Laos

I arrived in Laos with little Idea of what to expect, with my usual lack of planning I crossed the border without even knowing what the local currency was and had no idea they wouldn’t take my US dollars. It wasn’t long however before this amazing country took my breath away, Laos is truly the land of beautiful smiles, lovely people and stunning scenery (oh….and cheap beer). My first stop was the small riverside city of Pakse which was a great base for exploring some of the surrounding temples and the Bolavan Plateau. After a few days of riding southern Laos and a few evenings drinking beer while watching the sun set over the Mekong I decided it was time to head north and I was soon making my way to Kong Lor cave. A river runs through the 7km long cave and I was soon in the dark cavern, precariously balanced in a narrow motorised canoe as our guide navigated his way past rocks and through the occasional set of small rapids. There was a small village near the entry to the cave, which consisted of mainly eco retreats and guesthouses, with only a handful of tourists there it was a great place to relax and enjoy the mountainous surroundings.

After my river cave experience in Kong Lor my next destination was the countries capital, Vientiane, I arrived with a little trepidation thinking that it would be a bustling city but with a population of around 800,000 Vientiane was small enough to have a bit of charm about it. I managed to catch up with my friend Cody, a fellow motorcycle traveller who I met in Cambodia and we naturally ended up at a few of the local bars, my next 2 days of sightseeing in the city was done with a reasonable size hangover.

If I had any hopes that I was going to avoid hangovers for a while I was sadly mistaken, my next stop was Vang Vieng, the infamous river tubing capital. In its heyday Vang Vieng was best known as a place of anything goes debauchery, starting up river revellers would sit in their tube and head down stream, bars along the bank would throw out a rope and pull you in so you could enjoy a complete excess of alcohol and drugs. Needless to say, the combination of intoxicated travelers and the river resulted quite a few people drowning every year and eventually the powers that be clamped down hard on the drunken shenanigans, it’s starting to pick up again now and a good time can definitely be had as you spend the afternoon floating down the river in your tube. Something that took me by surprise was the natural beauty of the area surrounding Van Vieng, caves and waterfalls are spread out through the thick jungle and jagged karst formations rise up dramatically to make a perfect backdrop as you watch the sunset from one of the riverside restaurants.

As I continued north the flat roads disappeared and the roads began winding their way up into the altitude of the northern Laos mountains. My eventual destination was Luang Prabang but I wanted to do a detour to visit the mystery shrouded archaeological landscape of the plain of jars. Thousands of stone jars are scattered across the areas foothills, ranging in diameter between 1 and 3 meters and dating back to between 500 BC – 500 AD. The discovery of human remains and burial goods support the belief that the jars were used for burial purposes although one fanciful local legend would have you believe that they were used to brew large amounts of rice wine to celebrate the local population’s liberation from cruel overlords in the 6^th century.

I decided to take the long way to Luang Prabang and my 550 km detour to the North East was one of the best days of riding I have had in a long time. The roads climbed high into the mountains and weaved there way from one beautiful village to the next, as I rode through each one I was greeted by glowing smiles from the locals and children waving at me from the side of the road as I passed by. This was Laos at its best…. quaint villages, breath taking scenery and incredibly friendly people. I arrived in Luang Prabang keen to see what the hype was all about, surely a city couldn’t live up to the high expectations that this UNESCO heritage listed city carried with it. I was wrong again, Luang Prabang was the prettiest city I had visited in South East Asia and seemed to have overflowing amaountsmof charm and character. Situated on the confluence of the Nam khan and Mekong rivers and encircled by mountains Luang Prabang is a mixture of Buddhist temples and French provincial Architecture. The pace of life seems to go by a little slower here, I watched hundreds of monks and there novices make their way through the streets in their iconic orange robes as I sat back with a coffee in one of the many fine cafes and restaurants that fill the town. Walking through the remarkably clean streets, visiting the Wats and taking in the local architecture was enough to take up most of the day but the ethnicity museum was worth a visit to learn about the local tribes and the night markets were by far the best I had visited, no pushy vendors or cheap, fake clothing brands here. I also pais a visit to Kuang Si falls and the bear rescue centre, home to bears that were mistreated as performing acts or even kept for traditional medicines where the Bears bile is thought to cure sickness.

