The slow road to recovery and Luang Prabang, a slower boat trip and living like a gibbon through the jungles

Crazy jars little the landscape, apparently they may
have been used to decompose the dead

After a day convalescing I hoped that everything would be solid, but sadly it wasn’t and although I felt fine, clearly it’s a good idea to be able to retain water on a hot humid day. Finally I gave in and popped a ciprofloxin pill – a kill all antibiotic that takes out both the good and the bad in your gut, solving the immediate problem but leaving you exposed to further attacks. My hesitancy was warranted as although this fixed the immediate problem, my system was never quite right for the rest of the trip. With newly found confidence I headed out to the closest Plain of Jars site sipping gingerly from my water bottle and made it there for about 7am. So early in the morning I was free to explore the extensive site with just one other family. The slanting morning sun illuminated huge stone jars, scattered both in groups and individually around the peaceful site. The grass and scrubs have been cut back exposing scars from both craters and bunkers from the war; in places huge jars perched perilously on the edge of deep craters, it can only be imagined what might have been destroyed entirely.

Craters from the war also litter the plain breaking
up the landscape between the jars

A random jar in the grass

Local wildlife has made the jars home

The view from my veranda at Nong Tang lake

Riding back to and out of Phonsavan I pick up a meagre breakfast and confirmation of a hotel by Nong Tang Lake 40 miles down the road. Just along the road I bump into the motorcycle rider from Viang Xai, ironically he’d been laid up sick in Phonsavan for 2 days and was now in a rush to make it back to Vientiane in tome for his flight. The road undulates along the plain but is a lot gentler than the mountains of previous days, the only exceptions are where rivers have cut deep valleys in the plain causing the road to cut steeply through valley sides across narrow bridges and back up the other side. My mini tourism map suggests a number of interesting sites off the road including a quarry where the jars were cut out of the bedrock; however a lack of signs scuppers any chance of actually finding them. Through the morning I gradually felt stronger and arrived at Nong Tang by 11:30am. I felt a little bit soft to stop so early but the next guesthouse was another 55 miles up the road and I didn’t fancy another century ride today. Nong Tang surrounds a large lake of the same name in a region with more karst limestone bluffs and caves. Before the war this was the thriving settlement of Muang Sui, complete with extensive ancient temple complexes and a reasonable large population. However, retreating troops razed the entire area to the ground leaving nothing left but the occasional crater scarring the landscape; it’s hard to imagine that this place was ever anything more than the sleepy village it had now become.

My honeymoon Suite at Nong Tang

Back on the lake, children riding 2 to a narrow canoe lay nets across the lake and then repeatedly smacked the water on one side of the net with a large bamboo pole. The technique seem sound but I never saw them catch a single fish, and given the size of the lake, and that they probably do this every day, I can’t imagine they ever catch anything more than tiddlers. I checked into a simple wood hut built on stilts with a veranda overlooking the lake. My simple room had no shower but the bed seemed to be set up as the honeymoon suite with a lovely pink, heart adorned, bedspread. Of course, I got to enjoy it alone.

The lone Budda in the Budda Cave

In the afternoon I rode out up and over a rough road to the Budda Cave. This time it even had signs, but unfortunately they were pointing the wrong way. When I eventually found the cave the ranger station and cafes were deserted so I headed in by myself. Deep caverns extended into the mountain but unfortunately all but a huge budda at the entrance had been removed. Lights would have illuminated the passageways if I’d been able to find the switch; instead I had my rather meagre bike light. Following the mountain round, I found another cavern on the another side – mysterious glass vials were scattered all over the floor, I later found out that this had been used as a makeshift hospital during the war and had largely been untouched since.

So the plain didn't last too long, back in the mountains

The next day took me up off the relatively flat plain back in to the mountains. I cool morning turned into a cold, grey afternoon and for the 1^st time in Asia I actually felt cold on the bike – maybe I’d lost much of my insulation over the past few days. My system still wasn’t quite right and I had to stop a few times to relieve myself by the roadside, once just before a big van-load of Lao tourists stoped and stepped out to take pictures of the stunning view – they might have got more than they were expecting. I tried a green Miranda, which was a big mistake – tasted awful and may have been to blame for the roadside stops. Sections of the road here seem to have been resurfaced by simply throwing a pile of loose gravel on the road, clearly the tar to bed it in was too expensive and the contractors rather pocketed the money. Unfortunately for me, these sections were often on downhill corners so where you needed the tyres to grip they were instead twitching all over the place. The mountain scenery was again stunning, though I was beginning to expect this and villagers along the way cheered me on as I invariably crawled past them uphill in a low gear.

