This was our last weekend in Thailand and our final organized tour. April, a dear friend, gave some money with the instructions to use it for something wild and crazy. This was it, and it made for an unforgettable final hurrah to the trip. An eleven passenger minivan picked us up from the guest house at 9:30 for a cozy 30 min drive to our first destination. The passengers consisted of a couple from France, two from Romania, a girl from Russia, a girl from South Korea, two other Asians and the two of us.
Our first stop turned out to be one we weren't expecting, yet it was quite a pleasant surprise. It was a butterfly and orchid farm. There weren't many butterflies visible, perhaps they were cocooning or whatever butterflies do, but there were plenty of orchids. Hundreds of orchids; Thousands of orchids! There were so many sizes, shapes, colors and smells that we quickly hit overload and headed back to the bus. It was something you couldn't experience properly in 'turdy minit'.
Back on the bus we started our journey towards the jungle. The trip began like our previous excursions, speeding down highways and racing through small towns and villages. The drive was a blur of road side vendors, small farms and pictures of the king (King Ping!). We watched with amazement as the landscape changed drastically. Mountains grew out of the fields and the highway narrowed to a single pothole infested dirt road that often required the driver to beep his horn before taking the blind curves. Thick gnarled trees lined the paths, and forests of banana trees, papayas and bamboo wove through the countryside in Jurassic proportions encompassing the numerous dwellings of local farmers. The ascent continued up the narrow path with the edge of the road invisible at times from inside the van. The only comfort was the thick lush valley below should the vehicle lose its grip. The terrain changed again as we crossed the peak of the mountain and began our descent. Fields of corn and sunflowers sprang up as did rural villages. People here resembled Peruvians with their darker skin and funny hats. We passed open-air classrooms and groves of trees with 'Monk' orange cloths tied around them, not sure why, but we wondered if it had something to do with the many temples in the area.
Elephants emerged along the edge of a river, rumbling though the picturesque valley hauling passengers. We unloaded at an elephant camp but were detoured to the river where we were handed life preservers and paddles. An elderly man proceeded in broken English to give us a crash course in white water rafting. The key words to remember from the speech were 'forwar' and 'bacwar'. He invited several into the raft with him to help demonstrate the techniques. We were shown to shove our ankles under the front of the raft to help anchor ourselves and then row according to the captain’s directions. The Russian girl was obviously excited, her teeth shining through her enormous smile. The girl from the Ukraine was the exact opposite. She scowled and moaned agonizingly with each yell of 'forwar' and 'bacwar'.
We divided into two large rubber rafts, each with our own captain, and the race was on. The river immediately broke into a wild vortex of rocks and raging water, pulsing the bottom and sides of the raft like a homemade smoothie recipe compliments of Mother Nature. We paddled furiously to keep the raft upright. The Ukrainian girl not only made it in our raft but was seated in the front. She seemed particularly troubled but still managed to do a little paddling between the barked orders. We later found out that she had gotten a fresh ankle tattoo the night before and it was still very sore.
The water levels are low this time of the year, so the rapids subsided rather quickly. The majority of the time we floated calmly admiring the beauty of the valley. We passed many bamboo buildings and crudely fashioned homes alongside the river. Some had only partial walls; all were small and sparsely furnished with tables and cooking areas and mats for bedding. Our captain mentioned that he lived in one of them. I hoped it was the one we saw that had a satellite dish on the top. As we neared the end of our float trip we passed some local kids playing in the water. They called to our captain and then over they came splashing and laughing, clinging onto the side of our raft and some crawling in. We were one happy group of rafters and one particularly happy Ukrainian as we disembarked onto dry land.
A short van ride down the river took us to another elephant camp. Our first view of it was like watching a scene unfold on a movie screen. The river separated the parking area from the elephants, and a long rickety swinging bridge joined the two sides. Across the river there were several wooden towers with stairways which allowed passengers to easily mount the elephants. Little Thai people were scurrying between the mammoth beasts, hauling large bushels of sugarcane and hay on their backs and gathering elephant dung which they stacked into piles and set on fire. The rising smoke encased the camp in swirling white columns painting the entire scene in a surreal mist.
The bridge turned out to be more of a challenge than it first appeared. Rusty wire cables were supporting it, and new boards had been recently laid across the gaping holes left by the deteriorating older boards.
We successfully crossed the river and climbed onto one of the loading towers. Each elephant had their own trainer, which was consistently a very short and thin man that rode either right behind the creature's head or directly on top of it. A lady was on the platform selling bags of small bananas and sugar cane to feed the elephants, and of course we purchased some. The elephants wore saddles with baskets made to seat two people. We climbed on board, and the elephant began lumbering slowly down a well beaten path along the river bank. The path was full of large potholes which every elephant managed to miraculously avoid and still keep perfect cadence. The trail wound around deep curves and at times became very steep, which at one point proved to be very challenging for us to hold on and not slide out of the seat onto the neck of the animal or worse, onto the ground and underfoot. The elephants were overly cautious at these areas and took them very slowly, which prolonged the amount of time we spent clinging onto the back and sides of the seats. It added both suspense and excitement to the ride.
