Health and Safety Takes a Holiday: Waterfalls, Wild Elephants and Motocross

13 October 2010

“The brakes are no good on that bike, we won't go fast,” Mr B. assured me as we pulled away from the little shop and petrol drum that serves as the village filling station.

A few minutes before we had arranged to leave the house to do some elephant trekking Mr B. had confirmed that I knew how to drive a motor bike. I said I did and was glad that I'd taken the opportunity to do some scootering in Nong Khai. Spending the last several months in India, Sri Lanka, and Thailand had also reinforced driving on the left side of the road.

Rest stop at a rubber tree plantation

With Jean behind me, we made our way down the rutted village road to the smooth tarmac of Highway 212. We cruised along between 30 and 40 Km/hr (20-25 mph). The shoulder was wide and the traffic (which was mostly just other motorcycles) was light. With no wind screen we caught a fair number of bugs. I got stung in the neck by something en route. The stinger was so deeply embedded that I didn't get it out for almost a week.

We picked up egg fried rice for lunch before turning into the Phu Wua Wildlife Sanctuary. Nearly and hour and a half after leaving the house we pulled into a crushed gravel parking lot. I was a little stiff from the 50 kilometer ride and the little puncture wound in my neck was swollen and throbbing.

One of many bridge of death

We took off behind Mr. B as he guided us down a jungle trail and over many rickety bridges. Weaving through the dense trees and underbrush the path followed the lazy, green river. Soon, the crashing sound of water drifted into our ears. We emerged from the foliage onto a moonscape like surface. The red, ridged sand stone surface made testament to the power of water and wind.

The upper portion of the river was narrow and moved with swift turbidity. It wound down the sand stone grade like a snake. We followed it up the mottled surface into a crescent shaped canyon to where the waterway opened up into a wide, shallow pool. Fifty feet above the river surged over the edge of the rock face spilling forth in a wide curtain of water and crashing into the pool.

We took cover from the sun in the shade of canyon wall and sat down. A Thai family had set up a blanket and picnic in the shade as well. Members of their party were splashing around in the pool around the waterfall.

I stripped down to my shorts and waded into the warm water. The submerged surface was covered with a thin veneer of algae making footing tricky. Creeping slowly along I made it across the the pool to where the falls were crashing down. I found a nice little perch and sat down under a stream of water. The pounding proved to quite soothing on my back and provided respite from the pain of the wasp sting.

I noticed that Mr. B had come in. He smiled and waved and then jumped into a gushing torrent that  formed at the base of the cliff. It carried him a couple of meters. He got and up and splashed over to me. We shouted to each other over the roar of the water about how great and refreshing it was. Then he pointed upwards and told me that sometimes rocks come down with the water. I must have looked disconcerted because he then tried to reassure me that it didn't happen very often. Then he smiled and jumped back into the torrent of water.

Significantly beaten and with all my knots worked out I waded out half an hour later. Reaching dry land and I found that Jean had joined the Thai family's camp. I spoke with the dad, a P.E. Teacher, for a bit. School was out for Fall break so the family was out on an excursion. This was his first visit to the Tham Phra waterfall. We took whiskey shots to celebrate our meeting and ate our lunch with them before heading out.

On the way down Mr. B pointed out a water chute that formed a natural body slide. He demonstrated and I followed suit. I probably went down it almost a dozen times. When even got Jean to try it out after a while. Watch Jean on the water slide here. 

We hiked back and met a young, sullen man wearing a camouflage jacket in the parking lot. Mr. B spoke to him for some length and then addressed us. The young man was a park ranger. He had told Mr. B that elephants were not where we were in the southern part of the Phu Wua Wildlife Sanctuary. The herd consists of around 30 animals and during the wet season (May – late October) while food is plentiful they roam freely. During the dry months they stick to the southern area where there's more water and the monks grow sugar cane to supplement their diet.

Mr. B asked us if we wanted to check it out anyway. We could see the Buddhist monk enclave and perhaps see some signs of the elephants. As it was still early afternoon we said we did. The park ranger hopped on his motorbike and we followed him along the crushed gravel road to through the entrance to the sanctuary.

