Day 119 – Pakse, Laos – 9:46 PM

After a grueling fourteen-hour day traveling from Siem Reap, Cambodia to Don Det, Laos, my three friends and I dropped our bags in our respective bungalows and set out for a quick dinner. We strolled down the main street in Don Det glancing at menus, reliving our day of travel and celebrating the fact we finally reached our destination. We walked past Adam’s Restaurant and a sign advertising an all-you-can-eat BBQ. By this point it was after 9 PM and the BBQ closed in less than an hour. We talked with the manager and pleaded our case for a discount. He offered to slash the price in half, to $4.00 USD, but we were only allowed one plate onto which we could pile as much food as possible. My travel mates and I looked at each other with looks of “why not, let’s do it” and agreed on the price. I picked up my plate, a set of silverware and started down the table lined with metal trays containing fresh BBQ. Onto my plate I scooped heaps of vegetables, salads, onion rings, chicken and everything else within arms reach. I finished it off with two dinner rolls and took a seat at a nearby table. After skipping lunch earlier in the day, the plate of food quickly found its way into my stomach. After two beers each, we returned to our accommodation and called it a night. I slid into bed and drifted to sleep thankful to have four walls and a roof over my head and excited to explore Don Det the following day.

I woke early Saturday morning to the sound of rooster’s singing their usual wake up tune. I rolled over and tried to drown out their crowing. That only lasted so long and I eventually pulled myself out of bed. I opened the door to my bungalow and sunlight flooded the room. I stepped onto the porch and shielded my eyes from the intense light. Warmth from the sun sank into my skin. I walked to the nearby patio and exchanged a hello with the manager who checked us in the night prior. I sat at a wooden table and glanced at a menu that listed the foods and prices on offer at the attached restaurant. Dave, a travel mate from Holland, appeared and sat across the table from me. He asked if I intended to eat breakfast there or would I like to walk somewhere else. I wanted to see Don Det in the daytime and agreed to walk to a different restaurant. We each grabbed our wallets and set off. We strolled past an open-air restaurant that overlooked the Mekong River. The options and prices were to our liking and we walked onto the patio and sat at a table near the railing. I ordered a Spanish omelet and Dave requested a bowl of fruit, muesli and yogurt. I gazed out over the Mekong and onto locals zipping around in wooden skiffs plying their trades on the river. Some set fishing nets, others hauled their traps hoping for a large haul. Other boats delivered water and food from the mainland.

My omelet arrived and I quickly dug in. I grabbed the accompanying baguette and cut it in half. I spread a layer of butter along its warm interior and packed the two halves with pieces of omelet. Dave sat behind a large bowl loaded with fresh fruit. Onto thick slices of watermelon, banana and pineapple he scooped a heaping spoonful of yogurt and mounds of muesli. As we devoured our respective breakfasts, we got to know more about each other. We described what brought us to Southeast Asia and what our itineraries were for the coming days, weeks and months. We made quick work of our meals and relaxed finishing our drinks before heading back to our bungalows.

As we proceeded along the dirt road to our accommodation, we discussed our plans for the day. We each agreed it would be nice to swim in the Mekong and possibly build a rope swing from one of the many large trees that overhang the river. As we walked onto the patio outside our bungalows, our other travel mates, Mick from Australia and Brett from Canada, were awake and relaxing on the nearby couch cushions that dotted the floor. We sat and joined their conversation. They were keen on the rope swing idea and we created a mental checklist of items we needed to complete our mission. The most vital item was a length of rope long enough to tie around a branch of a tree. Considering the number of boats, fishing lines and nets around Don Det, we did not think it too difficult to gather what we needed.   Mick and Brett headed off to eat a quick breakfast; Dave and I returned to our bungalow to prepare for the day. I grabbed my drybag, GoPro camera and knife. I changed into my swim trunks and applied a layer of sunscreen.

Mick and Brett returned from breakfast and the four of us set off to track down rope and a cooler. As we walked along Don Det, we searched high and low for rope. We found lengths either too short or so old they would undoubtedly snap under someone’s body weight. Locals we asked kept pointing further down the road and often mentioned a “shop” that sold rope. As we walked we came across an old Styrofoam cooler lying on the side of the road. It appeared as though someone discarded it. Although adorned with layers of tape, the cooler appeared structurally sound and exactly what we needed to hold a couple of beers and additional supplies. We picked it up and continued on. Dave came upon a large wooden dowel that would make a perfect handle for our swing. We threw it in the cooler and checked another item off the checklist. Eventually, we arrived at the “shop” and an entire roll of rope sat just inside the doorway. We asked for twenty meters and the owner stood up and unrolled the requested length. We paid the couple dollars it cost and threw it in our cooler. Things were coming together.

We thanked the shop owner for his help and set off back to our bungalows for final preparations. As we walked past one restaurant, we heard someone shout and ask if we were intending to build a swing over the Mekong. A tall, Aussie ex-pat, and the man behind the voice, stepped forward and shook our hands. After telling him of our plan, he turned to face the river. He pointed at a couple of trees indicating which were good for swings and which were not. He spotted our handle and offered to cut it into a more manageable length. We accepted and together walked across the street to his house. He grabbed the handle and a saw and made short work of it. We shook hands and before long were back on the road walking to our bungalows. We arrived and gathered last minute supplies: a wireless speaker, two beers per person, a machete to chop inconvenient branches and a frying pan to cook. We bought ten eggs, four potatoes, onions and tomatoes. That would be our lunch.

