River Kwai bridge

I know there's quite a few posts missing from Cambodia to here in Bangkok, but I had to write this up while it was fresh in my head :)

1500 Baht for a tourist coach to Kanchanaburi (with free lunch)?! Who would get a coach to go and see the bridge over the river Kwai when you can get a train along the actual "death railway" for 120 Baht. The train in question actually goes to the Sai Yok Nei waterfalls at Nam Tok but handily stops at the Kwai bridge en-route. I found this bit of information thanks to the train-tastic Mark Smith over at the ever-informative Seat61.com. As I was one of three farangs amongst two-hundered Thai's I can vouch that it's still a mystery to Westerners. One train departs Hua Lamphong station every Saturday and Sunday morning at 6:30am and another at 13:00. I didn't pre-book and the train was 90% full so maybe out of wet season you might need to.

Not many people got on the train at Hua Lamphong and we set off; a slow winding clik-clak through Bangkok; picking up more and more people at stops along the way for about an hour. Food and drink people jump on the train at every stop. I munch some rice with a fried egg and chicken bits (and a fishy sauce) while shuffle on my mp3 player fittingly plays this. The train squeezes past tiny corrugated metal houses and crosses canals containing a mysterious misty blue water which delights the nostrils but people are fishing and I can see occasional ripples and bubbles so the pollution can't be that bad? Before long the train is picking up speed and the colour outside is no longer concrete and misty-blue but GREEN. Green like you've never see before; a million shades of green! Maybe I've been in Bangkok too long because it's striking; everything is covered! Cotton farms, corn farms, rice farms, hemp farms (I've never seen so many cannabis plants) and trees of every description; bushes everywhere and ivy climbing up anything that's not normally green; it looks like the electricity poles are fighting a losing battle.

Greenery

I'm not sure what you might call him; I hate to say ticket master or guard, or entertainment, though he seems to be all of these things. His name (I hope I have this written correctly as he wrote it down on a bouncy train!) is Rucha Mitrisu and he's the man. I couldn't get an exact gist but he was obviously talking about the atrocities that happened building the railway but also doing quizzes and getting everyone to sing (traditional songs according to the nice lady next to me) and clap; and all through a megaphone! I'm not sure if he works this route every weekend, or even if this is part of his job description but he certainly seems to enjoy it.

Rucha

We stop at a little station where Bangkok studios are filming inside an old army train. There's huge cameras and lights and dry ice coming from inside. As we pull away three western actors dressed in khaki coloured uniforms emerge from the carriage and wave at our train. Now this is most likely my imagination and severely unlikely but the one actor looked exactly like Jake Gyllenhaal. (I shall say it was when recounting the story to friends)

Jake?

We arrive at the Kwai bridge (which isn't actually over the Kwai) around 10:20am and everyone disembarks. On and around the bridge are hundreds of people, café's and souvenir shops; big business.  Rucha says to me "40 minute". Once I'd taken some pictures up and down the bridge and grabbed a coffee I hear the train whistle. Looking at the watch it's 10:40am. The penny drops and I dart back to the train. The whistle blows again, everyone moves off the bridge and we slowly edge on. It creaks loudly and is just wide enough to take the train.

A little further along the line we head upwards, and along a steep ridge to another bridge near Thamkase; this one is a little more breathtaking; again creaking and whining under the weight of the train. Sit on the left side and you'll get the best views down to the river then the hills with giant Buddha's and temples perched. Around noon we stop, then reverse, then stop abruptly with a huge shunt. I guess that we picked up some more carriages.

We arrive at Nam Tok at 12:30pm and everyone else hops into the back of the free trucks to take them up to the waterfall. I've spent a lot of time around waterfalls since travelling so decide to pass on this one and lap up some peace in this tiny village. I have some spicy soup and a pineapple shake then write a postcard to the folks, and another to my old workplace.

Spicy shrimp soup

The train leaves promptly at 14:30 and we clatter back down the line. On the way up I speak to a fellow photographer (and journalist) from the free (ad-based) Thai tourist guide "Tourism Unbound". He's writing a piece on the train tour to the waterfall and decides, as a bonus, he would like to interview me. He brings me a bunch of ngor (rambutan) still attached to their stalks (it's Thai tradition to give gifts to a stranger on first meeting). He writes down some questions for me to answer but the train is so bouncy it's impossibly to write anything coherent! I ask him to email me the questions later and I'll send them straight back before he hands it in next Wednesday. Maybe I'll be a famous farang :)

Aun doing his photographers pose

The rest of the journey back sleepy and a little rainy. We clack past the corrugated shacks in the dark but they're now all lit up allowing a glimpse inside. Lots of smiling faces, delicious looking food, hammocks and sofas and cats and dogs lolling about; but still corrugated houses. I look up over them and can see the Prince Palace glowing; a huge posh looking apartment block. Quite a contrast. We arrive back to Hua Luamphong station at 20:00. I say goodbye to the lovely Aun and wife and head back to the guesthouse to wait for my interview questions.

