A fifty word saga

Over Welsh mountains in rain and wind, across the deserts of West Africa in baking sun, my trusty companions protected me.  Their soles finally departed on a bomb strewn hillside in Laos.  Regretfully I laid them to rest not in a stone jar but in a plastic bin in Phonsovan.

From the old US military airfield in Vang Vieng our local bus began the slow tortuous six hour climb up into the high mountains of central Laos to Phonsavan and the mysterious ‘Plain of Jars’.  The road followed the line of mountains north along the Nam Xong river then began the exhilarating twisting turning upward climb. Each view was more breathtaking than the last. As the bus negotiated the unprotected corners, precipitous drops revealed villages as specks in the dark green jungle far below. Vegetation clad mountain peaks with distinctive shapes, darker green, slowly emerged behind the nearer range as our altitude increased. Hairpin bends straightened out into ridges only a few hundred metres long where villages of wooden houses with palm thatched roofs clung perilously to the impossible slopes on each side. Then we plunged back into our ever turning switch back route.         

White billowing vapour drifted up from the jungle enveloping the bus in the rich pungent aroma of wood smoke. The indigenous population survive in these dense forested mountains by using slash and burn techniques. Distant flares of orange and yellow against the jungle green marked the fire front behind which the blackened stumps of trees and bushes still smoked. In areas already cleared neat rows of pineapples, corn and other crops were well established. The jungle will regenerate in time and the government is trying to persuade the locals to cultivate one area longer to reduce the frequency of moves to fresh areas of forest.

After an outstanding and visually captivating journey we arrived in Phonsavan bus station in the early evening. At an elevation of over a thousand metres the gently rolling plain around us was lit by the setting sun.

Our twenty five year old guide Mai Herr explained in impeccable English that the ancient stone jars we had come to see were clustered in distinct sites spread across the plain. At site 1 these enigmatic stone jars stood as silent witness to over 2500 years of world history. They were huge, mostly circular stone vessels carved from solid rock, the largest weighing 6.5 tonnes. Time had worn them and some stood listing over to one side to give easy views of their interiors. Recent wars had also taken their toll. US bombing had destroyed or damaged over 30% of the stone jars catalogued by French Archaeologists at the beginning of the last century.

Opinions vary on why these vessels had been fashioned so long ago. The consensus however seems to have settled on their being burial urns.

The Plain of Jars was a serene and beautiful place and contemplating the mystery of the Jars stimulated the imagination. The Jars sites have been proposed as a World Heritage site but the extent of unexploded bombs near the Jars still presents limitations to visitors.  With a good guide paths cleared of war debris are available but unexploded ordnance is still around.  There are more details in our next journal entry.

Separated by four or five kilometres we decided to hike between jar sites 2 and 3 and it was during this pleasant and informative walk that Margaret’s boots finally gave up the unequal struggle.  They were finally laid to rest in the atmospheric Plain of Jars. 

Pictures

The small provincial town of Vang Vieng crouches under towering craggy mountains swathed in rich green tropical vegetation. Hundreds of limestone caves, some dedicated to scared purposes, some so extensive that they offer practical routes right through mountains attract visitors from other parts of Lao and beyond. The beautiful sparkling Nam Xong (Song River) ripples past the town giving the area huge appeal.
Wonderful scenery and the wide range of tourist activities have marked the town out as one of the three principal tourist attractions in Laos.  The other two are the capital, Vientiane and Louang Phabang, further north.

In a small boat gently purring up the river through spectacular scenery we encountered a herd of water buffalos revelling in the cool water. Only big black noses and long curved horns broke the surface leaving a smooth swirl of water as they submerged at the approach of our boat.  Opposite a riverside pagoda four young monks with saffron loin cloths beamed and waved to us as they swam or paddled in the shallows. 

Further upstream we exchanged shouted greetings to people tubing down the river. As an ultimate relaxation drifting down a slow tropical river under a clear blue sky lounging in the inner tube of a tractor tyre takes a lot of beating. For the more energetic water users there are high swings from trees or jumping off of bamboo platforms on cliffs.

The lure of the mountain paths were strong. A day of hard walking and scrambling over rocks to reach caves high on a cliff took the sole off of one of Allan’s boots. Margaret’s boots were also seriously weakened, as much by four years of tropical climate, as by the pounding of our treks.   But these treks were superb.

Serious outdoor adventure attracts the young and energetic and we had heard that the town had acquired a reputation for high spirits, drugs and alcohol.  Whilst some cafes offered happy menus with marijuana and other drugs incorporated in the food and drink we saw only the young people of many nations enjoying themselves without excessive drunkenness or bad behaviour.

Running along the edge of the town is a long tarmac airstrip which is used as the bus station. Chatting to some of the locals we found that it was a former American airstrip used for the fighters that supported massive bombing raids in the 60s and 70s. Bombing missions covered the length of Laos in an attempt to interrupt the traffic on the Ho Chi Minh trail taking supplies into southern Vietnam. The other main targets were the communist Pathet Lao troops fighting in central Laos. We were to hear much more about this and see evidence of the bombing later in our trip.

Pictures