Solitary Refinement

Parts 1 to 3

It's been 10 days since I've had a conversation in English.

Well, except for a five minute one the other day when I bumped into a Swiss couple at a lookout.

All of this un-speaking is like being on retreat. It's so great. I'm getting so much alone time, riding through these hills every day, only briefly meeting locals as I eat or shop or set up my camp or stay in little homestays or guesthouses.

There's not that many places to stay on this road at all. I'm glad I've got a tent, as it means I don't have to impose on families in their little homes, and can have a bit of my own space for sleeping.

And, of course, for most of the day I'm riding up and down these beautiful hills, admiring magnificent views that my photos don't really capture, and passing through super interesting villages every now and then.

But it's quite remote, and there's not too many villages on this road either.

So I'm on my own, kid. It's beautiful. I have loads of time to think, as I move around the stunning countryside, or hang out when I get somewhere for the evening.

I think about what it must be like to live in these villages, and how different it is to my own life. I think about my friends' lives, my family's, all of us doing our own thing in different places, but all together somehow, in some wider cosmic community of love, man.

What a gift to love others, and be loved.

And what a gift aloneness is, the opportunity to have the time and space to see things inside and outside that we're often too busy to explore.

Nam Neun

Well I'm in a small town, but I've actually found a little guest house, and I have my own room! What a treat.

Lately, every day consists of climbs of at least 1000m. Or more. And long descents, which have their own challenges on rough roads, because you really can't pick up any speed and need to constantly clutch those brakes as if your life depended on it (it does).

Yeah, it's a new cycling ball game around here, but I'm in the swing of it now.

Every day I get to enjoy views like this

Another village

Home made tools

Still being used

Snack searching

I finally made it to here, Nam Neun, a small town.

Look at the size of this bomb. The truck's actually quite big. Can you imagine the damage just one of these would have done on a village full of people?

The truck was full of other bombs too, for valuable metal recycling.

Cute little wat in town.

And cute eating place

I asked for no meat, and she understood, but she still couldn't serve a bowl of soup without just a little bit. I tried some of it, it was really chewy, so I skipped it.

Missing somethings?

It's hot down here, at an altitude of about 500m. I was up at about 1600m earlier today, and the air was much cooler up there. But I've got a massive climb tomorrow, and I'll slowly ease back into the cooler air, and stay up there for a few days.

Bushy

I can hear traditional Lao village music in the distance. It sounds familiar, and catchy. There's birds twitching around the bushes that surround me, as I sit on my sarong and stretch my body, after a killer killer day.

I'm parked up in a clearing above the little village of Muangpeun. I was sent to the village near here by some locals down on the main road, as there's a guesthouse here, but it was full, and, in fact, the three guesthouses in the town of Houamuang, a couple of clicks away, were also full.

I've never really had that happen before in Laos, but it's because of New Year celebrations, and lots of people are returning to visit their families in the villages and small towns.

Of course, there were stunning views all day

I stopped at Meilin's place for lunch, in a Hmong village. That's her in the middle, with her sister and son.

She's had a really tough time - after studying medicine in Hanoi she got a government job back in Laos in a medical centre in Sam Neua, the provincial capital.

But there was a hitch. She wasn't  paid for seven years. Yep, that's true. And it's happened to a number of people I've met around the country. Paying its workers hasn't been the government's top priority, and so many civil servants do their jobs for free, and try to supplement their incomes elsewhere.

Eventually it all got too much for Meilin. Seven years is a long time. She finally left her job and the town of Sam Neua, and her and her husband now have a shop back here in her home village.

She's the sweetest person ever, she plied me with food - fruit, salad, rice, all these extra things, and kept saying it was a gift. Plus the water bottles. So generous. She wouldn't accept any money for them.

We both agreed that money won't make you happy anyway, but having healthy and happy friends and families was the most important thing.

What a gem she is.

I was originally gonna stop somewhere near her village, Houaythoun, but she told me about some guesthouses further up, so I pushed on.

