The Trail

Current location: Don Det, Laos

If you've been to Southeast Asia, chances are you've spent a fair bit of time on the Trail. Sometimes called the "Tourist Trail", or the "Backpacker Trail", this imaginary network covers routes, cities, towns and cultural hot spots most frequented by foreign visitors. Traveling on the Trail is easy as air-conditioned VIP-buses run day and night to ferry travelers to their next destination and every guesthouse, hotel and shop on the street can fix you up with a place on the reclining seats.

The Luang Prabang - Vang Vieng - Vientiane - Si Phan Don route is the main vein of the Trail in Laos, and nowhere is the pulse stronger than in Vang Vieng.
Shops, restaurants and guesthouses catering for the needs of mainly western tourists line the streets and Beer Lao and In the tubing in Vang Vieng t-shirts, flip flops, Oreo-cookies and chocolate bars are sold everywhere.
Restaurants run Friends, South Park and Family Guy on endless loops on flat-screen TVs while happy, red-eyed westerners dig into burgers and banana pancakes.
Wife-beater clad youths prowl the streets, beer in hand, either returning from tubing on the Nam Song river or on their way to the next bar.
Drugs are abundant and most any restaurant will gladly make your pizza or fruit-shake "happy" upon request.

While floating down the Nam Song on an inner tube of a tractor tire and getting "happy" while watching reruns of Friends is what seems to pull the crowds in Vang Vieng, one shouldn't think it's a place merely to go and drink yourself to a stupor only to relieve your hangover by getting high and going tubing the next morning.
There's much more to do there, mainly stuff to do with the mountains and their caves and karst cliffs.
I stopped in Vang Vieng to do some rock-climbing and to go rafting, but as it turned out, a recently built dam has made rafting all but impossible, so I went kayaking instead. I also rode my bike to some of the waterfalls and caves in the countryside.

But like so many times before ever since I bought the motorbike, the call of the road eventually got the better of me and after having spent a week  in Vang Vieng I got up early, loaded my kit on the bike and rode off at daybreak singing a certain song by Steppenwolf...

The karst scenery in VV is pretty awesome, but nothing
compared to the towering cliffs in Yangshuo.

Blue Lagoon.

Boondocks.

Although the rainy season has passed, the rain clouds still
hang to the mountains and heavy rains in the mountains wash
sand and dirt in to the rivers, giving them a nasty colour.

"Where you go?"

Tubular, brah.

You can not walk 500 m in VV without hearing the theme song
of Friends at least once.

The red-eyed-munchie-bunch and late night bar hoppers
won't go hungry in VV. These carts sell burgers, sandwiches
and pancakes to satisfy any hunger, and most of the time
you get more bang for your buck than in a restaurant.
Chicken, bacon, cheese for me, thanks!

Phongsali to Luang Prabang

Current location: Vang Vieng, Laos

Once I got my bowels under control again I did a light overnight trekking trip down to one of the tribal villages that surround Phongsali with a couple from New Zealand and our guide, Tuey.

The small village was a collection of wooden houses standing on stilts next to a small river and surrounded by rice fields and the mountains. Life there was centered around farming, and when we arrived in the afternoon every able body seemed to be working on the fields, only the elderly stayed behind to look after the kids.
Dogs, cats, pigs, chicken and ducks ran about in the centre square, and while that is a common sight all over Laos, somehow it seemed so much more appropriate there. Also, you know you're out in the sticks when you see naked kids play in the mud with the piglets.
Just before nightfall the people returned from the fields to have dinner, a Beer Lao and maybe a shot or two of lao-lao, the local rice whisky before going to sleep early in order to wake up at the crack of dawn to head back to the fields again.
We woke up with our hosts, had breakfast and as they headed for the fields to work, we crossed the fields and entered the jungle again for a few hours of sweating, mosquito swatting and leech checking before we reached a main road and caught a bus back to Phongsali.
The next morning I rode my bike down to the river, loaded my bike on a boat and five hours later I was back in Muang Khua. I stayed the night in Muang Khua, drinking Beer Lao by the river with the kiwis who took the same boat down, and in the morning took off towards Luang Prabang.

Luang Prabang is a UNESCO World Heritage Site and boasts a shit ton of cool stuff for culture vultures and history geeks, but  as you might already know, I'm neither. So I just spent the night and continued my journey south in the morning. Besides, I'd already visited the temples and stupas the first time I was in LB six years ago and I'm pretty sure they haven't changed much since.