On my last night I met some BMW riders that had just led a tour group through China and they told me that the mountain road to the north was being upgraded and to expect long delays. I managed to weave my way through much of the congestion but the high volume of trucks meant that traffic would come to a halt as two trucks tried to pass each other with not enough room for even a bike to squeeze through. After not meeting many touring motorcyclists since I left Thailand I met another two groups coming down from China that afternoon and it was great to stop and share stories about our travels, even if it was on the side of the road with cars almost sideswiping the bikes as we chatted.

My last stop in Laos was Luang Namtha, the town lacked the character that most of the other Laotian villages, towns and cities offered but what drew people here was the trekking and most people would only stay in town long enough to organise a tour and then head out into the jungle for a few days. I spent the evening hanging out with a group of travellers that had made their way from Europe via China in their own vehicles, I knew china was expensive to ride through but I was still a little surprised when they told me how much it cost. As we had dinner I was constantly being approached by what I thought were lovely old ladies from local minority tribes trying to sell me handmade bracelets. I felt a little naïve when my new friends explained that these “nice old ladies” were actually selling opium, the bracelets were just a cover, as they handed you a bracelet they would also hand you a bag of the sticky brown substance, no wonder the old dears seemed so cheerful, they were probably high as a kite. Before I made my way to the Thai border I rode to the Lao/China border to gaze into the big neighbouring country to the norththen I headed back to Thailand and sadly said goodbye to what turned out to be the favourite country of my trip so far.



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A day of mis-adventure riding, Laos

I got on the bike expecting to spend my day riding a relaxed 300 km of sealed roads doing a circuit around the beautiful Bolaven plateau in Southern Laos. The roads that I had encountered through Cambodia and Southern Laos had all been in reasonable condition so although I had done my usual minimal amount of planning I left the city of Pakse quite confident that I wouldn’t encounter any unexpected troubles, I even skipped breakfast hoping to find somewhere local for a bite to eat. I followed the highway south for 50 km until I reached the turn off for the town of Attapeu, the sign said it was 119 km and It took about 2 km before the small sealed road turned into dirt, I was quite happy about this, it was a nice day and I liked the idea of doing a bit of relaxed off road riding. As I ventured further along the dirt road into the country side the people seemed to be getting friendlier and I was thinking that taking this road was a pretty good decision, I was even glad to come across the first river crossing for the day, it wasn’t too deep or wide and with a twist of the throttle I was across without a problem and in the mood for adventure. A few km further down the road the next river was a different story, this was a deep, wide river with a strong current and closed to vehicles, some locals pointed me down a dirt single track where after a few hundred meters I came across a ferry. The Ferry was just a big raft operated by 2 young girls pulling it along a cable, I floated well however and had plenty of room for the motorbike so I rode on feeling quite pleased at the adventurous turn this ride had taken.

I followed the road for another 2 bumpy km when I came across a very precarious makeshift bridge, I walked from one side to the other and it seemed reasonably stable so I decided to give it a go, I lined the fully loaded, big Beemer and went for it, we made it across, this time with a sigh of relief. At this point I was still enjoying myself and quite happy tackling the small challenges that this road was throwing in my direction but if I knew what I was in for I would have turned around then. What I didn’t realise was that although it was a beautiful sunny day and there had been no rain the last few days, the recent wet season meant the rivers were swollen making most of them unpassable using the usual road crossings therefore makeshift ferries and bridges were the only way to get across, swamps had also covered the road meaning long stretches of mud. The next river was wide and deep, the only way to get across was the flooded ford and after seeing a scooter manage to do this I thought I could get across easily enough. The ford was wide enough a car to cross but because the water level was so high the only way to cross was by riding a two foot high and wide raised stone wall at its edge which was under about a foot of fast flowing water. The river crossing was about 50 meters long and riding the heavy bike across the narrow bumpy wall with deep water on either side was a balancing act I was becoming less and less comfortable about. I made it to within 10 meters from the other bank when I felt the front wheel slipping off the stone wall, I looked down and could see that the water on the ford was still quite deep here but I couldn’t hold the bike and the last thing I wanted to do was lay it over or stall it in the deep water. I gave it full throttle, rode off the wall, landed on both wheels in the deep water and to my amazement I managed to ride up the bank without flooding the engine. Any questions as to whether I should continue on this road or backtrack were answered, I just didn’t think I would make it back across that river so going forward was my only option.

