Pedals and Paddy Fields: Fourteen Days Across Laos
Cycle Touring Laos (3)
966 Kilometres – 14 Days
26 June – 9 July 2016
FLIP-BOOK
VOICEOVER
Prologue
There’s
a unique anticipation that comes with embarking on a bicycle journey—an
openness to the unknown, a readiness to embrace discomfort, and a hope that the
road will reveal something new about the world and oneself. Our 14-day, 966-kilometre
ride through Laos was more than a physical challenge; it was a passage through
landscapes, cultures, and moments that would shape our memories and
perspectives long after the final kilometre.
Udon
Thani, Thailand to Vientiane, Laos (80 km)
The
morning air in Udon Thani was thick with the scent of smoky BBQ stands as we
pedalled towards the border. Tania’s infectious smile mirrored my own
anticipation as we pedalled toward the border, pausing only for fresh coconut
juice—a simple pleasure that set the tone for the days ahead.
Crossing
the Friendship Bridge over the Mekong was a symbolic threshold. The $30 visa
felt like a ticket to adventure, and the shift in atmosphere was immediate.
French colonial architecture, the aroma of strong coffee, and the sight of
baguettes stacked high in market stalls signalled our arrival in Vientiane. The
city’s gentle pace was a balm after the rush of travel; we settled in, savouring
green curry and cold Lao beer by the riverside, watching the city’s life
unfold.
The
next day, we wandered through ornate temples and the bustling morning market,
absorbing the city’s blend of tradition and modernity. As the sun set, the
riverside came alive—a communal celebration of food, conversation, and the
simple joy of being outdoors.
The
border crossing was more than a change of country; it was a reminder of how
arbitrary lines shape lives and cultures. The warmth of Vientiane’s people and
the city’s accessibility made me realise how travel by bicycle invites
connection—every stop, every meal, every smile is an opportunity to engage.
Vientiane
to Pak Ngum (71 km)
As
we cycled out of Vientiane, we were drawn to Pha Luang, Laos’s most sacred
monument. The legend of Buddha’s breastbone enclosed within its stupa lent a
sense of reverence to our departure. The road soon narrowed, flanked by rice
fields and temples peeking from the forest. Children walked to school, their
independence a testament to the safety and simplicity of rural life.
We
stocked up on baguettes and bananas, noting the prevalence of new cars—a
curious contrast to the rustic surroundings. The day’s ride was gentle, the
scenery lush and welcoming. By early afternoon, we found bungalows nestled
among green fields, a peaceful haven that encouraged us to slow down and
appreciate the quiet beauty of the countryside.
Rural
Laos offered a lesson in contentment. The absence of urgency, the rhythm of
daily chores, and the hospitality of strangers reminded me that happiness often
resides in simplicity.
Pak
Ngum to Paksan (87 km)
Departing
Pak Ngum came with a symphony of sights and sounds: mountains looming to the
left, the Mekong glinting to the right, and villages where vendors offered
dried and smoked fish with generous smiles. Children called “Sabai dee!” from
stilted homes, and even the stray dogs seemed at peace.
We biked
into Paksan with time to spare, grateful for the chance to shower and explore
the riverside. The evening meal was a celebration of local flavours—a ritual
that became a cherished part of each day.
The
friendliness of the Lao people was striking. Their openness and curiosity made
every interaction feel genuine, and I found myself reflecting on the power of
small gestures—a wave, a greeting, a shared snack—to bridge cultural divides.
Paksan
to Vieng Kham (90 km)
Rain
greeted us at dawn, and we waited, hoping for a break in the weather. By
mid-morning, the drizzle persisted, but we saddled up for the ride to Vieng
Kham. The road grew muddier and more remote, with farmers tending cattle and
planting rice in fields that seemed to stretch forever. Stalls sold petrol by
the bottle and steamed duck eggs—a testament to resourcefulness.
Tania
wasn’t feeling well, but refused to let it slow her down. The landscape became
increasingly rural, and Google Maps proved useless—reminding us that some
places remain untouched by digital mapping. Vieng Kham, though absent from any
map, was sizable and welcoming, offering shelter and sustenance.
The
day’s challenges underscored the unpredictability of travel. Yet, the
willingness to adapt—to accept discomfort and uncertainty—became a source of
resilience. I learned to trust the journey, even when the path was unclear.
Vieng
Kham to Thakhek (108 km)
Thunderstorms
were forecast, but the day dawned clear. Misty mountains framed the horizon,
and the road wound through forests and villages where innovation
thrived—two-wheel tractors transformed into multipurpose machines, and woven
baskets carried the day’s harvest.
