Chiang Rai to Luang Prabang

Thursday February 18th

After waking up to the usual cacophony of roosters and dogs, we left Pak Beng in an even more luxurious boat, again just the four of us and outnumbered by crew. Beautiful trip downstream through minor rapids with mountains either side of the valley. We stopped to walk around a Hmung tribe village, many smiling ladies selling handicrafts and kids, dogs and a pig milling around in the dust.

Then onwards with a superb lunch prepared onboard to Pak Ou caves. we had been travelling through increasingly metamorphic rocks, but here mountains of limestone presented towering river cliffs either side of the Mekong. The caves were overpopulated by thousands of votive figurines of Buddha.

Reaching Luang Prabang slightly before sunset, Phet organised a tuk tuk to carry us to the Lotus Villa Hotel. This is a pleasant elegantly styled boutique hotel set back from the waterfront on a quiet shady street.

Wednesday February 17th

Luckily managed to contact the boat company by email last night and told them which guesthouse we were staying in. We were picked up in the morning by Adisak, the manager, who explained that there was a problem with the river. The water level in the Mekong was so low after months of drought exacerbated by a Chinese dam upstream, that the boat we had booked on couldn't get up to Houei Xai. Instead he led us to another very comfortable riverboat with coach seats on which four of us cruised downstream through increasingly dramatic scenery. Lao villagers were clumped at the water's edge panning for gold whilst their children frolicked in the water, and water buffalo sat nonchalently chewing the cud. We were glad we hadn't taken one of the spray drenched garish long tailed speed boats which zipped past us with their crash-helmet wearing passengers.

Our on-board guide, Phet, explained that the very expensive boat we were otherwise thinking of taking had sunk the previous week after hitting a rock, and we could believe it because there were innumerable jagged rocks sticking out of the riverbed. Two thirds of the way, we had to abandon our boat because of impassable rapids, and walk for twenty minutes scrambling up and down the sandy riverbank to reach another boat downstream. This took us onwards to Pak Beng, a small hamlet (or Lao city) with a comfortable hotel where we stayed the night.

Tuesday February 16th

Up at 6.30am to trek to see or hear gibbons, but again no luck. This time possibly because the trek looped around the guides' camp and I don't expect any self respecting gibbon would have fancied the area. Then a pleasant trek interspersed with seven zipwires back to the base village, and the long dusty trip back to our guesthouse in Houei Xai.

Monday February 15th

Up at 6am to trek to see or hear gibbons, but they were all hiding and silent. Then a long trek to another tree house. The afternoon spent zipping around the area ( except Christine who preferred her sudoku).

The only problem with zipping is that in order for gravity to work, the landing platform needs to be lower than the launch platform. This means that you need to regain thirty metres or so in elevation which is hard work and sticky at these temperatures. But I think the effort is worth it to glide almost half a kilometre across steep sided valleys, watching the jungle canopy drop away to several hundred metres beneath you.

Sunday February 14th

Up bright and early to deposit our rucksacks at the Gibbon Experience offices and leave in a songthaw with day bags. After about an hour and a half we turned off the main road, forded a river and then drove another hour and a half on a dusty, but not bumpy, soil road. Stopping at a village, the party of eight of us plus two guides walked for a couple of hours through jungle paths to the plunge pool of a waterfall. Everyone swam in the icy water or floated on a makeshift bamboo raft. After climbing out of the valley we were fitted with zipwire harnesses, Tthen more walking to the tree house.

The only access to the tree houses is by zipwire. No stairs, ladders, ropes or other means of getting in or out. The tree houses are built around a tree trunk about thirty metres above ground level, roughly hewn wooden platforms with a veranda and thatched roof. The loos have to be seen to be believed. They are the old French style ceramic squat affairs over a hole in the platform. Everything drops thirty metres to fertilise the roots of the tree below.

All meals are brought by the guides by zipwire, consisting of large quantities of sticky rice with pans of largely unidentifiable but tasty vegetables, possibly with some equally unidentifiable stir fried meat, or stir fried egg at breakfast time.

Saturday February 13th

Last year we were deprived of liberty by the Balinese, this year we were deprived of sleep by the Chinese. Throughout the night at 15 to 20 minute intervals, firecrackers were being set off at the Chinese temple about a quarter of a mile away, near the Lak Meang. Each barrage of small staccato explosions is followed by one or two larger detonations which echo across the valley. It is now 7.30 in the morning and they are still at it. The year of the tiger may be auspicious for some, but for most in this area it has started with a completely sleepless night.

However, nothing daunted we had persuaded the hotel to take us to the bus station rather than the airport and caught the 10am bus to Chiang Khong. The bus was quite comfortable and after just over two hours deposited us at the outskirts of Chiang Khong. A frenzied tuk-tuk driver sped through the town and dropped us at the Thai river border. Here after perfunctory inspections we bought tickets for the Mekong crossing. You wander down the shore to the sandy river edge where various motorised canoes are beached and climb on. The river is quite narrow in the dry season and the crossing to Houei Xai only takes a few minutes. The Lao side is more officious with visa on arrival details, but a little lighter in the wallet and sandier more generally we arrived at our chosen guest house, the Saybadee. Even better, the guide book suggested the unpromising looking Nutpop restaurant that surprised us by producing food of such presentation and quality that it would not have been out of place in London or Paris.