I felt as though I got a little lucky with the last crossing and it made me well aware of the fact that I was by myself on a remote road in the Laos, nobody spoke English and should anything happen to my bike I doubt anyone could help as the closest BMW mechanic was in Thailand. The next 5 km was slow going, there weren’t any big rivers but there were wide muddy patches to cross every few hundred meters, these were a little challenging because of the weight of the bike but I managed to get through without any dramas. That’s when I hit the next river, it wasn’t too wide but the crossing was deep and rocky and the water was flowing fast, there was no way I could cross this one by riding. 50 meters upstream a group of ladies were running a ferry service and this was my only chance to get across, I saw the ferry and thought “What the F@#k are you doing Raymond”? it was a few planks of wood across two canoes, the length of the ferry was about 4 meters and its width was less than the length of my bike. The ferry was operated by a local lady who pulled the raft across the river using ropes, I must admit I was impressed at how well the ferry floated when we loaded up the bike. My confidence soon disappeared when we hit the fast flowing water in the middle of the river, the ferry began to turn with the flow of the water and I could feel the small raft beginning to lift because we were too heavy at the rear. I looked at the ferrywoman and the look of concern that she returned gave me a horrible vision of the whole thing flipping and the bike ending up in the river. I had about a foot spare on the raft so to the ferrywoman’s surprise I turned the bike on and inched it forward the until the front wheel was right on the edge of the raft, this was enough to correct the shaky little crafts balance and we were able to make it to the other side, high fives all round.

I kept pushing on and like before the road had a few muddy areas over the next few km’s that weren’t too much of a problem, however just in case I thought the worst was over I came across a stretch of mud that looked so bad it slapped me back to reality. This stretch was a few hundred meters of rutted, muddy misery, the worst section being a 20 meter long section of very soft mud covered in knee deep water. The odd person on scooters who gave this a try were able to make it because their bikes weren’t heavy enough to sink into the deep mud hole in the centre, I watched two people make it through and spent some time picking the best line. The trick was to ride high on the narrow lip of a rut to avoid the soft mud on either side until you made it to the edge of the deep mud hole, from there get your line right and give it full throttle until you make it through the really boggy section and from there its smooth sailing through shallow mud to the dirt road on the other side. I had the plan but enacting it was a different story, I rode along the top of the rut but balancing the heavy bike was just too difficult, part of the rut gave way and the front wheel slipped off the edge. I held the bike upright but I was stuck, going forward would have got me bogged and I wasn’t able to back the bike up. Eventually a young guy came along and he was happy to give me a hand but between the two of us we still couldn’t budge the big girl. After an hour of hard work in the midday sun we were both exhausted, thank goodness another guy turned up and we were able to get the bike in a position where I could give the crossing another go. This time I made it to the edge of the mud hole, lined the bike up and went for it, I made it ¾ of the way but the wheels sank in to the soft bog and the big Beemer toppled over on the side. All I could think of was water in the air intake or wet plugs so although I was lying in the mud I did my best to hold the bike up until other 2 guys got there to help me get her upright. I was up to my knees in mud and it oozed into my boots, the bikes wheels had half sunken into the mud and no matter how hard we tried to push the bike out the three of us couldn’t budge it, I tried to ride it out but  the rear wheel just kept spinning.  It was now early afternoon, the temperature was 38 degrees, there was no shade and the sun was beating down on us, we were all exhausted after a fruitless hour of trying to move the bike and I still hadn’t eaten anything and had now run out of water. We eventually lifted the rear wheel a little out of the mud and tried once again to ride the bike out while my helpers pushed, I tried to start the bike but it wouldn’t turn over, this day just kept on getting worse and worse, a list of worst case scenarios ran through my mind, had the water seriously damaged the bike? I was now stuck in a muddy bog in a fairly remote area of Laos and even if I managed to get the bike out of the mud hole it was possible that I wouldn’t be able to get it started again to make it back to civilisation. At this point my two helpers were ready to give up and wanted to leave, nobody had come past in the last 2 hours so I knew that if they went I wasn’t getting out. They didn’t speak English but I literally begged and offered them money stay and asked them to see if they can get more helpers, the response I got was a shake of the head and my morale hit new lows. After 30 minutes of desperately trying to convince them to stay and keep helping two more young guys turned up and between the 5 of us we were able to push the bike out of the mud and onto the other bank. We were all covered in mud and the guys just wanted to get out of there but I managed to convince them to give me a push start in the hope that the battery was just low on charge. We gave it two tries but no luck, I had no other option other than putting the bike on the back of a truck, and I hadn’t seen any of them so after a lot more desperate convincing I managed to get one more push start, I cannot express my relief when the big girl fired up. There were cheers all round and the guys could see the immense relief on my face, I offered to pay the guys for helping me but they politely declined and headed off down the road.

