Landlocked In Laos

This entry is part 9 of 22 in the series Adventure Rider Issue #10

After watching Ewan and Charlie’s Long Way Round for the third time a monster was born. Don Clinton and two good mates just had to try this adventure-motorcycle stuff out firsthand. The only problem was, unlike the two celebrities, these guys had minimal time and funds available.

After some serious beer-storming, Laos was named the destination of choice.

It ticked all the boxes: cheap, still fairly undeveloped and had lots of hills and dirt roads to get lost on.

Three months later and there we were: myself, Luke Jenkins and Ross Jordan.

Three hung-over blokes sitting on three CRF250s in Vientiane, Laos, wondering whether the actual dream of an uncharted adventure might be better than the reality.

Listen up

We’d just finished our bike handover and had been given a 30-minute briefing on what to expect. It was a fair list that included things like crazy bus drivers overtaking anytime anywhere, a range of animals from elephants to chickens living free-range in the middle of the road, logging trucks, dog trucks, crazy half-tractor/half-wagon things that seemed to carry any type of cargo imaginable, and, worst of all, the dreaded shuttle buses that will overtake anytime, anywhere. Blind corners were their specialty, apparently. When we asked about road rules we were told there was only one that mattered: size has right of way.

It turned out the bike-shop owner wasn’t joking. It was the most important information he could possibly have given us.

Eat it

Off we went, the wind in our faces, GoPros on helmets and nothing but the open road ahead.

Actually it was a one-hour grind to get out of Vientiane, but the time on the bikes let us start to feel a little more comfortable on the road and confidence began to build.

We pulled up after the first 50km mark and made sure everybody was okay and was comfortable with the speeds we were doing.

We arrived in Van Viang that night and celebrated surviving our first day with a few too many Beer Laos. It was New Year’s Eve after all, so we went out for some traditional Laos food…pizza! This was followed by visiting some of the many local watering holes to see out the midnight countdown.

We’d already broken two of our rules: no big nights when riding the next day, and only eating true Laos cuisine.

Dream times

After a late start we jumped on our bikes, said farewell to the modern life and prepared to head out into the unknown. We didn’t know where the next stay would be, only that we would need to be there before dark.

The ride was an amazing mixture of dirt and semi-paved bitumen combined with next-to-no traffic. We rode past many small, dust-covered villages with kids running out to meet us waving and clapping as we rode past, and this was what we were after: the Ewan-and-Charlie effect. In that moment we felt like true pioneers traversing strange new lands for the first time.

Clean sheet

We stopped in a small town called Feuang but couldn’t find any restaurants, so decided to check out what looked like an open food market. We rolled in and walked around the same set of stalls about five times trying to find something edible that wouldn’t lead to the next five days riding the porcelain bowl instead of the bike. Our meal consisted of six sugar bananas, a packet of two-minute noodles and a massive plate of the best damn roast-pork crackling ever – all washed down with a well-earned Beer Lao or three.

That night we stayed in quaint little bungalows that turned out to be Boom Boom bungalows. ‘Boom Boom’ was the term the locals used in regard to the escort profession. It was safe to say we all had broken sleep due to the coming and going of these ladies of the night and their very excited customers.

For some reason I thought it would be more hygienic to sleep on the floor instead of the well-used bed.

Soft ball

The next few days found us zooming – or should I say sliding – along powdery, semi-paved roads feeling like we were in the adventure we’d hoped for. We hadn’t seen another foreigner in three days. Breakfasts, lunches and dinners were no longer taken for granted, and all too often we’d have to scavenge through some middle-of-nowhere little village searching for a packet of chips and a luke-warm beer for lunch. Most of the villages we stopped at had no electricity and would run a beaten-up, hand-me-down generator for a couple of hours a day to keep the fridges semi-cool.

The village kids always sat patiently, waiting for us to finish our mangy meal so we could kick an old, flat soccer ball with them.

Fair go

The Laos New Year goes for five days, so we often randomly came across traditional village carnivals.

What these guys lost in technology and resources they made up for with enthusiasm and ingenuity.

We would walk through these carnivals with no less than 50 kids on our tail. We’d play their local fair games, throw a tennis ball at some old beer tins or a dart at a balloon and, if we were lucky, win a bunch of bananas or some type of seafood that looked like it had been in the sun for three days too long.

The kids, dressed in their best clothes, would watch in awe as the gigantic white guys terrorised (in a good way) their highlight for the year.

Traffickers

As far as riding went, we never thought we’d experience so much variety.

The days ranged from riding our bikes onto a wooden raft and getting pulled across a river to winding through the hills on brand-new bitumen roads that would make even the Marlboro man scream in ecstasy.

Unfortunately not all roads were so accommodating.

Laos didn’t seem to operate under the same work, health and safety rules as we were used to. Roadwork involved both lanes being worked on at the same time while traffic operated as usual. This led to some of the scariest riding of the trip. Roads consisted of powder and potholes, machinery and trucks created copious amounts of dust and Laos traffic came from every direction possible. It wasn’t unusual to pull up after one of these sections and say a little prayer to The Big Fella, thanking him for another safe passage.

Bare essentials

We clocked up about 4000km in 11 days. The CRFs were fantastic and, except for the usual wear and tear, never missed a beat.

For luggage we went with the minimalist approach. We each carried one small duffle bag and between us had two spare tyres, one tool kit that contained a few standard sockets, a tyre lever, a spanner and a chain. The duffle bags were attached to the bike using a very complicated system that involved getting an ocky strap and wrapping it around the bag and bike’s rack as many time as possible.

At night we parked the bikes as close as we could to where we were sleeping, but we never once felt like they were in any danger of being stolen.

Life lessons

Laos is certainly a country steeped in poverty. Its people live in some of the harshest conditions imaginable, with limited access to the amenities we take for granted, but this doesn’t seem to dampen their spirit.

I can honestly say it’s the people who make Laos the great country it is. They have an attitude towards life that would put most westerners to shame. They don’t have much, and everything they do have serves a purpose. Things don’t get replaced. Ever.

Anything that breaks can always be fixed.

They don’t have flash TVs with full surround sound or computer games to keep themselves occupied. They have each other and most of their waking moments are spent eating, working and socialising with family and friends.

This then begs the question: who’s better off? Us, with all the comforts of life yet still wanting more (and constantly worrying about what the future holds)? Or them, who have just enough to survive, yet are very grateful for what they do have and live life in the present helping each other get by the best they can.

I guess this is what I like the most about travelling via bike. It gives you a chance to see life a lot closer than you would if you were sitting in a bus with a set itinerary and only stopping at the scheduled top tourist spots.

The bike will bring you closer to the people every time and it’s the people that will let you see what their country is really about.

What’s next?

The hardest thing about this kind of travel is not procuring the bikes or working out where to go and how to get there. It’s getting the right crew to be at the same place at the same time.

We’re looking at doing the Garden Route in South Africa, or possibly the riding through the Himalayan Mountains. We love the idea of doing another self-run ride, but we have to weigh up if the options and risks outweigh the safety concerns.

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