I wasn't entirely sure what to expect, coming to Pai on my own. My decision to come here was made because of a single sentence i heard from a friend in Vang Vieng. She had said, "Stay over the bamboo bridge, it's really nice".
I spent the bus journey speculating on what I might find in Pai, and eventually we rolled up outside a tourist office on a drab, uninteresting street barely visible through a thick blanket of rain. Determined to find the fabled bamboo bridge, I plodded through the rain for a long time, passing plenty of concrete bridges but no bamboo ones. Everyone I asked seemed much more interested in getting out of the rain than aiding me in my quest.
As i walked, Puddles became ponds, and ponds became oceans. I found myself making choices at crossroads based on which way i was least likely to drown. Promptly the sun abandoned me, it dipped behind the mountains and I was left half blind to everything but the silvery veil of rain around me. I didn't let my near loss of sight discourage me, failure was not an option, and eventually I found a sloping muddy road with a sign: "bamboo bridge".
This revelation had me practically skipping through the mud in jubilation, but my elated mood was ruthlessly murdered by what i found at the bottom of the slope. All that remained of the bridge were the two broken ramps on either bank, and between them was nothing but a hopeless expanse of muddy brown water. Presumably the fast flowing river had carried it away some time ago, and what made it worse was that i could see the fabled bungalows on the other side, they did indeed look "really nice".
I stood for a few minutes staring ahead with a scowl on my face as if the river had personally insulted me, before squelching back to the centre of town and checking in the first guesthouse i stumbled across. The walls were paper thin and I was not provided with a mosquito net. Normally I wouldn't really have minded about the net, but it's a necessity rather than a luxury here, because Pai is home to an abundance of the bloodsuckers worthy of a biblical plague. After smothering myself with mosquito repellent, I lay down with my book, but that comfort was short lived since the couple in the room next to me began copulating loudly almost immediately after i lay down, making it impossible to imagine what was going on in my book. They finished and I fell quickly to sleep, becoming an unconscious blood banquet for the group of insects circling menacingly overhead.
I wasn't discouraged by my train wreck of a first evening, I had faith that things would get better, and they did. Much better.
The next day the sun was high in the sky. For the first time I could see what was around me, a busy little town surrounded by farmland and spectacular mountains. It seemed to be the thing to do to rent a bike here, and so I found a rental shop and chose a sturdy looking road bike for one pound. I decided to call my steed Kevin, for no particular reason other than that he looked like a Kevin.
After aimlessly cycling around the countryside, admiring the stunning views, I met a group of people and amongst them was a tall German man with shaggy hair named Danny. I think I ought to tell his story here since he's so modestly unwilling to tell it himself. Danny has hardcore beliefs about sustainability. For example, he doesn't eat farmed meat on the grounds that every cow farmed is fed in its lifetime multiple times it's weight in grains that could be put to better use feeding the hungry. He isn't intrusive with his opinions, and gives them only when asked.
Upon meeting Danny, it would be easy to place him as a lazy hippy, but there is nothing lazy about this man. A few years ago, Danny decided to vent his convictions about the negativity of fossil fuels by kayaking the entire Danube river from it's source in his hometown in the Black Forest of Germany, to it's estuary on the Black Sea in Romania. Danny was the first man in the world to achieve this feat; the Danube is 2850km long and it snakes through 10 European countries. He reminded me of the many other unsung sporting heroes, such as the little known Martin Stel, a Slovenian who has swam the length of three of the four longest rivers in the world, including the treacherous Mississippi and the piranha infested Amazon. Possibly the most impressive thing about Danny is the humility he shows in his reluctance to publicise his achievement, saying that he did it exclusively for the challenge, and he has now hiked alone over Everest, although he didn't journey to it's peak.
I was inspired. The weather for the next day was forecast at being clear skies and 37 degrees Celsius. I planned out an ambitious bike ride through the surrounding valleys, and my steed, Kevin, and I were up for the challenge. The next day the heat was truly oppressive. It might easily have been hotter than 37, not only could an egg be fried on the tarmac, I'm pretty sure I could have boiled iron on it. Kevin looked on earnestly as I packed a bag of provisions: my mp3 player, my book, some coconut biscuits, my camera, and a big bottle of water. I peddled out onto the road and instantly became soaked in perspiration... It was going to be a tough day.
So there I was, riding solo in Pai.
I used my mp3 player to distract myself from the feeling of my shoulders bursting into flames, but my mp3 player is rubbish. For a start, even at top volume it's incredibly quiet, if there's any background noise then you have to guess what the song is from the occasional loud or high pitched note that drifts into your ear over the outside noise. For that reason i felt it was perfect for the bike ride, since out in the countryside it would just be me and the crickets, who at least gave moments of silence between their chirps. The other problem with the mp3 player is that for some reason it failed to accept most of my music library when i synced it. Annoyingly, I was left without most of my favourites, so all I can do is set it to shuffle and hope some adequate song appears when i'm in the right mode for it. Actually, while I'm on the subject, I think I'm going to offer a review the player for potential consumers.