What goes down must come up. I have to come back this way tomorrow.

The bumpy gravel to Muangpeun.

I couldn't find a room, but I found a great camping spot.

I was dead. I climbed over 1800m on my bike today. That's the biggest climb I've ever done on my bike in one day, and is really huge on a heavy loaded bike, even by normal cycle touring standards (as opposed to my standards).

The moon's getting full

Massive spider home. I didn't see her.

Pretty local shrubs

Trashed

I just got back from dinner here in Sam Neua, and I could hardly walk up the stairs to my room.

My body is totally exhausted, after days of hugely tiring riding. I didn't really plan for it to be like that, it just happened. The country up here is just all steep hills. The roads are mixed, but one thing that's not mixed about them is their steepness.

Since leaving Vientiane I've ridden over 600kms, but climbed over 10,000m. That's really huge. Yesterday's climb was over 1800m. Today's was 1400m.

I've never done anything as exhausting before. Not even on some long hard days of trekking.

No wonder I'm dead.

And, of course, I'm gonna rest long and hard tomorrow.

I rode into the town of Houamuang this morning, and got me some yummy snacks from the market. Mandarins, sticky rice, those spiced eggs that have their insides removed and then reinserted with spices added, bamboo shoots, and deep fried rice flour pastry balls with a bit of sweet stuff inside. Such delicious variety.

Village markets

Roadside cooking

Drying herbs. They're for sale at the stalls.

I skipped on the bats. They were expensive, 50,000 Kip, about $4. Around here a massive bowl of noodle soup with a couple of eggs inside is half that price. I'm not paying that ripoff price to crunch on a bat, it's roadside robbery.

Dodgy edge

After a ridiculous amount of steep climbs, with so much crystallised soaked-in sweat that my shirt was crunchy, and with legs that felt like the inside of a trifle, I finally reached the top of the last hill leading to the province of Houaphan, of which Sam Neua, where I am now, is the capital.

Traditional bamboo reeded mouth organ, for giants, at a lookout

The lookout place was disgusting, there was smelly rubbish everywhere. This is a plant pot. There really has to be education about that sort of thing around here, litterally.

A view of part of Sam Neua as I rolled in.

Sam Neua

For a provincial capital, this sure is a hick town.

It's really the backblocks of Laos, which is really nice. I haven't seen any tourists here, but there is a town called Viếng Xai that some tourists visit, maybe I'll see some there, if I get there.

After finding a room, and slowly lugging all my stuff up to the top floor, I went out for food, and to explore.

My hotel, a dragon, and a watchful moon

Good old-fashioned games.

Grand architecture. The monument is very Soviet-esque, which you do see in some places in the country.

When the Lao civil war ended in 1975, Soviet funds supported the reconstruction of the new communist state. Monuments to the victory of communism were built. Thousands of Laotians were sent to Russia (or other Soviet bloc states) to study at universities.

Many of these people are now in leadership positions in Laos, and it's no surprise that relations between the 2 countries are tight, even since the Russian invasion of Ukraine. The Laos military is very dependent on Russian supplies and technology, and the two countries even carry out joint military exercises in Laos.

Lao leaders are also close to China, and the small poor country is trying to balance the influence of the two superpowers. Chinese-funded infrastructure here, which includes dams, highways and a fast railway, whilst aiding development in some ways, has also been hugely expensive, and Laos pays China over $450m (US) annually, just in interest payments.

No wonder the government can't pay its teachers, doctors, nurses, or other important civil servants, and no wonder that the whole edifice is creaking.

Spring blossoms are amongst us! It's early days, but winter is on its last legs.

It's not only India where you have to watch your step.

Looking quite speccy outisde my hotel at night.

The morning markets are a ripper here, if you don't suffer from queasiness. There's loads of fresh stuff to buy of course, but there's also a collection of dead forest animals that I'd much rather see in the bush than on a market table.