Markets
were a feast for the senses, selling everything from unfamiliar meats to
illegal wildlife. Rice planters worked knee-deep in water, their backs bent in
silent endurance. Near Thakhek, we encountered the Great Wall of Laos—a
geological wonder shrouded in myth.
A
riverside hotel offered comfort, and dinner by the Mekong was a reward for the
day’s effort.
The
ingenuity of rural life was inspiring. People made do with what they had,
adapting tools and traditions to meet their needs. The landscape, shaped by
both nature and human hands, was a reminder of the delicate balance between
progress and preservation.
Thakhek
to Savannakhet (125 km)
Fatigue
lingered from a restless night, but the road called. The terrain was undulating,
and a steady breeze tested our resolve. Children filled the roads, enjoying
school holidays, and temples stood as silent witnesses to centuries of faith.
A
shortcut trimmed the route, but a minor accident left Tania bruised yet
undeterred. Her resilience was a source of inspiration. Savannakhet welcomed us
with convenient lodging near the night market.
Physical
challenges are inevitable on a journey like this, but the true test is mental.
The ability to push through discomfort, to find humour in mishaps, and to
support each other made every setback a shared victory.
A
day of rest in Savannakhet allowed for reflection and exploration. An early jog
revealed ancient temples and colonial buildings, their faded grandeur hinting
at stories untold. The dinosaur museum, though modest, offered a glimpse into
the distant past, and a staff member’s guided tour bridged the language gap.
As
we wandered the riverfront, I realised that rest days are essential—not just
for the body, but for the mind. They offer space to absorb experiences, to
notice details, and to appreciate the journey’s unfolding narrative.
Savannakhet
to Muang Lakhonpheng (131 km)
Anticipating
a long ride, we set out from Savannakhet early. The countryside was alive with
activity—rice planting, children managing chores, and water buffalo grazing
lazily. Villages provided respite, and the landscape was a patchwork of green
paddies and colourful temples.
Lakhonpheng,
though unmarked on maps, offered guesthouses. Our choice was less than ideal,
but the discomfort was temporary—a reminder that not every day ends in luxury. Travel
teaches flexibility. Plans change, expectations are challenged, and comfort
becomes relative. The ability to adapt—to find joy in imperfection—is a skill
honed on the road.
Muang
Lakhonpheng to Pakse (112 km)
By
morning, rain persisted, and we rode out under grey skies. A torn tyre was
patched with duct tape, then replaced at a roadside shop—a stroke of luck that
underscored the kindness of strangers. Pink water buffalo and mushroom vendors
added colour to the journey, and the scent of wet, smoky wood mingled with damp
earth.
By
evening, we reached Pakse, hungry and grateful for a hot meal. The road is
unpredictable, but generosity is a constant. The willingness of others to
help—a spare tyre, a warm meal—reminded me that travel is as much about people
as it is about places.
Pakse
to Champasak (55 km)
The
rain finally relented, and we cycled through vibrant rice fields and misty
mountains. In Champasak, we stayed by the river and visited the Vat Phu ruins—a
UNESCO World Heritage Site steeped in history. The ancient Khmer temple
complex, set against Mount Phu Kao, was a highlight, followed by a sunset meal
overlooking the Mekong.
Reflection:
History is alive in Laos. The ruins, the temples, the rituals—they are threads
in a tapestry that connects past and present. Cycling through these landscapes,
I felt a sense of continuity, a reminder that every journey is part of a larger
story.
Champasak
to Don Khong Island (107 km)
A
muddy track led to a ferry crossing and then south toward the Cambodian border.
The Four Thousand Islands (Si Phan Don) beckoned, though a chaotic ferry
landing nearly ended in disaster. Fortunately, all was well, and a riverside
guesthouse provided comfort.
The
next morning, we joined villagers at the market, sampling local snacks and
enjoying the slow pace of island life. A boat trip upriver revealed riverside
villages and fishermen at work—a fitting end to our adventure.
The
islands were a place to pause, to savour the journey’s end. The rhythm of
village life, the beauty of the river, and the camaraderie of shared meals made
me grateful for the road travelled and the lessons learned.
Epilogue
Fourteen
days and nearly a thousand kilometres later, Laos had left its mark: landscapes
of green, resilient people, and a journey stitched together by the rhythm of
cycling and discovery. The road was both a challenge and a gift—a reminder that
adventure is not just about reaching a destination, but about embracing every
moment along the way.