Review of "SanDisk Sansa Clip+ 8GB MP3 Player with Radio and Expandable MicroSD/SDHC Slot"
by Sebastian Mayer. 7/5/11.
>Do not buy one.
Anyway now that that's out of the way I can tell you why I gave you all that boring information about it. The random selection of songs was quite amusing. As you're about to see, the countryside surrounding Pai is some of the most stunning I've ever seen; it was just made a little more interesting by the songs playing while I admired the views.
I spent the bus journey speculating on what I might find in Pai, and eventually we rolled up outside a tourist office on a drab, uninteresting street barely visible through a thick blanket of rain. Determined to find the fabled bamboo bridge, I plodded through the rain for a long time, passing plenty of concrete bridges but no bamboo ones. Everyone I asked seemed much more interested in getting out of the rain than aiding me in my quest.
As i walked, Puddles became ponds, and ponds became oceans. I found myself making choices at crossroads based on which way i was least likely to drown. Promptly the sun abandoned me, it dipped behind the mountains and I was left half blind to everything but the silvery veil of rain around me. I didn't let my near loss of sight discourage me, failure was not an option, and eventually I found a sloping muddy road with a sign: "bamboo bridge".
This revelation had me practically skipping through the mud in jubilation, but my elated mood was ruthlessly murdered by what i found at the bottom of the slope. All that remained of the bridge were the two broken ramps on either bank, and between them was nothing but a hopeless expanse of muddy brown water. Presumably the fast flowing river had carried it away some time ago, and what made it worse was that i could see the fabled bungalows on the other side, they did indeed look "really nice".
I stood for a few minutes staring ahead with a scowl on my face as if the river had personally insulted me, before squelching back to the centre of town and checking in the first guesthouse i stumbled across. The walls were paper thin and I was not provided with a mosquito net. Normally I wouldn't really have minded about the net, but it's a necessity rather than a luxury here, because Pai is home to an abundance of the bloodsuckers worthy of a biblical plague. After smothering myself with mosquito repellent, I lay down with my book, but that comfort was short lived since the couple in the room next to me began copulating loudly almost immediately after i lay down, making it impossible to imagine what was going on in my book. They finished and I fell quickly to sleep, becoming an unconscious blood banquet for the group of insects circling menacingly overhead.
I wasn't discouraged by my train wreck of a first evening, I had faith that things would get better, and they did. Much better.
The next day the sun was high in the sky. For the first time I could see what was around me, a busy little town surrounded by farmland and spectacular mountains. It seemed to be the thing to do to rent a bike here, and so I found a rental shop and chose a sturdy looking road bike for one pound. I decided to call my steed Kevin, for no particular reason other than that he looked like a Kevin.
After aimlessly cycling around the countryside, admiring the stunning views, I met a group of people and amongst them was a tall German man with shaggy hair named Danny. I think I ought to tell his story here since he's so modestly unwilling to tell it himself. Danny has hardcore beliefs about sustainability. For example, he doesn't eat farmed meat on the grounds that every cow farmed is fed in its lifetime multiple times it's weight in grains that could be put to better use feeding the hungry. He isn't intrusive with his opinions, and gives them only when asked.
Upon meeting Danny, it would be easy to place him as a lazy hippy, but there is nothing lazy about this man. A few years ago, Danny decided to vent his convictions about the negativity of fossil fuels by kayaking the entire Danube river from it's source in his hometown in the Black Forest of Germany, to it's estuary on the Black Sea in Romania. Danny was the first man in the world to achieve this feat; the Danube is 2850km long and it snakes through 10 European countries. He reminded me of the many other unsung sporting heroes, such as the little known Martin Stel, a Slovenian who has swam the length of three of the four longest rivers in the world, including the treacherous Mississippi and the piranha infested Amazon. Possibly the most impressive thing about Danny is the humility he shows in his reluctance to publicise his achievement, saying that he did it exclusively for the challenge, and he has now hiked alone over Everest, although he didn't journey to it's peak.
I was inspired. The weather for the next day was forecast at being clear skies and 37 degrees Celsius. I planned out an ambitious bike ride through the surrounding valleys, and my steed, Kevin, and I were up for the challenge. The next day the heat was truly oppressive. It might easily have been hotter than 37, not only could an egg be fried on the tarmac, I'm pretty sure I could have boiled iron on it. Kevin looked on earnestly as I packed a bag of provisions: my mp3 player, my book, some coconut biscuits, my camera, and a big bottle of water. I peddled out onto the road and instantly became soaked in perspiration... It was going to be a tough day.
So there I was, riding solo in Pai.
I used my mp3 player to distract myself from the feeling of my shoulders bursting into flames, but my mp3 player is rubbish. For a start, even at top volume it's incredibly quiet, if there's any background noise then you have to guess what the song is from the occasional loud or high pitched note that drifts into your ear over the outside noise. For that reason i felt it was perfect for the bike ride, since out in the countryside it would just be me and the crickets, who at least gave moments of silence between their chirps. The other problem with the mp3 player is that for some reason it failed to accept most of my music library when i synced it. Annoyingly, I was left without most of my favourites, so all I can do is set it to shuffle and hope some adequate song appears when i'm in the right mode for it. Actually, while I'm on the subject, I think I'm going to offer a review the player for potential consumers.
