Northern Laos - January 2007

Photograph: Bokeo Nature Reserve.

The day after arriving in Laos I was lucky enough to get on the 'Gibbon Experience', which is an ecotourism trip with a difference. The experince is set in the Bokeo Nature Reserve area, which lies between the Mekhong River and the road between Hauy Sai to Luang Nam Tha. The reserve is set in montane forest and has very steep terain which makes it perfect for getting around on zip lines from valley to valley.


Picture: Out of control before crash landing after forgeting to use the brake (again). Luckily I missed the photograper.

We were split up in to two groups, I joined a lovely family from France and we stayed over night in tree houses. The tree houses were built onto tall trees some 40 metres above the ground and over looking forested valleys.

The views from the tree house over the forest were very special.

The first tree house we stayed in was located above a waterfall. When we woke in the morning we decided to take a dip in the waterfall. I went to grab my sarrong only to fine that I had a visitor.

A night time we feasted on Lao food by candle light, very romantic. The nights in northern Laos are quite cold. I tried a little Lao Lao (rice whiskey) to warm myself up.



We treked through the forest for some time, stopping to snack on wild fruits. After a little while we came across a large clearing with a small house and met some childen who were playing outside. They didn't mind me taking the photograph and laughed when I showed them the image on my digital camera afterwards.

After leaving the forest I caught the local bus to Luang Nam Tha. The bus was full and all the seats were taken but luckily there was a space in the asle on top of sack of rice, which was on top of a engine block. There is a lot of construction work going on to improve the road. Chinese have given heavy plant to Laos and in return Lao PDR has given the Chinese trees. The new highway is to open up a direct route from China to Thailand. Chinese are keen to import cheaper (lower quality) goods into Thailand to expand their market. Only short portion of the road is finished with tarmac. In some areas a thick blanket of dust lay over the road only to be kicked up in the air when a motor vechicle passed by. Sometimes the dust managed to get in the bus and everyone had to reach for hankachiefs to cover their mouths. There was alot of coughing and spitting going up, as people tried to clear their throats. In one area clay proved to be a little too soft for our bus and a digger had to be called into make the road good. The road has greatly reduced travel time and the journey which used to take 2 days only takes 8 hours at present by bus.

Photograph: Highway 3 - Huay Xai to Luang Nam Tha. A 195km long construction site.

From Luang Nam Tha I hired a motorcycle and travelled up to Muang Sing. The journey was beautiful, passing through the Na Tha Natural Protected Area (NPA). The road was set in a narrow valley, following the meanders of a small river.

The elevation of the road gradually increased and suddenly I came through a pass into Muang Sing District. On the way down from the pass I notice a notice board for a waterfall and decided to take a look. A footpath led through a dense forested ravine with a stream, after walking for a few minutes I came to the Phagneung Phoukulom waterfall.



I continued on my way to Muang Sing and soon the valley opened up into a very large river plain. Muang Sing is very interesting are in terms of its diverse population of hill tribe people who live in the area. I visited the local market which had some interested and delicious looking foods.


Photograph: BBQ Bat

The triangular wood around the pig's neck prevents it from pushing through bush.

The time for planting the next crop of rice has come. Farmers are busy planting out seedlings in the Luang Nam Tha river plain area. I took a really nice bicycle ride around Luang Nam Tha off the main road along dirt tracks through small villages. Children stared at me and giggled. I stopped for lunch by the River Tha and then visited another village where they make silk on hand looms. A few days later I left Luang Nam Tha and said goodbye to Lao friends I made there heading further north to Phongsali. On the way we stopped in a small village with a market, made colourful by local Lu Mar women. There are so many different types of hill tribe in northern Laos each with many variations in themselves and customs to match.

Photograph: Dress to impress on market day. Local Lu Mar hill tribe women out in splendorous force at Pak Nam Noi.

I think a couple of Austrian men must have liked the market a lot as we left them behind. We did'nt realise until some hours later when the bus came into range of mobile phone. The bus conductor's phone rang and notified her that they had been left behind. The other westerners had assumed that they had changed bus. The bus journey was very tiring. About 8 hours on an unpaved road, a lot of dust, sweat and vomit. The bus journey wind its way along narrow road over many mountains. I think that Lao people seem to suffer from motion sickness more than the Europeans. The old man behind me was contantly throwing up into a small plastic bag and spitting out the window, on of many.

