Laos Cycling Adventure!

Well I'm writing my first blog post with 5 days of solo riding under my belt. Currently I'm taking a rest day in the small town of Thakek about 360 kms from the capital city Vientiane. Zach and I parted ways in Hue and will meet again in 2 months Katmandu, Nepal. We are having our separate journeys with my exploration through Lao and his time climbing the Himalayan mountain range through Tibet and Nepal (not an easy feat with one speed!).

Just to recap some, we left Hoi An a week ago heading north towards Hue. We both loved Hoi An with its ancient Chinese style architecture and meandering river waterways, it was a truly unique spot to spend a few days. At night glowing lanterns line the walkways and paper-mache animals perch glowing on their stands above the waterways, casting their silhouettes shimmering onto the surface. The two day trek to Hue, left us spending one night in Danang, Vietnam's 3rd largest city. After securing Z's visa extension we said our farwell to Hoi An and set out the 30 kms to Danang, with one stop at large hill primarily made up of marble and aptly named Marble Mountain. Leaving our bikes with a local marble shop owner, we scrambled up the hundreds of slippery marble steps leading to the top of Marble Mountain. With help by one of the young Vietnamese guides we were shown one of the most spectacular views of our whole trip; a 360 degree view of Danang, surrounding mountain ranges, and the coastline and islands near Hoi An, all at sunset. Pushing the last 10 kms into Danang under nightfall we negotiated the massive free for all traffic circles and found a hotel.

1) Zach a top Marble Mountain 2) I thought I had a heavy load!:

The following day included one 10 km mountain pass directly outside Danang. Luckily we started the climb early because the temperature steadily climbed into the high 90's. At the summit of Hivan Pass was a series of original American artillery bunkers. As we clambered around these war relics it brought to life the reality soldiers faced daily during the Vietnam War. As usual our decent passed far too quickly, dropping us back down to the coast. We spent the last 70 kms into Hue racing the impending storm clouds rumbling behind us. In the tourist guide books Hue is marketed as a tourist hotspot, but having come from Hoi An we all were a little disappointed with this bustling city. Like a watery line the Song Huong (Perfume River) separates the new city from the old city. Across the river, in the old city, lies the crumbling Citadel, housing the 13 emperors under the Nguyen Dynasty between 1802 - 1945. Steve, Zach, and I spent a morning wandering through the imperial enclosure named the Forbidden Purple City. Modernization merged with the ancient evidenced by the multitude of plastic paper-mache modeled animals perched on top of the decaying imperial city. Actively in a state of repair, workers hammered building stones back into place, replaced broken tiles, rebuilt roofs, attempting to delay the inevitable decay. Later that same day we all set off towards the riverfront and alter some heavy negotiating we procured a turquoise tourist boat to take us 4 kms down the river to the Thien Mu Pagado, founded in 1601. This beautiful pagoda also houses a monastery where young monks and nuns study. Clad in striking orange robes the young students peaked out behind their books giggling at the passing tourists.

1) Us at the top of the pass 2) US bunker:

1) Hue sunset view 2) Young nun and pagoda


Departing Hue with fond farewells and tears in my eyes I cycled into first solo bicycle tour. The two day ride followed the historic Highway 9 or better known as the DMZ (de-militarized zone) that separated North Vietnam from South Vietnam during the war. Now mainly used as a tour route and a land shipping connection between Vietnam and Laos, the road traverses through beautiful lush valleys, climbing up into the mountains ranges, then back down towards Laos. Besides a massive g-force headwind that stalked me for those two days to the border the road was in excellent condition and offered up some amazing views. At the top of a big climb I even managed to catch up with a stopped group of Aussie tourists, who stared distantly out at what is known as the "Pile of Rocks." Recovering well from the defoliants originally used in the area, the "pile" looks more like a jagged green peak jutting straight up to the sky, than an actual pile of rocks. But their guide let me know that during the Vietnam War the Americans built a helicopter landing pad atop this peak because strategically it is the highest point in the area. Waving goodbye to the Aussies gazing at me in wonderment why anyone would choose to cycle as a mode of transportation we parted ways. 85 kms of rollercoaster roads later I coasted into the border town of Lao Bao just in time to beat the imminent rain clouds chasing me. Wishful thinking on my part, these rain clouds would continue to steadily pour on me hundreds of kilometers into Laos.