Review of "SanDisk Sansa Clip+ 8GB MP3 Player with Radio and Expandable MicroSD/SDHC Slot"
by Sebastian Mayer. 7/5/11.
>Do not buy one.
Anyway now that that's out of the way I can tell you why I gave you all that boring information about it. The random selection of songs was quite amusing. As you're about to see, the countryside surrounding Pai is some of the most stunning I've ever seen; it was just made a little more interesting by the songs playing while I admired the views.
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After an arduous climb to the crest of a hill, I came upon this view. My sandisk had selected Hot Chocolate's funk classic, "I Believe In Miricles" to accompany it. That made for quite a surreal experience.
A few kilometres down the road I was surprised to find an elephant camp. I sat for a while and watched the magnificent beasts listening to "The Flower Duet" from the opera "Lakme" by Delibes (the song in the BA advert if you're unfamiliar). Such a graceful piece of music was amusingly inappropriate for the lumbering giants.
I passed the Japanese 1912 bridge to the tune of "Yellow Submarine" by the Beatles. For a local landmark the bridge wasn't very imposing and to be honest, the song was far more interesting. So I won't bother with a picture.
Eventually I reached Pai Canyon, another signposted attraction. It was a strange geological feature. I would have called it an inverse canyon, since it was like a thin raised path of rock and sand with cliffs on either side. I was the only person there, and it would have been extremely serene if I didn't have Tupac Shakur's gangster rap classic "Hit 'em Up" filling my ears. As I stepped into the radiant sunlight, alone before nature and felt the wind on my face, Tupac shouted in my ear "First off fuck your bitch and the click you claim, Westside, when we ride, come equipped with game." I skipped that one.
My last stop was a hill temple. There was a horrible 400 steep steps ahead of me, and I'd had to cycle to the base of the hill in the first place. Kevin, the lucky bastard, was permitted to wait at the bottom of the hill bolted to a signpost. The sun increased it's intensity with impeccable timing, and I slogged up the steps in what must have been 40 degrees.
I stumbled through the temple gate and saw the temple. It was a predictably garishly coloured temple scattered with Gold Buddha statues and orange robes hanging out to dry in the sun. I'd have guessed that in this heat, a full robe could probably dry in about 4 and a half minutes. After customarily removing my flip flops, I collapsed onto a bench under the forgiving shade of the veranda roof, and greedily scrambled for the bottle of water in my bag. A sideways glance brought a silver Buddha statue to my attention, his fixedly serene face gazing straight ahead at the view infront of us... Wow, what a view.
The steep hill ahead of us was blanketed in bright green jungle foliage, which met the flat ground ahead and gave way to acres and acres of rice paddies and mango orchards. Ahead from there, the richly green land rose steadily, and eventually became the sweeping mountain range in the distance, their peaks lost in white fluffy clouds.
The town looked quiet and restful in the distance; only the occasional murmur of a motorcycle engine floated up to me and reminded me of Pai's vitality. All other sounds had been drowned out by the animals. Choruses upon Choruses of chattering insects were coming from all directions, tropical birds whooped invisibly from nearby trees, and dogs woofed conversationally somewhere below.
The view coupled with the sounds was incredible... With the paddy fields it reminded me of the rolling patchwork countryside in England, except a million times more exotic and not partly hidden by a grey veil of rain.
I do have a picture of the view. When I look at it, I am reminded of that old saying: "a picture speaks a thousand words". To me, this picture speaks eight: "Not nearly as good as the real thing"
I permitted myself a sandwich on the way home. It was very expensive by Thai standards (nearly 90 pence!), but since all I'd spent that day was a few Baht in 711 and Kevin's rental fee (That allusion to prostitution can be ignored), I bought it anyway.
I don't know how far I went but can estimate from my map it was about 35km. My mind was blank with fatigue as I returned to the idyllic bungalow where i am now staying and stumbled shakily to the shower. I crumbled under the feeble pressure of the cold water, and delighted in the feeling of the film of sweat being swept off me. After some time, i emerged, and found danny waiting at the bar. I confess, he wasn't as dumfounded by the tale of my adventure as I had been of his the previous day, but he was mildly impressed and mildly impressed is good enough for me.
After that trip, I felt like i'd earned a beer. So I had ten.
I don't know how far I went but can estimate from my map it was about 35km. My mind was blank with fatigue as I returned to the idyllic bungalow where i am now staying and stumbled shakily to the shower. I crumbled under the feeble pressure of the cold water, and delighted in the feeling of the film of sweat being swept off me. After some time, i emerged, and found danny waiting at the bar. I confess, he wasn't as dumfounded by the tale of my adventure as I had been of his the previous day, but he was mildly impressed and mildly impressed is good enough for me.
After that trip, I felt like i'd earned a beer. So I had ten.
Pai was my highlight of Thailand last summer, I went on my own as well! Going back to do cambodia and vietnam as well, looking through blogs for inspiration, found this on reddit, great posts :)
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