The ladies at the market were super sweet, but weren't keen on me taking pics, as I guess there's pressure on them from certain circles to stop trapping and selling the wild animals. I mean, it's interesting. In the villages they eat all that stuff anyway, there's no distinction between animals which are ok to eat, and those which aren't.

For historical reasons in the west we've come to regard farmed stock animals as ok to slaughter and cook up for dinner, but not fluffy cats or giant pandas. We'll stuff our guts with huge tuna steaks or salmon, but be completely disgusted by the eating of dolphins or whales, and genuinely believe it's wrong.

It's a complete double standard, if you ask me, although I understand how it's come to be. In my view an animal is an animal. If you don't think it's ok to eat a chimp, then don't eat a cow. That's how I see it anyway.

Of course, wildlife wet markets are notorious for spreading pathogens (eg. Covid), and research has shown that a hefty percentage of the wild animals for sale at such places carry transmissible diseases, which is a major issue worldwide. But that's a different issue.

At these markets there were all sorts of animals for sale, including some of these (pics from the web).

Civets

I saw all of these guys. The one on the right is like a massive forest rat.

There were lots of squirrels.

The women were so friendly. My broken Lao is enough now to be able to at least communicate a few things in both directions, and get the local price.

I bought loads of these delicious cassava and rice flour pastries, with all sorts of things inside, including coconut paste, spring onions and, of course, sweet bananas.

There's an abundance of fresh greens in the diet here. You always get served a bowl of fresh greens with your meal. The greens are often wet, and the washing water isn't filtered, but so far my belly seems to be dealing with it all.

Look delicious, don't they?

Banana flower buds. They're chopped up really finely and added to salads.They have a very bitter flavour, but are perfect in combination with other herbs and spices.

Dried rice noodles of various flavours

Dried herbs

Temple offerings, they place these by the various Buddha statues and in other auspicious spots.

Who knows what's in here

Fresh water fish and wild frogs

Going toes to toes

Baby eels

My brunch, all from the markets, included bamboo shoots (the spiky things), some sort of bambooey coriander salad, sticky rice, cucumbers, boiled eggs, and deep fried cassava.

The spice mix on the banana leaf is supposed to be for the bamboo shoots. It's death. It's so spicy just a tiny dip nearly created an immediate involuntary catastrophe in my nether regions.

Dessert was passionfruits, mango, mandarins, deep fried bananas, and the rice flour sweet pastries.

I ate too much. I was re-stocking my depleted exhausted body. As it turns out I had the runs in the middle of the night that night. Don't know which delicious food caused it.

My go-to dinner around here. Delicious peppery garlicky rice noodle soup with eggs and greens.

More cycling

One day I woke to the sound of the rain! Yay! I'd missed it, it's been super dry and dusty around here.

Many of the shops, homes and businesses surround their premises with plants. It's sweet. Don't ya love the watermelons.

So welcoming

Just as I was forgetting how to speak English, I met Chandra (UK) and Aide (Finland), a couple who live in London. They're so sweet, have quit their jobs (software developer and environmental scientist), and have a few months to travel around this part of the world.

We had a really nice conversation over dinner, and met up the next day in another place.

To Viếng Xai

I had 2 full days of resting. I was gonna have only one, but at the end of it I really felt like it wasn't enough, my legs were still pained whenever I did anything semi-strenuous like walk up lots of stairs or cycle up a small hill.

I'm trying to listen to and nurture my body more. After getting so run down in India at times I'm trying to make sure I'm filling myself up with plenty of fresh food, and resting when my body tells me to.

Eventually the time was right to move, and I cycled up and down the hills to Viếng Xai.

It's become foggy lately.

Not far from town I met Gautier (Frenchy), he's another crazy cyclist, and we chatted for ages on the side of the road. I thought my recent climbs and distances have been intense, but Gautier's a real cyclist, not a pretend one like me, and he's pushing altitudes of 2000m for days in succession sometimes, and distances consistently over 100km per day in these crazy steep hills.

I mean, he's not carrying much at all, but still. No panniers at all. They call it bikepacking. What I'm doing is called cycle touring. Apparently.

