The Trek Part 3: First Foray into the Forest

Its been a few days since I last tried catching up on the blogging, our travels took us to Koh Samet (Samet Island) for a few days where I spent most of my free time reading rather than blogging. However, I am getting ahead of myself again and now that I am on the bus back to Bangkok, which is not nearly as nice as the bus I described earlier in this chronicle I shall continue writing of our trek.

The 2 hour drive into the mountains held some of the most breathtaking sights. The road winded up into the forest, its switchbacks hugging the side of the mountain where we could see deadly dropoffs on the side of the road. Sticking my head out of the side of the truck I saw a huge rocky mountain raising above us. Every so often a break in the trees would allow us spectacular valley spanning views. At first we were able to see civilization nestled in the bottom of the valley, and eventually as we progressed into the wilderness all we saw was the wild flora of northern Thailand.

We traveled to the eclectic soundtrack provided by Ashton’s iPod and speakers. The noise of the truck shattered any peaceful sounds of nature that we might have been enjoying, so our sing-alongs to regge, pop-punk, alt rock and contemporary country just added to the feeling of adventure.

Our ride on the truck ended in a storybook mountain village. On all sides we saw nothing but mountains rising up across the large valley we were in. Further down the road from where we had stopped was a nice looking bridge, upon which flew the yellow flags of the king and the blue red and white strips of the flag of Thailand. We all walked over to the bridge, stretching our arms and legs after the relatively cramped journey. Looking down into the waters below the bridge we saw a school of fish, seemingly eager to feast upon scraps they thought we would throw to them as they swam around our shadows hitting the water. To the side of the river were a couple of water buffalo, wallowing in mudholes. The water buffalo are very valuable to mountain farmers as they are used as both a draft animal and a source of food. Walking to the other side and looking over, we saw an entire herd of the beasts, milling about in and out of the water. We weren’t quite sure what it was about us, maybe they were not used to seeing people with skin as pale as our own, but we seemed to startle the herd and I was glad we did not start a stampede, as almost all of them ran for a few meters when we looked down at them from the bridge.

When the novelty of these animals, which looked like skinny cows with big horns, wore off I went over to Ar and Song who were sitting underneath an awning talking with one of the villagers. Eventually the rest of the group joined us and Ar explained that we were waiting for a professional caver to come and join us to lead us through the cave. I’m not sure how long we waited for him to show up, it was at least a few more minutes, but it could have been a half hour. Time seemed to pass at a different pace in the sleepy town. People walked past us on their way to somewhere, and others drove past on their way somewhere different, and it seemed they would all get there at the same time.

The group grew larger as a few motorbikes pulled up and chatted with our guides. After a few minutes it was revealed that these were the men that we were waiting for and it was time to hike onwards. One of the men drove his motorbike onto the trail, and we followed a second one who went on foot. Song drove off with the truck to join us later. In good spirits we all walked into the woods to begin our trekking part of the journey. At the trailhead the path was well worn. We walked out of the woods and we were in a large terraced clearing.

The terraces were for rice farming, but at this time were dry. Our guide marched us across the clearing and we chatted about how much we felt like we were trespassing. Further down the valley I could see some men working their field, and midway through there was a creek. Two men were fishing it and we waved at them as we passed. At the other end before we rentered the forest I looked behind me, and realized that I had walked through what almost seemed like a movie set. It was a scene from a book, the small farm under large mountain, with a few men and a water buffalo off the side, and a thatch hut dropped in for good measure. And yet, it was real, I walked through it feeling the sculpted terraces under my feet, heard the chatter of the men fishing, and smelled the smells of the farm and the forest.

Into the forest we plunged, walking for only a few more minutes, which took us over another farmers fence, then across a small brook to an old saalaa (an open structure with a roof but no walls) that was in quite the state of disrepair. The frame for the roof was still there, but there was no roof to speak of, not that it was necessary as the ancient trees provided any shade that was needed. It was here that we lunched. The six of us sat at a table, while our guides sat separately. We never really did truly eat with our guides, which was a constant source of disappointment for me during the trek. Ar handed us all Styrofoam containers of chicken and rice which he had picked up at the market and we dug in. After we had finished we walked up the hill to the looming entrance to the cave.