Final
Reflection: Cycle touring in Laos was a lesson in humility, gratitude, and
wonder. The country’s beauty lies not only in its scenery, but in its people,
its history, and its ability to reveal the extraordinary in the everyday. As I
look back, I realise that the actual journey was inward—a transformation shaped
by the road, the rain, and the kindness encountered at every turn.
082 Laos
(3)
966
Kilometres – 14 Days
26
June – 9 July 2016
26-27
June – Udon Thani, Thailand – Vientiane, Laos – 80 km
“I’m
bursting with excitement to go to Laos; I can’t get the smile off my face,”
Tania said, biking past the traditional smoky breakfast BBQ stands. So keen to reach
Laos, we only stopped once to drink coconut juice on the way to the Thailand-Laos
border.
Once
at the immigration, a $30 visa allowed entry into the country. Reaching Laos
meant cycling across the mighty Mekong River via the Friendship Bridge. It soon
became apparent how different things could be on the opposite side of a border.
The
French influence from yesteryear was still visible, especially in the architecture.
The baguettes were abundant, and the smell of coffee permeated the air. I
withdrew 1,500,000 Laos kip, which stretched my wallet to nearly breaking point.
Once
these formalities were done, we cycled into Vientiane, the capital city, which
must be the most accessible capital by bicycle. We’d barely crossed the border,
and Tania stopped to sample the local cuisine. Unfortunately, the place I’d in
mind no longer existed, but there were plenty to choose from. Once unpacked and
showered, we headed towards the riverside eateries where one could sip a cold Lao
beer and watch the comings and goings of Vientiane. The green curry ordered was
delicious; we almost ordered a 2nd portion. Thank goodness we came to our
senses before placing the order.
The
following day was spent in Vientiane, checking out the beautiful temples and
shopping at the morning market. At sunset, everyone was enjoying the cooler
evening air and riverside restaurants. Tania and I followed suit and ordered various
dishes, all equally delicious.
28
June - Vientiane – Pak Ngum - 71 km
Our
leisurely departure was due to wanting to visit a few attractions. The first
stop was at Pha Luang, Laos’s most important national monument. Legend has it that
Indian missionaries erected the main stupa to enclose a piece of Buddha’s
breastbone in or around the third century. Afterwards, a short ride led out of
the city and onto rural paths, but not before stopping to buy baguettes and
bananas. Tania pointed out nearly all cars were new and in the middle to higher
price bracket – interesting.
I
loved seeing the temples jutting out of the forest and kids walking to and from
school. Having such a safe environment where kids can get to and from school
independently is refreshing. The day was very much a rice-field-and-buffalo one
as we peddled along, admiring Laos’ scenery, temples, and welcoming people. Upon
finding lodging, we found the area to be extremely rural and called it a day,
even though it was still early. But looking at the map, there didn’t appear to
be a great deal in the line of accommodation in the next 100 kilometres. Our
abode consisted of bungalows surrounded by vast green fields and plenty of
trees, making it a lovely, relaxing place to spend the remainder of the day.
29
June – Pak Ngum – Paksan – 87 km
The
early morning made a beautiful ride through the countryside with the mountains to
our left and the Mekong River to our right. Now and again, cycling was through
tiny settlements where one could get water or something to nibble on.
At
times, our path led close to the river, and other times it headed slightly
inland. Dried and smoked fish stands lined the riverbanks, and sampling these odd
eats was fun. The vendors seemed happy to let us try their produce. What a friendly
nation Laos is. Kids called “Sabai dee!” from their stilted homes, and not even
the stray dogs gave chase. Arrival in Paksan was in good time, leaving ample
time to shower and trundle to the river on the hunt to find something to eat.
30
June - Paksan – Vieng Kham – 90 km
We
woke to steady rain and decided to wait and see if the weather would clear. It
cleared around 9h30-10h00, allowing us to set out anew. Unfortunately, the
drizzle continued throughout the day, only clearing around 14h00. Even then, it
was still spitting from time to time. Google Maps were relatively useless in
Laos, and it appeared no Google staff had been to Laos in the past 20 years. I
stayed in Vieng Kham seven years previously, but couldn’t find the town on
Google Maps; still, we cycled in that direction.
Tania
didn’t feel well but pushed on regardless; she’s tough. Despite the constant
drizzle, I scarcely took the camera out, but it was still a pleasant day. Farmers
tended their cattle while others planted rice or ploughed the fields. The area
was becoming increasingly rural the further from Vientiane—stalls sold petrol
by the bottle, charcoal, and steamed duck eggs.
