After the tubing madness in Vang Vieng, Heather and I had planned to travel to Tha Khaek in central Laos for a multi-day trek in Phu Hin Bun National Protected Area and to visit a 7 kilometer-long cave called Tham Kong Lo. However due to the constant influx of news reports concerning super typhoons, tsunamis, flooding, mudslides and other weather-related insanity further south, we begrudgingly decided instead to check out some of the more wholesome activities surrounding Vang Vieng and then to make our way to higher ground in the north.
As it turns out, we discovered a mutual love for an adventure sport involving steep cliffs, finger-breaking handholds, ropes, bolts, tight harnesses, and LOTS of sweaty, sore muscle goodness.
Our new obsession:
The rock climbing in Vang Vieng is supposed to be some of the most challenging in Southeast Asia… but, really, when have we ever started small? We signed up for a course with Green Discovery (www.greendiscoverylaos.com/climbing/vv.html) and after a day of rest and rehabilitation following our tubing escapades, we woke up early in the morning and set off by tuk tuk to climb and conquer the local limestone. Since it’s rainy season and the “beginner” routes are not sheltered from rain and hence too slippery to climb, we started off on an intermediate section (climbable year-round because the limestone forms overhangs at the top of the karst that block the rain and keep the rock faces dry). To reach the rocks, we first had to climb up a wet, slippery jungle path near the riverbank, which provided some very close calls with certain creepy crawly wildlife species. Heather valiently took the lead and cleared our path of the slimy, slithery creatures which will not be named but which may or may not cause me to be overcome with shaking, hyperventilating, crying and HIGHLY embarassing panic.
Once we reached our destination we suited up and wasted no time in getting started. Our instructor taught us basic knots, handholds and climbing methods in about seven minutes flat before sending us scurrying up our first route. I volunteered to go first after learning to belay our instructor on his lead climb– a free climb to secure the rope through the anchor at the top of the face. From the very first handhold I was in love with rock climbing. Turns out I’m also really good at it. Heather too, despite her previously mentioned fear of heights. I initially had some doubts despite her enthusiasm, given the Bloukrans Bridge anxiety attack, but she eventually overcame her fears and climbed like a pro.
The routes in Southeast Asia are graded using the French rating system, which is slowly becoming the international standard. The French system takes into account the overall difficulty of the moves and the length of the climb. Grades range between 1 (very easy) and 10 (absolutely insane). The numerical grades are subdivided by adding a letter (a, b or c) and, in some instances, a plus sign. Because we started out on the intermediate rock, our first climb was rated 5a. Our final climb, 6b+. This is not how most people begin their rock climbing careers but, like I said, we’re not ones to ease into things. At the end of the day we were hot, tired, sore and energized. Enough so that we decided to do a full day of kayaking the next day, followed by a trip further north through the mountains to Luang Prabang, more rock climbing and a two-day hike in the jungles of northern Laos.
The narrow road to Luang Prabang meanders over and through stunning mountains and around sharp, terrifying curves and we (or rather Heather, since I had opted for Xanax) experienced gorgeous views of lush, expansive green valleys and fluffy cloud-drenched peaks. I was initially less than excited about spending time in Luang Prabang, having been looking forward to exploring the landscapes of central Laos, but I ended up enjoying the lovely French-influenced town on the banks of the Mekong. Backpackers and affluent holidaymakers alike flock here to enjoy the laid-back atmosphere, great food and beautiful architecture, which blends Lao traditions with structures built by European colonizers in the 19th and 20th centuries.
In Luang Prabang we enjoyed leisurely walks, taking in the sights, sounds and smells of this charming little town. We had several fantastic meals, including BBQ fish and vegetable buffet (50 cents!) at the local market and a fantastic Friday night Lao celebration feast at Tamarind (www.tamarindlaos.com), the highlight of which was a whole fish marinated in local herbs, stuffed with lemongrass and steamed in banana leaves. The town also hosts a surprising number of wine bars, ice cream parlors and Mac-filled internet cafes. The handicraft night market is expansive and busy, with vendors selling homemade quilts, clothing, arts and crafts. Fortunately for our livers, the town shuts down completely at 11 PM (as in lights out, guest house doors locked, backpackers report directly to bed). The one exception is the annual Festival of Lights, which happened to be taking place during our brief stay in town.
The Festival of Lights celebrates the end of Buddhist lent and is marked by a procession of elaborate and intricate paper boats, each constructed by a different village, school or temple and lit by hundreds of candles. The boats are huge– usually about two to three meters long– and decorated with fresh flowers, banana leaves and some even with impressive mechanical accoutrements. Each is carried down the main street by a team of men from the relevant locality and accompanied by large groups of singing, dancing, costumed women and children. Revelers gather to watch the procession and follow the boats to the riverbank where they are set off down the Mekong (before or after some tense firefighting exercises are performed in and around the highly flamable vessels). Small foam-based flower arrangements containing small candles and sticks of incense are offered for purchase on every street corner. Heather and I each bought one and were advised to make a wish before sending them, along with thousands of other twinkling lights, down the Mekong (as the beautiful little trinket floats away, with it are supposed to go all of your troubles). The festival is an occasion for the entire town, young and old, local and tourist, to party in the streets and continuously set off multitudes of frighteningly loud fireworks (contributiing to about a dozen heart attacks and potentially permanent ear damage). By the end of the night the air was thick with smoke and sulfur. The entire evening was magical and exciting and entirely unexpected.
