. Leaving the forest in the rear view mirror, we all hopped into our truck and after an hour haul over our muddy off road track down from the mountain and another hour drive into town, we were back at The Gibbon Experience office around 1pm. And poof, it was as if it were all a dream…

From left to right: me, Khamphi, Bounleun, and Julie.

From left to right: me, Khamphi, Bounleun, and Julie.

When I set out on my tour around the world 18 months ago, I never could have imagined that I would have an experience like the past weekend. I’ve never been more grateful for stepping out of my comfort zone, letting the winds blow me, and somehow landing in a country that was never on my original travel list. This experience with its long haul, challenging treks, and plethora of insects and jungle creatures may not be the experience for everyone, but I hope it makes you want to take a little step outside of your comfort zone… because who knows what could come next.

Revelling!

Soaring Along the Mekong

View of Luang Prabang and the Mekong from the That Phu Si & Wat Tham Phu Si, the highest point overlooking the town.

A hazy view of Luang Prabang and the Mekong from the That Phu Si & Wat Tham Phu Si, the highest point overlooking the town.

It was Tuesday night and my throat had been burning since the moment I stepped off the bus from Vang Vieng on Sunday, so after a few short, smoke-filled days in Luang Prabang, I knew it was time to move on. It’s a great town with Colonial architecture, refined charm, and some lovely hidden gems, but the surrounding fire lit mountains that are being burned to clear farmland at the moment, keep the smoke trapped in this little valley, which casts a gray hue over everything. Additionally, I booked an off the grid kind of excursion that required me to get to Houay Xai (pronounced “Way Sigh”), a border town resting along the Mekong and facing Thailand, by 5pm on Thursday night. There were three options to get to Houay Xai: a 12-hour overnight bus ride that leaves at 7pm every evening from Luang Prabang, a 2-day slow boat ride up the Mekong that requires a stop and overnight stay in Pak Beng, or a 6-hour fast boat ride up the Mekong that departs at about 9am every morning, if there are a minimum of 6 passengers. The 2-day slow boat ride would take too long and I wanted to avoid the smoke-filled mountains so the bus ride would be my back-up plan if there weren’t enough passengers for the fast boat.

Ban Done Port Office

Ban Done Port Office

I left bright and early for the Ban Done Port since I didn’t know exactly where I was going and I was pleased that finding a tuk-tuk proved quite simple as I strolled with my backpack through the morning market. My tuk-tuk driver weaved through morning traffic and then turned down a dead end road, passed a field or two and stopped in front of a small cement building. There were 2 tables inside, a bench, and a small store next to the building that looked more like a shack, but had a half dozen or so men sitting outside it talking. This was the port office. To my surprise, I was able to immediately purchase a ticket when I walked up to one of the tables and it was the last ticket for the fast boat that morning… the boat was full!  Back-up bus plan not needed.  The ticket would take me to Pak Beng, and then I was told that I would have to buy another ticket there to get to Houay Xai. I still had 40 minutest to wait until the departure time so I bought some water and watched as the slow boat pulled away.

The dock at Ban Done Port.

The dock at Ban Done Port.

There was an overcast sky and a few raindrops as we waited and as I looked over the edge of the hill at what was called a port, there was a slight twinge of unease. There was a steep set of uneven wooden stairs built into the hillside, and then a dirt path that led to two floating platforms, one made of bamboo and the other made of some type of plastic. Next to them were two or three long, narrow boats that looked a little larger than canoes. I thought, “Are those what they call fast boats?”. I didn’t see any other boats nearby and after giving it some more thought, whenever I passed a tour office, there were always pictures of the buses and the slow boat, but never any pictures of the fast boat. I pulled out my Lao phrasebook and started chatting with a friendly worker sitting at the table. He seemed pleased that I was making an effort to speak Lao and was helping me with my pronunciations. I asked him about the boats and who our captain would be for the fast boat. He introduced me to a humble, friendly man with a tan face and wrinkles around his eyes when he smiled, no doubt from hours in the sun on a boat. The captain also seemed pleased that I was speaking Lao and said that I could buy my ticket for Houay Xai there with him instead of waiting until we got to Pak Beng.  Apparently, I was the only tourist traveling with a boat full of locals and they were a little apprehensive about me until they heard I had been working in Vang Vieng and could speak some Lao.  I tried not to demonstrate that I was a little apprehensive about those boats down by their so-called dock and decided to stop asking questions.  When all else fails, do what the locals do.

We all started walking down to the boats, which was a little tricky on the steep stairs with my backpack. Once there, everyone started handing their bags, which were full of mostly groceries, to the captain, who was stacking them according to weight and size in the front of the over-sized canoe that I had observed earlier.  I carry a smaller backpack with my large pack for when I have short outings and normally keep it with me when I travel because I keep all of my valuables in it, along with snacks and water. They whisked it away from me to place with the rest of the bags before I even knew what was happening and handed me a life jacket, as if that was going to make me feel safe in this narrow, open air, wooden box.

The boat

The boat

The boat had five wooden boards that slid upright into slats along the side to create sections and then thinly padded plastic bench-length cushions that fit into each section and took up half of the space of the section. Everyone started piling in and I watched as they situated themselves onto a cushion, legs curled up in front of them so tightly that they could wrap their arms around their bent knees… two to a section. Huh? This boat was going to carry 9 adults and a one-year old child! One of the ladies in the back section motioned for me to sit with her… more like curl up next to her, so I did. In the section in front of me sat two women, one with the one-year old child on her lap and a blanket thrown over the child’s head. Crazy! The last section where I was seated was right in front of the captain, who sat at the back on a small wooden box. With him, there was some sort of propane or butane tank, a fuel tank, extra plastic bottles full of fuel and the long arm for steering the pole that jetted out from the engine with a small propeller on the end of it. This was going to be an interesting ride.

