A quick run north along a poorly maintained road took us to the sole border crossing between Cambodia and Laos. Here, we were greeted by a massive new building on the Cambodian side, at least 8 lanes wide with freshly laid bitumen, immigration booths and large offices – all standing derelict. For whatever reason, it isn’t being used, so instead you pull up at a tiny wooden shack with a rope for a barrier 50m down the road. $2 USD each in ‘processing fees’ (read: bribes) got us stamped out of the country, while the customs booth was an empty shack so we didn’t have the hassle of explaining and bribing our way out without any import paperwork for the bikes (I’m not sure any such paperwork actually exists in Cambodia, but it’s better to avoid the question in the first place).
On the Laos side we faced yet more ‘processing fees’. $1 USD each in addition to the quoted fee, to get the visa on arrival, then another $2 each to the immigration guys, again just to make them do their job of putting a stamp in the passport. Still, they are under no obligation to let you into their country and can seriously affect plans, so provided the amount is not outrageous it’s easier just to grease the wheels of bureaucracy. Finally we just faced the hassle of importing the bikes. There was a clearly marked window for ‘entry / exit of vehicles’, but the guy inside seemed confused that we didn’t have Cambodian bikes, and initially waved us away. I had researched prior though, and knew that you need a temporary import form and local insurance, in case any police pull you up (or god forbid you have an accident). After much sign language and miming on my part, he phoned a friend and sure enough, started processing the paperwork. $7 USD each, which may have been legitimate since we got a receipt this time – although it does say “export fee”, so perhaps it went into his pocket like all the others. Still, free and clear into country number 7!
That night was spent on Don Khong, the largest island in the Si Phan Don (4000 Islands) region, known as a haven for backpackers to kick back and do nothing. We had a peaceful beer and meal on the banks of the Mekong, but decided to move on the next morning – we have too many things to see and not enough time!
The roads through Southern Laos are in good repair, but the scenery is nothing special – dusty fields awaiting the monsoon rains, small shanty towns dotting the landscape every few kilometres. The drivers are better behaved than in Cambodia, but the wildlife is more of a risk – the cows in particular were left to wander along the road and resulted in heavy braking on several occasions.
Before you enter, it’s easy to forget that Laos is a communist country, however once you’re inside it’s impossible to forget. The communist party flag is almost as common as the national flag, and is displayed just as prominently on all official buildings.
Our next stop was the charming town of Savannakhet, a once-grand trading post on the banks of the Mekong, filled with crumbling French colonial architecture. We took a walk around town before dinner to see the sights.
We were within a (long) day’s ride of the capital Vientiane, however we had a detour in mind first. Jagged limestone mountains began to loom on the eastern horizon, growing larger as we turned towards them.
These are the karst formations the area is famous for, stretching across the border into Vietnam forming famous landmarks such as Ha Long Bay.
Rolling through tiny villages, we were aiming for the tiny village of Kong Lor – but first we wanted to check out something I’d read about.
On the banks of one of the many tributaries into the Mekong, there are the “bomb boats”. Actually typically external fuel tanks, they were jettisoned in flight by American bombers once empty during the long campaign of the ‘secret war’. Laos is actually the most bombed place in the world per capita, a result of the USA trying to interdict the Ho Chi Minh trail supplying the North Vietnamese army. By cutting the tops off the drop tanks, the locals have a sturdy, lightweight aluminium ready-made boat that lasts much longer than traditional timber boats.
Coming back into the valley towards Kong Lor, we rode before the sunset, passing the endless pattern of rural life in Laos – fields, tractors, animals, small villages, and ever smiling locals.
The sheer cliffs of limestone lined the valley, some 20 kilometres across, and slowly narrowed in as we rode closer to Kong Lor.
Once settled in a guesthouse in the village, we went down to the river bank, which is used by the locals for fishing, bathing, laundry, playing and watering their vegetable patches.
Waking up early the next morning, we set off to fulfil the reason we came to Kong Lor – the cave. Carved out of the mountains by the river, it’s an 8 kilometre long cavern that can be traversed by boat. Hiring a local boatman, we walked into the cave mouth and got in our leaky boat.
Once inside, the boatman fires up the tiny motor, every movement rocking the boat’s perilously low sides close to the water’s surface. Darkness claims the surroundings rapidly, with only the narrow and weak beams of our head torches throwing any illumination. In some places, the space is a dozen metres wide, and the roof a few metres overhead – then we’ll turn a corner, almost unseen in the dark, and enter into a vast underground cathedral a hundred metres across and high enough that the torch beams can’t reach the ceiling. In some places the water swallows the light greedily, while in others it’s shallow enough to cause small rapids – approached by going flat out, the bottom of the boat scraping roughly over stones while the propeller spits out rocks noisily. On more than one occasion we get stuck, and have to be pulled past the shallows. In one place, we’re deposited at a sandy beach, to walk past a collection of cave formations like stalagmites and stalactites, while the boatman negotiates a long section of rapids solo. There are enough tourists coming here for the authorities to have set up lights in strategic places for this section.
Also, at some point, the cave claimed one of my thongs, delighting Ghighi who taunted me all day about it.
The exit to the cave can be seen from hundreds of metres away, slowly growing larger until you suddenly emerge blinking into the light.
A short run along the river deposits you at a tiny outpost village for a break and drink, before returning back the same way.
Leaving Kong Lor, the road was just as spectacular on the way out as the way in.
A long afternoon battling traffic, trucks and speed demons deposited us in the capital, Vientiane. A sleepy city on the banks of the Mekong, facing Thailand on the opposite shore. A wander along the boardwalk showed what was on closer examination a series of sand sculptures, soon to be washed away with the monsoon by the rising river.
A nearby park has a statue of Chao Anouvong, the last Laotian king – defeated and imprisoned by the Thais.
The presidential palace is a flashy new building, facing down a French-style boulevard to the Laotian version of the Arc de Triomphe.
The inside is filled with cheap (mostly Thai made) souvenirs, but the view from the top shows all of Vientiane – a very flat city by world standards.
Originally we had planned to cross back into Thailand, head to Chiang Mai and spend almost a week there. However, we’ve decided instead to take a few of those days back, and loop around the mountainous areas of northern Laos before dropping back into Thailand near Chiang Rai. It would be fantastic to have more time, but the fixed date to start our Myanmar crossing is rapidly approaching!
