Day 123 – Pakse, Laos – 5:37 PM

Robin and I decided to depart on Day 2 of our motorbike ride at 8 AM. We met two Germans over dinner in Tad Lo on Day 1 who seemed interested in riding with us for Day 2. I woke at 7 AM and descended two flights of stairs that led to the restaurant attached to our guesthouse. I ordered two fried eggs, slices of fresh fruit and a baguette. Robin joined me minutes later and ordered the same. I pulled out my map of the Bolavean Peninsula and we discussed the attractions we wished to see as we rode from Tad Lo back to Pakse. Six waterfalls lined our route and we circled two that interested us. As with most attractions, whether it is in America, Australia or anywhere on Earth, governments or private organizations have stepped in to make money off travelers who flock to these points of interest. Laos is no exception and each waterfall was staffed with someone who charged an entrance fee.

As Robin and I worked on breakfast and the route, two Canadians sat down next to us. We introduced ourselves and began discussing our travels. I noticed early on in my world travels that a common conversation starter revolves around ones travel plans, second to asking someone where they are from. Someone’s home country and their travels lead a conversation down any number of paths. Our breakfast alongside the Canadians was no different. They hailed from the Ontario region of Canada and were on an eight-month journey around the world. They hope to return to Canada in July and remain there until October. They then plan to pack their bags once again and return to the road for another year before traveling back to Canada. I enjoyed chatting about travel destinations with them and uncovering how they are able to travel so often. Partway through breakfast the German couple appeared and sat at an adjacent table. They ordered two black coffees and we filled them in on our plan for the day. They agreed with our waterfall recommendations and reaffirmed their willingness to ride with Robin and I. We finished and paid for our meals, along with our accommodations. We wished the manager of the guesthouse, and his family, a fond farewell and stepped onto our bikes. I pressed the electric start with my right thumb and the engine fired. I tapped the bike into first gear and gently rolled the throttle. I pulled in behind the Germans while Robin led the way onto a small gravel path that led out of Tad Lo. After a couple minutes we turned right onto a paved road and opened the throttles.

We traveled north on Highway 20 for approximately five miles before turning south onto Highway 16 for the next 35 miles. We motored south past large coffee plantations whose aroma spilled into my nose. We ascended hills and swung around switchbacks reaching a maximum elevation of 4,200 feet. As large trucks bore down on us, we pulled to the shoulder and afforded them the entire lane to pass. I drove alongside and threw friendly waves to locals on tractors and fellow motorists. We reached Pakson shortly before 11 AM and turned west. The miles from Tad Lo to Pakson were covered with relative ease and we found ourselves ahead of schedule. We pulled over at a roadside stall and relaxed in the shade for 20-30 minutes. I retrieved the map once again and we calculated that less than ten miles separated us from Tad Yuang, the first waterfall on our itinerary. We finished our waters, stepped back onto our bikes and pulled onto Highway 16 continuing west.

We covered the miles in short order and turned left onto a dirt road marked with a sign advertising Tad Yuang. I maneuvered around divots and potholes feet wide. Dust from the bikes ahead of me coated my sunglasses and all exposed surfaces. The dirt road opened into a large gravel parking lot with parking off to the right. As I pulled into the gravel lot a large tour van pulled in behind me. I decided to let the van pass before parking. It was at this point I had my first mishap with a motorbike. I will forever blame it on the loose gravel but somehow I lost traction as I crawled forward waiting for the van to pass. The next thing I know, my motorbike is falling to the ground and I put out my hand to brace my fall. I quickly stepped out from underneath the bike and pulled it upright. I looked around to count the number of people that noticed and luckily the lot was quiet. My fellow riders, who already pulled into parking spots, looked at me with quizzical faces. I shrugged my shoulders indicating I did not know what happened. I fired the engine and pulled into a spot. As I pulled on the handbrake, I noticed the front half of the brake lever was missing. It must have broken when the bike fell. I pushed out the kickstand and turned off the engine hoping the tall, Belgian from Miss Noy’s in Pakse would not notice the half-missing brake lever when I returned the bike later that evening.

We purchased our entrance tickets and walked under a large welcome sign. Locals established small shops within the waterfall grounds and yelled for us to buy water, food, t-shirts, hats and anything else lining their shop walls. I smiled, said “no thank you” and continued walking. We proceeded to a wooden railing that overlooked Tad Yuang and gazed over at the massive amount of water that descended over the ledge and fell 300-400 feet into a small stream. Off to my right I noticed a staircase that led from our location to the base of Tad Yuang. After a couple of minutes and several photographs, we walked towards the staircase and proceeded down. I quickly felt the midday heat and a layer of sweat coated my t-shirt. The staircase branched a number of times offering different vantage points to stop, gaze in awe and take photographs. The four of us did each. I kayaked in amazement at remarkable waterfalls in Milford Sound, New Zealand during my excursion, but the landscape in Milford Sound is quite different from Laos. Never before had I witnessed a wall of water plunge hundreds of feet surrounded by a lush, green forest. I routinely caught myself staring at the base of Tad Yuang, tilting my head back to follow the stream higher and higher to its origin and then letting my eyes retrace the wall down until it thunderously exploded in the stream. I stood 30-40 yards from the base and felt the cool spray against my skin. After ten minutes or so and a number of photographs later, we turned and ascended the stairs back to the parking lot.