The next day after arriving in Phongsali I wandered around the small town set high up on a mountain. I reached a top of hill and looked down across the town on the rusty corrigated iron roofs. The scene looked similar to an old photograph I had seen in the mueseum from 20 years ago. In Phongsali I felt a strange kind eeriness I often feel in outpost kind of places. As I was walking down into town was approached by a young man called Jit who asked me where I was going. I had decided to come to Phongsali as I wanted to spend some time in the Phou Den Din NPA, and perhaps gaining a glimpse of some endangered wildlife. Apparently there were no roads to the NPA, so I had decided to go to Hat Sa and see whether any boats could take me upstream into the NPA. Jit told me that the daily bus had already gone and kindly offered to take me the 20km down the mountain on the back of his motorbike. Before we left we dropped into his house, Jit mentioned that his brother had borrowed his bike the day before and managed to get a puncture, which he repaired. Not sure how the repair would fair on the unpaved road he packed a pump and a small tin of vulcanising agent. We set off, passing small villages glued to the edge of the mountain, the views were very nice. Half along we got a puncture. Jit pulled out a few tools from under his seat consisiting of a 13mm spanner, a pare of pliers, a puncture repair patch and a broken hacksaw blade. Jit undid the nut holding the innertube to wheel with the spanner and then used the spanner and the handle of the pliers to lever the tire off the wheel. He pulled out the pump and blow up the innertube and inspected it for punctures. I could see that the innertube had atleast 4 puncture repair patches on it. After a close look air was seen being emitted from the edge of repair patch. Jit took out the hacksaw blade and begun rubbing the slide of the blade along the innertube to smooth area around patch and rough up the rubber on the innertube so that the vulcanising agent would make a good bond between the patch and the inner tube. Vulcanising agent was applied to the innertube only and we waiting for the time it took to smoke a cigarette before applying the patch. After applying the patch Jit then wrapped the damaged part of the innertube around the passenger footpeg of the motorbike and began wacking it with the spanner to make sure the patch sealed well on to the inner tube. After the fifteen minute pit stop we were on our way again only to get another puncture a few kilometers down the road. Eventually we made Hat Sa, a village nesselled on the steep sides of the mountain near the rivers edge.

Picture: River Ou at Hat Sa looking up stream towards Phou Den Din NPA. The round basket in the foreground contains sand that is pumped from the river bed. The material is then hand dug onto lorries and taken up the mountain to be used in construction.

I was a little sceptical whether we would find any boats at all but sure enough as we got close to the River Ou the was a lot of activity. I had met a German couple the day before who had told me that it was possible to travel all the way downstream to the Luang Prabang from Hat Sa. After the tiring bus journey up returning on a boat sounded quite attractive. I thought I would take the opportunity to gather some information to share with them later aswell as find out about visiting the Phou Den Din by boat.

Reaching Phou Den Din by boat seemed to be extremely expensive as a boat would be need to be specially chartered. There usually scheduled boats downstream to Muang Khua and tickets could be bought for 80,000kip on the day.

It seemed that slow boats leave between 9:00-10:00am. each day, they wait for the bus to arrive from Phongsali which leaves around 7:30am. from the market bus station.

We went and sat in a resturant, which over looked the river and ate some noodle soup. I watched fishermen slapping the surface of the water with bamboo poles to scare fish into area where their nets were to be later cast. A man bought a fresh catch into the restuarant. Some of the fish were quite large, I saw a beautify metallic red colouring on the body of one of the fish and got Jit to ask what they called that type of fish. "Pa Daeng" (Red Fish) was the answer!

I noticed a sign at Hat Sa which read "Phou Den Din NPA 29km" and pointed in its general direction although there were no visible road or path. We were invited into a house to see Chit's friend. As we entered the bamboo single roomed house there were a number of people sitting in a circle on the floor all faily drunk. It seemed we had walked in on a Lao Lao session and there was no way we could leave until we had drunk atleast couple of glasses ourselves and had a good chat. I was introduced to the director govener of the area, a police office, and the host who was a tourist guide. Our host showed my letters and photos from farang (westerns) who he had taken on a 2-day trek towards the Phou Den Din NPA. After downing two or three shot glasses of Lao Lao, we said polite goodbyes and headed back up to Phongsali. We got another 2 punctures on the way back up. They all seemed to be in different areas of the tyre and previous puncture repairs seemed t be holding up.

Photograph: Jit patiently repairing yet another puncture on his motobike.

I was very impressed by Jit's patience, never did he complain or express any kind of frustration with all the punctures. Eventually we reached Phongsali. Jit asked whether I would like to visit a school in a nearby village only 2km away. He seemed very enthusiastic to get there for some reason. We set off down a very steep track. I could see a new corrigated roof glissening in the late afternoon sun in the distance below on top of a hill. The track wound its way around the mountainside and along a ridge before rising up sharply to the village. We got another couple of punctures on the way. I looked at my watch and it was 4:00pm. We would be loosing light soon, I thought about turning back but Jit seemed to be determined to get the village. We arrived at the school and met the teachers who all lived in a small bamboo hut next to the class rooms. The people from the village were from a Phu Noi hill tribe. I listened to them speak and their language sounded like something I had heard in eastern Tibet. We left the bike, which by now Jit had noticed had another puncture and walked into the village. Boys were playing on the street with spinning tops made from bamboo. Taking turns to try and knock their opponent's top out of the way. They stopped playing when they saw me and lined the side of the road and staired. It was bath time and ladies from the village were making their way to and from the local water supply to take an late afternoon wash. We met a rather pretty girl on the way down that Jit seemed to know very well. She was dripping wet and wrapped up in a sarong after a wash. She had just started working as a teacher in the school. We went to the communial water supply, where water was continuing to pore from a pipe, presumable drawing water from a nearby stream. Cleaned all the dust from our faces and hands wondered back to the school.

The teachers had kindly prepared some dinner for everyone. Sticky rice, omlete, fermented fish and mixed vegetables all cook up on the open fire. The food was welcomed, Jit and I were very hungry, we had only eaten a single bowl of noodle soup each at lunch. Jit introduced my to the young woman we had met earlier wrapped in a sarrong. It seems that she was Jit's girlfriend. A childhood love, who he had met at a festival when he was much younger. I begin to see why Jit was so enthuusiastic to reach the village.

