Captain Caveman

"Lets go to this cave!" He said with enthusiasm.
"Why not, sounds like a right adventure!" she agreed.

The cave in question, Tham Lot Kong Lo is described by the Lonely Planet as "truly one of the natural wonders of Laos." It also describes the journey there as "very difficult." Difficult I can do, but very difficult in Laotian terms, it seems I struggle with. We left Savannakhet by hot and sweaty bus. This relatively civilized leg of the journey took about four hours. The buses in Laos are, without exception, a nightmare. When the seats are full of passengers and the roof is full of boxes, crates and motorbikes, they fill up the aisle with little plastic children's chairs and cram people (23 on one count) into those aswell. When these are full, people stand around by the driver, holding onto the (open) door. Occasionally, one of the bus boys will climb out of the window and onto the roof to ensure everything is still secure. This all happens with the bus still in motion. Now and then the bus stops, to allow even more people or spatchcock chickens aboard. Sometimes, the busdriver lets everybody off to buy eggs on a stick, but usually the only toilet break if for him and the bus boys. Air con doesn't happen and so long as the bus is moving, there is just enough breeze. As soon as it's stationary, it turns into a dried-fish and chicken scented sauna.

After 4 hours, we found ourselves by the side of Route 13 - a good chance to have a well-earned bowl of pho. Before too long, a sawngthaew (like a pick-up truck taxi) picked us up and took us onto Route 8 for about an hour until we reached a tiny village called Ban Na Hin. Sensibly, we'd decided to stay the night here to break the journey down a bit. We found a very pleasant traditional wooden guest house and some decent grub and BeerLao to keep us sustained and were in bed by about 9pm. All looking quite respectable so far. The following morning, we headed off bright and early to the village nearest the cave, Phon Nyaeng. Our mode of transport? A tractor. Or should I say, a tractor-pulled wooden cart. I reasoned that whilst it was bumpy and uncomfortable, the road didn't appear too bad and it should take two hours max to cover the 30km journey. Two hours later and the road has deteriorated drastically and was covered with water-logged pot holes. The tractor-type thing was coping - just, but I was starting to loose my rag somewhat. Three hours later, the road was knackered beyond recognition and we were having to get out and push the vehicle through the muddy disaster they were still calling a road. At four hours I was actually in tears. Battered and bruised, despite sitting on Andy's rucksack and I felt sure that I'd smashed every techno gadget he owned. We were sunburnt and dehydrated, I had backache, a headache and terrible period pains. Worst of all, I was now completely devoid of humour. My turn to have a travel strop this time!

Finally, Sala Hin Boun emerged on the horizon like a vision of a Buddhist deity. We'd made it, it did exist and we weren't going to die! Just one problem, we weren't sure they'd have a room as the phone number hadn't been working and they haven't discovered e-mail yet. After a bit of argey-bargey, it was decided there was indeed a room for us. At $18 per night, this was luxury (sort of). Never before had a shower been so welcome nor a Beer Lao so quickly downed. After a lunch of dubious-looking black fish a few chips (strangely, we had a salt craving) we crashed out for a couple of hours. On waking however, I felt quite dodgy. Dehydrated (why didn't I just have water?!) and with a strange gurgling in my stomach, I spent the next 12 hours on the loo. The ominous fish - it had to be. Sometime in the evening a group of 5 travelers arrived and Andy joined them for dinner. Sensibly, they had all come by motorbike and had a great journey!

Sala Hin Boun was a wonderful retreat, set amid Nam Hin Bun valley. A Laotian-style wooden stilt bungalow looks out onto the river with towering, gothic karst mountains surrounding the valley. The shared veranda is a great place to chill out and play cards. The most I saw that evening however, was the inside of my mozzie net. Several feverish hours and a few Diareeze later, we set out on our next adventure. Descending the wooden steps to our boat below, we knew we were in for an amazing journey. We motored for 2 hours though tiny rural villages, made all the more magical by the herds of water buffalo taking a dip next to us and the groups of beautiful smiling children, waving manically as we passed. Occasionally, the boat would skim over an unseen rock or fallen tree trunk and we would lurch frighteningly to one side, feeling capsize was imminent. But the boatmen were very skillful and their knowledge of the riverbed amazing - all the more important in the dry season, as there are somewhat more obstacles. Not to mention the countless floating pats of buffalo shit decorating our path. Whilst I could have coped with capsizing, I hoped it wouldn't be into one of these festering mounds.

Tham Lot Kong Lo is a limestone cave through which the river, Nam Hin Bun, continues. It stretches for 7km and is 100m wide in parts and almost as high. As we approached its entrance, it felt quite scary and I hoped Andy wouldn't feel claustrophobic. No fear of that - it was massive. We soon lost all daylight from the entrance and as we meandered down the river, it felt very surreal to be floating along in such blackness. A bit like a flotation tank, I imagine. There was enough light to navigate by the boatman's headtorch and we passed the occasional local collecting bats (no doubt on the supper menu). We did have to disembark and help the boat along in a few places, but the water was very clear and pure. About half way through, we were led to a glittering stalagmite cave. Apparently some of them have been damaged by locals searching for gold, but it looked pristine. It took almost an hour to reach daylight again and after stopping for lunch, we returned home the same way.

I think we were in bed by 8pm that night and we slept very well beneath our mozzie nets. Something I'm always grateful for is that this clever device also keeps us safe from spiders and cockroach. This peace of mind always makes for a better nights' kip! We left bright and early the following morning BUT, the ingenious Pak (the owner of Sala Hin Boun) organised us to travel 2 hours by his boat to knock 3 hours off our tractor journey! Thank-you - you are forgiven the evils of your terror fish. We caned the rest of the journey all the way to Vientiane, the capital of Laos. After 9 1/2 hours, we were glad to arrive, the bus aspect being as fretful as ever. A bit tricky finding a decent hotel though. We stayed somewhere pretty crappy last night only to find there was no water in the taps this morning or even to flush the loo. After knocking a generous $1 off the extortionate $10 bill (and another $1 for the telly not working properly) we found somewhere else. Aside from the bizarre shrine set in the headboard, it's O.K. At least we have a double bed again for the first time in over a week. Maybe this has something to do with the fact that in some of the hotel rules it stipulates that you have to be married to stay there!

So, we've had a little adventure to last us a while. I don't think either of us will forget that place. It made the tears and pain disappear as soon as we arrived. The boat journey is the best I've ever done and we know we've achieved something that many travellers don't bother doing because of the hassle. Lets hope they manage to built a better road for the sake of the villagers who live in such a difficult-to-navigate environment, but not to the detriment of the villages themselves. Sala Hin Boun manages to integrate the whole traveller/rural environment thing very well. Seeing the old women of the villages respond to us positively by smiling and waving made us feel very welcome and accepted when I was afraid we might be intruding on their sanctuary.