Old-school corn grinding.

Welcome to the jungle, we got fun and games.
(And mosquitoes, spiders, snakes and leeches.)

Tuey leading the way.

The village.

This guy was a bit larger than my hand.

Kitchen of our accommodation.

Sleeping quarters.

Village square.

As no power-lines reach the village, they use these generators to get electricity.

A local classroom.

Breakfast time.

Back in the jungle.

Victor Mike on a boat. On a boat mofo, don't you ever forget!

Entering Laos

Current location: Phongsali, Laos

On that day, legend has it that Ho Chi Minh, surrounded by his staff in his command post at Muong Phan, half-way between Dien Bien Phu and Tuan Ciao, took off his tropical helmet, turned it over and putting his fist in it said,"  The French are here."  And slowly running his finger around the edge he quietly said in a sly manner " and we are here."

I stopped at Dien Bien Phu to have some maintenance done on my bike and to learn something about the events that led to the end of the First Indochina War.

Besides the Victory Monument towering over the city, some remains of artillery and a few rotting tank carcasses, not much was to be learned by touring the city, so I ended up reading about it online. (I won't go into details, but those interested in military history might want to check out wikipedia articles on the largest airborne operation since WWII, and the ass-whoop of Dien Bien Phu.)

And on a similar note, I had three mechanics tell me that the sound that my engine was making was totally normal and I should just ride on. I wasn't completely satisfied with their assurances and couldn't shake the feeling that I was riding on a time bomb.

But as there was nothing to be done to the sound I loaded my stuff on the bike and headed for the border.

Crossing the border was no problem at all and I was soon making good time towards Muang Khua on a brand new road. I reached my destination just before nightfall and stayed the night.
The next day I started towards Phongsali.

The French guys had emailed me before I left Vietnam to warn me about the roads in Laos, but besides a few bridge construction sites and a landslide or two I'd been riding on either paved roads or solid, levelled dirt and could go all out almost all the time.
But when I took the turn towards Phongsali at Pak Nam Noi, I understood what they were talking about.

During the next 7 hours I had my spinal discs thoroughly tested, my bike developed a range of new rattling sounds, I had to have the chain tightened twice and had my first crash. And I only did roughly 170 kilometres. That's 25 clicks an hour folks.
And when I did reach Phongsali, I developed a vicious diarrhea which had me running to the toilet every hour or so for about 18 hours.
Good times...

Once I'm on top of my game again I plan to do a bit of trekking to go see some of the hill tribes before loading the bike on a boat back to Muang Khua (I don't think either of us would survive another go on the roads), and head towards civilization and hopefully some rock climbing in either Luang Prabang or Vang Vieng.

Victory Monument.

The centre of DBP, as seen from Victory Monument hill.

I rode into a hairpin a tad too fast and as I applied the brakes I was suddenly on  loose sand.
Had that bush not been there I would've ended up rolling down a pretty steep hill. 

Phongsali.

The shared bathroom of my guesthouse, where many dire moments were spent...

Celebrating my four months on the road with a  bottle of Beer Lao.

Northern Vietnam pt. 4

Current location: Dien Bien-fukin-Phu, Vietnam.

Let's see... So I was hauling ass towards Lai Chau, half an hour behind these two French guys, ok...

On my way from Huoi Ke to Lai Chau I started losing power. In the morning I had had no problems riding up steep roads on fourth gear, but now I was struggling to get up little hills on second. I had no idea what was going on, I'd given the bike little breathers all along the way like I had been advised, and hadn't had any troubles with the engine so far.

I made it to Lai Chau, stopped at a roadside stall for coffee and called the mechanic at Vietnam Motorbikes for advice. He told me to drain the carburetor, as it might cause loss of power. I did as I was told and took off. Draining the carb had done the trick and I was once again running with full power.
The rain started to pick up again, and I decided to play it safe and put on my rain gear, and sure enough, as I stopped the light drizzle turned into a downpour.

After getting my waterproofs on I headed towards the mountains again, aiming to get to a town called Muong Lay before nightfall. The rain lasted for about 45 minutes, which was a good initiation to driving in the rain on shitty roads. The rains of the past few days had filled the dirt roads with potholes and it was obvious parts of the road had been recently swept away by landslides, but I was still making good time.
At one point I arrived in a town with a long straight stretch of paved road, and the sun was now shining, so I decided to take off my waterproofs as I was getting hot.
I got changed and took off again, thinking the road would be paved from there on. It wasn't. It so wasn't.
What followed was an hour of various depths and consistencies of mud, and I had to say farewell to clean clothes, as I didn't want to put my weatherproofs back on because it was hot as hell.