After dinner Jit set to work repairing his bike again. By this time the sun had set, it was very dark outside, there was no street lights or electricity in the village for that matter. The stars were out in abundance, I gazed up in appreciated them. There was no orange glow from any urban area here spoil the view. Jit's girlfriend sat closely next to Jit held a candle for light while he worked. There were two more punctures. The quantity of vulcanising agent was very low and Jit had to scrape and scrape the tin with the broken hacksaw blade to get enough out for the patches. The two sat together and chatted. Although I couldn't understand what they were talking about but it all seemed very romatic. I returned to the bamboo house and sat with the teachers around the fire to keep warm and avoid being a 'gooseberry'.

I reflected that I had not seen anyone use anything but an open fire to cook on in Laos. The standard set up seemed to be three rocks placed a distance to allow a pot, pan or wok to be balanced on and also allow long strips of wood to pushed in to feed the fire. I had seen charcoal being sold in small quantities at markets, but had heard that raw wood was much more popular. They could knock out some lovely tasty dishes using these basic cookers. The draw backs were health affects of inhailing all the smoke everyday and loss of trees.

Outside I heard a kind of exclamation of dismay. I poked my head out the door and asked Jit was everything Okay. Apparently they had just finished repairing the puncture and were putting the innertube back in the tyre when it got caught on a sharp edge, which cut another hole of the tube. The vulcanising agent had just about run out. It was late by this time 9.00pm. We would be staying in the village until morning until more vulcanising agent could be found.

That night I slept in Jit's girlfriend's room in the bamboo house. The walls were covering in multicoloured polyweave to insulate the room from draughts, dust etc. The floor was hardened mud and the bed made from thin slats of bamboo, which was quite comfortable. I slept well and woke when evryone stired early in the morning. Jit had slept in one of the classrooms on a table and his girlfirend had double up in bed with one of the female teachers. Jit and I wandered down to the village again to wash the sleep from our eyes. The views across the valley to the next mountain nice. Frothy clouds had formed in the valleys, it seemed like we were in a magical world high up in the sky.

Photograph: Froffy cloud filled valleys during early morning in Phu Noi village just outside of Phongsali.

Jit borrowed some vulcanising agent and repaired the inner tube. We ate breakfast and headed back to Phongsali. Jit had to go to work and I spent the day wandering around Phongsali. I visited the Phou Fa Hotel, an old Chinese Consulate perched above the town. The place was completely surrounded by high walls, which even ran up the steep sides of the mountain side. The buildings were long grey brick shallets divided into many rooms. Metal gate barred the way into tunnels dug into the mountainside. It seemed quite large to be a just a consulate. Perhaps it acted as a hotel in itself for Chinese Government officials visiting Laos during the Second Indochina War? All the building material must have brought in from China. It must have been a monumental task getting it here along unpaved frontier roads.

Evening arrived. I decided that I would forget about visiting Phou Den Din NPA and get the slow boat south to Muang Kua. Jit and I had dinner together at a Chinese restuarant and went over to the dusty sports stadium to watch a concert. The concert was caberet type entertainment involving travelling performers from Vientiane, singing Lao country music and little comedy. The weather had turned cold, a brisk wind was blowing across the exposed stadium, although it didn't deter the audiance who were wrapped up well and in fine spirits. After the concert I said goodbye to Jit and slept until my watch alarm woke me at 6.00am.

I caught the 7:30-8:00am. bus from the market bus station and arrived just before 10:00am. to connect with the slow boat. Although I was still of the understanding that a boat ticket could be bought for 80,000kip, it seemed that the boat driver wanted more. There was a group of Lao and farang on the bank of the river poised to jump on the boat if the price was right. The ticket man at Hat Sa entered into negociations and after some heated discussion 80,000kip was agreed for each passenger. One farang had bought a dirt bike and this was hand loaded onto the narrow wooden boat. We all clambered a board and the set off. Hat Sa disappeared around the first bend and looked down the uninhabited forested slopes of the Ou river valley.

There were many rappids and some stretches were also quite shallow. I was very impressed by the pilots skill in missing rocks and avoiding running aground in the shallows as we passed swiftly on our way. Very gradually the river widened and rappids became less and the number of villages on the river bank increased.

Photograph: The green-blue waters of the River Ou.

Near villages I could wires leading from small bamboo installations built into areas where water was flowing quickly over rocks. They were connected to small propellers which were being driven by the river current and generating free electricity. When we reached Muang Khua I noticed these hydroelectric turbines for sale in the market. It seems that they had been imported from China. At first asking price a 500 watt capacity turbine was around $50.

I slept the night in Muang Khua and I tried to catch another slow boat further down the river, the next moring but there was none going. There was only one slow boat and that was returning to Phongsali. Then I noticed a speed boat and went to ask where they were going. It seemed they were going my way to Nong Khiaw.

Photograph: Preparing for lift off. Muang Khua to Nong Khiaw in 100 minutes.

