It's torrentially downpouring. The mud is so thick, I can barely ride. Let alone see. By the fourth motorbike crash, I'm really debating whether I should turn back. Or just pull over and wait out the rain. The bike is starting to make weird noises and is visibly injured. And that says nothing about my arms and legs, which are bleeding, but it's hard to tell due to the rain and mud.
***
Following a day of tubing down of the Nam Song river, all my friends are nursing heavy hangovers so they grab comfy seats at a local restaurant, order copious amounts of eggs and baguettes and stare up at the TV which never turns off Friends. I'm feeling fine and decide to check out Vang Vieng's famed caves. The weather is beautiful so I rent a motorbike and head off on my own, map in hand.
Forget eggs and bread. I make a quick pit stop at a local market a few minutes outside town to enjoy a breakfast of champions -- slow-cooked rotisserie pork loin - hacked to pieces with a cleaver. It's quite toothsome, both moist and sweet. Alongside I have steamed bok choy, and tom som and sticky rice. Dessert is pork jerky covered in sesame seeds that's red in color and dipped in honey. There are about seven pieces to the order, which are wrapped around a small circular bamboo ring. I assume one could wear this bracelet throughout the day and take a bite of the jerky whenever hunger pangs set in. It serves a dual purpose: A highly-fashionable accessory calling to mind a sun (yet made out of animal protein) and a delicious snack.
The roads are pleasant at first, paved and straightforward. And the caves are no more than thirty minutes outside of town, so it should be a relaxing journey. However, as I leave the center of town, the route quickly changes to rough roads laden with 1ft-deep potholes and huge rocks scattered everywhere. Navigating the holes and rocks is truly testing my driving skills and I try my best to weave throughout the danger zones. But this is just the appetizer.
As I bike further, I see dark gray clouds forming up ahead. Right as the rain begins to drizzle down the rocky road ends and in its stead are thick dirt paths that certainly do not fall under the definition of "road." A couple minutes later and the drizzle has transformed into a heavy storm, turning the already difficult dirt paths into thick mud pits. The day's activity quickly changes from a leisurely motorbike cruise into a test of survival. Especially considering there's barely anyone else nearby. Despite going slow, I wipe out roughly five times, the rocks hidden under the mud connecting with my arms and legs. During some of the crashes, I feel the bike rushing towards me, engine still revving and smoking, and I roll out of the way as not to break a bone. Each time I try to get back on the bike proves more and more challenging, as the mud is now up to my calves and I have absolutely no traction or stability. The bike can barely traverse the muddy path and at times I try to walk alongside it, despite the fact that I slip with every step.
At one point, the motorbike gets half submerged in a muddy hill. I try to get it out but fail miserably as I can't push the bike up a hill of slippery wet mud. Every attempt just sinks me further into the ground, risking the same fate as the bike. With no one nearby, I sprint a quarter mile away and flag down a local (after roughly a dozen don't stop) to help me pull the bike out of what's become quicksand.
The reward is worth the treacherous journey when I finally make it to the caves, despite a bit of lost blood in my arms and legs. Although Vang Vieng is packed with tourists, all anyone wants to do is innertube or watch Must See TV from 1996, so I'm all alone at the caves. I meet a friendly family at the entrance of Phu Kham cave that is collecting admission and lives right nearby. They're seeking shelter until a small thatched hut and their demeanor could not be happier despite the rough conditions. I expect the patriarch to take me through the caves, but he graciously offers his daughter, eight-year old Dada, who is proudly introduced as "the best cave tour guide!" Father could not be more pleased to let his daughter wander through a dark, dangerous cavern for two hours with some sweaty, bloodied, muddy stranger. If I remember correctly, when I was eight, my father wouldn't let me go into a toy store alone.
It's a ten minute hike to get to Phu Kham cave and Dada is flying. I trail behind, admiring the scenery. The rain, dark clouds, and mist give the area a distinctly ominous feeling, especially as we pass through rows of what appear to be ten foot tall corn fields. We arrive at the cave entrance and Dada passes me a large clumsy black headlamp that barely fits on my head (should've remembered to bring mine). The light barely works and electrical wires stick out and touch my ears and forehead. Note to self: Get out of the rain as fast as possible.
 |
| As I'm starting to resemble a cave man, I guess this is fitting |
The cave is pitch dark inside, but the lamp helps illuminate the shimmering brown and white stalactites. Dada moves throughout the cave like a ballerina, while I slip and stumble behind. She may as well be walking around her living room. Her English is poor but she manages to point to slippery surfaces and low-hanging rocks, announcing "slippery" and "watch your head" after I'm already on the ground or bruised. Throughout the cave, she points to fresh water streams and the smoothing effects it has on the stalactites. She locates several Buddha statues carved into the caves and adds a soundtrack to our journey by playing music on the low hanging stalactites. We traverse through narrow paths and rivers, which open up to spacious caverns with booming echoes.
Outside the cave is one of Vang Vieng's Blue Lagoons and I take a dip in the refreshingly cold water, hoping the rain doesn't give way to lightning. The second I depart the cyan blue waters Dada starts asking for a tip. Her spelunking skills are only rivaled by her hustling as she is a fierce negotiator and certainly has a long career ahead of her as a CEO.
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