The instant we entered Laos things changed dramatically - a red dirt road, pockmarked with potholes and covered in gravel, replaced the smooth tarmac of Vietnam; the jungle became darker, more lush and filled with a cornucopia of beautiful flowers; and the gradients became appalling: we had not experienced anything like this since our ‘training’ cycle up to a ski centre in Scotland – even Kyrgyzstan had not matched those inclines.
As we pushed up another 20% slope on our way to Vieng Xai we realised that Northern Laos was going to be very testing indeed! But, yet again, it was the people we passed that kept us smiling, with groups of children running out of their wooden stilt houses to wave and shout ‘Sabadee’ and ‘bye bye’ as we rode past.
After arriving in Vieng Xai and settling down to our first Lao meal the waitress insisted on wrapping Harriet in a blanket due to the ‘chilly’ weather! We soon ‘warmed up’ after discovering the Wai Wai salad, an insanely spicy dish whose predominant ingredient of fresh chillies literally brought tears to our eyes, but proved the perfect complement to our very first Beer Laos.
The next day we set off to visit the Vieng Xai cave complex, our introduction to the ‘Secret War’ which the US had waged against Laos between 1964 and 1973. Shamefully, we had never heard anything about this, and what we saw and heard during our visit left us shaken and angered. The US signed a Geneva Convention in 1962 to ensure Laotian neutrality while it attacked Vietnam, but this proved no deterrent to America’s global war against communism, and they proceeded to conduct a massive air campaign against Laos without the knowledge of their own citizens, or the Senate. The scale of the bombing was inhumane, and resulted in Laos becoming the most bombed country per capita in history, with two tonnes of bombs dropped for every Laos citizen, and a greater number of bombs being dropped on this one country than were used across Europe by all sides during the Second World War. The purpose of this was to sever the Ho Chi Minh trail which allowed supplies to reach Vietnam and also to crush the growing Pathet Lao Communist Movement. However, the vast majority of these bombs were not aimed at military targets but at civilians, most of whom lived a very basic agricultural way of life and weren’t even aware of the existence of America. A significant number of bombs were also dropped in Laos merely to unload the bombers that had not managed to find their targets in Vietnam and didn’t want to risk landing back at base fully loaded.
Vieng Xai, the headquarters of the Pathet Lao, was particularly badly hit, and as a means of defence the Pathet Lao leaders and local villagers moved into the nearby karst caves where they lived for 10 years, subjected to US bombs every 8 minutes, 24 hours a day. With a guide, we cycled between the caves, seeing the airtight chambers with hand operated air filters and the enormous cave where weddings and celebrations still took place even during the bombardments.
We left Vieng Xai feeling shocked and saddened. Cycling up into the jungle clad hills a thick mist descended around us, seemingly mimicking our melancholy moods.
However, after several hours of battling steeply rolling slopes, exhaustion and endorphins took over and we arrived into the provincial capital Xam Nua in bright sunshine. This was a low-key but sweet riverside town, where we worked for 5 days as Harriet started her online lessons and Jonathan conducted research for his project, although a temperamental internet connection made both of these experiences rather frustrating. Visiting a large food market and drinking locally grown coffee helped to mitigate the stress!
We took one day off from our work to go for an unloaded countryside cycle, but our joy at freewheeling in the sunshine was severely undermined when, for the first time in our trip, we managed to collide with each other. Jonathan came off worse, flying over his handlebars to hit the tarmac with a pretty hefty splat. Bruised and battered, we headed back to our hotel. However, karmic threads appeared to have been weaving themselves into our lives, and we returned to discover that Harriet had received an email from Hong Kong University awarding her a 3 year Research Fellowship! A mixture of disbelief and joy filled us as we realised that our adventure was only just beginning, with our cycling trip culminating in a new life in Hong Kong, a place that now felt like a home away from home after our 6 week stay with Ed and Hannah. We celebrated in the way that seemed most fitting – by consuming vast quantities of Beer Lao.
When we set off again, it swiftly became apparent that Jonathan had not merely bruised himself in his fall but had in fact broken a rib. Facing some of the most challenging cycling of our trip, with no let up on the gradients and the heat increasing every day, he bravely decided to keep going despite the pain. Several hours later, however, the heat reached a new peak and Harriet was struck down by a dizzy turn which forced us to take shelter under a tree for several hours.
