First night camping January 9
I found a decent spot under some tress by a beautiful river. After getting my hammock and mozzie net setup, I went for a dip in the river to see a beautiful sunset beneath a crescent moon. I can hear birdcalls everywhere around me.
This is the first time in a while I’ve felt like I was in the tropics. Where it’s been logged, or farmed, it’s so dry. I left ATtapeu today for Pakse, via Route 18, Sanamxay, and Champasak. The last bit of road today, after I left Sanamxay, wound it’s way through uncut forest and was gorgeous! How I’d love to have seen Laos before it was logged.
The last village I cam through was amazing. It had tall trees all aroung, including some palm trees, and all the houses were on high stilts, made out of weathered wooden planking. Like something out of a movie. Of course, just then is when my camera decides to act up. Always the way.
I’m writing by campfire light, as I got dodgy Chinese batteries again for my flashlight, which aren’t worth a damn. I’m down to my last pair, and the first pair lasted about five minutes. Writing by the fire’s a bit frustrating because I keep having to feed it, and it’s making me sweat my balls off.
Dinner was sticky rice, buffalo jerky, tomatos and carrots. Mmmmmm!
I reached the river at 4:30 today, and saw immediately that there was no bridge. There were a few boats around, but none that seemed too interested in taking me across. I saw one ferry/barge type deal, made from two canoes lashed together with a wooden platform in between, but no one was near it.
I finally asked a guy who was cast net fishing if there was a boat that could take me across the river. He said there was, adn yelled something in the direction of the village. “Kroi Ma” he said - my mother.
Soon a woman about 40 or so dressed in a traditional Laos skirt came down, uncerimoniously led me over to the ferry/barge, and helped me get my bike on board. Then she hopped in the water and walked across the river, pushing the boat. I felt pretty silly, perched up there with my bike. The river looked a lot deeper from the bank. (The boats going up and down and across it didn’t help)
I got a puncture in Sanamxay. I found the local mechanic/bicycle repairman, asleep in a hammock next to his shed. After rousing him, he immediately set to work. When he finished with the puncture, I took a risk and asked if he could retrue my rear wheel.
Once he pulled out a jerry-rigged truing stand, it was pretty clear he’d done it before, and I sarted feeling a lot better. The truing tram was mage from an old bicycle front fork, nailed to a block of wood acting as a base.
He got going and almost immediately found a broken spoke that had somehow been hiding. He went to replace it, and before I know, he’s got a hammer and chisel and is hanging on the sprokect set.
Eeek! I sort of half stiffled a scream. Surely that’s not necessary. But then I figure out he was only using it to help unscrew a tricky plate which real bike shops have a tool for. Ok.
But then my heat is back in my throat, my mouth hanging open, making sort of a “Gaaa….” noise as he lays down a grimy piece of cloth and proceeds to dump umpteen zillion ball bearings and tiny little parts, along with the outer half of my sprockets.
Then, as if I haven’t had enough trauma, he starts pounding with the hammer agaim. It’s all I can do to sit on my hands and try to remind myself he knows what he’s doing and that he does this all the time. More banging, a spoke replacement, and an expert truing job.
Now to put it all back together.
The first time he puts it back together, with a dallop of grease in the bearings, instead of freewheeling, just sort makes this sickening gritty noise. No “clickclickclick”. Through liberal use of sound effects I explain that it’s supposed to “clickclickclick” not “grindgrindgrind” and am well supported by the growing crowd, who have all coincidentally chosen this exact moment to bring their bikes to the shop. (AT the high point, there must have been five bikes in various states of assembly, the owners borrowing the necessary tools and doing the work themselves).
Convinced, he took it all apart again, hacksawed a bit off (turning me into a gibbering mess) - turns out he was fixing a bit mshaped from all the hammering - and finally got it back togheter and going “clickclickclick”.
We got everything put back together and one of the guys standing around gave it a test ride, as he couldn’t believe how high the seat was (a comment I get almost daily). AFter tottering around in a circle, barely able to reach the pedals, I had to give it a go, to show them I could actually ride it comfortably.
Still sick with chect gunk and nose gunk that’s gradually turning colors. I’m ignoring it until I get to Pakxe.
Just before I stopped for the night, the road turned into a one track path. It will be itneresting to see what tomorrow brings.