Cycle California

Venture Out: Cycling Northern Laos

December 2008

It’s been a long time since I’ve witness such a splendid mural painted by Mother Nature. As I descend towards the Nam Lik river valley, I let out an emphatic chorus of oohs and aahs as I take in the mountain studded remote valley. My girlfriend Tabitha smiles, her rising sun burnt cheeks show her excitement as she soaks in Laos’s most stunning peak – a towering chunk of rock that penetrates the late afternoon haze as it rises like a misplaced giant tooth from the soil below. The sun is warm and glorious. Our guidebook recommends a window seat on the bus, but we enjoy an uncompromised view.

Several brake searing miles later, we arrive at our basic bungalow as the fire red orb begins its descent into the unseen and shadows creep across the valley floor like a cheetah stalking its prey. The hot spring helps soothe saddle sores, sapid Beer Lao quenches thirst and gazing up at laser sharp stars in the blackest of skies goes a long way in making us feel like the two luckiest farang alive. Indeed, Laos is revealing itself to be pedaller’s paradise.

A paradise not overrun by banal resorts, fast-food joints and locals clambering for a piece of your wallet.  The Laos Peoples Democratic Republic (or ‘Laos Please Don’t Rush’), is a rather diminutive landlocked Asian nation with five, sometimes meddlesome neighbors. Largely a side-effect of the xenophobic communist Pathet Lao government seizing power in 1975 and for the following two decades isolating the country from the west, Buddhist Laos has its own unique style and charm.

Laos’s lifeline is the powerful Mekong River which runs almost the entire eastern length of the country. From the rather humdrum northern town of Huoayxai on the Thailand border we make the decision to ply its waters on a jalopy of a slow boat to Pakbeng where we will start our self-supported cycle north. Pakbeng is a stop-over on the famed two day boat trip from Thailand to Louang Phabang, so we are swarmed by desperate guesthouse owners the nanosecond we disembark. “Geez, I really hope the rest of the country isn’t this pushy,” a frustrated Tabi says as we try to gather our gear on the steep sandy banks of the Mekong among the hoards of backpackers and overzealous locals as the sun races home from Asia.

Morning. A few pedal strokes in the clean, crisp air of a.m. and Tabi’s hopes are quickly brought to fruition. It’s just us and an undulating road devoid of traffic. We feel safe. We feel free. We feel alive. Each village seems to shower us with louder choruses of sabai di’s.  Nude Hmong and Tai Leu village children race out to the road to wave themselves silly. “Boy, girl, boy, girl,” Tabi kindly points out. Their mothers smile from behind wooden looms as they weave striking textiles.

As day considers letting night in the door, we decide the rather non-descript village Muang Houn is a good stop. I do a second take when our host asks for only 35,000 kip or roughly three and half dollars. Parsimonious in nature, I’ve come to the right place.

A quick gambol around the village that was conceived in the mid-80s’ by the government to bring locals down from the hills hoping they would stop producing opium and we’re back at the guesthouse sharing Beer Lao’s and practicing our local language with Mr. Boun Nhou. He is a typical Laotian: a slight man with trusting eyes. Up from the capital, he is here to oversee the installment of a new sanitation system. Over his shoulder, rising concrete pillars indicate that electricity is also on its way. Indeed the denizens here seem to be moving up in the world.

Our first big physical challenge comes shortly after departing Oudomxai. a rather cranky town with a serious truck-stop aura, as we climb relentlessly mile after mile passing cascading waterfalls and mountain villages populated by the more than twenty different ethnic minorities that call Oudomxai province home. Each pedal stroke is accompanied by another large lungful of unsullied air as our eyes soak in the languid vistas that abound.

Cresting the hill, I return a wave from colorfully dressed Hmong women and then gear up for the long drop ahead. Halfway down the mountain, we are stopped by a rather shady man that would be more than happy to give us his large furry bamboo rat for a good price. Since it won’t pack very well in our stuffed panniers, he instead unloads it to a passing truck driver and his wife. It will likely find a place on their dinner plate tonight. Unfortunately, too much of Laos’ diverse wildlife have become a part of the human food chain.