This setback ultimately proved to be a delightful experience as we sat and watched enormous butterflies dancing amongst the flowers, while consuming as much bread and Laughing Cow as possible to try to regain energy. Suitably fortified, we set off into an increasingly jungly landscape, punctuated by immense tree ferns which looked like they had come straight out of Jurassic Park.
As we pottered along, the laden form of another cycle tourer appeared up ahead: our first since we had left Chengdu several thousand kilometres earlier. Delighted, we stopped for a chat, although his obvious exhaustion - and emphasis on how incredibly hilly the road ahead was - left us a little concerned. Exhausted already, we managed to hit our 50km target, and spotted a hidden patch of ground surrounded by trees into which we popped our tent and settled down for our first night of camping in Laos.
We emerged the next day to an early morning mist, cooking over an open fire as the forest woke up around us.
Setting off, we passed an incredible array of flowering trees, but were soon just staring at our front wheels as the day became insanely hot, and the hills continued their near vertical gradients.
Sweating profusely, our arms burning from having to continually push our laden bikes, we eventually hid under a tiny patch of shade by the side of the road and ate our lunch, plagued by horrible little flies which bit us and then drank the resulting pools of blood. These bites then turned into nasty little red bumps that proved far, far itchier than any mosquito. Setting off again, Jonathan immediately got a puncture, but we were too tired to be annoyed. However, once this was sorted we finally summited, and then preceded to whizz down for kilometre after kilometre of glorious descent. On our way we encountered a group of Laotian cycle tourers, who were endeavouring to cycle around the entire country in only 30 days.
Deeply impressed, we peddled on until we reached a small riverside town which housed a simple guesthouse, where we had a cold shower before collapsing exhausted into our bed. It felt like we were in the middle of nowhere, with no other tourists for miles around, and once again we felt how special our trip was in enabling us to end up in these places that otherwise we would have rumbled through on a bus without a second thought.
The next day began with a gentle slope, winding up and up alongside a river bed but at a gradient that allowed us to keep peddling. The weather had also changed, and the glaring sun was replaced by dense cloud which soon turned into rain. This got heavier and heavier, with huge droplets of water accompanied by stupendous crashes of thunder and flashes of lightning, which eventually forced us leave our exposed position on the road and take shelter in a drainage ditch. We grinned at each other with a mixture of nerves and excitement, while we squatted in our peculiar new surroundings as water poured onto us from the bushes above, and lightning cracked overhead. Once the storm had abated somewhat, we emerged drenched to the bone and continued our climb into the hills. At this point, the insects also began to reappear, buzzing, humming and squeaking all around us in an incredibly cacophony of noise.
Before setting off that day we had been aware that we had a long climb ahead of us, but had envisaged this would be followed by a lovely descent. But after reaching what we presumed to be the peak of the mountain, we then embarked on one of the most exhausting rides of our trip. The road did its best impression of a rollercoaster, rolling up and down, with every corner hiding another hill, and every downhill culminating in an up. We ploughed on, still soaking wet and increasingly chilly at this high altitude, and more and more certain that we didn’t want to spend the night camping in our soggy state. We knew there was a town about 35km ahead, but it seemed just too far away as the continuous climbing and our increasing exhaustion resulted in the kilometres inching by painfully slowly. A late afternoon stop by the side of the road revived us slightly, as did the bizarre spectacle of thousands of mayfly-like creatures convulsing on the ground, as they desperately to tried to shed their wings and crawl away after an enthusiastic bout of mating. But as 5pm approached with 20km left to cycle, we had begun to resign ourselves to a night on the mountain. It was just at that point that the cycling gods took pity on us, and the road began to drop in glorious swooping curves through the jungly hills. The last 18 kilometres whizzed by in a flash, and as the sun set we rolled into town, found a guesthouse and some noodle soup, and collapsed exhausted into bed.
The next day we knew we needed a rest. In the end, we had climbed over 3000m the previous day - more than on any single day on our trip - and the ache in our muscles was extraordinary. The day was spent simply pottering out for food and drinking coffee in our little room and revelling in our laziness. 24 hours later, we had revived just enough to set off again and cover the remaining 50km to Phonsovanh. One last lengthy climb and we hit a plateau which we followed all the way to the town, the gentle slopes, paddy fields and water buffalo that surrounded us confirming that we were out of the mountains, at least for a little while.
We reached Phonsovanh by lunchtime, checked into our guesthouse and, discovering that western food had arrived here in style, ate pizza and drank wine to celebrate Harriet’s job in a more sophisticated way than our previous beer guzzling antics.
