Of orientation, mad cows and lovely people

When travelling on foot there is one thing you will never lack - experiences. So much happens in the course of a day that you will have lost the chronology of events within hours and you are never sure if something happened this morning, yesterday or a week ago. This held true for Thailand and Laos and surely does so for England and Wales too. One may have thought that Western Europe is easier to walk but I would have to disagree. Yes, the language barrier is not there and yes, the is a lot more common ground concerning culture and customs etc., etc. But there is also a set of whole new challenges here which do not exactly facilitate the vagabond life.

Vagabond on his own...

Finding your way on England's footpaths can be an adventure in itself. As many may know, fields are generally separated by hedges in this part of the world. (Note: this is hardly ever the case in Switzerland) It is a great habitat for wildlife and charming to see - until you have to get across them. Gates tell the walker where he can overcome these unbreachable obstacles and, on a sunny day with high visibility, the loop hole on the other side of the field tells him where to slip through the next. But as we all know the sun is not exactly a regular in good old Britain. It is more like the stranger who shyly steps into the village pub, orders a pint and hastily drinks it down to quickly leave again for fear of disturbing anyone. Therefore, most of the time, you leap into a grey soup of mist, visibility zero, and the only directional clue is on a OS Landranger map: A dotted line which, due to its width, is maximally accurate to 10 metres. Needless to say that a precision landing is near impossible. Instead you stumble across a rough meadow until crashing into a thorny hedge. Bramble in the scrotum, rose hip around the neck and a quickthorn up the left nostril. Freeing yourself from this misery takes a series of highly risky escape artist manoeuvres. With safe ground under the feet it is then the flip of a coin whether to look left or right for the next gate. After which the struggle starts all over again. If you are lucky. If not, you could also find yourself having to bushwhack straight through the middle of a 10 foot, wet maize field. Why the path does not follow the edge of it is beyond me - if anyone can enlighten me, please do so. 

Left: what path? Right: view of Offa's Dyke

But this is nothing compared to jumping into a herd of feisty, even toed ungulates (aka cows). I was roughly three metres into the field when the first cow lowered her head and started running towards me at full speed. Running away is the worst option because a) you are unlikely to get away with a heavy backpack and b) it motivates them to have a go at you. So I stood still and rose my arms above my head. Normally that is enough. But this one was not having any of it and picked up even more speed. So I made a split second decision to outright charge her. She was not expecting that and fled as quickly as she could. Whew. Sadly, this prompted the cows behind me to start an attack of their own because they thought I was running away from them. Spun on my heel and repeated what was successful before. With the same result. Including that the first cow was now animated to chase after me again. This could have gone on forever so I decided to change tactics unfolded the map to make me seem bigger and uttered the most archaic cries I could. I took advantage of the so created moment of general confusion to get out of the cow sandwich to higher ground. Before they knew it I was out of reach... 

Wales, magical Wales. Even a bit of Angkor Wat (bottom right)

Maybe I was a bit unfair to the sun in the second paragraph. Surprisingly enough I did see her on at least 50 % of the days. But that was compensated with some heavy rain storms just when I was crossing Hay Bluff. Gusts up to 60 mph, thick mist and heavy rain just when I reached the highest point had me soaked to my underwear in minutes. And I am glad it did because you cannot get wetter than drenched so the rain and wind stopped bothering me. I marveled at the power of nature, singingly waded down the knee deep torrent, which is usually a path, I greeted every blast with a cry of joy. Being out there irrespective of the conditions is, at least for me, one of the true wonders of long distance hiking. 

Before it started really coming down...

But probably the even bigger wonder are the loveable and genuinely nice people you meet along the way. I have to admit that I did not expect much from Western Europe after having experienced the Thai and Laos hospitality. Egoism and mistrust just seemed too large for that. Especially towards a smelly, scruffy foreigner who is technically homeless and does not have a "real" job. But I was so wrong. And I would like to apologize for being so prejudiced because total strangers have been extremely generous to me. Examples? There was Phil who was a great chat and accompanied me for a while. There was the Aussie (sorry mate, forgot your name...!) at the hostel in Manchester and people spending a day on a narrow boat donating 10 pounds. There were Jeff and Liz who did not have space on their field for me to camp but went to ask their neighbour if I could pitch there and offered me food and water. There were Nikki and Will who invited me to sleep in their spare room for free and even cooked me breakfast after I had spent two days camped out in the rain. Only once have I been turned down (for my own safety) when asking to set up the tent somewhere. But was still invited for food and tea. There were many other encounters but mentioning them all would just take up too much space. 

