Vincent Ross takes us into the heart of one of the world’s most enchanting countries, Laos. In Part 1, we explore the mystical Mekong River.
On a slow boat through Laos, it becomes quickly obvious that the Mekong is a river not to be rushed.
Life goes in a steady flow along its banks, much as the local Lao have been living for centuries.
Standing on the canopied deck of a 34m timber longboat, its bow cutting through the Mekong’s muddy waters, the hypnotic spell of the chugging motor is occasionally broken as long-tailed speedboats skim past, a plume of spray in their wake.
In lifejackets and helmets, the tourists they carry have no hope of talking about the rich landscape through which they pass, their voices lost in the roar of the motor.
The noise hammers the forest-lined banks, driving the birds and wildlife deeper into the jungle. The wake of the speedboat slaps into muddy shores and sandbanks, ripples away, and the river resumes its dignity.
The Mekong is 4350km long.
Starting in the eastern Tibetan plateau, it flows south and then east, through China, Myanmar, Thailand, Laos, Cambodia and Vietnam, spreading into the wide Mekong Delta before emptying into the South China Sea.
More than half of the river flows through the landlocked landscape of Laos, an artery of life which its people have worshipped as “the mother of waters” for thousands of years.
Jagged rocks, rapids, sandbars and unpredictable water flow dashed the hopes of early French explorers that large cargo boats would one day weave along its course through Indochina, skirting the Annamite Mountains in Laos, past Thailand and Cambodia and down to Vietnam.
French explorer Henri Mouhot, whose travel writings introduced 18th century Westerners to the wonders of the temples of Cambodia’s Angkor Wat, was beguiled by Laos’s rugged riverine landscape. He died from fever in a camp on the banks of the Nam Khan River in October, 1861, just a few kilometres from its junction with the Mekong, having noted in his journal that the Mekong in northern Laos had “almost an excess of grandeur”.
Today, Laos is still very much an exotic gem, a land of discovery. In 1990, as few as 300 tourists a year penetrated the bamboo curtain of the country, but over the past two decades, the demise of old communist hard-liners and the rise of more liberal political thinking has loosened government restrictions.
One of the more rewarding ways to enter Laos is by boat, down the Mekong River, via the northern Thai border village of Chiang Kong. Long-tailed speedboats and lumbering longboats set out from Huai Xai, in Laos, 500m across the river from Chiang Kong.
River boats making the trip downstream from Huai Xai to Luang Prabang cover the 160km to the former Lao royal capital in two days, with an overnight stop at Luang Say Lodge.
The lodge is a collection of shuttered, boardwalk-linked bungalows made from rosewood and teak, built on the riverbank amid lush green hills, a short walk from the logging village of Pakbeng.
For the first 25km, the Mekong forms the border, with Laos on the left and Thailand on the right.
Its waters belong to Laos, as does any land exposed during the dry season, from November to May, when the water level can drop up to 8m.
Just south of Huai Xai, this quirk of political geography means Lao fishermen are in a prime position in April and May, during the giant Mekong catfish season.
Monstrous fish up to 3m long and weighing 300kg are netted in the deep holes in the riverbed.
As the Mekong flows southeast, imposing jungle-covered mountains tumble down to the shore, hemmed by a wall of trees draped in a cascading net of vines.
Fishing lines trail lazily from bamboo poles propped in rocky crevices a long the banks. Plastic bottles swirl in the muddy eddies, buoy markers for fish traps and nets set by the lowland Lao Loum people, who live off the life of the river.
In the heat of the midday sun, there is little sign of human activity. Occasionally, sinewy men and women can be seen on fertile sandbanks exposed by the sluggish river, watering small patches of peanuts and vegetables planted in a perennial cycle when the water level drops.
A disinterested herd of water buffalo wallows in the shallows off a sandbank.
On the boat, a slight breeze cooled by the water briefly diffuses the blanket of heat. With it comes the smell of wild jasmine from the forest.
The motor’s dull throb through the timber decking, the sound of rushing water as the hull slices through the river, are mesmerising.
The boat’s bow swings towards the village of Khon Toune, which translates to “before waking up”, referring to the noise the pebbles make in the riverbed. The village is alive with boisterous, inquisitive children.
There are signs here of the growing influence of tourism, the Lao Lue women are smiling and gracious, but they speak little English. The village is noted for intricately woven cloth of bright colours and designs made with dyes from the forest — colours extracted from teak bark and mango trees.
The dyes are fixed with the starch from their staple diet, sticky rice. There is no stall —a few beautifully designed examples of hand-made cloth are draped on rails near wooden looms wedged under pole houses between thick timber pillars.
Five hours downstream, the river cuts deeper into the land, the surrounding jungle-clad peaks rise higher, the forest is more dense, a solid wall of green. Stands of bamboo climb the slopes and giant staghorn ferns cling to the trunks of trees, high in the forest canopy, 20m above the ground.
Through rapids and the swirling turbulence of whirlpools which the Hmong hill tribe people believe hide lurking dragons ready to take the unwary, the boat passes the rocky outcrop of Kaeng Paew “the Mother Stone”.
In the late afternoon the river falls into shadow and the cool air sets in as the boat is run aground on the beach upstream from Pakbeng for an overnight stay at Luang Say Lodge, the shuttered windows of its bungalows offering a sweeping, surreal view of the dying light on the river.
A group of small children kicks up the dust on the road behind the lodge as they carry large bags of firewood back to the village, suspended on their backs by straps.
Photo Credits
“Laos Mekong River boatman” © Vincent Ross. All Rights Reserved.
“Laos, a longboat on the Mekong River” © Vincent Ross. All Rights Reserved.
Laos Luang Prabang children playing on the Mekong River © Vincent Ross. All Rights Reserved.
“Laos Mekong River A Lao Lue girl in the village of Khon Toune” © Vincent Ross. All Rights Reserved.
Kim says
This is a great article and the type of experience we are after, and photos I hope to capture. Which company/group did you take your boat trip with? Thanks for sharing this. Thank you,
Kim