We then said goodbye to our bikes for a while - we were taking an 8 hour bus to Luang Prabang before flying to Bangkok so that Harriet could return to England briefly for the wedding of her good friend Johnny. Two happy days were spent in Luang Prabang, strolling by the Mekong and Nam Khan rivers, poring over the incredible night market and visiting the extraordinary number of golden Buddhist Wats which fill the city.
Then it was onto Bangkok, where we were lucky enough to make friends with our lovely Air BnB hosts Suparp and Tsurumi, who invited us to their house for supper and shared their wonderful stories of their own adventures. Harriet then boarded her flight and flew back to the UK.
After two weeks apart, during which Harriet had a wonderful time seeing family and friends and celebrating Johnny and Sarah’s wedding, and Jonathan became a recluse conducting research for his project, we were reunited at Bangkok airport just in time to celebrate Harriet’s 33rd birthday. As a present, Harriet’s parents had treated us to a night in more luxurious surroundings than we were accustomed to, and Jonathan had booked a beautiful apartment which overlooked the river, and had a swimming pool to help temper the heat and humidity in Bangkok. Harriet had a wonderful birthday, beginning with her sister’s present - a robust Thai massage - followed by lunch in a French creperie and a sunset swim in the pool.
The day was topped off when Jonathan proposed with a wooden ring he had spent the previous two weeks carving. Very jolly now, we sipped champagne in our apartment and watched the river glide by below.
The next day we moved to a slightly less upmarket establishment but one which was closer to the centre, allowing us to take advantage of the Songkrun New Year festivities and join in the huge waterfight on the infamous Khao San road. Armed with waterpistols we joined the crowd, and were soon absolutely drenched and covered in flour.
The rest of our time in Bangkok was spent visiting gleaming Wats, and spending time with our wonderful Airbnb hosts from last time, Suparp and Tsurumi.
Then it was time return to Luang Prabang where a wonderful treat awaited us: Sarah and Chon. We spent an amazing couple of days eating Lao hotpot, drinking too much high strength Lao Cai and swimming in the beautiful Kuang Si waterfall.
All too soon it was time to say goodbye and head back to Phonsovanh. We were delighted to find our bikes unscathed. Our helmets, however, weren’t quite so lucky – our host’s children seemed to have joyfully discovered the velcroed internal padding which had all disappeared and meant our helmets now stuck to our sweaty heads.
We took a day to prepare ourselves for the next stage of our trip where we would be cycling down into Southern Laos. This allowed us to cycle unloaded to the Plain of Jars, an extraordinary site full of human-size stone urns, which were possibly used for cremation between 500BC and 500 CE.
We also visited the UXO Visitor Centre, an experience which left us both in tears and determined to do something to highlight this catastrophic problem in Laos.
The Secret War in Laos did more than just blight people’s lives for the 9 years of the conflict. The majority of the bombs dropped by America were cluster bombs – evil devices that explode in mid-air and emit hundreds of smaller bomblets in all directions. These bomblets then explode, and themselves emit hundreds of ball bearings at ballistic speeds, causing absolute devastation to anything in their path.
The US dropped 2 million tons of cluster bombs during the conflict, but around 30% did not explode at the time, leaving up to 80 million of these lethal devices littering the Laos countryside. They can be buried in a rice paddy, beneath a house, in a bamboo plant, under a school playing field, simply waiting for a disturbance – a knock, the heat of a fire, the blade of a plough - to explode. The size of a tennis ball, they are particularly attractive to children, who make up the majority of those killed and injured. The physical and emotional cost of this is extraordinary: with Laotians still regularly killed and maimed almost 40 years after the conflict ended, and it is estimated that it will take a century to clear Laos entirely.
However, the presence of the UXOs does not just have a direct health cost, it is also retarding the development of Laos, and its people’s ability to support themselves. Large areas of land cannot be farmed because of the risk of injury or death when the land is worked, and new infrastructure cannot be built. Watching the film at the centre (see below) was a heartrending experience, and one which highlighted the impossible situation which the Laotians are forced to live in over 40 years since the war ended. We would love to help raise funds to help MAG do their work in Laos and beyond, and have created a justgiving page to donate to MAG, the Mines Advisory Group who work to help clear UXO in Laos and other affected countries around the world – if you would like to donate after watching the film, please click here.