A German cyclist also was looking for a lift and the tired his bike to the front of the boat and we both clambered in. Although it was a small boat there was another 5 other people including the driver and a spare engine. The driver wound the engine up and we took off. There was so little space for my long legs that I had to sit on top of the seat. My left side of my body became soaked from all the spray. We sped down rappids and in between rocks, it was scarey but a buzz at the same time. After an hour the geology changed and we entered limestone area. A huge great block lay in front rising vertically hundreds of feet in the air. It was very spectacular. We made Nong Khiaw in 1 hour 45 minutes. It normally takes four hours on the slow boat.


Photograph: On route dramatic outcrops of limestone appear as we near Nong Khiaw.

We had passed a number of slow boats transporting tourists from Muang Ngoi Nuea, a sleepy village on the banks of River Ou to Nong Khiaw. As we pulled into Nong Khiaw there were many tourists disimparking the boats and climbing the steps up uo the top of the river terrace. I hadn't seen so many tourists altogether in one place and it came as quite a surprise. I pulled on my pack and climbed the steep steps. My pack seemed to weigh alot, why had I brought so much stuff? The I realised the complete right side of my body was completely drenched from the spray of the speed boat. I reached the top and looked around. Nong Khiaw seemed to be village made up of many guest houses and restuarants. I thought about where I should head next and decided I didn't want to stay in Nong Khiaw, after all I had only been travelling for a hour and forty five minutes. There were public buses (songtaou) waiting to collect some of the boat passengers onto other places. One was heading south to Luang Prabang and the other east to Viang Kham. One of the bus drivers asked me "Bai Sai" (where are you going), I replied in English " I don't know", the driver actioned to the driver of the other bus 'typical farang!' I had picked up a head cold in Phongsali , which had worsened as I travelled south on the boats and missed meals. I needed somewhere warm with lots of choice of delicious foods. So I opted to live it up for a few days in the warmer climes of touristy Luang Prabang.

I joined the other people on the bus, which were mostly western tourists and a couple of Lao people. There were two badded benches and a column of small wooden chairs in the arsle. My bottom had taken a lot of punishment over the past few days on dirt roads on the back of Jit's bike, the hard woodern seat of the slow boat and bashed around as we through rappids on the speed boat. There was one space left on the padded bench, which I gladly took. The bus set off drove 50 metres then stopped. We were then all told to buy tickets from the bus ticket office. Confused why we had'nt been told to get tickets before getting on bus we all piled off and formed and an orderly queue. Laos people kept on jumping the queue and pushing into the ticket seller who always gave them preferential treatment. I thought this was a little rude and inconsiderate towards their western guests. Perhaps there is a little anamousity between Lao people and visiting farang in that town, who have probably been exposed to poor or western behavoiur and any respect for them lost? Whether there is any kind of queue culture in Laos remains to be seen, over the border in Thailand there certainly is. By the time I got my ticket and arrived back at the bus all the padded seats were taken. I had to make do with one of the small woodern chairs in the asle. I sighed it's wasn't that the journey would be all day, it would only be 3 hours until we reached Luang Prabang. The driver set off and had to make a diversion through the town as household were holding a wedding party on the main street blocking access. The bus kept stopping and I could sense the farang were beginning to get impatient, some started to express this, which did'nt make for a nice atmosphere. I considered getting off the bus because of this western generated tence atmosphere but then thought that the next bus would probably be the same and decided to stick it out.

After half an hour my bottom began to hurt. The past two days sitting on hard seats had taken its toll. I tried to alleviate the pain by shifting my weight on different parts of my botttom, which gave some relief, but the pain gradually came back. Eventually where ever I moved my weight it hurt there was no relief. My mind gradually focussed on the pain and I found it hard to think about anything else. After an hour a half into the journey I gave in and took off my fleece to use as a cushon, frighting an old lady sitting behind as my arms swung wildly around trying pull the thing off. Luckily some fellow travellers saw what I was trying to do and helped. The relief putting the fleece under my bottom was incredible. We finally pulled into Luang Prabang bus station which lies 4 km away from the town centre. Tuk-tuk drivers were waiting to bring us into town for a US$1 fee. By that time I didn't care, I was tired and needing a rest. I throw my rutsack on top of the roof rack of the tuk-tuk, which landed on a spare tyre on top and then rolled off the other side covering the bag in dust. I joined a group of farang tourists on the back of the tuk-tuk waiting for enough people to get on. The last passenger was a Japanese tourist who got on with his bag, but then started arguing quite agressively about the price. The rest of us waited and hoped he would either get off or come to an agreement soon so that we could get on our way. The tuk-tuk driver calmly said that US$1 was the price and he wouldn't be giving any discount. The Japanese tourist finally agreed to pay the full price and sulked and demanded to be dropped off at a particular hotel. The Lao tuk-tuk driver couldn't understand the name of the hotel. We set off and headed into town, dropping the Japanese tourist off after passing his hotel.

Luang Prabang was very pretty. It was how I imagine Chiang Mai may have looked before the older woodern buildings were replaced with concrete ones. The French touch of louver shutters on the windows of the oriental-colonial buildings was very agreeable. I had no idea where to stay. I got down from the tuk-tuk with the last remaining passengers, a German couple who very kindly showed me a guesthouse down a quiet leafy alleyway off the main street. They had one single room left. It was absolutely beautiful area, with a mixture of lovely old colonial and traditional Lao houses. The alleyway was actually a small pedestrianised road covered in terracotta brickwork. Palms and other tropical folage provide shade along its length up to a temple at the top of alleyway. The area was so beautiful and I was so tired that I decided to take the room without looking at any other guesthouses. I collapsed on the bed and slept for a couple of hours.