1) "Pile of Rocks" 2) Need some bananas?

The following morning I pushed out into the downpour and newly flooded streets of Lao Bao towards the border 1km away. Eyeing me with a mix of suspicion and curiosity the Vietnamese customs official eagerly stamped my passport, waving me into Laos. Less than a minute away was the Laos border office offering a stark contrast to its Vietnamese counterpart. Parking my bike under a awning away from the rain I made my way to the "Visa on Entry" office. A smiling man in a dusty Lao uniform sitting behind an archaic computer met me and a few wild hand gestures later I understood that I needed to fill out one form letting them know I wanted a 30-day visa, another form letting the government know I didn’t have the H1N1 Swine Flue virus, then wait 10 minutes for this man's boss to finish eating his breakfast of noodle soup. An 80's style pleather couch with broken legs beckoned me. While waiting I watched soggy stray dogs run in and out of the office, obviously fond of the border officials for providing them with the occasional food scrap. As promised 10 minutes later I had a Lao visa sticker in my passport and after exchanging my remaining Dong into the Lao currency Kip I cycled out into the unknown.

Immediately the road opened onto the Laos border town of Dene Savan. The soggy mud drenched streets were lined by dismal looking cement bunker style shops and shipment trucks passing to and from the border. I swerved not to hit a giant black bristly haired pig standing its ground in the middle of the road. The town no more than a few hundred meters in length soon opened onto verdant bamboo and tree forests with the regular passing river. The small villages along the road consist of a few bamboo raised huts with roofs constructed primarily out of natural thatched material. It wasn’t until 200 kms later that I started to see village huts with tin roofs. Often these dwellings were in various states of disrepair with leaky holes in the palm thatch roofs. Even compared to Cambodia the level of poverty in villages and towns seems more apparent. Children often naked or wearing torn t-shirts embossed with western logos holler out "Sabaa-Dii!" (hello in Lao) while I pass them bundled in my blue rain jacket. Heading to and from fields and homes, men, women, and kids alike walk up and down the roads carrying various agricultural implements. Women are typically dressed in local embroidered shirts, sometimes adorned with traditional style hats. I even noticed a number of people with tribe specific head shavings. As my Lonely Plant remarks, the people of Laos hail from dozens of ethnic groups, many of which can be found throughout the whole of SE Asia. More than 30% of the county is comprised of non-Lao-speaking non-Buddhist hill tribes.

Pictures from my first day in Laos:

Cycling these last 3 days in Laos people smile and look at me with open eyed intrigue. We share words of "Sabaa-Dii!" and "Sok Dee!" (good luck). On the road I pass tractors loaded with people laughing and waving as I cycle by. The traffic is low, with the occasional passing truck, and even unlikely car, each always giving a wide berth. Chickens, ducks, dogs, water buffalo, cows, pigs, and goats dominate the roadside. Taking little notice of the passing cycle tourists they continue grazing. There are many rivers along the way, sometimes with locals waist deep in the water carrying out a traditional style of drop net fishing, where a large net is sunk the bottom held by the fisher's marionette like poles above. Pulling the net to surface it reveals a few minnow like fish flapping about which are then placed in the wicker basket affixed to the fishers hip. I pulled over multiple times to watch this elegant process, each time myself being spectacle for the locals to check out. So far I have decided to forgo taking pictures certain time and instead experience the moment without my camera. I've found that with photography it can ruin a moment, scare people away, and often can feel like an invasion of another culture and peoples privacy. Now cycling alone a camera seems even more out of place.

1) Approaching rain clouds 2) My soggy feet Day 1 in Laos

I continue to enjoy cycling alone. I've taken to riding with my headphones which helps to pass the hours. For a long time I thought I wasn’t strong enough to cycle tour alone and felt that I needed others there who know how to do it right. But the reality is that there is no one way to travel by bike, every day is a new experience with its own set of physical and mental challenges. I continue to ride at a the same pace too, averaging between 85 - 135 kms per day. And although I do miss Zach, we both have found that this time apart isn't as bad as we thought it would be. Its nice to miss the one you love and look forward to seeing them again soon. Tomorrow I leave to continue the journey north. It will probably rain and I will probably get wet, but the one thing for certain is that I will cycle through amazing scenery and get a glimpse into an unique and beautiful culture unlike my own.