Our hair-raising descent eventually peters out at Nong Khiaw. Immediately we are struck by its almost preternatural beauty. The sluggish Nam Ou river cuts through dramatic jagged limestone cliffs that are adorned by verdant jungle at it’s base. It’s the kind of place were days go by uncalendered and journals become flush with the written word. Often we find ourselves simply stopping and staring agape.

A couple days later, 80-miles of pedal strokes deposit us in Louang Phabang, as the bloated sun swings low over the surrounding crown of fecund and temple-studded mountains. Our first encounter with a Laos street light takes us by surprise.

Immediately we become smitten with this friendly and relaxed former royal city located at the confluence of the Mekong and Nam Khan rivers. Phabang’s rich history and a myriad of temples led UNESCO to designate it a world heritage city in 1995.

Over the next several days, we spend our time gamboling between French colonial buildings and more than thirty atmospheric gilded temples with coconut palms swaying overhead and youthful monks sweeping leaves out front. These outings are often interrupted by a hearty sampling of a wide range of culinary delights from fiery papaya salads to baguettes to perfectly grilled Mekong fish. Tabi is soon weighed down by inexpensive textiles woven with immaculate perfection.

A ubiquitous kaleidoscope of tuk-tuks with their camera-wielding passengers zip by us and markets exuding exotic aromas as we ride out along the Mekong on a quiet road dotted with ethnic minority villages to the marvelous Kouang Si waterfall: a multi-level plunge through lush vegetation with swimming-friendly deep-blue pools that spread erratically outwards from its base.

Prying ourselves away from this exceptional hamlet is difficult but after several days of sensual and historical overload it was time to gear up and move southwards. A peak at my journal notes from that day illustrates a formidable undertaking:

Easy, flat ride out of town squinting into morning sun. Passing rider from other direction says riding here is very difficult. Must be a newbie.

Bagged a ten mile climb. Bit spent and sweaty. Quite the view of the sun-blasted expanse. We gorge on crackers in a charming village flanked by mountains.

Ripping 10-mile descent. Need new brakes or better travel insurance. Lots of kids. Don’t believe that the populace is only six million.

Descent followed almost immediately by another vertical. Nine miles gone. Can’t wait for downhill that’s coming.

Sun is fading. Still climbing. Where’s the downhill? Pass two sullen Dutch cyclists.

15-miles of climbing and village is in sight. Tabi is cold and upset. Very hungry. Where is that bamboo rat?

Kioukacham. TOP of mountain not bottom. Lots of rusty old bicycles. Bucket shower and mountains of rice. Only farang here are us riders. Collapse like a brave fish scooped from the sea after a momentous battle with its captor. I love Laos!

The exceptional beauty of Laos confronts us at every bend in the road between Kioukacham and Vang Viang. The remote wild and mountainous country re-energizes us as each pedal strokes seems more and more effortless. Already on cloud nine, Tabi is awarded the royal treatment as a congregation of umbrella wielding school girls moving along on rickety single speeds accompany her out of Kasi on their way home.

In need of a few days off the saddle and out of lycra, a basic bamboo bungalow in Vang Viang with a mind-bending view of the imposing mountains of Phan Tang and Phatto Nokham is the chosen location. There’s a lot to love and loathe about this village. Nestled in a valley on the bank of the Nam Xong river, Viang is saturated with sawtoothed karst mountains, misty jungle, capacious caves and plunging cascades. A popular spot for all things adventuresome from kayaking to caving to rock climbing. Sadly, though, a once sleepy village has given way internet cafes, westernized restaurants airing pirated episodes of Friends and visitors more interested in floating down the river, beer in hand than experiencing true Lao culture.

Our eagerness to explore all of the surrounding stunning nooks and crannies are stymied by one bad sinus cold and one equally troublesome bout of food poisoning. We are stranded among the hoards of flip-flops and “Same, Same” t-shirts. No matter: We’ve had our days of beatitude – total happiness in the land to the north.