When I woke it was late afternoon. I felt rested but hungry, I had a shower and wandered outside to find somewhere to eat. I found a lovely resturant on the banks of the Mekong river and watched the sky grow bright orange as the sun set over mountains in the distance. After food I was ready for bed and began to head back to my guesthouse. On the way I passed a massage palour. I went in and enquired about the price: US$3 for an hour. I thought this was too good to pass up. My body ached all over (especially my bottom) from all the travelling and the cold I had picked up in Phongsali. I definately needed a massage to sort me out. The Lao style massage involved lots of pushing and kneading, no oil was used, having a kind of pain/tickle sensation, but resulted in a very relaxed state.

Photograph: Sunset over the Mekong river at Luang Prabang.

The next day I rose early at 7.00am. hoping to get see local monks on their alms round. But as I walked out onto the street I noticed a few old ladies returning from the temples with their empty food baskets. It seemed that the monks had already passed on their way. So I went for an early morning walk around Luang Prabang. Fresh baggetts had already been delivered and ladies on market stalls were busy preparing sandwiches for Laos customers on their way to work. There are so many temples in Luang Prabang, it is major buddhist centre. I had met quite a few Lao men on my travels around Laos who had spent some time in the town as a monk.

Photograph: Early morning at Wat Aham, Luang Prabang.

In the centre of town there is a steep limestone hill called Phu Si. I climbed to the top and entered the Wat Thammothayalan temple. The views over the town and beyond into the mountainous countryside were fantastic. I turned around and headed for the stairs to make way out and then noticed some unusual shaped flower pots. I had heard about all the artifacts left over from the war but this was the first time I had seen any on my journey so far. I thought it was a really nice idea to turn bomb casing into flower pots, although personally I wouldn't fancy having to diffuse a live one.

Photograph: Bomb casing turned into rather effective flower pots at Wat Thammothayalan, Luang Prabang.

I spent the day walking around the streets, enjoying the old temples, the palace and soaked up the atmosphere. Everywhere I could hear the sound of small scale construction work going on: hammering, sawing, drilling. The sound of an emerging economy as new shops, restuarants and guest houses are built. There are concerns about what effect tourism will have on the town's UNESCO World Heritage status. Luang Prabang has now an international airport, although only prepellar type land at it bringing the more well healed tourists into town. The were many tourists in the town and travel agents and tour operators had sprung up to cater for their needs. From what I saw the newer buildings fit well into the surroundings and seem to complement the old. Many of the old buildings have been restored however there are quite a few left that could do with a helping hand by an invester. Many of the restuarants and bars were beautifully presented and would rival any posh establishment in western countries.

Evening came and the main street Thanon Sisvangvong, through the old town, was closed off to traffic and turned into an evening handicraft market. Silk weavings, cushion covers, clothes, carvings produced in local villages were on sale. A steady stream of tourist walked up and down the market lanes, while the sellers tried to coherse them into buying: "buy one from meee, luckee, luckeee for you!".

Photograph: Evening handicraft market on Thanon Sisvangvong, Luang Prabang.

From Luang Prabang I decided to travel over to Phongsavan in Xieng Khuangprovince. There area is famous for two reasons the mysterious Plain of Jars, sites filled with large stone vessels and the legasy from the war. It wasn't so much the interested in the Jars themselves, which no one really knew why they were there and have old they were: Once you've seen one...etc but the more recent history.

Between 1964-1973 the US conducted a massive air war in Laos. A civil war was going on between the Royal Lao Government and the Communist Pathet Lao. The US supported the Royal Lao Government with air power, although earlier in 1962 the US had signed a Geneva Accord which prohibited American involvement in Laos. Unbeknown to the America people and their congress the US pursued a covert or secret strategy, which is often referred to as the 'Secret War', focussing on halting the spread of communism in the Far East.

During the 9 year period the US flew over half a million bombing missions. To begin with these were targeted a military installations but later to prevent communist having access to men and materials civilian areas, such as, villages and towns were also destoyed. Over 2 million tonnes of ordnance was dropped on Pathet Lao areas, more than the combined amount dropped on Germany and Japan during the Second World War. This makes Laos the most heavily bombed nation in the world. The most feared of these was the cluster bomb, which was not designed to destroy infrasture but to kill people. Each cluster bomb contained around 670 bomblets or 'bombies'. When a cluster bomb was dropped the casing opened in mid air releasing the bomblets into the slip stream. Flutes on the side of the bomblets were designed to make them to spin in the air and become armed before exploding on impact with the ground releasing 300 ball bearing at blastic speed. It is estimated that 10-30% of cluster bombs failed to explode leaving around 10-30 million bombies. The bombies might not explode for a number of reasons. If the casing opened too low the bomblets might not spin enough times to complete their arming cycle or they might land in water or mud, lying on the ground partially armed waiting only for a kick or a hit or a spin to set them off.

