Laos | Wanderlust to Wonderment

The Loop is a 500km, four day motorbike adventure through southern Laos. It starts in Tha Khek and travels the long way round to Kong Lo Cave, considered by many as one of Laos’ most impressive natural wonders. We had heard great things about The Loop from an Australian couple we met in Vietnam. Their tales of driving along empty roads surrounded by karst scenery, coupled with the thought of getting off the so-called “banana pancake trail”, made The Loop instantly appealing.

We took advice from a reputable German guy, named Mad Monkey, and hired a 100cc semiautomatic Honda Wave. The bike was in great condition and only had 13,000 km on the clock. We’d heard that The Loop really takes its toll on the bike so having a reliable Japanese model was definitely a good idea.

Our first day was by far the least challenging. It consisted of a mere 100km along good roads (by Lao standards!) We took it fairly easy with stops for drinks, a lunch of noodle soup and to explore an underwhelming temple cave. Our first guesthouse was near a Chinese-backed hydroelectric power project. In the construction, a huge area of land had been flooded, drowning thousands of trees and creating an eerie, lifeless post-apocalyptic landscape. The bungalow was clean and comfortable and priced at an incredibly cheap 50,000 kip (£4).

We slept well and set off early the next day for what we’d heard would be a difficult day’s riding along more than 50 km of unpaved road. The track, which at first consisted of large stones, was easy enough to ride on slowly, but a little unnerving as the occasional skid and bump was unavoidable. It continued to deteriorate with some extremely wet and muddy sections. 5km of the stretch is considered all but impassable in the rainy season. Given that the rainy season was only just beginning to phase in it was, luckily, passable but not without extreme caution. I enjoyed the challenge but felt sorry for Clare, as the ride was far from comfortable. After more than two hours of difficult riding (and very sore bums), we eventually reached a paved surface and felt proud that we had completed this section, incident free.

We had planned to get to Kong Lo village early in the afternoon in order to visit the cave, allowing us to potentially complete The Loop in three days. However, I was feeling very jaded on arrival to our bungalow. My hands had been exposed to the intense sun for several hours straight, and despite the factor 50 it felt as though they’d aged significantly. I blamed sun exposure and long periods of intense concentration for my weariness, however later that evening it became clear that I had joined the long list of travellers to have picked up a bug in Laos. I had a high fever, and no appetite. I lay in bed pondering the thought that I’d perhaps contracted dengue fever and wondered how many miles we were from anything like a hospital…

Fortunately, after a dozen hours or so of sleep, I was feeling a little better. We decided that we would have a day of little to no motorbiking to allow me to recharge for the long final stretch that lay ahead, so around noon we headed for the cave. For such an impressive geological site, it was incredibly quiet and empty. We crossed a bridge over the emerald-coloured Nam Hin Bun River, which flows through Kong Lo Cave, to arrive at the inconspicuous mouth. The chill felt upon entering the cool cave, enhanced by my fever, was a relief from the intense heat. Just inside, ten or so boats were moored, half sunken in the shallow water. Our two Lao guides proceeded to bale one of these out as we waited, thankful for the lifejackets that were provided! The boat glided through the water, our head torches soon becoming the only light source as we escaped the last of the sun’s rays. The cave was immense both in length (7.5km) and height (300m in places). Once in the darkest depths of the cave, we were instructed to get out of the boat and walk into the blackness. Our guide switched on some dim lighting and we proceeded through an extra-terrestrial landscape of curious stalagmites and stalactites. The use of colourful neon lighting was perhaps not the most tasteful, but nevertheless it enhanced the supernatural experience. The remainder of the boat journey was an experience in itself. Low water levels meant the rickety boat regularly ran aground as our captain attempted to steer us up some fast flowing rapids. I was called upon to help as our scrawny Lao guides struggled to shift the vessel. Once on the move again, our driver appeared to lose concentration as we collided head-on with a cave wall. The dramatic crash left no lasting marks on the boat or our Lao guides who carried on as if nothing had happened. The haphazard nature of the tour added to the experience, and we came to admire the carefree nature of the Lao people.

I was feeling a lot better in the morning and so we decided to take a chunk out of the next day’s journey by riding 40km to the next town. Some dodgy food but a good night’s sleep later and we were on our way again. The final leg was over 200km with some steep and windy sections which slowed our 100cc bike to a snail’s pace. The scenery here was staggering and a stop at a viewpoint provided us with surely one of the most impressive landscapes we’re likely to see. However, in a twisted turn of events my illness took on a new, unexpected dimension… I was now unsurprisingly determined to get back to Tha Khek and check into a hotel. Luckily the next section of road was very straight and uninteresting so we could take it as fast as we dared. 75km/hr certainly feels pretty fast on a small motorbike. We were making such good progress and with only 45km to go our luck took another much more dangerous turn. We suddenly felt the back of the bike swerving from left to right and I had to be very tentative on the brakes to bring us safely to a stop.

Clare thought I’d fallen asleep at the wheel, but actually our back tyre was flat as a pancake, and my morale was much the same. It was a situation that felt so unfortunate that you couldn’t help but stay calm and laugh at the state of adversity we found ourselves in. The only option was to wheel the bike and hope that help found us. After several locals slowing down to laugh before zooming off past us, a kind motorcyclist thankfully stopped and gestured us to turn around and follow him. Without any better option we complied and felt at least a hint of hope. Eventually we reached a couple of roadside shacks, but knowing that we would need a new inner tube, I was not very hopeful. We wheeled the bike up towards a family with desperation in our eyes. Incredibly, without a word exchanged, they invited us to sit down and have a drink while they set to work. Three generations of the family crowded around the bike, banging away with their makeshift tools. A girl of no more than 15 disappeared on one of the family’s motorbikes and returned minutes later with a new inner tube. We anxiously counted our little remaning cash with no idea what it was going to cost. We were amazed when they asked us for 30,000 kip, about £2.20. We couldn’t help but feel that we owed them a far greater debt of gratitude.

Once back on the road, things were going smoothly and just as I was gaining confidence again the heavens opened. The rain was hot and came down in what felt more like buckets than drips. In the 30 or so seconds that it took us to find a decent tree for shelter, we were drenched. I was impatient to continue driving and we were already saturated so we continued our journey. Compared with the day’s earlier events, the mini monsoon seemed like a minor blip but we couldn’t help feeling like our luck had been abnormally bad. We reached our hotel, wet, tired, ill, but relieved.

Later that evening we reflected on the previous three days. Although we felt we’d had bad luck, we were proud to have completed the journey unscathed. The trip was worth it for the scenery alone. There were some memorable landscapes that we simply wouldn’t have been able to see without our motorbike.