As we had got so tired with the long hot days in the hills in Northern Laos we had decided that from now on we would take it easy and do around 60 km a day.  So it was ironic really that the first day after deciding this would turn out to be one of our longest while touring, at 114 km.  Not sure what happened there.   Perhaps because it was so flat and we got to 60 km so early.

Anyway, we took a back road from Thakhek towards Savannakhet, that followed the Mekong and went through an assortment of villages.  It seemed that every household was sweeping up in front of their house then burning the sweepings beside the road causing a horrible smoggy fug, particularly when there was plastic waste involved.

We also passed at least one Wat per village and the monks were out with their bowls, and the local women, beautifully dressed, were out in force with gold or silver coloured bowls full of sticky rice.  We could hear a monk talking over a loud speaker in some villages and in others the women were kneeling by the roadside while a monk talked to them.

Our perfect road surface soon disappeared as we caught up with the crew doing the resurfacing,  so we had sections of deep gravel, scraped surface and bumpy surface, finishing with nicely rolled surface.

As we got further from Thakhek the plastic waste that covers the verges here eventually  disappeared.  There was a lot of horticulture with salad being grown and agriculture with maize, sugar cane and rice being grown.

After lunch we had a hard 10 km with a combination of it getting undulating and a strong head wind,  but a sharp right turn soon had us speeding into  Savannakhet with a strong tail wind.

We decided that we didn’t want to spend four days cycling the highway to Pakse, so we would hop on a bus the next morning.   It would be the first time we have ever done that on tour so we will see how it goes!

We got on a  bus from Savannakhet to Pakse.  After that experience I can’t understand why anyone would want to travel long distances by  bus and I  take my hat off to backpackers!  After 6 hours in the bus I was more tired than if we had cycled there.  But it had it’s amusing moments, and, on the plus side we actually arrived, well,  just not where we thought we would arrive, but you can’t have everything!

My favourite moment of the trip was when an ancient and very bent old lady got on at a rural stop.  Almost every square inch of the bus floor was already covered in full rice sacks which she nimbly hopped over to find a seat.  So the conductor looked around for somewhere to put her box and the only place was under my feet.  I kept a careful eye on my charge but obviously wasn’t paying enough attention.  The French man in front suddenly awoke with a startled cry as a two inch wide crab was climbing up his arm.  I rescued it and put it back with the rest of my charges, all of whom made breaks for freedom during the journey,  but only one actually got away.  I never was any good at babysitting.

Halfway along an orange clad Buddhist monk waved the bus down, ignored the fact that the bus was bursting at the seams, and with a cigarette in his smiling mouth, sat down under the no smoking sign on a bag of rice and puffed away contentedly.

Each time we stopped in a village lots of women and children forced their way between all the full seats, there was no aisle left, to sell barbecued chicken on sticks, bags of noodles with unidentified things added or bags of sliced fruit and bottles of cold water.  While this was happening more sacks of rice were being added to the piles on the floor.

Back to the start of the day we were meant to catch the 7 am bus, but arriving at 6 am it  was already so full of sacks, both on the roof and under the seats there was no room for our bikes.  So we were told to come back for the 9 am bus.  We retreated to the hotel for breakfast.  On returning at 8 am we found a much smaller bus, the roof was almost full but they lifted our bikes up.  Bernie had turned the handlebars sideways first.  All our luggage went inside with us.

We travelled with the door and all the windows open so it was  nice and breezy.  But when we got to Pakse after 6 hours they drove straight through the big town and stopped about 7 km the far side, it saved us cycling through the town the next day; although the only hotel out here was about level 2 grim and we struggled to find anything to eat, even the ubiquitous noodle soup.

We were off by 6 am again having had fruit for breakfast in our room.  It was delightfully cool at about 18 C.  All the usual early morning things were happening as we headed out of town and through the villages.  There was smog from all the roadside fires, and as there are a large number of Wats in this area we passed lots of groups of monks out collecting sticky rice and alms.  Where people were kneeling before them they would stop and chant.  Most of the monks we passed were quite young and to be honest they didn’t really look into their chanting that much.

We were moving at a fair old pace as it was ever so slightly downhill most of the time.  But we were feeling hungry having not had much except thin noodle soup and snacks yesterday.  So we stopped at a rural cafe, where I am sure they were making really nice noodle soup, and persuaded them through a mixture of Google and mime, to make us an omelette. This came with sticky rice and was flavoured with coriander and was just what we felt like.  Sometimes noodle soup just doesn’t hit the spot.

