The hardy back roads of Laos - Part 2

… continued from a previous post.

In the valleys, I pushed my bike across the gravelly river beds and usually ended up giving Ruby (the bike) and myself a bath at the same time.  Fortunately, with the airtight panniers, the bike could float across if need be but, being the middle of the dry season at most, the cool water was knee deep.  With each valley I came into, there was always a steep climb back out again. By day four I was becoming more and more fatigued.  After seven hours of riding and the breaks stopping to rest and catch my breath in between climbs, I was only averaging 50 – 60 km per day.

I now had to watch how much food and water I was using.  I pulled out the dromedary bag, filled it with water and strapped it to my bike using spare bungy cords, only to find it leaked.  I cut off a section of tourniquet cord from my medical kit, using it as an O ring.  It worked and I felt better about carrying more water, even if it was hard going uphill.  At meal times not a drop of water was wasted, cleaning orcooking, it all drunk.  I’d perfected the art of having a shower with just 300 mls of water, enough to rinse off the dust and salts before climbing into the sleeping bag.  In one small village, I filled my bottles with tea and used that to shower with.

The nights were cold and the days hot.  Some villages were marked on the map, but many weren’t and I’d stumble across them on a mountain peak.  I managed to find a can of sardines in tomato sauce and a few boiled eggs to go with my ‘loaf’ of two day old sticky rice. It cost four times the price I would normally pay, but there wasn’t much else around.

In the more remote areas, the vegetation became green and lush, huge trees towered above and I found myself relieved to be riding in the shade.  I thought that this must have been the original vegetation before the hills were cleared, slashed and burnt.  The light tailwind I’d catch every now and then spurred me on up the mountain.  As tough as it was, I began to see the immense beauty in this remote landscape and these simple villages.  I got a kick out of it every day and started to develop an appreciation for the people – the environment they live in only a taste of how hard it is each day to survive.

After the large snap, I stopped to inspect the bike and found the support strut for the rear pannier rack had completely broken off.  I was still 50km from Luang Prabang and had a lot of bumpy road to go.  As I contemplated what to do, I pulled out a chocolate bar, happily devouring it in seconds and instantly felt better about my situation. Without the rear rack, I was stuffed, and so I set about trying to secure the broken strut to the frame using rope.  It worked surprisingly well and, with enough tension on the rope, I was able to lodge the stem into the bolt for the disc brakes.  A man stopped to help and gave me a bunch of bananas.  It was like that all over Laos.  People seemed to have time for each other, stopping to help, wanting to talk or just give you their time.

The makeshift repair job held as I rode through the valley. I crossed a number of streams and passed several small villages. The streams became more frequent and villages became more ornate as timber was used with corrugated iron and tiles on the roof.  I soon began to doubt where I was.  I looked at the map, confused.  None of the geographic features lined up, none of the small villages were marked and the orientation with the river made no sense as I crossed it three or four times.  Cycling out of the valley with a broken bike at 5 km an hour took all afternoon.  I stopped to try and ask some villagers where I was by getting them to point out the directions of the towns I thought I had passed.  In the end we concluded that I was completely lost and they laughed.

I had confidence that there was only one real road out and, as I blissfully followed the valley floor around bends, through rivers and over small climbs, I began to suspect I’d found the valley that led to the Mekong.  I’d been wrong about situations many times before, but felt quietly confident I was on the right path.  I began to see telegraph poles and small stores on the side of the road and realised all the tough climbs were now behind me.  I’d found the valley that lead out of the mountains and with that I was spurred on.  Some kids helped me push my bike across one of the rivers as I stopped to bathe at one of the crossings.

When I finally saw the Mekong for the third time, I felt a huge sense of relief.  I’d promised myself a few days rest.  I stopped to watch an elephant beside the flat road on the last 20 km to Luang Prabang.  The elephant walked with an amazing sense of grace as its trunk and enormous frame swayed from side to side.  Its tough leather grey skin looked old and worn.  This huge beautiful and powerful creature was in chains and shackles.  A rider straddling his neck smiled and I thought to myself, “Well, you don’t see that every day.”