The lovely spare room I got...

It doesn't seem long ago when, with a bit of a heavy heart, I left Elly to complete our journey for a future in safety and prosperity for people less fortunate than us. And I already have to start saying my goodbyes to England, which I still consider my second home. I am currently staying at Matt's house in Bath, enjoying the comforts of a kitchen, a bathroom and a roof. Giving my feet a day without walking. Roughly 500 km, including the Offa's Dyke walk, lay behind me. In four days I will probably be on a ferry from Poole to Cherbourg, returning to mainland Europe. Where a new country awaits me with a whole set of new challenges but priceless experiences. Until then I shall enjoy the last days on the green island.

Bath and dramatic landscape

New beginning...

Rather late than never I would like to briefly mention a few things about the continuation of our walk. I will bring it to an end solo but it is still 'our' project since we started it together. Since MAG have their HQ in Manchester I decided to walk back to Switzerland from there. However, I will cheat a bit and overcome the slight obstacle called 'the Channel' by ferry. Long trips never turn out the way they are planned. Therefore I do not have an exact route in mind. For the first part I will be following Offa's Dyke though (I am actually on it already) - a trail which roughly follows the English - Welsh border. More news shall follow shortly (if WiFi permits). 

Let the walking begin...

Full on Laos

Unfortunately I had to jump ahead of past events with the last post. But I owed that to readers and sponsors alike because honesty and transparency are important. I will try to put the hospital episode in some sort of context now and also briefly talk about the future.

The last 200 km in Laos really challenged us again and were a concentrate of what Laos was for us as hikers. Tough, strenuous, nerve racking but unbelievably rewarding.

Children playing in front of a temple and rice bushels ready to be planted...

30 km north of Pakse we once again did not find a place to crash, the next Guesthouse was just outside of the city. A tsunami from above, which waterlogged streets and meadows with about two inches within minutes warned us: camping in the open impossible. Even if the rain fly would have held up against this aerial barrage we would have swam in a lake. We sheltered from the rain at a shop and I asked her if we could sleep here. She said no but offered to take us to a temple. Well, the temple turned out to be an older woman who tried to sell us a ride to Pakse. 30 km for 200'000 (25 USD) Kip which is a rip off beyond comparison and a local would never pay that. After having wasted precious time we had to continue walking with dusk falling. Upon spotting the first abandoned hut I asked the people living next to it if we could camp here. Instead of an answer they lead us to a larger house on stilts. The owner prepared a bed for us with mattresses, pillows and a mosquito net on the first floor. We didn't even need our tent and were very warmly welcomed. Naturally we were not allowed to pay anything the next morning. You have to accept that in Laos. The rain beat down the whole night. We were lucky once again...

Upcoming storm in dramatic light. A bad omen?

After Pakse, where we had every comfort, the fun started for real. We almost walked 50 km straight. Part of it after sunset in complete darkness with headlamps. Every car that stopped was scary with nothing but bush and jungle around us and not seeing or knowing what they wanted or did. It all ended in a guesthouse of horror (see video).

The next day a family with three kids offered us shelter. They did not have electricity or running water but treated us like kings and even offered food. Rain coupled with strong winds caused our feet to get wet under the mosquito net. But at least a roof over our heads. Pigs, chickens and dogs watched the strangers closely. Just before we went to sleep we saw the parents lighting candles around our bed. The woman prayed for us (we understand enough Lao to know that). That moment still sends shivers down my spine and I had tears in my eyes. They have nothing but are so genuinely lovely and care about OUR well-being. I am sure they could have done with a little extra money. But they categorically turned everything down. What sort of conviction do you need to react like this when you do not have anything? And what a contrast to the greedy woman who lived a comfortable life by Laos standards and offered us ridiculously overpriced transport...

Children cooking rice in the morning whilst the parents were working on the field and our comfy beds...