At this point I was only 55 km into the 119 km road to Attapeu and I had no idea what was instore, I couldn’t go back and the only thing that thing that kept my spirits up was the hope that every river crossing and muddy patch was the last. Over the next few km’s I tackled a few small mud patches and caught another make shift ferry, thankful everytime I made it across an obstacle without any problems. I was starting to feel the effects of the heat and lack of food and water so I jumped in one of the rivers with all my gear on and drank a few mouthfuls to avoid heat stroke, hoping the river water wouldn’t make me sick later. It wasn’t too long before the road was once again covered in water and this time I was very cautious, this was more of a swamp than a river and after I checked the depth I realised that it was just too deep to get the bike across. I could see that other vehicles had taken a track up a steep little rise to the right which was very rocky and also meant crossing a short patch of fairly deep water. I walked the section of water and the large rocks really concerned me, the muddy water meant you couldn’t see where they were, on top of that It wasn’t a straight crossing, I would have to do a 90 degree turn halfway through and I was worried that the rocks may through me off balance and the bike would end up submerged. I was absolutely amazed that I made it through the crossing without a problem, I somehow managed to stay on a good line through the muddy water and began talking the steep, rocky rise that bypassed the swamp. I bounced my way up the hill keeping a steady throttle but the front wheel hit a rock and sent me slightly off the path, I held the bike upright but the front wheel was jammed up against a tree stump and the rear wheel against a crop of rocks, I couldn’t move forward or backward. I had noticed a young guy on the other side of the swamp and I called out to him for help, he came running around the corner and after another 30 min of hard work we managed to push the bike back enough to let me line up the track and keep going.

At this point I felt physical and emotionally drained, the last 30 km had taken me 6 hours, it was a hot day, I hadn’t eaten and I still hadn’t been able to get hold of bottled water anywhere. The young guy gave me some hope by telling me the road improved for the next 50 km to Attapeu so I continued on with a positive attitude praying the worst was behind me. Thankfully he was right, after a few more km of dirt road I came across a small village and was able to buy a few bottles of water, after that it was another 50 km of bumpy but dry road to Attepeu. The 119 km stretch of road that I thought might take me 2 hours max ended up taking over 8 hours but I finally made it back to tarmac and finished my circuit of the Bolaven Plateau that day. My relief at finished that day of riding was huge, it was a sickening feeling thinking that the bike might not make it, especially because of something as simple as poor route planning. Having said that the worst experiences often turn out to be the best adventures, as long as you make it through unscathed and this day was no exception.