Another highlight of our time in northern Laos was our two-day trek and village stay. We chose to book our trek through Tiger Trail Outdoor Adventures (www.laos-adventures.com), mainly because the company supports the “Fair Trek” initiative by engaging in sustainable tourism, eco-friendly adventures and even donating a portion of its profits to local villagers. On the first morning of our trek our guide introduced us to the numerous resident giant millipedes (terrifying and gross but basically harmless, unless you have a slithering insect phobia, AHEM) and nonchalantly advised us to keep an eye out for scorpions (yikes!) and king cobras (double yikes!), both of which are common on the trails. Lovely. Despite our fears we set off into the dense, mountainous, jungle terrain. Two hours in and I have never been so hot and sticky in my entire life. It felt like I was swimming in my clothes. The sun beat down through a cloudless sky, the humidity was something like 739 percent, and the trail? The trail was virtually nonexistent. Our guide walked a meter or so in front of us, hacking his way through vines and bamboo with his field knife. Even when there was an opening in the plant life, he still made sure to loudly announce our arrival to the resident wildlife, luckily ensuring that we did not run into any friendly or not-so-friendly king cobras along the way. When questioned about the dangers of snake encounters, our knowledgable guide advised us quite succinctly that king cobras “usually… never” bite people but if they do, the bite is “sometimes… always” fatal (surprisingly, this did little to calm our nerves). I did, however, narrowly avoiding stepping on a large scorpion, get attacked by a mess of giant red stinging ants and, several times, get whipped in the face by sneaky low-hanging vines. Given my tendency to clumbsiness, I call this a success.
After seven hours of intense hiking (and a few stops at small villages along the way to play with and take photos of the always-excited local children), we made it to a quiet little Hmong village where we would be spending the night. There we met an American couple, Michelle and Peter, who had also braved the jungle (and who, unlike us, had not been so lucky as to avoid an encounter with a king cobra). After possibly the most appreciated showers of our lives and a yummy local dinner, the four of us were exhausted and ready for bed before sundown… but the villagers had alternate plans for us. They were excited to offer us some of their homemade lao-lao whiskey (mmm… smells like lighter fluid, feels like fire), turn the volume up on some local tunes, and begin the welcome party. The adorable village kids were in high spirits, dancing around our table, smiling and laughing despite (or maybe because of?) or inabilty to communicate… maybe also because of our grimaces upon throwing back a shot of the local firewater. As the evening progressed they would also gain extraordinary pleasure by torturing us with enormous insects and laughing when we screamed, hopped onto chairs and hid behind Pete for protection (thanks Pete!) when the random praying mantis came flying in our direction.
After a too short night’s sleep (the resident roosters very impolitely woke us at 3:30 AM), we packed our bags, bid our new friends adieu and headed off in the direction of a massive and spectacular waterfall called Tad Sae. Tad Sae features several levels of bleached white limestone worn smooth by centuries of rushing water, forming numerous crystal blue pools. It looked like something out of an animated fantasy wonderland of gorgeousness. The water was shockingly cold, but we couldn’t resist diving in to celebrate the end of our hot, muggy, itchy, scary and wonderful jungle trek.
Another day of rock climbing followed (!!!)… and then we decided to test our luck with Mother Nature by heading to the southernmost part of Laos. Our destination: the island of Don Det in a region known as 4000 Islands. Our goal: to rent a stilted bamboo bungalow with a balcony over the river and plant our bikini-clad butts firmly in a couple of hammocks for a few days before we were expected to arrive in Phnom Penh to start working. Success! Turns out the flooding had mostly subsided, the rains had (mostly) cleared and the bungalows and hammocks were plentiful. Our balcony connected with those of a British couple and an Aussie dude (hi Nic!), all three of whom were perfect neighbors and equally devoted to mastering the fine art of hammock-swinging. None of us minded that the island has no electricity except by generator in the evenings, no indoor plumbing and no hot water. A few cold Beerlaos, a good book and pack of cards was enough to keep us all happy for several days.
Don Det was a beautiful, relaxing, breezy and perfect end to our time in Laos, a land of ups and downs, insanity and serenity, smiling children, a few monkeys, constant sunshine, nonstop adventures and (as promised, Moms and Dads) lots of detox and relaxation.
Next up: Phnom Penh.
xoxoxo,
Jill & Heather