Pakse, Laos

Not quite getting enough money out before getting onto the island (there's no ATM here) I'd completely run out and Talitha had just enough to buy us both a small breakfast and one tea bag (which we shared). I dashed to the ATM as soon as we hit the mainland and bought an impressive array of drinks, crisps and nuts to munch en-route to Pakse. There's a little confusion as to who's going in which minibus but eventually we get a seat. On the move we begin to demolish the feast but at the end of the road we're ushered out, into another minibus. Very odd. I don't know the reason. Into the older new bus and we're moving again; at least until the minibus gets a puncture thirty minutes later.

Arriving at Pakse at 3pm we head straight for a lonely planet recommendation as it's raining heavily and we just want to ditch the bags and shower. Talitha isn't staying in Pakse; she's catching a bus north to Vang Vieng that evening for some tube pumping Mekong action. The Sabaidy 2 guest house has the hallmarks of a Lonely Planet approval: unhelpful staff and higher prices. They were very off about Talitha putting her bag in my room for a few hours, and also wanted to charge her for using the shower (she managed to ninja one). Pakse is a large town with a friendly feel, nested between the mountains. There's a large Chinese and Vietnamese population here and everyone (it seems) drives expensive 4x4's. For tourists it's mainly a base for motorbike adventures to the Bolaven plateau and the coffee plantations; this was my plan for the next four days. We walk to a temple then to a large bridge over a big tributary of the Mekong, where there's a beautiful (derelict) French colonial mansion (for sale) on the other side; it looks fantastic - I want it!

After that we stroll back and grab some tasty Asian food in a western style coffee shop then sup a warm beer in the guest house garden while a thunderstorm rages overhead; the fish in a giant tank love it! Once the rain dies a little we hail a motorbike and sidecar tuk-tuk to the bus station. We hang about in the station for around an hour (a cat finds me) then, realising the lack of people about, and hearing various stories of the Pakse to Vientiane route, we start to worry about someone trying to take advantage on the sleeping bus. At the last minute someone that was on the bus with us before turns up and all is good! I wave goodbye and decide to walk the 5km back to the hostel, as it's now a beautiful night.

Next day I cheerily exit the unwelcoming guest house and head to Miss Noy's motorbike shop on the high street. I hire a bike for four days at the cost of 50,000 kip per day. Fitted with the usual sweaty undersized helmet (I have a large skull). I scoot off on my semi-automatic Honda Wave, rucksack and all, ready for a great adventure, quickly nipping into a market and buying some pure white shakin' Stevens canvas pumps. The road to the plateau is long and climbs steadily upwards; it takes me a few attempts to find the correct road as the map is vague. Before long I'm straight into the damp clouds and I can only see about 20m in front. It's cold and wet; I pop on the jumper and raincoat and continue, hoping to break out of the clouds, but at this point I'm pretty much on the plateau, and no break happens. For the sake of having a bike for the day I stubbornly press on for about 200km. Occasional breaks in the cloud give me a beautiful view of the coffee plantations and peaks in the distance. People in little towns and muddy villages wave as I cruise past.

Cold and wet I seek sanctuary in a temple

See what?

Stuck clouds

Numb bum, RSI stricken throttle hand, back aching from the rucksack, soaked and cold through I eventually give in and turn back, heading north-west to a guest house I'd previously researched. Within 5km of the guest house I come upon a large gathering of people just outside a village. I get closer to see a collapsed bridge, completely split broken in two and in the river!

Fuck!

Asking about there doesn't seem to be a way around this. I have to go almost back to Pakse to get around then back up to the guest house. I start to think this was never meant to be and, as it's getting dusky, decide I may as well just go back and stray in Pakse. The clouds had lifted a little by this point and I could get some nice speed (as much as you can from a 125) from the bike. As soon as I hit the main road from the plateau I'm out of the cloud layer and it gets immediately warm. Back in Pakse the weather seems beautiful as I limp into town! I take the bike back and the explain what happened to the bike lady; the bridge story being overheard by some tourists who decide that maybe they won't hire a bike after all. The lady gives me three days cash back and I pay an extra 10,000 kip (it's 60,000 for one day). I explain that if the weather's good I'll attempt it again tomorrow.

I stay in a cheap and characterful place with flowers in bombs in reception and photographs of former Laos leaders meeting with Ho Chi Minh - I wish I'd noted the name. Unfortunately I woke up the next day to the same view of clouds on the mountains and decide it's probably going to be the same, so I grab a fantastic Tom Yum (to get me in the mood for Thailand) at a stall then get the overnight bus out that evening at 19:30.

Cloudy mountains - meh

Tom VERY Yum