Siem Reap to Laos border

I had once seen a documentary about a mountain temple on the Thai/Cambodia border that had been disputed for years, the temples name was Preah Vihear and I was hoping to make a detour to visit this amazing place on the way to the Laos border. All the research I had done suggested that it was quite remote and difficult to get to, it had rained for the last few days and the thought tackling long stretches of slippery mud covered roads didn’t thrill me but I decided to give it a try for adventures sake. I pulled off the main highway and after passing a few small villages the sealed road soon turned to dirt and I was riding through the mud, the road condition wasn’t as bad as I had expected and I was pretty glad to ride some off road after spending the last few weeks on Cambodias flat, sealed roads. I passed a small convoy as I made my way through a small village and the sign on the side of one of the 4wd’s caught my eye….. Demining crew. I chatted to the team leader about the work he was doing and was amazed at the sheer number of mines and UXO’s that were still scattered throughout northern Cambodia and Laos. These relics of the Vietnam war were still killing and maiming civilians 40 years after the war had ended,  the demining crew had detonated 8 UXO’s that day and warned me to stay on the roads as I headed north.

There was surprised that there was only about 40 km of dirt road to contend with before I was back on tarmac, which lasted right to the temple. Reaching Preah Vihear ended up being much simpler than I had expected, a reminder not to take other travellers advice as gospel because we all have different opinions as to what constitutes an adventure and what you would call remote and difficult to get to. I arrived half an hour before the road to the temple closed so I decided to back track to the town of Angkrong and visit the temple the next morning. I rode the bike up the steep winding road to the base of the temple until I reached a parking area with a few makeshift shops, it was still quite early so I was the only tourist there and ended up walked up to the temple complex with a group of caretakers, who were the only people I saw for the next few hours as I explored. On a clear day the view would be spectacular from the mountain top but today it was shrouded in thick mist which turned Preah Vihear into a temple in the clouds and added a ghostly atmosphere to the old ruins.

I had a few hundred km to reach the Laos border, I had arrived back from Preah Viheer in the late morning so I decided to try and make good time and reach the border that afternoon. Things were going quite smoothly and I was sitting on a steady 120km when the road condition allowed me, all of a sudden out of my peripheral vision I saw a bird fly across my path. There was nothing I could do to avoid it and the bird (which was about the size of a crow) hit me dead in the center of my visor. The bird bounced off and somehow I was able to stay upright and pulled over to the side of the road, it must have been a decent hit because I had a dizzy spell and saw stars for a full 5 minutes after I stopped. On a hot day I sometimes ride with the flip top of my helmet up, luckily the helmet and visor were down otherwise the situation could have turned out much worse. My helmet was already looking worse for wear and the crack in the visor just emphasised the fact that I should be upgrading soon.

I made the border by early afternoon and it was a little strange that after the road condition being quite good throughout Cambodia the final few km to the Laos border were covered in large potholes that looked like the remnants of mortar shelling. It seems almost everyone I talk to has a bad border crossing story but so far I have been lucky getting the bike in and out of countries and other than a few US Dollars paid to the official behind the desk to get my stamps the Laos/ Cambodia border was no exception. My original plan was to cross from Cambodia to Vietnam and then ride north and cross into northern Laos, It turned out Vietnam was just too hard and costly to get the bike into so I decided to save it for another time and another adventure.  As I rode north from the border and took in the amazing scenery of Southern Laos (an area I would have by passed had I done Vietnam) I couldn’t help but think that not being able to do Vietnam on this trip ended up being a blessing in disguise.

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Angkor Wat

Many people put Angkor Wat on their list of the worlds wonders and it is Cambodia’s biggest tourist drawcard attracting travellers from all over the world like moths to a flame, I visited the famous temple complex with a little trepidation, scared that this icon of the Khmer empire would be overrun by hordes of camera toting jetsetters. Angkor Wat itself is said to be the worlds largest single religious monument but the Angkor temple complex spreads over approximately 400 square km and includes many spectacular temples built by the Khmer empire between 800 – 1400 AD. The city of Angkor was also the worlds largest pre industrial city, at well over 1000 square km it had a complex water management system that supported a population of over 1 million people.