It was getting hot by this time, 33 C by 10.30.  We knew we were about to pass the last guesthouse for the next 60 km so we managed to make a sensible decision and stop for the day.  Only this Guesthouse was behind a derelict fuel station and looked a bit derelict itself.  We shouted for a while but couldn’t raise anyone and were just giving up and resigning ourselves to another 60 km in the heat when a small girl appeared.  She was probably 9 or 10 years old.  We asked if we could stay so she showed us a room, told us it was 100,000 kip ( about £3.50), and no, her mother was not here.  We gave her the money and moved in.

It was a nice room it just needed a good sweep out.  Again I couldn’t find anyone , but I did find a broom so gave the room a good clean, getting rid of the ants in the process.  For this small amount of money we have got a large room, lots of light, aircon and a fan, and hot water in the shower.   We will have to cycle a couple of km back up the road for food, but thought that was no problem.   As it happened it was a problem as we were in a very rural area with only a tiny hamlet  and everywhere was shut.  We eventually found somewhere that hadn’t quite shut for the evening and persuaded her to give us some noodle soup.  Feeling hungry!

It was very much a day of two halves next day.  We had a cool early cycle down the main highway towards Cambodia which was almost deserted apart from a load of small tractors and trailers full of people we assume were heading for work.  We passed very few villages and they all looked much poorer than places we had passed before.  Although the trees had been cleared here the land looked very poor and unproductive.  The road was dead straight and we were going slightly downhill most of the time so any bus that came past was moving at full speed even through villages and past loose cattle.  We couldn’t find anywhere to get breakfast so just ate some crisps we had bought last night.

Eventually after 65 km, and as the temperature was reaching 41 C we went over the bridge to Don Khon Island, one of the 4000 islands near the Cambodian border.  We were really overheating so stopped off to look around a temple.  We watched a very young monk climb up the steps to the big drum and using all his strength hammer out what must be the required rhythm.   Unfortunately one of their dogs barked very loudly at us the whole time.

From there we cycled down a rough track to the ferry which would take us to Don Som Island.  The ferry was two canoes tied together with planks of wood to make a raft catamaran, with a bench added.  One of the ferrymen rode a motorbike down the mud bank and up the plank onto the ferry for an old lady.  Her brakes weren’t too good and he nearly continued on into the river. 

Don Som Island was very different.  We didn’t see a road here.  We cycled on fine dry silt, quite deep in places and very bumpy from the buffalo walking along it.  It would have been more fun if we hadn’t been so tired and too hot.   When we went through the tiny villages on small tracks between the houses we could see everyone swinging in hammocks in the cool shade under their houses.  We eventually found a place selling cold drinks and sat in the shade for a while.   There were more houses as we went further across the island and the children got quite vocal, sometimes nicely and sometimes not. 

It was a relief to get to the next ferry and get across to Don Det Island.  It was also really different again.  A town full of restaurants and bars, and lots of tourists.  We were pleased to see the restaurants and were soon tucking in to stir fried veg and meat, with watermelon frappé.

Re-energised we crossed a narrow bridge to Don Khom Island and booked ourselves into a nice and slightly pricey hotel for 3 nights.  It was all lovely except no hot water.  Oh well, can’t have everything.  This was sorted later so no problem.

We spent a relaxing couple of days wandering round a couple of the 4000 islands

We thought we had been very clever, and rather than cycling the long way round, back up through the islands to get to the mainland, we would cycle down the island and nip across on a ferry that appeared to be marked on our map.

We went down the day before and arranged this for 6.30 the next morning with the local restaurant owner.  We duly turned up but he wanted to sell us breakfast first, so he made some money on the deal.  He then shouted loudly across the Mekong and we saw a couple of heads appear in the small canoes moored out there.  The boat owners woke themselves up and motored ashore. 

Their boats looked very insubstantial and slightly full of water.   We then had to get our bikes down there on the very steep and sandy steps the French had used in 1884 to haul their gunships up.  Eventually our bikes and luggage went in one boat and we went in the second one. 

It was quite a choppy crossing as the water rushed between the two islands and we had no life jackets.   Safely across we found our bikes already unloaded and lying on the soft dry sand.  Luckily we use belt drive and not oily chains or that would have been a big problem, although my disc brakes didn’t like it much.  Finally we managed to get the bikes and luggage up the steep sand dune and into the village, but by this time it was 9 am and already 33 C.

It took no time to arrive at the Cambodian border and we were soon  through and into Cambodia.  It was a long hard and very hot 60 km ride to Stueng Treng which was the nearest town and I was thankful to book into the first hotel we came across and lie down in an air-conditioned room.

We have loved cycling in Laos and are now looking forward to what Cambodia has to offer.