27.03.08 - Laos... Only By Longboat

BrrrrVRROOM! BrrrVRROOM!

The blast of the engine as it spluttered into life ripped through the peaceful northern Laos morning air behind the pile of backpacks that my head was rested on. A momentary whirr of clattering propellor was drowned by the forceful churning of water to the stern of the longboat we were sitting in and lo and behold the fifteen by one metre vessel began to glide downstream. At the bow a small Laos man sat in a token wood and glass cover with a tiny wheel wired up to the rudder to steer the boat, while behind me his wife worked up a sweat baling out the water we were taking on and ensuring the engine was in check. Meanwhile the ten or so passengers sat on little wooden seats through the length of the boat sheltered from the sun by a wooden roof. These other passengers were our new international travellers with whom we had had the pleasure of crossing the border the day before, who had been witness to my green face of food poisoning. Lucky chaps!

Tall green peaks of mountain pointed up into the warm grey sky on either side of the Nam Ou river, deep undergrowth apparently making them almost impassable. Charcoal-grey molten rock formations rose in clusters from the waters with jagged shrubs, sometimes to one side, and on occasion creating an obstruction for the longboat that needed to be circumnavigated. The scenery seemed to be monotonous at first to the travel-spoilt eye, before the rock faces became visible towering over the rippling current and stupid water buffalo who clustered in the water chewing with ridiculously over-exaggerated mouth movements. The cameras were on extended arms, each passenger eagerly ensuring the view was captured and not a piece was missed.

But oh how good the backpacks felt as I lay back on them with the warm rays of sunshine caressing my poorly head. the engine droned loudly but this was merely a rhythm that fell in harmony with the undulating motion of the flexing hull and soon enough I was dozing beside the German called Max. Eight long hours... that disappeared with ease.... as we passed the jungle and the village people for whom that river is their life-blood.

Fishermen pulled in small nets as they stood on their precarious little longboats. Small fishing cages were seen clustered in a hollow in a cliff. Little wooden huts might be visible up in the trees on a bank and the activity seemed to be centred around the edge of the water where naked brown-skinned children threw themselves into the water and might sometimes stare in awe or wave with fits of laughter. Women washed in the river while dogs spread out on the dry mud to soak up the warm sunshine. A world away from any community that I have ever been witness to and really quite humbling for its simplicity and apparent contentedness.

A far more prominent settlement of bamboo huts became visible high up on the bank over the river, concrete steps dropping down to the murky-green waters and a thin beach where many green, blue and red longboats were moored up in shallow water. Muong Ngoi. Only accessible by boat for it's remote jungle location and all the more exciting for it! Within minutes of stepping into the soily river we found ourselves ordering lunch in a restaurant above the water, an open wooden platform on stilts with an (relatively) elaborate wooden roof constructed above it for shelter from any rain. The view was really quite breath-taking, and despite my ill demeanour we all felt a sense of joy that we had stumbled into such a wonderful world away from home.

Two ricketty little bamboo huts overlooking the river and the pointed Laos jungle mountain peaks were ours next door to the restaurant platform and we began to relax after the three days of tedious travel.

AHHHHH.....