Laos would not be Laos if we wouldn't have ran out of water the next day. Nothing to drink for 15 km. I would not advise sipping out of rice fields because you never know what sort of chemicals are in there. A petrol station was our saving grace. And Laos would not be Laos if children and adults alike would not have greeted us euphorically. Work on the rice fields stopped for a few minutes whenever we appeared. And quite regularly they laughingly asked us to help them plant rice. Even the water buffaloes gave us a very puzzled look. In fact the only living beings who looked at us even sillier were fellow Westerners on buses and motorbikes. They just could not understand what on earth we were doing and stared with their jaws on their feet. They even forgot to react to our waving...

Staring sillier at someone than these buffaloes is hard to imagine. But Westerners actually managed...:)

And yes, because it was a concentrate of Laos we did not find a place to sleep again. Two young monks came to our rescue and let us pitch the tent practically next to their beds, of course a bit lower than them. As we wanted to go to sleep Elly complained about back pain and a headache. Her forehead was very warm. Within an hour the fever rose from 37.3 to 38.8. Shit. We both knew what this meant. To the hospital. Next morning. Back to Pakse. It was a stormy night with gusty winds. Suddenly a loud crack and the tent collapsed on us. One of the aluminium rods broke under the load. The world seemed to be against us. I repaired it in my boxer shorts, MacGyver style. Without this measure we would have been soaked until the next morning due to the wind. I was anyhow after the pole was fixed but Elly stayed dry. As dusk broke I packed up our gear. A shared taxi and a tuktuk brought us to the hospital.

This head showed us the way back to Pakse...

Most of the people know the rest. Elly was diagnosed dengue which means that the walk has come to an end for her. For the ones who don't know: dengue is a viral infection, there is no treatment for it except for a symptomatic one (i.e. lowering fever, possibly taking antibiotics to avoid a bacterial infection and drinking a lot). The fever, which can be up to 40 degrees, usually fades after several days and the illness fully heals up. In a few severe cases it can lead to internal bleeding which is life threatening and needs intensive care. This was luckily not the case with Elly. Some may think that the "normal" dengue is pretty harmless. But there is a twist to it. Dengue can leave you feeling weak and low on energy for weeks. A strain on the body of 35 - 40 km / day with (in Ellys case) 15 kg on her back is just not possible under these circumstances. The good news: she does not suffer from fever any more and the daily visits to the hospital are now over.

More impressions. Left: strange erosions which can be found all over southern Laos. Right: rainy season creek which forms within minutes. No place to set up camp...

What now? This question tortured me. Giving up is not in my book and the ones who know me will confirm that. I do not shy away from fighting and suffering for my dreams and goals. But the situation changes radically when you are not directly affected. We started this adventure as a team and as partners. I'd be a miserable teammate an even more miserable partner and a lousy human being if I were to make egoistic decisions at this point. Getting Elly home safely has top priority. And she is currently not able to do that on her own. Therefore I have decided to accompany her. I am not ashamed to admit that I have shed bitter tears over this. And as I am writing this a huge lump forms in my throat. I am left with a feeling of failure which smothers any sense of pride about the already walked 2000 and something kilometres. We have not reached our goal. Period. But even if it hurts: I know the decision is 100 % correct. There are many projects but only one Elly. And I could never forgive myself if something happened to her.

BUT (there is always a but) I do not let go so easily. That would be cheap. A continuation of the project is already born in my mind. For now not in southeast Asia. But in Europe (flying back and forth is irresponsible from an emission point of view). After I know Elly is in good hands. I cannot stop now. Not yet. I love the simple life too much. Not knowing where to sleep or if I find water to drink. And I care too much about the people in Laos. Especially after we have experienced so many amazing moments in their country. For them the raised money can be a matter of life and death. Last but not least it would be a shame, also for Elly, to end this way. The show must go on. You will soon hear more. But at this point everything is still too vague. Until then we would like to thank all the people who thought of us, the readers and the generous donors. We'd of course be thrilled about further donations. Stay tuned...

Urgent News

Unfortunately we have to announce something that we hoped we would never have to. Elly has been infected by dengue fever. 50 km from the Cambodian border her temperature suddenly rose and we drove back to the hospital in Pakse where she was diagnosed.

