Misty memoirs of epic rides
/As much of the world tentatively opens and re-closes its doors to travel, a huge part of the planet remains in absolute peril - largely due to inequality and poverty.
While going through some old images I came across this picture from one of many past visits to the remote Northeastern corner of Laos.
The old man on the back the tractor like contraption was well oiled on lao cao, the local rice wine, and was trying to persuade me to go and drink with him.
Ahh, adventures, lets hope those dust old days return soon.
Meantime here are a few pulls from a story I wrote about one very chilled ride in this region.
More in “shiverman” than Superman style I slipped into the ramshackle public toilets at Muang Sing bus station. I entered as a regular tourist and left as a quivering cyclist, wearing every last bit of clothing I had stashed in my overnight backpack.
It was somewhere just before 8am, and I was trying desperately to hitch a ride with my bike in one of the local busses or a minivan. My destination was Luang Namtha, the provincial capital of the region that bares the same name.
The journey is just 60-kilometers, which doesn’t sound like much of a strain for an experienced cyclist, although having done the ride several times before (including on the previous day) I can tell you that it’s quite the undertaking.
After failing to find a ride for my bike I was faced with either waiting another 3-hours and trying the next bus, or wrapping up and riding back down the same road I’d come in on the previous day.
There was a freezing fog blanketing the whole village, and the traders in morning market (opposite the small bus station) were all huddled and wrapped in blankets. Taking on the ride in such conditions was not exactly appealing, but seemed like the only viable option, and after acquiring a cheap hat and stuffing plastic bags beneath my jacket I set off into the chilled greyness.
Pedalling out of town and I pass all kinds of small truck and tractor like contraptions, many with huddles of small children aboard, all heading into town for school and looking in bewilderment at this over wrapped foreigner riding a bike through the mist.
From this direction it’s a long and steady road climb out of town. It adds up to 25-km of uphill during the 60km slog, and is a huge part of why I both love and loathe this amazing ride. After a few kilometres of climbing I warm up some, and unzip my top layers. I’m cocooned in a self-generated and sweaty steam cloud, which stays with me as the road twists ever steeper and deeper in to jungle.
Determined to beat the bus I rode flat out for the rest of the way. The bus caught me on a short rise coming into Luang Namtha, but I managed get past it in town. Eventually I made it back to my guesthouse around a minute or so before the bus, leaving me with shaky legs and a strange sense of satisfaction.