Arrival in Kham Pia: Elephant Trekking here we come
12 October 2010
We left Nong Khai this morning bound for Kham Pia, a village on the Thai side of the Thai/Lao border and on the edge of the Phu Wua Wildlife Sanctuary. Towards mid-afternoon the bus pulled over on a lonely stretch of road in the country and the attendant told us that we had arrived. Jean and I hoisted our bags and deboarded.
As the bus pulled away we surveyed the new environs. A house, couple of open air wood-framed structures, some water buffalo and rice paddy fields and pasture land as far as the eye could see. There was also a faded blue and white reading “Elephant Trekking Village 3 KM.” Below that was another sign with an arrow “B & B 3 Kilometers.” The arrow pointed in the direction of small, rough road disappearing around a bend.
We'd missed out on visiting an animal reserved in India so the blurb I saw in our guide book about home stay in Kham Pia and wild elephant trekking piqued my interest. With the village being on our route it seemed perfect. I checked out the website and sent an email to the contact, a Mr Bunleod, expressing our interest in spending a few days there. After not getting a response I sent a followup email a few days.
Despite not getting a reply we decided we'd stop by anyway. Now standing out here, in the quintessential middle of nowhere, under the weight of our packs, sweating in the mid-afternoon sun I was beginning to have doubts as to the wisdom in that decision.
However, being completely out of the scope of our guide book now filled us with a bit of a thrill. Shouldering our packs, snapping buckles and cinching straps we decided to stroll down this desolate piece of road to see what we could see.
We didn't make it 50 yards before a old pickup tuck with a camper shell turned off the main road and pulled up beside me. He gestured for us to hop in back. We took the invitation, unfastened our packs and threw them in the bed. Crawling over the tail gate we took seats on a couple of wooden planks mounted against the side walls.
It was a bumpy three kilometer ride into the village. The driver came to a stop outside of a pair of wood-framed houses one built at ground level and one built on stilts in traditional Thai style. Mr. Bunleod, a small, wiry, middle-aged man greeted us with a huge smile we would soon come to know well. He and his nephew, Chem, helped us unload our bags and showed us to where we'd be staying.
The house on stilts consisted of a huge covered veranda and one immense room with a lofty, bare rafter ceiling. The furnishings were spartan. Wooden partitions had been erected to divide off a bedroom area. The bedroom consisted of reed mat, mattress and a fan. The house had been constructed 80 years ago by Mr. Bunleod's father. It was in amazing condition with all the original woodwork. The floors were comfortably smooth after years of wear.
Mr. Bunleod lived in the ground level house next door. It had been built later and wasn't nearly as carefully constructed he said. We sat on the the porch chatting with Mr. Bunleod and Chem for a while and soon it seemed like we were old friends. The wind picked up it soon began to rain.
“Oh, I almost forgot,” Mr B. said, “My office is having a party. Would you like to come?”
We said we would. Chem took off on a motorbike and and was soon back in an early model jet black Volkswagen beetle. We squeezed in the back around sub-woofers and speakers. He drove us to where Mr. B's co workers were assembled on the veranda of a very neat wood-framed house sitting on mats around a smorgasbord of dishes including some tasty drumsticks. The hostess made an omelet for Jean. We sipped whiskey with dinner and answered a barrage of questions from Mr. B.'s colleagues about ourselves, America, Britain and our impressions of Thailand. They were dubious of my claim that 7-11's in Thailand were better than those in America.
I finally determined that they all worked for the local government municipality and the party was in honor of a new addition to their office. The party broke up about seven and we got a ride home in a late model Chevy Colorado. The number of trucks here, especially new trucks, still amazes me.
Back at the house we hung out on the veranda for a while before turning in. Tomorrow, we go trekking for elephants.
We left Nong Khai this morning bound for Kham Pia, a village on the Thai side of the Thai/Lao border and on the edge of the Phu Wua Wildlife Sanctuary. Towards mid-afternoon the bus pulled over on a lonely stretch of road in the country and the attendant told us that we had arrived. Jean and I hoisted our bags and deboarded.
Despite not getting a reply we decided we'd stop by anyway. Now standing out here, in the quintessential middle of nowhere, under the weight of our packs, sweating in the mid-afternoon sun I was beginning to have doubts as to the wisdom in that decision.
However, being completely out of the scope of our guide book now filled us with a bit of a thrill. Shouldering our packs, snapping buckles and cinching straps we decided to stroll down this desolate piece of road to see what we could see.
We didn't make it 50 yards before a old pickup tuck with a camper shell turned off the main road and pulled up beside me. He gestured for us to hop in back. We took the invitation, unfastened our packs and threw them in the bed. Crawling over the tail gate we took seats on a couple of wooden planks mounted against the side walls.
The house on stilts consisted of a huge covered veranda and one immense room with a lofty, bare rafter ceiling. The furnishings were spartan. Wooden partitions had been erected to divide off a bedroom area. The bedroom consisted of reed mat, mattress and a fan. The house had been constructed 80 years ago by Mr. Bunleod's father. It was in amazing condition with all the original woodwork. The floors were comfortably smooth after years of wear.
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| In the old days the animals were kept under house. |
“Oh, I almost forgot,” Mr B. said, “My office is having a party. Would you like to come?”
We said we would. Chem took off on a motorbike and and was soon back in an early model jet black Volkswagen beetle. We squeezed in the back around sub-woofers and speakers. He drove us to where Mr. B's co workers were assembled on the veranda of a very neat wood-framed house sitting on mats around a smorgasbord of dishes including some tasty drumsticks. The hostess made an omelet for Jean. We sipped whiskey with dinner and answered a barrage of questions from Mr. B.'s colleagues about ourselves, America, Britain and our impressions of Thailand. They were dubious of my claim that 7-11's in Thailand were better than those in America.
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| Inside of Chem's bug |
Back at the house we hung out on the veranda for a while before turning in. Tomorrow, we go trekking for elephants.
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