But I just call it going for a ride.

Gautier's riding from Bangkok, and doing a loop through Indochina for 3 months. He's loving it, he said. Sweet guy.

We sent each other pics later in the day.

The cold air and mist hung around for a lot of the day.

After crossing a pass the countryside suddenly became different, and I re-entered karst country.

Into another district. The Viếng Xai district is where the Lao ruling party was founded, it's the real heartland of the party around here. Well, it used to be. The whole party leadership and administrative machinery moved to Vientiane from here after the war ended in 1975.

Viếng Xai Caves

One of the reasons I stopped in Viếng Xai was to visit an incredible cave system that was used to protect the local villagers and the party and military leadership and administration during the war.

From 1964 the US began its massive bombing campaign of Laos, in its determination to try to stop the spread of communism in the region. Communist forces in the country were allied with the Viet Minh in North Vietnam, and part of the Ho Chi Minh Trail, the main supply line that enabled North Vietnamese troops and weaponry to be safely transported to the South, ran through this area.

But, of course, the local villagers had no idea what was going on when the bombings started. They didn't even know who was bombing them, or why.

As usual, the innocent suffer indiscriminately during war.

Cave country, with a huge bomb crater in the foreground

One of the many cave entrances

The leadership of the revolutionary forces set up their headquarters in Veing Xai caves, from where they directed their whole military and political operation during the war.

Politburo meeting room

Airtight bunker, for potential gas attacks.

Manual air purifier (you turn the handle and fresh filtered air pumps in from outside)

Over 450 caves were used in the area, to create what was basically an underground protected city, which housed up to 23,000 people. The saddest and most incredible thing is that the intense bombings continued every single day for nine whole years.

Kids were born in the caves, and lived almost their first decade in them. It was extremely dangerous to go outside, so there were only certain short times of the day when outside activities (eg. farming, cooking etc) could take place.

The US had spotter planes going over the whole time, searching for signs of life. Just a few puffs of fire smoke from the villagers inside or outside could lead to a deadly attack.

Many of the caves were connected by tunnels, which were blasted through the rock using dynamite, or mined by hand, or with mining equipment.

Dorm room

The army had huge barracks inside the caves. There were hospitals, schools, kitchens, eating areas, there was even an entertainment hall, where community events would be celebrated (eg. weddings, religious festivals). But of course it was low key, and fraught with danger.

Hospital beds. Cuban, Russian and Lao doctors worked in here.

Another bomb crater. Some of the bombs were so big (500 kg), that they could be felt 10km away from where they were detonated.

The US knew certain caves were being used, but the Lao army, if they could,  set up anti aircraft weaponry to protect some of the more important cave areas.

The army set up their anti-aircraft weaponry at this viewpiont

Pockmarked paddocks

Entertainment hall. They'd show movies on Friday nights, but there were only a few movies, so they'd just watch the same ones over and over.

These days this space is still used for community events.

Eventually the war ended, and people could come out to see the light.

But despite their complete joy that they'd won the war and the bombing had finally stopped, the whole region had been completely destroyed, and the land and forest was littered with unexploded ordnance.

About 30% of the bombs didn't explode when they hit the ground, so the whole area was a potential minefield. Many people left the region as a result. And of course, people continue to die or are injured by the UXO every day.

The US spent $2bn on its relentless bombing campaign in Laos. And that was in the 60s and 70s - in today's dollars it would be significantly more. Instead of killling innocent people, with that sort of money the US could have given every single Lao man woman and child $1000 each, propelled them out of poverty, and won their hearts and loyalty forever.

And the US public didn't even know the bombing was happening, because the US government kept it secret, as it contravened the Geneva Accords the US had signed in the 1950s. The whole operation was directed by the CIA through private contractors. Unconscionable.

Listening to the voices of local people who suffered there (on the audio tour recording) brought tears to my eyes many times.

