Change of plan

The exhilerating 52km descent fron Pakson on the Bolaven Plateau to Pakse, by the Mekong, was broken only by a walk down to one of many waterfalls and a stop for coffee.
We had more or less decided to avoid Vietnam and felt vindicated when Mitje and Mitze told us that the roadbuilding all over the country was making travel very diappointing. Instead we had agreed to head to the north of Laos. We booked spaces on the overnight sleeper to Ventiane, arriving there this morning at 6.30.
First stop was a bike shop and then we headed north. We,ve cycled about 120kms today, to a delightful town by the river.there aremeetings being held by various NGOs so finding beds proved very difficult.

On top of the Bolaven Plateau

There had to be a sting in the tale, and there was. The cycling and scenery had been too good. Leaving Sekong, where there were a no. of options for overnight, we felt good enough to carry on at least another 25 kms to Thane Beng. This was the point from where we could turn to start the 1250m climb onto the plateau to Paksong 71kms away.But there was nowhere to stay in Thane Beng, only the chance of a guesthouse partway up the plateau.As we chewed the cud, 2 Slovakian riders, coming from Attapeu, stopped briefly.
We decided to carry on, through lush mountain slopes, the road steep. I was slowing Viv and Jerry down now and the afternoon was coming to a close.What if there were not a guesthouse. I did not feel able to complete the distance to Paksong, certainly not in the dark, and quite understandably Viv refused to sleep by the side of the road.
We came across a small gathering and one man spoke English: yes, he said, in another 7 kms there is a guesthouse. It was pitch black when we turned in at the sign Guesthouse...tired, dirty and hungry. Did we hear the man right...full? Are you sure? Sorry, full. As we pondered this setback, the 2 Slovakian lads appeared. They had been given mattresses in a loft.The owner, Charlie, offered to put another mattress up there for us. With no offer of food, the five of us cheered ourselves up with beer and peanuts.
(Charlie left Laos in 1982 with his wife and 5 children, at a very troubled time here, and fled as refugees to Australia.Although his children and grandchildren now live in Sydney, he has returned with his wife to open this guesthouse.)
So first stop this morning was a shack for some rice  to set us up for the climb to Paksong.We have found good rooms and just thrown down some bread, tomato and doughnuts.(This is the first bread in 2 weeks).We have been unable as yet to authenticate the Bolaven Plateau's reputation for producing the best coffee in the world, but we will keep trying.

Tad Lo

Tad Lo is perhaps the most popular spot round the Bolaven Plateau so, given we were rather late leaving Katu homestay and that Viv,s tummy was out of sorts, we cycled only 28kms to Tad Lo. We got a small cabin each at Tim's - mine was sloping backwards but I did not fall out of bed - and took a stroll.
The most eye-catching fact of these villages is that animals and poultry roam everywhere, all so peacefully I had thought. But then I saw this grunter pushing its snout along the ground and hoovering all in front of it, heading towards a hen and its tiny chicken. As the hen flapped its wings in the pig's face, I took the photo. But when I lowered the camera the chick was gone.
We met up again with Richard here, a Swiss guy we met at Katu whose English was better than ours. He is on a motorbike, spending 12 months travelling around the world.

Hi Dad,

Glad you are enjoying yourselves. You are missed here...however there is more chocolate in your cupboards hmm. Catherine. xxx

Hi Abuelo,

I am glad you having a nice time. Mummy and i have been at your house this weekend and we have really missed you not being here.

Love from Erin.

xxxx

First climbs

The view across the Mekong to Champasak and the Plateau on the other side was stunning, even thrilling.It nearly started badly as the boat moved away as we reaching my bike over to it. My legs did the splits and it was choice between falling in the water myself or letting my bike do so. I chose the former and the boatwoman managed to grab my bike.
Once back on the mainland we had our first glimpse of rice being grown.The roads continued to be excellent and soon we entered the small town of Pakse and the long climb towards the Plateau. For the first time we reached 400m in altitude. The hilly terrain made a nice change.
Now we were looking for Katu Homestay; I had read in some obscue blog that it was it an ok place to stay. The young Mr Vieng has built this place over the last 3 years on his 5 hectare coffee plantation. He grows his coffee organically and relies more on the sale of the coffee than the income from 6 paying guests to make a living.
It can hit you when you arrive for a comfortable stay feeling hot, dirty and tired only to realise that the accommodation is a dorm, the toilet is a bamboo hut outside and the shower and laundry facilities are carried out in a single plastic bowl but it actually works out really well. It is so simple. We sat round with our 3 fellow guests, all French, and thoroughly enjoyed our rice, vegetables, chicken and cucumber salad, washed down with some of Mr Vieng,s coffee.The conversation was a sharing of adventures past and to come. I cannot understand why my dreams were of being on the run from the Germans: it is a recurring dream, actually.