I reached my motorbike with a fresh coat of sweat and the realization that the health benefits, most notably my increased cardio, from my days of running have all but vanished. I gasped for breath as I pulled the key from my pocket and slid it into the ignition. I saddled my bike and vowed to make better use of the running shoes I bought in Melbourne, Australia. I started the engine and gingerly crossed the gravel parking lot that caused me much embarrassment earlier in the day. We safely navigated the dirt track and pulled back onto the sealed roadway that led towards our next waterfall, Tad Champi.

Less than one mile later, we saw the small wooden sign indicating Tad Champi and turned back onto a dirt road. I have noticed during my time in Laos that most main roadways are paved and sealed. However, drivable surfaces that branch off the main road are most likely dirt or gravel. This access road was no different and a new layer of dust coated everything. We reached the parking lot and lined up our bikes under the shade of a nearby tree. A local woman walked over and asked for a small parking and entrance fee. I pulled out my wallet and handed over a few crumbled up Laotian Kip. Two restaurants lined the parking lot and we decided to stop for lunch before descending the staircase to Tad Champi. We found a table in the shade and flipped through the menu. I ordered a plate of fried noodles and mixed vegetables along with a fruit drink and bottle of water. After a quick breakfast earlier that morning and a long day of riding in the sun, we finished our meals quickly. We remained at the table as Robin and the German couple reminisced about their travels and voiced their displeasure at having to return to their home countries in the coming weeks. Although I still have a number of months on the road, I will be in their shoes at some point. I hope that when I book my return ticket to the United States I will be excited to return home and not fear that moment.

After unwinding, we paid for our lunches and slung our packs. We proceeded to the staircase that led to the base of Tad Champi. This staircase was built into the side of a hill and supported by bamboo poles tied to nearby trees. Although it never wobbled on my descent or ascent, at any moment it appeared as though it might crumble to the ground. From the staircase, I walked across a wooden bridge that crossed over a small stream and then through a field of green grass dotted with purple flowers. Four local kids sat on a wooden board eating lunch and waved as we walked by. We sat on a nearby log and took in the scenery. Three curtains of water fell over the edge and collected in a pond-like body of water. The tall, Belgian from Miss Noy’s informed us during the information session that swimming was allowed at Tad Champi. Robin grabbed his trunks and set off to change. I contemplated swimming but in the end decided to stay dry. After changing, Robin grabbed a nearby raft and paddled it underneath the falls. The local kids saw this and jumped in to swim as well. As they cooled off in the water, I grabbed my camera and walked around taking photographs of anything that interested me. Tad Champi is also unique because it is one of the few falls that allows you to walk behind the cascading water. I cautiously walked along the banks and crept behind the falls. Shielded from the sun, this provided me a perfect opportunity to slow down the shutter speed on my Nikon and turn the falls into seamless curtains of water. I managed a couple decent photographs before escaping any further spray.

Robin stepped from the water and dried off as we sat in the shade listening to the tremendous roar of Ted Champi. Eventually five other backpackers arrived and I recognized them from my long, tumultuous day of traveling from Siem Reap, Cambodia to Don Det, Laos. I walked over and caught up with them. A few jumped in the water to cool off after a long ride. They were heading back to Pakse as well and were scheduled to board the night bus to Vang Vien, Laos that departed nightly at 8 PM. Robin was interested in heading to Vang Vien as well and hoped to catch the same bus. He had yet to buy a ticket and wanted to arrive in Pakse early enough to see if seats were available. We relaxed for another hour or so before ascending the bamboo staircase and reaching the parking lot. Robin and I decided to head straight to Pakse to get a bite to eat and hopefully he a bus ticket. There was a large, 82-foot tall Buddha north of Pakse that we hoped to check out if time permitted. We bid farewell and safe travels to the German couple as they planned to check out the final two waterfalls before returning to Pakse. We started our bikes and proceeded down the dirt track and back onto the paved road for the final 25 miles into Pakse.

Once in town, we stopped at a local restaurant that served an array of local and western dishes. I ordered a cheeseburger and a cold beer. Robin ordered a chicken sandwich and a cold beer as well. We toasted our two-day motorbike ride; happy the only casualty was half of a brake handle. I sat and crossed my fingers that the tall, Belgian would turn a blind eye to the minor damage. As we ate, the sun started to descend and darkness would soon envelope the area. We did not want to ride after sundown and Robin still needed to purchase his bus ticket. We decided to forego a trip to the large Buddha and return our bikes.

We pulled up to Miss Noy’s and handed the keys over. Two associates looked at the bikes quickly and then drove them into the shop. The tall, Belgian peaked through the doorway with a large smile and invited us inside. It appeared as though no one noticed the brake handle. I stepped inside and took a seat. Robin stepped forward first to retrieve his passport that he handed over as collateral. I stepped up next and took a seat at the tall, Belgian’s desk. He asked me how I enjoyed the trip and I told him I had a blast and wished I had time to complete the much longer, four-day ride. He smiled and pulled out my passport. He handed it over and made no further comment about the bike or the brake handle. Whew! He didn’t notice; if he did, he didn’t seem to care! I shook his hand and Robin and I departed. Our next stop was the bus station for one ticket to Vang Vien. Robin stepped to the window and purchased an open seat. We proceeded out to the curb and I pushed out my hand to wish Robin farewell. We briefly discussed our trip and vowed to keep in touch through social media. He was headed to Vang Vien that night and I planned on taking the same bus one day later. There was a chance we would see each other again. I wished him safe travels and turned to walk to Cheap Cheap Guesthouse, where I reserved a room for the night.

 

* Additional photos from Laos are now available within the Laos Portfolio page found on the Perpetual Footsteps homepage.