The engine with propeller removed.

The engine with propeller removed.

The captain started to fire up the engine and before we even pushed away from the dock, he shut it down again and hopped out of the boat. Apparently there was something wrong with the propeller, so everyone had to get back out of the boat while they called men down from the port office to help switch the prop shaft with another one. This required another boat to bring a replacement shaft… there was a hammer, some sort of chisel, and grease that they were using to remedy the whole situation. I decided it might be best if I didn’t watch and instead set to work retrieving my small backpack to pull out a bottle of water, my camera, and a hat since it didn’t seem like I would have access to my pack at any point during the ride. About forty-five minutes later, we all piled back in the boat and were ready to go. No apologies, no frills here… all seemed perfectly normal, like sometimes sh*t just happens.

Our packed little boat.

Our packed little boat.

My first thought as the captain kicked the engine into high gear was, “Woohoo! This is awesome! So glad I didn’t take the bus”. Wind in my hair, gliding over the water and whizzing past other boats, the spray occasionally giving me a little mist. It was exhilarating! Rocks, fishing nets, choppy water from the wake of other boats… no problem. Our captain was at ease, effortlessly navigating us around it all, skimming from side to side as if he had memorized the depth of the water, the nooks and crannies of the shoreline, and everything in between.

Fisherman on the Mekong.

Fisherman on the Mekong.

As we soared along the water, we passed small villages, grazing cows, water buffalo coming to the banks to submerge

Water buffalo grazing and bathing in the Mekong.

Water buffalo grazing and bathing in the Mekong.

themselves in the cool, refreshing water, fisherman, children playing, and the luming grandeur of the hills and mountains.

As we were approaching hour two, the awe and exhilaration started to compete with my mildly throbbing knees and hips. It should be noted here, that despite my 5 foot, 3 inch stature, I was still taller than most of the people on this boat and my butt was definitely bigger than all of the

Kids playing by the shores of the Mekong.

Kids playing by the shores of the Mekong.

slender Lao women, who seemed to assume this sitting position so easily. Thankfully, about 75 minutes into our trip, we pulled up to another boat along the shore that was a floating fuel station. It gave me a chance to stand up for a moment and stretch my legs. Everyone looked at me as if I was being a little dramatic. Five minutes later, we were off again. Two hours into the ride, we stopped again to let someone off at another floating boat, which seemed to be someone’s floating house, and we all got out to use the toilet. The fast boat didn’t seem to have specific ports of debarkation… it seemed more like a river taxi and the simplest way for people to get to their remote villages. As we headed into hour three, my knees were practically numb and I had shooting pains from my hips into my lower back every time that we went over choppy, bumpy water. It turned out that the life jacket was far better utilized as a cushion for my spine against the hard wooden plank than as a life-saving device.  I mean, really, was that life jacket going to save me if we hit a rock and I went flying out of the boat?? I don’t think so. Oh yeah, and the woman sitting next to me was sleeping in her seated, curled, upright position!?

When we stopped for lunch next to a floating barge, I was relieved to step out and see if my legs would still work. I had to let the pins and needles pass then find my balance to step over other boats and onto the barge. This was the place where all of the boats stopped so it was full of people. They had one lunch offering, noodle soup, which was fine by me. The half hour break was much needed. I visited the toilet again before departing and was relieved that everything I had just eaten had to be boiled after the cook touched it.  At this point, we would be switching boats and captains, as each would head back to their respective starting points.  I chatted with a fast boat full of tourists heading south and couldn’t believe that their boat was also carrying 9 people, all men taller than 5 foot 10 inches in stature! It gave me the mental toughness I needed to endure the final three hours of the trip.

Elephant next to the shore of the Mekong.

Elephant next to the shores of the Mekong.

I had negotiated a front seat on the latter half of the ride with the guy who had been sitting up front for the first half of our long haul because the passenger next to him was not going further. This meant that I could occasionally unfold my legs and stretch them over the bags in the front. As we pulled away from our barge and back onto the river, the sun was finally shining and I spotted an elephant along the banks standing amid some trees… surreal. It was one thing to see an elephant on a managed reserve safari when I was in South Africa last year, but seeing one randomly in the wild when I wasn’t expecting it was really magnificent.  The rest of the afternoon was far more bearable than the morning because we stopped regularly to let passengers off and on the boat and hour by hour we

Fires burning along the shores of the Mekong.

Fires burning along the shores of the Mekong.

had fewer people on board, which meant far more room because we could remove boards and stretch our legs.  The stunning sites of nature where dwarfed slightly by random burning hillsides and the litter that I watched my fellow Loa passengers toss into the river. These two things sadden me the most in this beautiful country.  But as the afternoon ebbed into early evening, the sun was starting to set and its reflection on the river was

Sun setting on my fast boat ride along the Mekong.

Sun setting on my fast boat ride along the Mekong.

splendid.  By the time we reached Houay Xai only the woman who originally offered me a seat next to her at the start of the trip was left with me.  I exited our boat, strapped on my backpack and struggled up a set of stairs steeper than the ones I had descended in the morning.

It was about a 4-kilometer walk into the town of Houay Xai and there were plenty of tuk-tuks available but they were all quoting me Thai Baht, despite the fact that we were still in Laos, which threw me off because I had forgotten the Baht conversion numbers. Besides, my legs needed the walk, so off I went. It gave me a chance to reflect on my ride… do I regret it, no way!  Would I recommend it… only if you have a sense of adventure and a fairly high level of pain tolerance.  Along my walk, I chatted with the locals, who were all gearing up for the Lao New Year and thought I was crazy for not getting a ride. What a wild day…

Revelling in gratitude for the experiences that I will never forget and the stories that I will always love to tell.