Don Daeng and onwards

12-2pm are the hottest hours, so we booked a boat for 6am.It was nearly 7 before it arrived. Nonetheless we expected to be on the next island by noon. So we were feeling a little tired when at 3pm we had still not reached the turnoff after over 90kms. Partly luck but mainly good GPS plotting by Jerry found us on a wide sandy track heading downwards.After 3kms  we entered a small village below which a few boats were pulled up onto the edge of the water. A smiling young woman, carrying her young child, walked down to us, we loaded the bikes onto the platform that covered 2 boats and we were off to Don Daeng island. Our hoped - for destination was Don Daeng eco homestay but as we we had no idea where on the island it was, we simply followed the only track that presented itself. As elsewhere, the ground was very dry and uncultivated. The only visible signs of farming was the frequent sight of cassava (manioc, tapioca) cut into small chunks and laid out to dry.
After a few kms we arrived at a T junction and the track was now lined by the traditional raised houses, the track utilised by young and old on scooters and bikes and various types of wildfowl. The homestay was right at the end of this village in the most beautiful of settings: a wide stretch of sand stretched to the tranquil waters of the Mekong, beyond which the heights of the Bolaven Plateau beckoned.
By now it was going dark. The homestay was a community lodge, locked up with a sign saying to ring Mr Kham in Pakse, which we were unable to do. So we retraced our steps to a place advertising food and the owner surprisingly spoke English.I could have hugged the little chappie!
He cooked us some tasty noodles while arranging for us to stay with families in the village. Viv and Jerry stayed with onee family while I stayed next door with another. In each case, we were warmly welcomed.They tried to ask us questions and communicate but we made little sense of each other.The shower was a bowl of water and the bed was a mattress on the floor of the one open plan room with a mosquito net spread over the top. The family slept the same way across the other side of the room.
The following morning, our little chappie cooked us an omelette, introduced us to his uncle who had a boat and rushed off on his bike to carry out his day duties as a taxi driver in Pakse.
(Photos to be added when there is a stronger single)

More photos

4000 islands

/The French wanted to take their gunboats up from Saigon to inner China via the Mèkong River. The only barrier to so doing were the rapids in the channels around this island. So in 1893 they built a 1m wide railway across Khon and Don Det islands to transport them.
Nothing quite so strenuous for us...A relaxed day riding the paths round the island.
Almost by default we are following a mostly vegetarian diet. Every dish seems to introduce us to a new flavour.
We have arranged for a boat at 6am to take us back to the mainland. Tfhen we will 70+kms before crossing to Don Daeng island.

-

Mekong Bird

Once we managed to pass through the busy customs post at Poipet-apparently if we tipped te policeman he would take us to the front of the queue-a good road led us on to Sisophon.We are so accustomed to the widespead use of English that it is disconcerting not to be able to communicate freely. But we easily found a cheap guesthouse with a local restaurant nearby.But there was no apple pie or chocolate cake and Jerry and I had a craving for it. So we went walkabout. One eatery looked realy inviting; umbrellas of varying colours hung from the ceiling to good effect. I asked the lady at the centre of operations if they did coffee.
No, no coffee.
Do you have chocolate cake?
No cake.
Do you do food? (As plates were flying out of the kichen...)
No food.

We have found nothing but courtesy, kindness and honesty so far.On the next day,97km to Siam Reap, the road was excellent, though straight and flat. But all along this raised roadway are ponds of water, perhaps more of a river in the wet season. Small ducks were being reared, children mixed swimming with fishing, a woman and her family were groping in the mud for eels.
As we entered Siam Reap, we passed hotels built like palaces, extravagant but beautiful and stylish. Our accommadtion was of a more modest, homely style.Rooms cleaned and towels changed everyday and a good bed, fortunately so for me as I spent 2 days in it with a chest infection. Jerry and Viv cycled round Angor Wat. I think they probably enjoyed it more than they let on so as not to upset me! But I do not feel I have missed out on it. It is going to be around for a few more centuries, plenty of time to do it sometime in thefuture with Carole perhaps.
So I was by the side of the road this morning at 6am, waiting for the minibus to collect me,and I was able to see Jerry and Viv off at the start of 2 hard days of cycling  to where I am now quite happily settling in.
The 4+ hour journey was broken for a toilet stop at a roadside eatery. One of the passengers, a young Asian girl, suddenly emitted strange noises and promptly slumped over the table, seemingly lifeless.What a commotion as the local people rushed over to her, feeling her pulses then carrying her over to lay her flat on a big table while trying to revive her.
Meanwhile, our driver had taken out all our luggage from behind the seats and pushed boxes of canned beer the full length of the vehicle which would have left us with our chins on our knees. Now one of the passengers, a young Israeli, had seen this happening and taken the boxesout from where his and my feet would be and was now hectoring the driver to do the same for the others. He was quite right that we had paid $18 each and should not have to suffer this.But his attitude was completely arrogant and confrontational, so over the top as to be funny.
Ah, what happened to the girl?
Yeah, she came round.
I am sat on this little jetty protruding over the placid waters of the Mèkong. The sun has set, slowly reeling in the colour from the sky. Flocks of birds skim the water on their way back from their feeding ground. Low level bird chatter allows me still to pick out the sound of a wind instrument from one of the nearby islands.A fisherman has tied his boat to a floating raft 100m out from the bank and sings a poignant melody.