The jungle canopy formed a natural archway over the way and provided welcome respite from the sun. We cruised down the winding forest road enjoying the cool breeze. The ranger pulled off at a small shack. Mr. B followed suit but waved us on. The road got smaller and rougher until it petered out into a wide footpath. It disappeared over a steep incline and reappeared in the distance snaking up a sizable hill. I pulled off and parked the bike.

The ranger and Mr. B came buzzing along and shot straight up the incline. Mr. B stopped at the crest and looked back at us smiling broadly. “Come on!” he said beckoning. Jean and I looked at each other questioningly, shrugged and got back on.

The next 45 minutes felt like how I imaging motocross to be. Powering up steep hills, splashing through streams, running narrow rock ridges, buzzing by precipitous drops and weaving around boulders, holes and crevasses. The little engine revved and smell of the clutch burning was overpowering as it propelled Jean and I over the rugged landscape.

Frequently the ascents were too much and Jean would hop off and walk. Many times we came to impassable-looking pieces of trail and I would think, “Surely, we're walking from here.” But the ranger and Mr. B. would deftly motor up like it was nothing special.

Reaching the top of the hill the adrenaline I was feeling was a stark contrast to the placidity of the orange robe clad monks we encountered relaxing under their pagoda. The park ranger who I guess had grown tired of waiting for the slow falang (foreigners) had kicked off his shoes and was sitting on the platform speaking with them.

We parked the bikes and followed the ranger and Mr. B around the trail. Along the way we passed several of monks' accommodations including a little house built on top of a huge boulder. The path soon took us into an open grassy area. The grass was tall, higher than me. In the dry season it's all consumed to the ground by the herd.

We came upon a groves of trees with wooden platforms in the branches. Jean asked if we could go up in one. The ranger acceded and guided us through the tall grass to one of the trees. The platform was 40 feet up accessed by a series of boards nailed to the trunk. Mr. Be demonstrated shimmying up keeping close to the trunk as some of the boards might not be fastened well. Jean and I followed suit but not as fast. The platform was perhaps five by eight feet.

During the dry season people stay up here overnight to watch the elephants who are most active at dusk and in the evening. The platform accommodates three people. Hopefully, those people are close. Noting the lack of any walls or railing Jean commented that it would be beneficial if they didn't roll in their sleep either. Mr. B made the point that it's still safer than being on the ground with a herd of wild elephants.

The vertigo inducing descent was slightly more difficult than the climb up but we made it safely and due course. The park ranger reappeared and explored the hill top. The monks definitely know how to pick the spots. We found some great views of the rugged Lao landscape across the Mekong and also took a look at the monks' cave sanctuary. It's interesting how Buddhist monks, Jean and myself seem to share an affinity for caves and mountain tops.

While meditating at night the monks walk the line

We strolled out to our bikes and then came the business of getting down. Jean offered to walk down but we convinced her to get on and despite the squishy rear brake we arrived at the bottom without incident. The sun was slipping towards to the horizon as we said goodbye to the park ranger and followed Mr. B back towards Kham Pia.

The road varied between tarmac and dirt. We retraced our journey from this morning passing through a handful of villages. However, the landscape was dominated by rice paddy fields and rubber tree plantations. According to Mr. B due to high prices for rubber, cultivation of the latter has really taken off in the past decade. The economy of northeastern Thailand is agriculturally based. 80% of the population in Kham Pia are farmers. Rubber tree cultivation seems to have brought long awaited prosperity for many in the rural communities of Thailand.

We turned off the tarmac onto a dirt road. The sun had dipped to the level of the tree tops casting long bars across the the ruddy surface. Hitting a muddy segment the engine revved as the rear wheel spun freely in the mire. I attempted to stabilize the fish tailing but my foot sunk deep in the ooze. Badly off balance with the earth holding tight to my leg and the front wheel I toppled over pulling the bike and Jean on top of me. The landing was soft albeit it squishy. My nostrils were filled with primordial odor of  the thick, red mud.

Mr. B seemed to be anticipating the incident as when I looked up he already parked his bike and was walking over to help us and the bike out. We had taken the fall at low speed and excepting my ego we were unharmed. The bike and I were covered with mud. Jean had fared significantly better.

She hopped on the back of Mr. B's bike and we tooled up the road a ways to a homestead. After getting permission from the homeowner to use his well we went to work. After numerous buckets of water we deemed ourselves and the bike satisfactorily clean and took back to the road. We rolled into Kham Pia at twilight.