She will have to go to the hospital every 24 h in the next two days to examine her blood. Dengue can be very serious especially when infected a second time. This cannot be ruled out when travelling like we do. Thus she has (rightly so) decided to fly back to Switzerland as soon as the fever has disappeared.

This situation leaves me in a very awkward spot. On the one hand I don't want this project to end just yet, on the other hand I would like to fully support her during this time. She would not be the love of my life if she would not fully back me up whatever the decision. To have such a partner is truly wonderful and I appreciate it extremely. Unfortunately it does not make coming to a conclusion any easier. But I will not move from her side until I am certain that she is well again

We started this project as a team. I will evaluate in the coming days whether it is sensible to end it as a solo (even if maybe not the planned 4000 - 5000 km).

We will keep you posted but want to take this opportunity to thank for the incredible support of the project that we were able to experience thus far. You can drop Elly a line or wish her well via Facebook or here in the comments section.

Love and Peace 

P.S. Shortly before her illness we have reached the 2000 km mark together. Although Elly is very sad about having to end this trip she is also proud of the achievement. The numerous, almost countless experiences have touched her deeply and will stay with her for the rest of her life...

Rainy season and everyday problems

As you can easily gather from the reduced blog frequency internet access is a rarity - also in the south of Laos. Let alone a fast one. At least off the few tourist hotspots. Hence blogging itself is already almost an adventure. 

In the first two months of our trip we did not notice much of a coming rainy season. We always hoped for a cool down from above. But sometimes locals crushed our hopes by saying that there were no classical seasons in the last few years (cold from roughly November to March, hot from March to May, rainy from May to November). Instead it apparently was always hot, especially in the southern parts of the country, and it either rained too little or too much at once which lead to flooding. According to them the climate is definitely changing...

Flooded meadows and well filled rice fields. Bottom: Fisherman at the confluence of a clear side arm with the brown Mekong.

Because this is our first time to southeast Asia we have no frame of reference but we can surely register that the rainy days are a lot more frequent in the past three weeks. If a thunderstorm happens to accompany it then the chance of a power cut is near 100 %. After a stormy night one can see everybody running around with headlamps. And lately we always keep it at hand too. Contrary to our expectations it usually rains between evening and late morning. Rarely for extended periods of time but when it does it is a torrential downpour, usually out of the blue. The black clouds to the west already had us wondering why it isn't raining yet when we hear a loud rushing in front of us. We are confused at first and wondering where this river may be. Suddenly we spot a wall of water 40 metres away racing towards us. We just have enough time to flee under our ponchos before taking a shower. And not an unpressurized one but a full on tropical at four bar. The road is a stream within seconds and we have no idea if water from the top or bottom is breaking into our shoes. But every step is soggy and gurgly. Our feet have a worrying wrinkly appearance by the time we stop walking. 

Elly's feet after a day in wet hiking boots...

A few days later we loose the patience game against the goddess of water (we made big offerings to her in Thailand) and have to trash our Western thinking. We imitate the Lao people and exchange our hiking boots for flip flops. If water cannot be kept out then at least make sure it can drain well. We are marching in the Laos national footwear for 15 km until the rain eases off. But it is admittedly a real treat to get back into our "footgloves" - shaped over almost 2000 km to fit every square millimetre of our feet. 

Don't let the video fool you - in reality the downpours are brutal. But at least you get an impression...

 

Maybe a few have asked themselves how we handle everyday things like going to toilet on such a long hike in sometimes very remote places. The answer is obvious, we improvise. Mostly bushes come to the rescue (as they do for many locals too). It doesn't happen too often though because the body uses the little food very efficiently and almost all fluids leave the body by transpiration. 

Left: Lots of green toilets in the background. Right: typical house of the region (has space for whole families). When asking for a toilet you are directed to the bushes...

But a few days ago it was my turn and I had to "go big". Mysteriously very suddenly and urgently so I ran towards the next opening in the bushes upon seeing it, dropped the backpack, dove into the green and relieved myself. The light feeling didn't last for long. I grabbed my pack and before I knew it my hands were in someone elses heap (man or animal I do not know). I forgot to inspect the landing zone of my bag and paid for it. It was just everywhere and stank abysmal. Trying to clean my companion without water and soap made an even bigger mess. I settled for walking with a brown olive backpack (instead of blue) and in a cloud of rotten fish, sewage plant and manure for the last 15 km. And I thought that not only the people but even the dogs wrinkled their nose when I walked past. But we learnt something new: never drop your backpack thoughtlessly... 