Photograph: Antipersonel ordnance Bomb Live Unit 26 or "bombie" from a cluster bomb holding unit dropped on Laos during the Second Indochina War by the US. The flutes were designed to make the ordnance to spin in the air when released from the cluster bomb holding unit and thereby arming the bomblet, before exploding on impact and releasing hundreds of ball bearings.

These unexploded ordnance (UXO) has left an lasting legacy to a particularly poor nation. There have been over 20,000 casulties caused by unexploded ordnance since the end of the war. Unlike landmines which are designed to maim, cluster bombs are designed to kill and their metal fragments can be lethal for 150 yards. Bombies lay domant for many years, often getting covered over by soil or vegetation. Farmers are particularly at risk. Many, many have died when they struck a bombie turning the land with a hoe or banging a peg in the ground to secure livestock. Children are also at risk, particularly if they not aware of the dangers of the bombies. Educational workshops are held in Lao schools to show children what the bombies look like and what to do if they find them.

Photograph: Cute kids in a Thai Dam village near Phonsavan.

Ordnance clearance is slow and demanding work. Every metal detector reading must be checked. Often metal detector readings are no more than bullet casing, scrap, bomb fragments. Fortunately there are a number of organisations working in Laos to clear areas of unexploded ordnance. One of those is the Mines Advisory Group (MAG). I visited their office in Phonsavan. They had very interested information centre at the front of their office. A gentleman came from the office to talk to me and welcomed me into the visitors centre. He explained that MAG have a couple of teams working in Xieng Khuang province forcusing on particular sites. In March 2007 they would begin ordnance clearance at Plain of Jars sites 4 and 5. They were also looking to establish a roving team composed of only women, who could response quickly if UXO were discovered. The display in the information centre was facinating and I left there a whole lot more knowledgable. I also bought an excellent VCD that MAG had produced and watched it on my return to my guesthouse.

Photograph: Signs outside the Plain of Jars Site 3. The area has been surveyed and cleared of unexploded ordnance (UXO) by the Mines Advsory Group (MAG). 22 UXO were found and destoyed and 6863 pieces of scrap were found in a 19,260 square metre subsurface search area. The signs also advises visitors to remain between the white concrete marker stones (the area where UXO search has been completed) for their safety.

The stone jars had been carved from a single piece of stone. The sand coglomerate rock apparently originated some distance away and was then brought to the site where it was then carved. There are many theories about their use including tombs, wine fermenters or for rice storage. Its thought that they may date back 2000 years, although there is no mean of dating due to the lack of relics found with them. A thin track of jars may indeed link up the various sites, it is hoped that will be uncovered following archaeological digs. This work will obviously be hindered by the quantity of UXO in the area.

Photograph: Plain of Jars Site 3. The smallest but leafiest site.

The area was subject to intence and heavy bombing during the second Indochina war. Craters and trench lines were evident around the two of the plain of jars sites. At site 1 a cave had been used to store fuel oil, the US airforce attacked it and the bombs exploded causing the part of the roof to collapse which can still be seen today. A spirit house marks the entrance to the cave, where offerings are made to appease spirits who Lao's believe dwell in the cave.

Our guide took us to a small resturant for lunch were ate noodle soup with chop sticks and alumium spoons made out of US aeroplane fuselage. After lunch I noticed some children had begun playing volley ball, so I joined them. There seemed happy for me to join in, although I had a unfare height advantage, they were very good and we kept a few exciting ralleys going before I was called back because the tour was recommencing.

Photograph: Turret from a Russian tank left over from the Second Indochina War. Villagers remember the tank was attacked by the US Air Force who missed and the tank then retreated to trees where it became stuck and was abandoned. It is understood that the villagers have not sold the remains as scrap as they would like the tank to remain as a souvenir.

We got back to town pretty well 'jarred' out. I was with a couple of Danish girls who were excited to find carlsburg and ordered a bottle. It was 16:00 it was a bit early for me to start on the beers. We sat down and had chat. It seems that Calsburg had bought a 49% share in the stateowned Beer Lao. I guess part of the deal enabled them to import Calsburg lager into the country. Calsburg had looked at the way BeerLao was made and tasted and fortunately had decided against changing it.

We all minded to head south next aiming to get to Tham Lot Kong Lo at huge 7km long cave you could get a boat all the way through to the otherside. We looked at an alternative route rather than going via Vietiane there was a road to Paksan. We heard that the road was unpaved and the journey was long. Unfortunately there did not seem to be able buses for a number of days so we both decided to get the main bus to Vientiane. I decided that as I hadn't visited Vang Vieng I would get off there. I was a bit apprehensive about visiting Vang Vieng - termed as a 'travellers haven' in a Lonely Planet full of restuarants that show endless re-runs of the TV series 'Friends'. I thought I could probably do with a few days out from travelling, a sort of holiday from a holiday.

So early the next morning I caught the Vientiane bus, which was actually a lovely journey pass towering castic mountain senery. The bus pulled to the side of the road. There was a huge expanse of old tarmac, some kilometre or so in length. This was the biggest area of tarmac I had seen in Laos and it wasn't really being used, except for a few buses being parked in the area. Reading the guide book it seems this was another relic from the 2nd Indochina War, a former airstrip (Lima Site 27). I heard that it was better to stay on the other side of the Song River as noise from the village's many tourist bars could be disruptive. After wandering around I found a guest house with a series of rooms on stilts with veranda and hamocks over looking the river. I relaxed for the remainder of the day in a hammock reading a book and admired the beautiful castic scenery.