The
day was wet and muddy as our path went further south, past bright green rice paddies,
exciting markets, and hospitable folk. Finally, I was delighted to roll into Vieng
Kham. Despite not being on any map, the place was quite sizable and offered a
few places to stay and eat.
1
July - Vieng Kham - Thakhek – 108 km
The
weather forecast reported rain and thunderstorms the entire day. Fortunately,
they were wrong, and we’d had a great day of cycle touring. The landscape was
sublime, revealing misty mountains in the background and lush green forests on
both sides. As we headed further south, the villages became smaller and smaller,
and farther and farther apart.
Our
path passed vendors selling fruit; a few had stalls while others pushed mobile carts.
Herds of buffalo and cattle grazed on the no-man's-land along the tarmac. At
the same time, farmers used highly innovative farming equipment. I’m not sure
what it’s called, but I call it a two-wheel tractor and it’s highly versatile.
It can be fitted to various innovative auxiliary equipment, including planting,
threshing, irrigation, and even carts for transporting people. Villagers carried
their wares in woven baskets on their backs and others carried them from straps
around their foreheads.
Markets
were even more fascinating, as they sold items one only read about, from
illegal wildlife to unfamiliar pieces of meat. We couldn’t figure out which
part it came from or which animal it came from. In rice fields, people stood
knee-deep in water, planting rice, and I wondered how their backs felt after a
day bent over.
Nearing
Thakhek, we came upon the Great Wall of Laos. This kilometres-long Kamphaeng
Nyak wall is a geological phenomenon caused by fissures. Still, its physical
resemblance to a human-made structure led to many Laotian myths about its
origin. Some say it was made as a defence system, and others guess the wall was
used to stem floodwaters from the Mekong.
Thakhek
offered a hotel across the Mekong River at an incredibly reasonable price. As
usual, we were starving and hurried to a restaurant beside the river where the
food and the views were excellent.
2
July – Thakhek – Savannakhet – 125 km
I
was no ball of energy as I’d hardly slept the previous night. Nevertheless, we
rolled out of Thakhek at around 7h30. The route was pretty undulating and led
straight into the south-westerly breeze. I was in no mood to take pictures and
kept a steady pace, passing markets and heaps of kids, doing what kids do
during school holidays. The schools in Laos have a three-month break during the
rainy season (July to August).
Pedalling
past temples where the monks’ bright orange robes were drying in the breeze made
a pretty picture against the green fields. Butterflies and dragonflies were in
abundance, albeit less forested.
Thirty
kilometres before Savannakhet, a shortcut took 10 kilometres off our intended
route, something we were happy about. Unfortunately, Tania fell off her bike; luckily,
she was fine, apart from a few bruises and a lump on her head. Nevertheless, she
is a tough one. Once in Savannakhet, the Savan Phattha offered convenient
accommodation near the night market and river.
3
July – Savannakhet
A
day of leisure was spent in Savannakhet, doing laundry and checking out all the
attractions and sights in the old city. An early morning jog led through old
Savannakhet, featuring ancient temples and an ensemble of decaying buildings.
Later, I popped in at the dinosaur museum, and while small, it offered a
fascinating glimpse at life 110,000,000 years ago. A staff member gave me a
tour and explanation, which was helpful and informative, as all information was
posted in Lao and French.
4
July – Savannakhet – Muang Lakhonpheng – 131 km
Anticipating
a long day, we were ready to roll at 7h30. Luckily, it turned out to be an excellent
day, weather-wise. Albeit cloudy, it didn’t rain, and the day came with a
slight breeze on our backs. As the weather was in our favour, we pushed on,
making good use of the favourable conditions.
Surveying
our surroundings, one felt grateful for the opportunity to cycle in this
beautiful country with its generous people. During the rainy season, each man
and his dog planted rice, while the smaller kids handled the daily chores. I
was amazed at these tiny kids doing tasks I never dreamt a child twice their
age could do. They took over household responsibilities, from tending cattle to
caring for babies. The rice paddies were a brilliant green, making the
colourful temples appear even greener. Water buffalo grazed lazily while goats
and cattle were led off to feed elsewhere. Wooden houses upon stilts and
hammocks swinging in the breeze completed the picture.
The
map indicated little in the line of accommodation, food, or water. Still, plenty
of villages were encountered—quite a sizable one at around 70 kilometres and
nice-looking digs at approximately 85 kilometres. En route were plenty of
stores and petrol stations to fill the water bottles. A hundred and thirty-one
kilometres later, we cycled into Lakhonpheng (not indicated on the map), which
boasted several guesthouses. Regrettably, the one picked turned out a poor
choice, and Tania wasn’t a happy chappie as the bed was lumpy and the place
offered no Wi-Fi.