Two days later I had to deal with a set of whole new problems. My head was hammering and I felt feverish and weak. The thermometer only said 37.2 (which most likely excluded dengue or malaria) but I could not picture myself walking in this condition. So we took an unscheduled days rest to observe the situation. I still didn't feel well the next morning but the temperature seemed normal. Knowing that we had not too many days left on our visa we continued our journey on foot. We managed 34 km but I was half absent most of the time. Another 35 km on the next day took their toll and I just fell into bed. My head did not stop heating up. 38 degrees. Threshold to start worrying about malaria. Damn it!

Measuring the temperature - not happy...

 

Should we drive the 180 km to Pakse and see a doctor? I did not feel capable of walking this distance and our health needs to be the top priority. Especially because our body is also our means of transport. On the other hand there was the project which I have come to love. I couldn't fight the thought of letting down the donors and the people we wanted to help if I drove. And it was our dream to walk Laos. Chaos in my head. But finally I made a very difficult decision: if my situation does not improve until the morning I am going to see a doctor in Pakse. Having tried everything and battled for 70 km was cold comfort. I slept very well that night. And in the morning I felt recovered, 36.2 degrees. Miraculously everything vanished and I was very, very relieved. We only walked 10 km on that day to not stress the body too much. But the machine is running well again ever since and we are now 60 km north of Pakse after (once again) walking a marathon today...

Laos never fails to surprise

Even though I have mentioned some differences between Laos and Thailand in the last post we would have never thought that virtually all experiences of 775 km in Thailand are void in Laos. We have definitely arrived in a different country - with new rules and circumstances.

We are an even more exotic appearance than in Thailand - all eyes on us

In rural Laos our eyes have gotten used to seeing naked children chasing tail waggling piglets across the road. Chickens and ducks of every age in their wake. It is an entirely different matter when a feisty wild boar jumps onto the road in the middle of the jungle, looks around and charges you like a kamikaze fighter. Elly who often walks in front lunged an impressive distance backwards despite the 15 kg backpack. I quickly change the grip around my walking pole to turn it into a baton, shouting to her to follow my example. Mere metres in front of us the hog dashes into the dense undergrowth. Adrenaline was a close companion for a good while after...

Rice fields and mountains

Getting cash in Thailand was as easy as in western Europe. ATMs can be found literally anywhere. In the parts of Laos we have travelled so far they are an absoulte rarity. 100 miles without one is not unusual - if you're on foot that means four to five days. You know you're in trouble when on top of that the Laos Development Bank (LDP) ATMs do not accept any of our cards. In less developed regions that is the only bank present. Our reserves had long dropped below the critical threshhold when we finally saw an ATM sign. The disappointment was huge to read the three letters LDP below it. Desperate we still tried all our cards with the same outcome: no cash. Despite that we checked into a guesthouse. After all the camping our gear and dirty bodies desperately needed some attention. However this meant that our budget was now just over 200'000 Kip (100'000 Kip is about 13 USD)

All the money we had left...

Now we needed solutions. 1) Online Western Union transfer and collect the money tomorrow at the bank. Seemed straightforward. Only problem being that the locals look at you as if you're from Mars when asking for internet or a computer. Maybe the bank has one (NOT guaranteed in Laos) and we could convince them to let us use it. 2) Return bus to Vientiane and withdraw money there. Not our idea of a walking project. And who knows if I would have made it back in a day on these roads. Elly would not have known where I am or if something happened to me. 3) Battle with what we have. 210 km to Vientiane, 7 days of walking, 6 nights of camping. If we eat nothing but rice in this time we need about 7 kg (50'000 - 60'000 Kip). 1.5 litres of water cost 5000 Kip. 10 - 12 litres is our daily consumption so in total over 250'000 Kip. Too much. So we have to find water or beg for it. As Westerners who have everything. From people who barely have enough to live. Not that they wouldn't have gladly helped us out. But the mere thought of it upset my stomach...

