On The Trail

April 29th, 2013

I left Oudom Xai, deciding to take the less travelled route south. I would be cutting out the charming city of Luang Probang, but I had spent plenty of time there in ’09. I stayed a night in Nong Khiaw, a town I passed through in 2009 en route to the backpacker hang-out town of Muang Ngoi. Four years ago, Muang Ngoi was off the radar; it had little electricity and no road connections. I had heard that it was still a great spot, but there was a growing collection of ubiquitous ‘Reggae Bars’ and places advertising pizza. It had recently been connected by road too.

During the course of one week riding, I discovered something about the loathsome “Banana Pancake” which I hadn’t accounted for: it was useful. As much as I found it oxymoronic to see places in a foreign country where western culture already dominates, those places were convenient. The accommodations were always more to my liking, often cheaper, and easier to find. Internet access would be much easier to find as well, and restaurants tried their best to make supremely tasty food.

My night in Nong Khiaw was a welcome return to all of these amenities. I found a cheap bungalow which overlooked the river. I there were restaurants everywhere and other travellers to talk to. The substantial Nam Ou river bisected the town. A concrete bridge spanned high above the river, clearing it by 100 ft. The steep rise was due to the topography of the area; Nong Khiaw was pinned in by sheer limestone karsts.

I walked down to the river from my bungalow and felt like I was in a gorge. Due to burning fields, I hadn’t seen the blue sky all week. Though obscured, I finally felt the beauty and magnitude of nature while standing at the river’s edge. Gazing upriver, I saw moving mud-brown water guided by limestone monoliths on either side, disappearing around a bend. The giant walls were splotchy with grey and green - forest and rock -  shooting hundreds of feet into the air.

I walked out onto an off-white sand spit where two other backpackers were playing frisbee. They asked me if I wanted to join, and we tossed the frisbee as we exchanged philosophies on life. For hours we rambled and threw the spinning disk. Enclosed by nature, living on the cheap, we didn’t have a care in the world. In town, I ran into a group motorcycle travellers. Two older guys, one from the Bronx, and one from West Virginia, had ridden motorcycles all over Cambodia and into Laos. We talked lazily over coffee; mostly about life and travel. I read in my hammock until sunset, and gorged myself on Indian food at night. As much as I hate to admit it, the Banana Pancake trail does have its benefits after all.