5
June – Muang Lakhonpheng - Pakse - 112 km
We surfaced
to rain pelting down and waited until the weather improved. Still, by 08h30, it
was clear this wouldn’t happen, so we saddled up our iron horses and got
underway. The rain continued throughout the day, sometimes a drizzle, and
sometimes it came down quite hard. It would’ve been a nice ride if not for grinding
into a gusty breeze. Unfortunately, there wasn’t much one could do but push on.
Tania
was a real sport, never complained, and stuck to the task. Thirty-five kilometres
into the day, I’d a flat tyre and realised it wasn’t the tube but the tyre
which tore along the side. I fixed the tyre using duct tape, but it only lasted
35 kilometres. Mercifully, this happened right opposite a motorbike repair
shop, and lo and behold, did they not have a used bicycle tyre hanging from the
rafters? I pointed to the tyre and my wheel, and in no time, I’d a new tyre
fitted, all at 20,000 kip. I surmised the tyre was about 100 years old and
hoped it would get me to Pakse, which was still 77 kilometres away.
Our
route continued past pink water buffalo, and I swear it had nothing to do with
drugs or the fact I’d barely drunk any water that day. People sat under their
houses, around small fires hiding from the weather. I loved the smell of the
wet, smoky wood, mixed with the scent of damp soil; it’s so earthy.
Ladies
sold a wide and impressive variety of mushrooms. Upon display were big and
small ones, underground and above-ground ones, single ones and ones growing in
clumps, and nearly in all the colours of the rainbow.
We
encountered motorbike salespeople on bikes loaded to the sky and Gong Makers
hard at work. Gongs are the monks’ alarm clocks as they get up at 04h30. First,
they meditate and then walk to collect food. Monks only eat twice a day, and
after their morning meal, they study and clean around the temple. Our day
dragged on, and in the dying moments, we biked into Pakse, found a place to
stay, and headed straight to a restaurant.
7
July – Pakse – Champasak – 55 km
The
rain finally subsided, allowing pedalling the short distance to Champasak.
Bright green rice fields filled our view, and the good rains of the previous
days soaked the fields, ready for planting. Misty mountains featured to our
left, and the Mekong River flowed to our right.
In
Champasak, our abode of choice was an establishment right along the river. We immediately
set off toward the picturesque Vat Phu ruins, dating to the seventh century.
Today, Vat Phu is a UNESCO World Heritage Site, home to a ruined Khmer Hindu
temple complex. The complex is located in the foothills of Mount Phu Kao,
overlooking the Mekong Valley. We wandered around and then returned to our
humble abode, where we ordered food and sipped a Lao beer while watching the
sunset over the Mekong River.
8-9
July - Champasak - Maung Khong, Don Khong Island - 107 km
After
breakfast, a muddy track led to the ferry to the mainland. Although not a car
ferry, one could push bicycles without a problem. Unfortunately, another muddy,
potholed track led to the main road on the opposite side. Luckily, we escaped
much of the rain as we proceeded south towards the Cambodian border.
Approximately
30 kilometres from the border, a path branched off to a ferry that took people
to the well-known Four Thousand Islands, or Si Phan Don as it’s known in Laos.
This time, the ferry wasn’t as successful as not only did they overcharge us,
but disembarking was disastrous, and I surmised quite a spectacle. Tania got
off first, but when I tried to push the bicycle off, the boat started moving
away from the shore, and I’d one leg on the boat and one on the shore. I clung
to the bike for dear life while doing the splits. One can only stretch oneself so
far. In the end, I landed in the water, but fortunately, the boatman caught the
bike and got it to shore without too much water damage. As funny as it was, I
was fuming as all my computer and camera equipment were in those panniers. If
the bike landed in the water, all the equipment would’ve been ruined. But all’s
well that ends well.
Tania
spotted a lovely guesthouse and a restaurant along the river’s edge, which made
up for the near disaster.
The
following morning, Tania and I woke at the crack of dawn. We followed the villagers
along a muddy track to the morning market, filling our stomachs with delicious
food and fascinating snacks.
The rest
of the day was spent doing little other than enjoying the view and eating.
Then, Tania organised a boat trip along the river. At around 17h00, our boatman
arrived and steered us upriver, past riverside villages and fishermen doing
what fishermen do.