Left: one of the better bridges in Laos, whether it can bear the promised 18 t is a different question. Right: Main road to Vientiane...

Because option 1) was easy to try (but very improbable) I decided to see if I could find internet in the village. From the corner of my eyes I suddenly see red letters on a white backdrop. 'ATM 24 h'. Two ATMs in one village? Below it the Mastercard and then the Maestro logo. My heart almost jumped out of my chest. I had to seriously restrain myself to not shout out loudly with joy, kiss and hug everybody on the way to it. Whistling a tune I hopped to the door like a small child. It said 'Domestic and International transfers'. Now I was sure that we would have money. Insert card, enter PIN and amount. Rattling. 'Please Take Your Card'. Rattling. And then: a bunch of 50'000 notes smiling at me from the slit. I hastily grab them, just in case... I stop at the next restaurant, order three portions of stir fried vegetables with rice, invite the young men, who are sitting there, for a beer. Nothing can upset me in this moment and I feel like the richest man on earth. On the way back I also buy soft drinks and some snacks. Elly thinks I have gone completely mad when she sees me with all the food. How can I spend so much when we're broke? She stares at me in complete shock until I show her the money. "How, where from..." she stutters. I explain and we celebrate very relieved. In the evening we have another meal at the restaurant...

We cannot (yet) walk over water so we have to use the ferry like everyone else

On the next day our pockets are full of cash but we have no water. We expected an increase in population density because a) we were at the Mekong and b) on our way to the capital. Instead: dense jungle, narrow, steep roads, partly unsealed. No sign of any settlement whatsoever. Laos surprised us once again. Luckily I heeded my gut feeling and took 2 L of extra water with me. But we need those to cook dinner and for tomorrow. Our only source of water near the road at this point are the droplets in thrown away PET bottles. So we collect, desinfect and drink them. Because we are on a ridge there is also no sign of flowing water. Our mouths are completely dry and the thighs burning from the punishing ascents when a man stops next to us to offer a ride. Driving never seemed to tempting but we decline. We decide to set up camp for the night on a flat section in a light bamboo forest. As soon as we put down our backpacks we are attacked by bloodthursty mosquitoes. Squadrons of them take turns in blitzing every square inch of skin, ignoring the repellent (80 % DEET). We hastily put up the tent. Elly doesn't like insects very much. To prevent her from going berserk I place the mosquito net around her, cook dinner with as little water as possible before fleeing into safety as well. By then my arms and face resemble the rolling hills of England and I am left to hope that malaria or dengue will not knock on the door...
Sleeping is a nightmare and we are literally sweating litres. By dawn all Water for the coming day is used up. The collected rainwater tastes awfully bitter, probaly some sort of run off from the bamboo leaves. Not drinkable. Dried out like a Swiss army biscuit (and trust me they are BONE DRY) we pack our stuff together and flee flom the flying plague. 8 km later a sign announcing a 15 % decline. And I know there is water down there because it very rarely flows uphill. After the last bend we even see roofs in the distance. I rush to the first man we see and buy anything drinkable off him. We are gulping down the stuff like camels. Luke warm orange squash and water has never tasted so good...

As always we have experienced a million things more, found guesthouses in the middle of nowhere after 39 km of walking just before dusk set in, met unbelievably many people, were invited to litres of Beerlao and gained wonderful insights into the Lao everyday life. Now we have arrived in Vientiane, the capital of Laos, and need to take care of our visa extension. What a shock. In 18 days we saw 3 Westerners. Now they outnumber the locals. The culture that we learnt to know and love is no longer. And even though we are truly enjoying the luxury of a bed, a shower and the numerous restaurants we are looking forward to leaving the beaten track very soon. 1300 km lay behind us, probably already more than a quarter of the total distance. And we are more and more surprised at what sort of distances can be covered on foot in a relatively short time.

Left: we reached the 1000 km mark... Right: typical hiking image from Laos

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We are walking 5000 km through southeast Asia to raise money for MAG (Mines Advisory Group) to help clear mines in Laos, Cambodia and Vietnam. If you like this project please share the blog with your friends and colleagues. Donations can be made via JustGiving or bank transfer (IBAN CH79 0900 0000 2513 1893 4, PC account 25-131893-4). Your help is greatly appreciated! 