Photograph: Limestone features of Veng Viang.

Night time arrived and I needed to eat. I wandered into town. I really couldn't believe my eyes, it was true there were big restuarants full of young tourists reclining on soft benches watching Friends. I reflected that this was another side of tourism I hadn't come acr0ss in Laos before. Similar to people back home booking a package holiday on a beach somewhere warm. The culture of the local people were of lesser importance compared to how beautiful the beach and hotel were.

With lots of limestone there a no prizes to guess what one of the main attactions are around Vang Vieng - caves. The Danish girls had told me about a cave to the north of the village you could enter only on a rubber inner tube. So the next morning I rented a bycycle and a dry bag to keep my valuables in and headed to "Tham Nam" or water cave some 13km away. Reaching the cave I undressed and hired a rubber ring and head torch, then using a rope hauled myself into the cave. It was a fantastic experience. At first I was quite scared by the blackness and not knowing the layout of the cave, but after a while I grow accustomed to my surroundings and started exploring. I ended up a long tunnel with smooth sides, it seems to go on for a hundreds of metres. I never reached the end and I gave up. Returning to the main cave another tourist asked me how long the tunnel was. I replied it must be over 1km long. Their Lao guide laughed at me and said it was only around 100m. I felt like a fool.

Photograph: Tham Jang cave near Veng Viang.

The next day I went tubing. This basically involves being dropped off at an upsteam point in the Song River by songtaew, where you pick up your inner tube and ride it down the river. On the way down there are places where local people have installed zip slides and swings over the river. If you buy a drink from them you can use their zip slide for free and jump into the river. They play music and sell beer and Lao Lao. It was a bizaar experience drinking so early in the day, I not sure I was really in the mood for "partying" as one tourist put. After the first shot of lao lao I soon got into the 'swing' of things. I ended up at a large river side camp playing volley drunkenly with other tourists. I'm not good at volley ball at the best of times. The floor of the court was covered in thick sand, we all ended up diving around for the ball. The games got very exciting. My knees and elbows were red raw by the end of the day.

Photograph: Strange upright roof supports at Petrol Filling Station off Highway 13, south of Veng Viang. Are the top parts of the supports made from old bomb casing?

I decided that would aim to visit the large cave as one last adventure before leaving Laos. Getting to the cave by public transport seemed difficult and a little unpredictable. Having only a few days left I decided to try to rent a dirt bike in Vientiane. I jumped on the early morning minibus from Vang Vieng and reached Vientiane by lunch time. One hour later I had hired a dirt bike and was heading for highway 13 to travel south towards the cave.

So far my experience with Lao towns had shown they were particularly small in size. Many provincial towns were as big as some of the larger villages in England. However, Vientiane was a different story an urban giant compared to other destinations that came to be cities. Before long I have taken a wrong turn and was completely lost. I had to stop every so often and ask the way to highway 13. Eventually but rather than judgement I came to large junction turned onto Highway 13. The road is the main north-south archery that runs through the country from Luang Nam Tha all the way down to Voen Kham on the Cambodian border. As I moved further out of Vientiane the traffic died down and the number of villages decreased. I opened the bike up to a speed I felt comfortable with and began to eat the kilometres up. I decided that I would try to make Khun Kham that day. Khun Kham or Ban Na Hin was a village that lay between Nam Kading NPA and Phu Hin Bun NPA and formed the gateway to Tham Lot Kong Lo cave, another 50km away on dirt roads. I flew through picturesque villages and wanted make as much distance as I could. Before long my hunger got the better of me and realised I hadn't eaten any lunch. I stopped in the town of Paksan to look for a restaurant without any luck. There were only noddle shops and my belly demanded rice!! I kept going and then passing through a pleasant village which lay be the Mekhong river noticed a thatched hut by the road, that looked like a suitable candidate. I stopped they served me with laap (minced pork with mint) and sticky rice. Hungrily I put mouth fulls away and before long my belly was satisfied again. I managed to bash my head a few times on the low bean of the thatched hut - much to everyone's concern (and amuzement). It was time to head on again and I sped off on my way. By this time it was late afternoon I reached pretty village of Pak Kading, where stopped in the middle of bridge spanning the Kading river near to the confluence with the Mekhong and admired the sunset. I realised it was time to put the lights on the motorcycle, the man in the rental shop and showed me that the switch had broken and I needed to connect two pieces of wire. Relieved at getting the lights to work I continued on. Light was fading fast, a time when all the insects come out and attracted by the luminance of lamp on my bike found that being splattered continuosly by mouths and bugs etc. Although it cut my vision down considerably I had to continue wearing my sun glasses to keep the bugs out of my eyes. Eventually I reached Vieng Kham where I needed to turn on to Highway 8 to make then final stage of my journey that evening. Although it was dark I could determine I was passing through mountainous scenery and before long passing through natural forest alive with insects. Although the road was paved every so often I needed to cross bailey bridges with two strips of planks across for 4 wheeled vechicles. The bike flew over these without any problem. I climbed up into the hills along steep winding road and desended into Khun Kham.