As I entered a small village, I saw a westerner standing next to a bike shop. I had caught up with the Frenchmen. I stopped and shouted "bonjour!". Imagine their surprise. There they were, in the middle of nowhere, and a guy on a bike just shows up and addresses them in their own language. We started talking and decided to have lunch at the village. They had both had minor accidents on the way, and one of them was getting their back wheel changed. I told them I was aiming for Muong Lay, and they thought they could make it all the way to Dien Bien Phu before dark. We decided to ride the rest of the way together and took off.

They'd never driven motorbikes before and I soon got bored of the slow going and decided to scout ahead. I rode alone for about an hour and a half before I arrived at a bridge that was closed. Excavation works were underway on the hill on the other side, and big chunks of rock were bouncing on and over the road. The guard told me it would take 45 minutes, but I was anxious to get going. I thought about sneaking past the gate and riding through as the rock slide subsided for a couple of seconds. The guard obviously saw this and just put his helmet on my handlebars and started chatting with me in his broken English. I thought, what the hell, saving 45 minutes probably isn't worth the risk of getting a boulder in the head, so I put my bike on the stand and started eating the Vietnamese peanut bars I'd bought for snacks.
About half an hour later the Frenchmen caught up with me, and it turned out one of them had crashed into a car and broken his indicators and headlight. He was alright, but the bike would need to be fixed. As the guard let us go we rode the rest of the way to Muong Lay together.

The sun was already behind the mountains as we reached Muong Lay, but as the road was good and there were three of us, we decided to try and make it to Dien Bien Phu anyway, even if it meant riding in the dark.
We hadn't gotten 500 meters out of town when my chain came off.
To the closest bike shop we went and had a little part in the back replaced and the chain tightened.

The sun set and we rode in the dark for two hours in a neat line, the French with the good headlight leading the pack, until we reached Muong Cha, a little town 55 km from Dien Bien Phu.
We were all tired and decided to call it a day and stay the night in the only guesthouse in town.
The next day we took off early, as the Frenchmen had friends waiting for them in DBP.

About 20 km before DBP Victor Mike decided to act up again. I was slowing down for a bridge and as I downshifted the engine locked up along with the back wheel. Luckily I wasn't going too fast so I managed to stop within three meters. After rocking the bike back and forth I managed to get it going again, but the engine was making a terrible racket so I stopped at the next shop, a hundred meters from where the engine locked up. I called my mechanic again and he and the grease monkey at the shop had a brief conversation, the end result of which was to take my engine apart and see what's wrong.
I told the Frenchmen to go ahead as they had a meeting and were in a hurry to cross the border to Laos.

After an hour the engine was back together again, and while the bike ran without trouble, there was still an unnerving clicking sound. I loaded up, paid the man, and rode very carefully to Dien Bien Phu.

The two French guys had met up with their friends, and were having the headlight and indicators changed.
They had decided to cross the border as soon as they got the bikes back, so we had lunch and then the guys were off. I stayed behind to check out DBP and to get the bike fixed, as I didn't want to ride into Laos on a bike I wasn't sure of.

And here I am. It's 08.30 and I'm hoping to get the bike fixed before noon, but as the next "big" town in Laos is just a hundred or so km from the border, I'm not in a hurry.

The roads are frequently swept away by landslides so there's no point in paving them.

You really learn to appreciate sealed roads here.

Some pretty sketchy bridges spanned the river, none of which I had to cross, unfortunately.

If you really look hard you can see the excavator at the top of the hill.

Having resigned to waiting for 45 minutes I kicked back on the bike.

All of a sudden we had a proper road under our wheels.

The river valley we were following had me thinking of the Norwegian fjords.

It's not only people, trucks, buses and other bikes you need to look out for.
There are also pigs, dogs and water buffaloes using the roads.

Ah, Victor Mike at the shop. Again...

This concludes my journal of adventures through the Tonkinese Alps, and once I cross the border to Laos my reporting will become less detailed, for writing these four pieces has had me sitting on this computer for a total of at least 10 hours (although most of that has been due to the computer being slow in uploading pictures), and that's too much for me.