When we reached the end of the route, we stopped at a feeding area. The boy driving our elephant jumped onto a nearby platform, and right on cue the elephant curled his large trunk over his head toward us and exposed his two nostrils, which looked like large round eyes staring at us from the end of his trunk. We opened the bag of treats and placed one onto the end of his trunk. With the fruit firmly secured, the trunk swung back over his head and made its way directly into his mouth. The large appendage repeated the maneuver and again was staring at us from over his head. We also repeated our actions until the treats were depleted. The boy jumped back on his head, spoke a few words to the elephant in Thai, and in perfect obedience the elephant turned and lumbered down toward the river.
At an ideal spot where a steep incline made for an easy exit from the beast, the boy stepped off onto the bank and motioned for one of us to scoot out of the seat and take over driving. Once seated behind the elephant's neck, he pressed his leathery ears back to secure the legs of the new driver, and off he trekked towards the river. The bank was extremely steep and the elephant let out an uncomfortable growl as it maneuvered the near 45° angle descent. We could sympathize, for it was all we could do to hang on for dear life - one of us on the elephant's neck and the other desperately clinging to the seat which was thankfully strapped on securely. Once in the river, we rocked along like a fully loaded barge trudging steadily upstream. We made our way back to the loading platforms and disembarked. We gave our new friend some gentle rubs and pats and headed back across the bridge to our waiting lunch buffet.
After our meal, the group headed back to the river where we climbed onto rafts. These were not like the first inflatable ones, these were made of bamboo. Each raft was about 8' x 15' and flat, except for the natural curves in the bamboo poles. We sat on small wooden benches and enjoyed the calm and serene float down the gently flowing river. The craft was piloted by a young boy who stood on the back of the raft and steered us along using a single bamboo pole. We passed by small farms and hut homes along the banks, and watched locals herding their animals along the river paths. The afternoon was perfect, sunny and warm, but not too hot. We relaxed to the sounds of the gently swishing water and the playful calls of birds.
Back on shore we were taken to be suited up with harnesses and helmets. We crossed the familiar swinging bridge again and reentered the elephant area. The elephants' saddles were now removed as their work for the day was completed. Some elephants were at the river where their keepers bathed and played with them in the water. Others roamed unfettered on the hillsides and banks of the camp, free to wander and eat from the bundles of sugar cane, hay and other freshly cut vegetation. We were able to interact with them differently now, and it was refreshing to see them free and well cared for. We petted and fed corn to a baby standing in the shadow of its mother, and after a quick pose or two for some pictures we headed up the mountain to the zip lines.
The climb was short but steep and soon we reached the ladder to our first platform. It was only about 10 feet off the ground and supported by a thick and sturdy tree trunk. Our two caretakers for this adventure were Mike, who spoke fluent English, and Banc, who spoke no English, but was very good at pointing and laughing at our silly actions. We were given a brief demonstration of how things worked and quickly found ourselves flying from the first platform to the next, which was probably a good 30 feet from the ground.
After our first successful flight, we repeated the process another 18 times, each one gaining distance and height till we were well over 150 feet in the air and soaring such great expanses it was hard to make out the platform at the other end. Mike was an expert at keeping us calm and making us feel safe. Always full of good spirits and silly antics, he was able to keep us somewhat distracted from our moments of complete terror and abandonment as we whooshed alone along thin cables at deadly heights and breakneck speeds. A young elephant was wandering the hillside between a couple of the platforms pulling up fresh vegetation, completely unmoved by the two panic stricken white guys flailing out of control far overhead. We zipped over the river twice and saw groups of people paddling by on their bamboo rafts, and soon ended up back at the elephant camp. It was an amazing experience, and one that won't soon be forgotten although not likely soon repeated.
We then drove to a multilevel waterfall to pick up the members of our group that didn't want to tackle the challenge of the zip line. The waterfall was not large but quite beautiful as it cascaded through lush vegetation and past bamboo huts.
The final stop for the day was a visit to the Longneck people. The Longnecks are from the Karen tribe, and live in remote villages in huts made of crude bamboo and straw with no apparent modern conveniences. Their mark of fame is their women who wear long coiled brass rings around their necks which press their shoulders and collar bones down, giving them the appearance of having especially long necks. Girls start wearing the brass rings as early as 5 years old, and most will continue to wear them their whole life. Originally from Burma, the tribes migrated into Northern Thailand where they are now a prominent tourist attraction.
The village consisted of pathways lined with bamboo huts which were nothing but shops. The longneck ladies perch beside their merchandise calling tourists to come over to take a picture of them and buy a trinket or souvenir. Tourism is their primary source of income so they continue their awkward traditions. It felt uncomfortable to walk through their village and gawk at them as if walking through a zoo, and we couldn’t get back to the van fast enough.
We rode back to our guesthouse full of fond memories and experiences. The sun gracefully disappeared behind the trees heralding the end of the day, and shadows grew long on the open rice fields. This seemed to have a symbolic significance as we were ending our long adventure in Thailand. Our remaining time would be spent in preparation for returning home, but our hearts and minds had been forever changed.