Before long we were off once again. Our cooler was filled with supplies and we rented a black, rubber inner tube to float it across the river. Into the Mekong we waded and swam through the refreshing water. Occasionally we dodged rocks and ensured we made enough noise to avoid local boat traffic. We swam past other travelers floating down river on inner tubes. We came ashore on the first island and looked around at potential trees. We spotted a few but decided to swim to the next island. We reentered the Mekong and set out for the fifty-yard swim to our next destination. We encountered a much stronger current on this second leg and aimed upstream of our intended destination. I made it ashore out of breath needing a rest before any further swimming. We dragged the cooler up a short bank and placed it on the ground. We surveyed the area looking at trees that may afford a properly placed branch. We passed a family of goats who habitat the island. They saw us approaching and quickly scampered off in the opposite direction. We agreed that the trees on the previous island held more potential and decided to swim back across. We reloaded the cooler onto the tube and stepped back into the river. I took an upstream trajectory to cancel out the pull of the current. We eventually made it ashore and unpacked our supplies. Mick and Brett began setting up the swing while Dave and I gathered firewood. Sporadic splashes broke the serene atmosphere as Mick, Brett and Dave threw themselves off branches and into the Mekong.

I did one jump off a branch 20-30 feet above the surface. I have never done much cliff jumping in the past and I have a mild fear of heights. As a result, the thought of climbing a massive tree in order to hurl myself into a body of water sounds somewhat terrifying. My first jump was my last. I vowed to test out the swing when it was completed but I would not be climbing any more trees that day. I returned to preparing the firewood and readying the food for lunch. We eventually lit the fire and waited for a bed of coals to appear before cooking. The swing was completed and we each took turns launching from the bank of the island and flailing into the water seconds later. Other backpackers floating down stream saw the commotion we were making and swam over to investigate. They climbed ashore and looked impressively on the small camp we established. Occasionally someone climbed the tree or grabbed the swing to perform an acrobatic stunt into the river. After cooking and eating the potatoes, we cracked the ten eggs, scrambled them in a water bottle we cut in half and poured the contents into the frying pan. We added sliced tomatoes and minced onions. We did not know how to properly cook this group of ingredients with our limited utensils. We decided to let it bake into a quiche-like dish. Dave grabbed the machete and fashioned spoons out of a nearby bamboo branch. Twenty minutes later, it was time to dig in. We passed around the spoons and each person stepped forward to ladle a bit of egg into their mouths.

We all sat around the fire, chatting about our different pasts and discussing destinations we had in common. Music played in the background and people came and went as the afternoon progressed. Four travelers from Maine made their way across the Mekong and climbed up into our homemade sanctuary. They complimented us on our fire and each jumped from the tree or swung into the water. Prior to venturing back to Don Det, Ray, from Kennebunk, Maine, stood up to take one last swing. He grabbed the handle and shifted his weight forward. He swung out over the water and a terrible crack drowned out our cheers of encouragement. The rope snapped and he somersaulted into the water. Better it broke when he was over water rather then early in the flight when he swung over rocks.

He climbed back ashore and apologized for breaking our swing. We insisted it was not his fault; rather the faulty knot used to hold the rope around the branch. The four travelers from Maine departed soon after and swam back to their accommodation. That left the four of us: myself, Dave, Brett and Mick to watch the sun descend over the horizon and cheers the days accomplishments. Yes, the rope swing broke. But, it served its purpose for a few hours and brought smiles to everyone’s faces. As the sun faded from the sky, darkness quickly enveloped the river and surrounding islands. As we sat around the fire, we heard a “hello” from the distance and it progressively grew louder and closer. We peered over the bank and looked upon a local paddling a wooden skiff in our direction. With a large smile, he jumped from his boat and onto the bank. He scurried up the hill and threw his hand out as a welcome gesture. He saw us from Don Det and journeyed across the river to see what we were up to. He started to discuss the tree and explained that he grew up on Don Det and climbed that tree numerous times over the years. He quickly scaled up the trunk and onto a high branch. He looked at us, looked at the water and then free fell close to 40 feet into the river. He surfaced and let out a celebratory yell. He climbed back ashore and ushered Mick, Brett, and Dave up and off the tree. I decided to watch from ground level. After a few jumps we gathered back around the fire. After drying off, the local boarded his boat and journeyed back across to Don Det.

Brett, Mick, Dave and I relaxed a bit longer around the fire and decided to journey back across ouselves. We packed up our belongings into the Styrofoam cooler and used cellphone flashlights to ensure we left nothing behind. Walking down the bank to the river’s edge proved more treacherous in the darkness than it was hours prior. We loaded the cooler onto the inner tube and waded into the river. We took an upriver trajectory to negate the current. We pushed the inner tube in front of us and then swam up to it. We pushed it forward again and this pattern continued for the duration of our swim. In the darkness it was hard to avoid rocks in the shallow sections. We scrapped our way across those and continued towards the banks of Don Det. I thought the return swim, even at night, was less difficult than our swims earlier in the day. Perhaps, the currents become less strong as night blankets the area. We climbed up the bank and I was happy to be back on dry land. Locals and travelers alike gave us quizzical glances as our group of four stepped from the Mekong under complete darkness and walked down the main road, soaking wet. The inner tube was returned and we continued to our bungalows.

You will not see jumping and swinging from a tree into the Mekong River as attractions listed in guidebooks or plastered on tour advertisements. But, those couple of hours and the days that followed during my time on Don Det proved more meaningful that most things I would see on a tour. Swimming across the Mekong, getting caught in strong currents, traversing islands that most only gaze upon from the porches of their bungalows. Those are the things that make traveling truly special. Those are the things I wanted to accomplish when I left my family, friends, job and comforts five months ago to live on the road for an extended period of time and travel around the globe.