Arriving at Phou Khoun I found a dump of a town centred on the major road junction with Hwy 13, maybe it was the grey clouds, cold temperatures and gusting winds, but it was entirely uninspiring. To make it worse all the hotels were expensive but I got a comfortable room with a roof terrace. However, when you feel down it’s always possible to find somebody worse off than you; over dinner I chatted to a very skinny Taiwanese cyclist on his way from Hanoi to Bangkok. He’d also been laid up ill in Phonsavan and had taken a bus to Phou Khoun and was aiming to catch another to Luang Prabang the next day. I fear our dinner was cut short as he had to excuse himself and dash off upstairs, presumably to the toilet. Further, I found a young Welsh guy who’d been thrown off a bus at the road junction having expected to arrive in Viang Vieng several hours earlier; instead he was sat hoping another bus would arrive through the swirling mist and dust and magic him away to the backpacker bars of Vang Vieng in only a couple of hours.

A beautiful view of the shitty town of Phou Khoun

Enjoying the hills on the way to Luang Prabang

What turned out to be my last day of riding in Laos was spectacular; I started out in eerie silence, clad in thick fog only able to see 10-15m in front of me. A short climb out of town took me above the cloud but the road soon plunged down again setting the scene for the rest of the day through the high mountains. It was never flat but fortunately was much more down than up and the sweeping mountain view certainly raised the spirits. The body was feeling strong again and I churned away up steep hills passing lorries burned out or resting on the roadside. The downhills were superb; on a slightly wider sweeping road I was able to overtake a couple of lorries and a moto, all with smoking brakes from the steep grades. Passing through villages closer to Luang Prabang kids ran to the side of the road to exchange high 5s as I pass. Whenever I dropped back down into the lowlands the heat was sweltering and even the thick air didn’t feel like a blessing. The last 20 miles into Luang Prabang were relatively flat but the heat made them hard work meaning I arriving in the tourist trap town centre looking good doused in sweat.

Back in the high mountains, can't seem to get away from them

Finally a road sign - shame the distances are wrong

Now they tell me the road is winding - maybe I noticed that before

Luang Prabang

The barrage of English speaking westerners is overwhelming after the quiet towns on the road but I bump into a few people I met before in Vietnam. Luang Prabang is stunning sitting on the banks of the Mekong River, awash with Buddhist temples and an interesting museum celebrating the recently deposed Laos royal family (no mention of how they were deposed). The heat by the Mekong is oppressive after the mountains and it’s slow going exploring the city. Reassuring western food is available everywhere and my stomach forces me to eat my fill. The sunset view from the top of Chomsy Hill was spectacular as around 100 tourists of a multitude of nationalities sat on banked steps to watch the sun dip behind the mountains across the Mekong.

Walking my bike over this bridge was a risky business, with
missing planks I had to decide whether to save myself of the bike!

The cat knew how to enjoy Thailand's royal hospitality

The slow boat to Luang Prabang, passing by
the rocks in  the Mekong

After almost 2 days of hard riding, I’d fallen out of love with the bike and needed a break to get my head and body back together. So I load my bike up on top of the long slow boat to Houay Xai and take a seat for 2 days floating up the Mekong. With airline style seats, ripped out of minibuses, set up either side of the aisle I pick a table seat sharing with Justine. I’m heading upriver to join the Gibbon Experience, an awesome sounding expedition into the jungle that allows you to swing through the jungle canopy of zip lines as you traverse from peak to peak then spend the night in vast tree houses 30m above the jungle floor. The whole set up is run and benefits local villagers and ensures the remained jungle is spared from deforestation and generates income and jobs for the locals. Over the two days it turns out that 5 of the 7 westerners on the slow boat are heading for the same expedition and I was lucky to share 5 days with a really friendly bunch of people. Justine had just given away her 100cc scooter that she’d ridden, alone, across most of Vietnam, Cambodia and Laos. It was great to swap stories and many of hers made me feel like I was missing out of the real, fun adventures, especially as she’d never ridden a scooter before she bought one in Hanoi.

