We hardballed it and took the local bus from the Laos capital, Vientiane, to the legendary backpacker hangout, Vang Vieng about 200km to the north. The hand-crocheted window coverings were nice, as were the fans on the ceiling if they only worked. So, the bus' movement was our only moving breeze. Vang Vieng was a pleasant, beautiful place set against the limestone mountains, but it was also packed to the brim with the most Westerners we'd seen here. It also had all these creature comforts like looped episodes of "Friends" playing on restaurant/bar TV's, with 'comfort food' meaning your choice of either horrific Italian or nuclear-blasted burgers. We did the classic tubing on the Nam Song, where you float down the river in a tractor-tire innertube passing river-side bars, trance music, and zip lines catapulting you back into the water. We also visited a couple of caves. One where we followed a few others toward the back and onto a small precipice. But they started to walk away and for the life of us, we couldn't figure out how to get down. Realizing our flashlight was fading and the prospect of no others coming that day being very real, Andy shouted a few times, louder each time, to get a light -- and a couple of kind souls obliged. We followed them out in the otherwise pitch darkness. Our flashlight was almost dead.
The next day we began somewhat of another moto bike odyssey. The trip north on Rte. 13, then turning east onto Rte. 7 and then to Phonsavan (POHN-SA-VAH) and the infamous "Plain of Jars." The problem is that the routes go through a lot of mountainous terrain and have somewhat of a troubled history with Hmong Guerrilas, an insurgent group that launched rare and sporadic attacks on locals and tourists alike up until April 2006. All the advisories at the time we checked with before going, the State Department sites for the U.S. and Australia (including conversations with locals) all indicated that everything was ok, but we still wanted to check. We also wanted to drive ourselves because we had heard there were no moto rentals in Phonsavan, and we were tired of being shackled to the typical, well-trodden tourist buses and routes.
It wasn't a good omen, when 30km into the trip we started hearing small rattling/grinding noises from the engine when accelarating on turns but at the time chalked it up to previous bad spedometers, headlights and gas gauges we had gotten on other bikes. We were stopped at our first checkpoint on the way up the first mountain pass. The Lao police at first seemed genuinely confused by our presence at first, where we were going, coming from, how we got the moto bike, where's your international drivers' license etc. (which we had accidentally left in our packs at the guesthouse.) Luckily, they seemed satisfied with our rental card and Andy's NY State driving license and sent us through after asking when we'd be back. At this point we were in a hot zone, but still saw a few Western bikers going the opposite way. One couple was on a bicycle built for two.
Then came the 130+ km jaunt through mountainous Rte. 7 and the other trouble spot for the first 50km. Everything seemed to be going ok as we climbed higher and higher, then we pass through this village and see a truckload of armed men in camouflauge sitting on the road. We buzz quietly by, not attracting too much attention and that was it. We still couldn't figure out if they were the guerrillas, or from the Lao government, but we didn't care we just kept going. Our hearts sunk a little even more as a few miles more we saw two more lone patroling gunmen walking on the highway. An hour later though we crossed into the next province, Xieng Khuang and were relieved immensely as we knew this was safer territory. The only thing we had to battle now was the cold. We hadn't really eaten that much and were kind of going on adrenaline for a while, So Sarah pulls out two Halls 'menthalyptus' lozenges, and at that moment, the sugar and soothingness of the 'vapor action' did wonders to lift our spirits. We even started to head out of the mountains and into the plains now which the landscape which, we commented, bore an uncanny resemblence to both Calgary and Memphis. The dried, brown grass and bare trees over rolling plains looked exactly like Shelby Farms.
At 3:45pm, 7 hours after leaving, we arrived in Phonsavan, got a hotel and food, thankful to be there and excited about the next day. "The Plain of Jars" is a somewhat enigmatic site as no one knows for sure the purpose of them. Local legend has it that a king friendly to the people won a battle for them and had them made, cast in a kiln, to ferment rice wine in to celebrate his victory for them. The only problem is they are completely dug out of boulders, the largest weighing six tons, too heavy to take back and forth to a kiln. Much more likely is that they were dug out of existing boulders (other boulder field finds with half-made jars have borne this theory out) and that they were perhaps used more for funerary rites and storing of ashes, bones, etc. Either way it was quite surreal to wander through all three sites, each with about 100 jars, some broken, some on their side, and some still in tact with their giant accompanying stone lids.
The next morning didn't bode well for our return trip. Thick fog was all around and the bike wouldn't start. Only because genius Andy didn't try the choke. We decided to give the sun a shot to burn off the fog, but it seemed like as we were leaving, it was only getting worse. At the same time, there was a guy with a rifle (that didn't look like it was used to hunt animals) on his back in the beginning. And this was supposed to be the safe province! After a half hour or so, though, everything started to clear up and we even got blue sky. The weather even started to be beautiful and we were thinking about "the only thing to fear is fear itself" quote. That's when our chain slipped off (thus the noise in the engine growing worse). We put it back on and kept going, now through the hot zone, but the weather was so good we were really starting to enjoy it. Then, we turned the corner. TWO trucks of armed men blocking the road with a small space in the middle, looking at something on the side. We both said, "I don't know if it's government or not, just keep going." Without so much as a blink, Andy guns it right through the middle. Out of the corner of her eye, Sarah could just see muted to empty stares on their faces. Once, around the next corner, Andy buzzed it through village after village, trying to get to the junction town of Rte. 13, Muang Phu Khoun as quickly as possible, just to be on the safe side. Then the stupid chain goes out again! We stop, get off and start fixing it and hear a car coming around the corner literally twenty seconds later. Our hearts sank as it was none other than the armed guard truck rounding the bend. We hoped they wouldn't stop to 'help' us. But they actually just kept going and were actually kind of rowdy and good-natured, saying what Sarah thought was "Beer Lao" to us and laughing. Maybe they were just the government troops. But we didn't care to stick around. Just as we got the chain on, the SECOND armed guard truck comes behind us around the corner. The timing was especially eerie because at the speed we were going, they would have had to have immediately jumped into their trucks after seeing us and sped off. We decided to slow down at the next village and discreetly let them pass us, which they did. Then, giving them time to get ahead, we keep going slowly. Up the next hill, our chain goes out again. Okay, now we're starting to get mad! We fix it and the rest of the way, just nurse the gears and cruise through village after village and make it to the junction town, take a breath, have a couple of coffees and soup, and start up our last mountain pass heading south on Rte. 13. Just when we thought this portion would be as uneventful as it was coming the other way, we see a true guerrilla in camouflage with an AK-47 standing on the side of the road! We don't even look as we motor by him, but our hearts did skip a beat when, as we passed, he whistled two times to someone on the ridge. Andy pulled the clutch to avoid the chain problem and roared down the mountain, luckily a steep grade for the next 5 km. We made it to the bottom and out of the hot zone. The chain went out a couple of times more but it was okay. We almost made it to Kasi before our tire blew out (the result of a patch we had put on in Phonsavan when our tire blew there); luckily there was a repair place a couple of km away. Even more lucky that it wasn't a half hour earlier when we were on top of the mountain next to nothing!
Over the next 2 hours, though, we were rewarded with a perfect setting. Great weather, unrivaled scenery of tropical landscapes against limestone peaks and magnificent fading sunlight. Sure our chain went out again a couple of times, but we were home free. This time, we didn't even need a Halls.
The next week, we recouped in Luang Prabang, a lovely, but heavily touristed city 160km north of Vang Vieng, and are now making plans for entry into Thailand. Thanks to all who are reading, responding, or just plain enjoying. Stay tuned. Hope to add pictures soon.