Klick here to read this blog in German

Goodbye Thailand, Hello Laos

As you can guess from the title we have reached an important intermediate goal: The Thai - Laos border. We covered 775 km in Thailand, walked across 10 provinces and were blessed with easily enough experiences to fill a book. I cannot possibly share all of them with you because a) we would not have any time left for walking and b) I like to keep posts short and digestible. But this seems to be a good moment to look back a bit and share a few Thailand moments in no particular order. 

We had some very different experiences with the local police. There was the drunk officer, clinging on to a 'no drink driving' sign for his sheer two legged life, stuttering that if we ever need help we could call him. This was in the morning and I am sure he didn't walk to the police station... Needless to say that we wouldn't have contacted him because most likely he would have ran us over on the way to assist... In Nan we were stopped by two men in uniforms full of shiny emblems, not knowing what we did wrong. It turned out that they just wanted to take a picture with us, ceremonially handing over their number in case we run into trouble.

Our buddies from the police

Our favourite 'party trick' in Thailand (also works beautifully in Laos) was making random people lift my 25 kg backpack when they came to talk to us. Some of them couldn't even get it off the ground, some nearly flipped over forwards whilst attempting to do so. The noise they made during and especially after lifting, accompanied by clapping hands and grimaces, was (and still is) a joy to watch.

The night before leaving Thailand we had to camp although locals strongly advised us not to do so because of armed drug smuggling gangs. To add to the 'excitement' we also encountered our first UXO. We knew this was coming, did not expect it to be in Thailand though. Since this was the only place to hide from the possible contrabandists we pitched the tent right next to it nonetheless. Let's just say that we had an interesting time until dawn broke...

Lovely last night in Thailand...

Although Laos and Thailand are neighbouring countries, there are huge differences between the two. First of all the nature in large areas of Thailand is (unfortunately) all but intact. In Laos there are vast areas with native jungle, untouched and unspoilt, hosting a huge number of wildlife - pure magic. Also very easily noticeable is the glaring difference in wealth. Whilst all people we met in Thailand had running water of some sort, this seems to be the exception in rural Laos. Water is kept in large buckets behind the house, fetched from a river or the central well in the village. The children usually wear well used clothes, more often dirty than not. Toilets next to the bamboo huts are a rare sight. But despite all this (or maybe because of it) they and their parents seem to lead a happier life than many people back home...

Butterfly and misty morning in Laos. Bottom: wild, native jungle

As you will have guessed, the luxury of Thailand with frequent and well stocked shops, restaurants, houses to sleep in and hotels is now over. We rely on carrying our supplies and sleeping in our tent. This means heavier backpacks and nights with 2 - 4 hours of sleep (due to the heat) in very mountainous terrain. This higher physical strain is accompanied by a psychological one due to the possible presence of UXO. Moving away from the road is essential in order to find a place to sleep. Preferably well hidden in case the odd nutcase (which you will find in every country) happens to be around. This means treading softly, keeping our eyes wide open and avoiding too thick undergrowth. Inching the tent pegs carefully into the ground feels a bit like playing russian roulette. If it contacts something solid retracting it and trying our luck elsewhere is the only option. Hitting the peg onto a possible underground bombie could trigger a lethal explosion. For the first time we can truly understand the mental burden caused by UXO. With a very important difference: If the situation is too dangerous we have the means and funds to move to safer terrain. The residents do not.

Rice field in morning light and our well hidden camp

To sum up: so far Laos is a truly marvellous place. Hiking has become tougher but so have we over the past six weeks. In four days of walking we have covered 125 km and 4000 metres of altitude. We are enjoying the fresh set of challenges and looking forward to exploring this new culture and country. 

Outlook from one of the very numerous passes...

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We are walking 5000 km through southeast Asia to raise money for MAG (Mines Advisory Group) to help clear mines in Laos, Cambodia and Vietnam. If you like this project please share the blog with your friends and colleagues. Donations can be made via JustGiving or bank transfer (IBAN CH79 0900 0000 2513 1893 4, PC account 25-131893-4). Your help is greatly appreciated! 

Klick here to read this blog in German