Locals fishing the low waters of the Mekong

At the end of the dry season the Mekong is very, very low, we dodge between huge jagged black rocks rising out of the murky brown water. Nets and fish traps hang from exposed rocks, but I never saw anybody pull fish from the river and suspect it’s fished out this high upriver. Children & water buffalo bathe in the slack water on both sides and herds of goats pick their way amongst the steep jagged rocks. We pass the amazing Budda caves at Pak Ou, catching a fleeting glimpse of a few of the thousands of budda statues inside. Occasionally we stop to pick up locals swinging t-shirts above their head to catch the captain’s attention, and likewise we drop off locals in the strangest of places with them jumping off onto steep river cliffs seemingly in the middle of nowhere. We stop overnight in Pakbeng, a town that only comes alive only as the boat docks and quickly slides back into sleepiness again. I shared a disappointing steak dinner with James, an interesting gardener, museum worker and music promoter from Geraldton, Australia. We turn down the offer of free local firewater to finish. Progressing up the river we reach the point where the Mekong defines the border with Thailand and see plenty of locals boating back and forth across the quiet river, here it seems borders are simply an arbitrary line drawn on the map.

Pak Ou Caves, filled with 1,000s of budda statues

Dropping off a couple of passengers at their local "harbour"

Across the flooded river, into the jungle

Arriving in Houay Xai, we all find a room in the same hotel, share dinner and head off searching for supplies. We’re beckoned into a shop by a couple who have a sign for everything we might need – gloves, sandwiches, boots, raincoats…. They’re great fun as we wander around the store and eventually spot a cheeky half empty bottle of spirits; they’re absolutely hammered and hilarious. It rains all evening and night only stopping in the morning as we join the Gibbon Experience and head for the jungle down the smoothest black top road I’ve seen in Asia. Normally we’d drive through the river and right up to the edge of the jungle, but given the river’s 10 foot deep and raging through the valley we instead have to negotiate a rickety bridge loaded down with all our food and belongings. Further along we wade through a waist deep stream where some people remove shoes in a vain attempt to keep them dry. Fortunately a truck is waiting for us on the track up to the jungle and 13 of us bundle inside with 2 guides hanging off the back.

The way into our tree house in the jungle

We have a four hour trek through the soaking wet jungle to tree house number 5 at the far end of the trials. 2 guides escort 7 of us along narrow trails up and down steep hills (any lowland jungle has already been chopped down for farmland). Each of us has to step into a harness with a simple roller hanging down from the waist strap. Arriving at the first zip wire we simply hook ourselves up onto the wire and fling ourselves along the wire across deep jungle clad valleys with stupendous views of the surrounds. There’s clearly a skill to it as we all stop short of the finish and have to haul ourselves along, however the tiny guides glide in effortlessly arriving on the landing platform without any further effort. The jungle is full of leeches and we’re constantly picking them off our shoes and legs, I finish the day with 4 bites that won’t clot and instead drip blood down my legs through the evening. Our tree house is stunning, 30m above the ground with an open bathroom & shower overlooking the jungle clad valley below. From the start it’s clear there’s a bees nest nearby and they love our sweet sweat, James’ in particular. By the time we sit down for dinner we have an infestation, with the bees taking a particular liking to damp boots and walking socks.

So much fun

Our guides made it look easy and even brought our food and hot tea from the kitchen via zip wire

Here we go, time to fly!

The bees seemed attracted to sweaty socks...

...and boots, if fact we had so many after 1 night that we had to move on

The world's best view from the shower (or toilet), if only every morning was like this

I need one of these tree houses at home, but I'd
love to at least take the view home too

Over the next 2 days we trek and swing our way through the jungle in search of gibbons but are rewarded with only a fleeting glimpse of some mammals in the trees above us that were probably gibbons but quickly disappeared. We get to hang out in each of the tree houses, each with their own stunning toilet view but no bee problem. Given the bees in our first tree house we switched for the second night, arriving to see a stunning sunset over the jungle followed by card games and Lao wine that I couldn’t develop the slightest taste for, whatever it was it didn’t taste like wine. There were no bees at the new house, but plenty of mosquitos that all seemed to target Justine who woke with 100s of bites all over. Heading back to Houay Xai we’re able to drive across the gently flowing river and straight into town. After grabbing my bike and a few goodbyes I scrambled onto another long boat for the 10 minute trip across the Mekong and into Thailand.

Frustration trying to open Laos wine - afraid it wasn't worth it

On the return the river was just about low enough to drive through

Instead of doing all this cycling simply for fun I'm also raising money for the North Staffs Adventure Playground where my handicapped sister used to attend. They continue to do great work with handicapped and special needs kids and adults in the local area and woulld really benefit from any donations. Thanks to all those who have already sponsored me and contributed to the North Staffs Adventure Playground - I'm hoping to hit 1000 pounds so please donate using the following link:

http://www.justgiving.com/BigRedOnABike