January 21, 2015
Meeting a great many other cyclists: I thought Alan was the only one
As well as being called the 'Jewell of the Mekong', Khone Phapheng waterfalls are also known as the 'Niagara of the East', although if you are ever in the almost inconceivable position of having to choose between visiting either the 'Niagara of the East' or the 'Niagara of the West' I suggest that you choose the one in North America, because it's free. The 55,000 kip entrance fee here I considered somewhat exorbitant, but I wanted to see the waterfalls and so I got up very early to see them in the early morning light before all the tourists arrived. These were, I assure you most honestly, my primary motivating reasons for getting up so early. The fact that there was nobody manning the ticket booth at 6.30am a mere coincidental bonus.
The waterfalls were very impressive, and I could forgive the French for not daring to take their steamers up through this section either, given the ferocity with which the white water crashed down over the rocks. And it was especially nice to have the view from the lookout platform all to myself. Well it was until a lady came along on a motorcycle with a roll of tickets and insist I buy one. They always get you in the end.
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After spending an hour at the waterfall I cycled back to the main road and stopped again at the restaurant to see my good friend Dare. He was such a lovely and humourous fellow, and our conversations were as stop-start as they had been the night before. I'd just about figured out that he was 36-years-old, and lived here with his wife and three children, when I thought that he told me that he worked at the waterfall.
"You work at the waterfall?"
"No, it's two kilometres. Too far to walk."
"No, I said work. Job. Did you say you work at the waterfall?"
"No. I work here. Cooking. In the kitchen."
"Ok, I thought you said something about working at the waterfall."
"My wife work at waterfall" he said, pointing at his wife, who was clearly cooking in the kitchen.
Just then I saw another solo cycle tourist coming from the north. Always excited to meet another of my brethren, I went out to the side of the road to greet him. I smiled and said hello, and indicated to him to stop. He was a middle-aged man with a bandana and he looked over at me and saw my bike, and, without hardly slowing down, pointed ahead and shouted "are you going this way?" As I was now going to head back north I replied "no, the other way." The cyclist then dismissed me with a rude palming away of his hand, apparently annoyed with me for wasting his time, and turned to continue onwards towards Cambodia.
I sat back down with Dare, feeling a little rejected. Surely this was the rudest cycle tourist that I had ever (almost) met. Then two minutes later the old French couple that I'd met briefly the night before came back cycling to go to the waterfall. I didn't get up this time, just waved. They saw me and waved back, but didn't stop. Ah, what are you going to do? I didn't need any cyclist friends, I had Alan didn't I, and now Dare too. Speaking of whom, Dare had run off to get something, and you'll never guess what he came back with. A little pink notebook. And then blow me down if he didn't just sit down and start writing his accounts in it. And I thought Alan was a one-of-a-kind! Clearly not. Dare wrote down some things in Lao, with figures of 8,000 kip, 11,000, 8,000 after them. Then on the fourth line he wrote down 'Beer Lao' which, thanks to its overriding presence everywhere, is pretty much the only thing that I can read in Lao. Next to that he wrote down 93,000. Well, we all have our weaknesses.
Speaking of pink-notebook-accountants Alan wasn't too pleased about the expense of the waterfall and said I'd been spending far too much money lately. I thought it a bad time to bring up the subject of my shoes.
Five kilometres after leaving Dare I met yet more cycle tourists heading south, this time a Dutch couple that did stop to have a little chat. I was beginning to think maybe that rude guy I'd seen in the morning was just sick of seeing so many other bloody cyclists that he couldn't wait to get to Cambodia. This thought gathered more momentum in the afternoon when I met a French couple traveling around the world on recumbents. Making up for Mr Misery Guts, Anne-Marie and Patrick were really lovely to spend a few minutes talking with. As we were stopped at the side of the road having a chin-wag, two more cyclists came along. "Oh no, these aren't nice ones either" Patrick said, and sure enough they cycled straight past without stopping. "We've seen them before, they did exactly the same thing."
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The number of touring cyclists spotted for the day stood at a possible record of nine as I folowed the #13 highway north back towards Pakse. It was a flat and generally unremarkable road, although the number of friendly greetings from the locals remained surprisingly high. The next day I met yet another cycle tourist, and this one did stop to talk. Keith, from the north of England, has a blog on the popular cycle touring website 'Crazy Guy On A Bike' and it can be found by clicking on this link just here - South East Asia. I very much enjoyed meeting Keith, a 70-year-old who still escapes the British winter each year to do a long bike tour. "I'm thinking of doing a long trip like yours," he said enthusiastically, "you know, from England to here." That's not the kind of plans most septuagenarians make. He was an inspiring chap.
I guess this bike touring lark attracts all sorts, doesn't it?
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21/01/15 - 93km
22/01/15 - 62km
Today's ride: 155 km (96 miles)
Total: 36,166 km (22,459 miles)
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