It's incredible that humans can be so barbaric to each other, and that whole populations of people will support senseless decisions by their own leaders, or at the very least, refuse to condemn them, because they believe the fearful lies that politicians or military leaders concoct to justify the violence.

I mean, look at Gaza. According to the UN, over 30,000 people have been killed there by the Israeli armed forces since early October last year.

11,500 of the dead are children.

Another 100,000 people are injured or missing.

Right before our eyes.

How can anyone justify such a disproportionate response against innocent Palestinian civilians to Hamas' barbaric brutality against innocent Israelis?

And, btw, criticising the actions of Israeli military or political leaders has absolutely nothing to do with anti-Semitism. But it's a well used justification by Israeli leaders and right wing commentators to attempt to shut up their critics.

Anti-Semitism is criticising Jewry, the Jewish people as a whole, or their belief systems. That's absolutely not what I'm doing here. I love Jews.

I love Muslims.

I love everyone.

Violence never has, and never will be, sustainable.

Leaving Laos (Again)

And so, the road has taken me to the Vietnamese border.

It was a beautiful ride today. It was cold and foggy. And very hilly, as usual.

But the scenery's different here. It's greener, and the karst makes it more pretty.

Acting like a local

The sign says a 12% slope, which doesn't seem like much to a non-cyclist, but it is. And this road was nowhere near as steep as some of the others I've ridden up lately, so I shudder to think what their gradients were. My legs certainly shuddered going up them.

Last glimpses of this beautiful beautiful country.

For now at least.

The border at Namsoi was the quietest border I've ever crossed. In fact it was so quiet that when I arrived there was absolutely no one there.

I could have ridden straight across.

But that would've been dumb, as I wouldn't have an exit stamp.

So I waited, and eventually after an hour everyone returned from their lunch break.

I said goodbye and left Laos, rode across no woman's land, and then suddenly I was in the Socialist Republic of Vietnam. The Vietnamese passport offical, who didn't speak a word of English, showed me a printed piece of paper that said "PASSPORT STAMPING FEE 50,000 Kip."

I said, "no, no fee." I knew it was a scam. I'd already paid for my Vietnamese visa online, and knew that remote border officials often try to make extra cash on the side. But I didn't wanna encourage that.

Eventually he just gave me my stamped passport back for free, as if it all hadn't happened.

It's been an incredible trip through northern Laos over the past three weeks. It's also actually been the most remote and hardest cycling of my whole trip so far. And, of course, it's been really incredible because of it.

Laos is a stunningly beautiful country, full of warm and culturally rich people. But unfortunately many are struggling, and not just the 62% of the population who live in rural areas and lead a very basic subsistence existence. People in the towns and small cities have also been hit hard by the economic downturn, wages are low, and prices have skyrocketed. The government has little money for services, and is trapped in debt.

But the people are gentle, respectful, warm and genuine, and generous, despite their struggles. I've met some beautiful people in the country, and made new friends.

And now I've had to say yet another goodbye.

Back In Vietnam

Yeah, suddenly  I'm in Vietnam, in a tiny run-down messy little village called Na Meo, right on the border. It's a real híck border settlement, lots of poor people, lots of mess, lots of dogs.

The people are somewhat guarded, but eventually become friendly.

I found a grand old hotel that's seen much better days, and looks way better than it is. It's rundown and dirty, sorta like the town.

But I'm ok with that. Well, I should say, I'm fine with that because I'm just used to it.

I couldn't find much food, but did find this, and some bánh mì. Fresh and delicious.

Downvillage

Seed drying

And from tomorrow, and over the next few days, I'll keep riding through these beautiful steep hills and will eventually hit the great plains of the Red River Delta.

Yes, Insha'allah, my next major destination is the amazing Cực Phương National Park, and then the stunning karst scenery around Tam Cốc.

And after that, well, to the big smoke I guess, to the amazing historic capital city of Hanoi. And I've gotta tell ya, I'm so looking forward to some new, diverse and delectable food options, to real coffee, and maybe to a pain au chocolat.

Or six❤️

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