Angkor Wat is the temple that most people come to see, and for good reason, unlike the surrounding temples it was never surrendered to the elements and its architecture is simply spectacular. I arrived at sunrise hoping to get the iconic shot with the reflection of the temple in one of the surrounding ponds and of course I arrived to find hundreds of people waiting for the same thing. I’ve come to expect large crowds at popular tourist destinations but the beauty of the Angkor temples is that the area is so spread out and there is so much to see, apart from a few popular photo spots you don’t feel overwhelmed by large crowds. I spent a few hours exploring what is known as “the mother of all temples” and Angkor Wat certainly lived up to its impressive reputation, I was keen to see some of the surrounding temples however, hopefully with a few less tourists about.

Possibly the best thing about visiting the Angkor temple complex is that it is completely self-paced, it can be done in either a big or small loop by hired car, tuk tuk, bicycle or in my case motorbike, this gives exploring the temples a relaxed feel and allows everyone to have their own individual experience. The next temple I visited was also my favourite, Bayon temple, known best for its hundreds of huge smiling faces, said to be the image of king Jayavarman VII. When I arrived at Bayon there seemed to be only a few other visitors and I kind of felt like an intrepid explorer as I walked the stone passageways of the ancient temple. Within walking distance from Bayon were several other impressive temples and many smaller structures so I spent quite a few hours strolling from one to the next in absolute awe of each of them.

It was early afternoon and it had been a long day of sightseeing so I decided that I would make Ta Prohm my last temple for the day. Unlike many of the other temples of Angkor, Ta Prohm was largely left to the jungle, vines weave their way through moss covered stone creating a striking blend of nature and manmade architecture. Ta Prohm is also known as the tomb raider temple because scenes from the movie were filmed here and it’s not hard to channel a little bit of Lara Croft or Indiana Jones as you make your way through the ruins. Somebody told me it was impossible to take a bad photo here and perhaps they were right, there was certainly an opportunity for shutterbugs around every corner. Ta Prohm is possibly the second most popular temple in Angkor and as a result I found myself amongst groups of tourists again, all lining up at the 3 or 4 most popular spots for photos, barriers had been erected to protect the temple from the crowds, which is understandable but I was also a little frustrated that they got in the way of such great shots.

I arrived back at the temple complex early the next day and set about exploring the large loop which consisted of many smaller but still very beautiful temples on the road from Bayon to Ta Prohm. This was a really good day of exploring, most of the crowds were at the main temples so I spent the day with a handful of other tourists in tuk tuks who were moving along at the same pace as me. Each of these smaller temples had their own charm and at times I would be the only one visiting the temple so I could quietly reflect on the history that surrounded me.

I had heard about a temple 50 km from Siem Reap called Beng Mealea, it was described as the real Indiana Jones experience, it had been overgrown by jungle, however unlike Ta Prohm the jungle hadn’t been cut back so it was far more adventurous. I couldn’t resist visiting a place like that so I headed out of town to see if it was as good as what I was told. The chances of finding a unique travel experience are getting harder and harder and Beng Mealea certainly wasn’t it, my hopes of exploring a hidden jungle temple alone were dashed by the bus load of Chinese tourists that turned up at the same time as me. Having said that Beng Mealea was a lot more off the tourist path than the other temples that I had visited and far from the crowds of Angkor Wat. The beauty of this place can’t be disputed, personally I thought it was more stunning than Ta Prohm, large parts of the temple had turned to rubble so a raised walkway had been erected which offered a different perspective from the other temples I had seen. Beng Mealea is definitely worth a visit for anyone who has the time, it is also on the way to the Cambodian border for those travelling north with their own vehicle.

The Angkor temples certainly lived up to their large reputation, I left Siem Reap with a sense of wonder at the beauty, size and sheer engineering genius that went into these masterpieces of the Khmer empire

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