Photograph: Trusty steed.

As I entered the outskirts of the village I came across bright lights of a resturant and guest house of Mi Thuna. I was greeted by an English man called Ralph and suddenly by suprise I was booked into luxury. I spent the rest of the evening chatting to Ralph and Mon his Lao wife prepared me a delicious evening meal. Ralph asked me what I wanted for brekfast in the morning and said they could do a full English. I could not believe this but asked for one all the same. After 300 odd kilometres I was very tied and slept right through to early morning, when I was greeted by the unmistakable smell of frying bacon. I rose and made my way to the restuarant's restuarant. I could hardly believe my eyes the full english brekfast had been prepared for me. I asked Ralph where he got hold of the ingredients and he told me that there were places over the border in Thailand where he could buy bacon and sausages etc. After the lovely brekfast I jumped back on the bike and headed off the Highway 8 down a dirt track towards Tham Kong Lo cave. Ralph had mentioned the night before that a new road was being built to the cave which had greatly speeded up the journey time. I reached the first village called Ban Na Phuak, sailed straight through and out the other side assuming this was the main route to the cave. The road got worse and worse and worse. So bad that I was finding it difficult to negociate on a dirt bike. I wandered how a 4 wheeled vehicle would fair. There must be an alternative route and so I turned back. I passed through the village again and notice a turning off to the left, took this and found myself a newly constructed laterite road completely straight as far as a could see following the linage of electricity pilons. This must be the new road. I took off and within a few minutes had reached the end of the straight section. The road then veered off to the left and passed a smaller village. I followed the road and soon came across contruction work. Clay material was being dug from borrow pit and and then put into piled to be rolled to bulid up the level of the road. I was grateful to be on a dirt bike which had no problem through this terrain. Work on constructing bridges seemed well adavnced however many were not in completed and diversions had been set into steep ravines. These were much more challenging to ride through as they were covered in deep dust. The slower you rode through these less control you had as the front wheel wobbled around. Eventually the newer laterite road gave way to the old, which was basically a thick dusty track. It was evident that the track cut through former paddy fields as every so often with regularity the bike would jolt as it rode over hardened raised ground of the former margins of the field.

Photograph: Thick dusty roads. It last rained 3 months ago.

Finally the road entered a wooded area and finished at a river. I parked the bike and walked up to the cave's entrance. It was vast and watched a small wooder canoe with a engine chug into the mouth of the cave and pick up a couple of tourist's waiting a little way into the cave. I drove back out of the wooded area and entered a nearby village of houses built on tall stilts. I was greeted by a local who organised where I could park my motorcycle and a boat for me take me through the cave. I climbed into the boat and we glided off along the river towards the cave. I hadn't realised the cave's entrance stood a few metres higher than the river and so to enter it was necssary to haul the woodern canoe (may from heavy tropical hardwood) up a series of rapids. The couple of local boat men insisted on me getting off at this point while they tugged and pushed the boats up into the cave's entrance. After doing this they picked me up and we entered the cave's backness. My small headtorch so useful in smaller caves soon proved to useless in the vast caverns we passed through. Fortunately the boatmen had strong torches they could make out the caves walls and staligtites. River was obviously shallow in areas and a some points we ran aground had to get out and push the canoe. We passed other boats heading the opposite direction, one had a small motorcycle on it!! An hour passed then as we turned a bend we saw a glimmer of light and had reached the other side of the cave. Exiting the cave I witnessed a beautiful sight of natural forest enclosed in by impenetrable range castic mountains rising vertically from the tops of the canopy. We alighted from the boat and rested. I noticed that a 4-wheeled drive vehicle was parked nearby. There must be an alternative route to the cave from the other side of the mountain range. I ate some sticky rice and a hard boiled egg. I also tried a little nam prick (mashed up chilly paste) which almost blew my head off. Soon it was time to head back.

Photograph: 7km long Tham Lot Kong Lo cave, Phu Hin Bun NPA.

Reaching the the otherside of the cave. I jumped back on my bike and sped off. Knowing the way back and what to expect on the way I opened her up and made highway 8 in 1 hour. I turned left and headed up into the hills and stopped a the Sala View Point which looks across the tops of jagged castic scenery of Phu Hin Boun NPA. I watched the sun set and then headed back to the Mi Thuna Guest House in Khun Kham .

Photograph: Sala View point near Khoun Kham (Ban Na Hin) looking over towards Phu Hin Bun NPA.

The next day I had to make my way back to Viantiene, before I did I headed along Highway 8 to Tha Bak to look at the Bomb Boats made from old fuel tanks from US Air Force planes.

Photograph: "Bomb Boats" of Latmouang on the Theum river. Old aluminium fuel tanks dropped from US Air Force planes during the Second Indochina War.

I headed back and reached Vietiane by mid afternoon. I spent the remainder of the day exploring the city and ended up at the national stadium. I game of football had just finished. I wandered on the pitch and had penalty shoot out with a young boy. The next day there was time to do some last minute shopping for presents in the market of Talat Sao before I was picked up an taken across the border to catch the train from Nong Khai to Bangkok and my flight home.

Photograph: Its always wise to keep atleast one eye on the farang and then make sure you keep a safe distance away from them.