Homicidal Psycho Jungle Cat

Jungle

Bamboo forest

Above the clouds

Sandles lost to the underworld

Nam Ha was Laos's first national park, an enormous chunk of jungle and mountain in the northern province of Luang Nam Tha.  We set off for a three day trek with five peers, three Australian boys, and two Americans we met on the chaotic minivan ride to the area.  These in addition to our four guides, one from the trekking company, and three from a nearby village in Nam Ha.  Opportunities to work as a guide are shared amongst the villagers to direct a portion of incoming tourist money to the people who live in the park.  Some companies seem more concerned about this than others.  The guide from the company, Gong, spoke fluent English, while the villagers spoke very little.  Though the necessary vocabulary always seemed to appear, for example: "bite... poison...," calmly pointing to the mammoth spider perched above our sleeping mat.  We also enjoyed practicing the few Laotian phrases we knew.  Christina is now proficient at asking "Where is the vegetarian toilet?"

So we nine set off from Rivende... Luang Nam Tha and into the wild.  Crossing a dozen rivers on the first day, repeatedly removing and replacing our boots, was unpleasantly disruptive.  I had believed that I would be protected from leeches if I stayed out of still water and I covered up my limbs.  Not so.  The worms are plentiful on the jungle floor, even in the dry season.  With ten sets of eyes and a fine sense for vibrations in the ground, they stand eerily erect when you approach.  When I stopped to look I could spot dozens on the ground inching my way (much faster than I'd prefer), waiting near by to latch on, and some climbing up my boots and already working their way through my laces.  The total effect was of being under attack by the ground you walked on.  Checking for the boogers when we removed our boots at the river crossings, I think we all took increasing pleasure in removing the leeches (difficult) and then slicing them in half.  Leeches prevent the blood from coagulating, so the bites don't stop bleeding easily.  And the flowing blood down my ankles attracted flies and other insects who swarmed the wound to have a drink.  It was probably as sanitary as it sounds.  This would have been bad enough, but the largest leech of the day ate a nickel-sized hole through my merino sock.  Unforgivable.  And so it passed that Christina and I spent our fifth anniversary checking for leeches on each other's asses (the jungle BM is a dangerous thing).

Things improved on the second day when we began our hike up the mountain, climbing above the riverside combat zone.  The trek should not have been too strenuous, but in reality the trail conditions made it very challenging.  Climbing up the mountain often meant scrambling up a muddy, worn, and slippery path, grabbing hold of roots and trees when we could, and falling and rolling down when we couldn't.  Our hearty guides must have wondered what the hold up was: they gracefully sped ahead in flip-flops, carrying three days worth of food for nine.

We slept in large, open-air bamboo huts, which after a full day of hiking, felt plenty comfortable.  Upon finishing our day we collapsed on our mats, meanwhile our guides went to work chopping wood, building a fire, and preparing dinner (which sometimes meant foraging the woods for greens).  With woks and steaming baskets left at the campsite, our guides prepared for us superb meals by any standard.  The food was placed on a floor of banana leaves on the ground and we ate squatting or sitting above the buffet.  We ate with our hands, forming small welled balls of sticky rice and dipping them into the eggs, tomatoes and onions, garlic morning glory, tofu, etc.  This novel style of eating was deeply enjoyable.

On the mountain, we briefly visited a small ethnic minority hill-tribe for lunch.  It was fascinating to see the 130 person village in action in such isolation, reliant completely on each other.

And who could forget our nocturnal wildlife-spotting hike.  Before departing, four of us heard considerable rustling in the trees to our right.  Nervous, Christina thought we had better return to the group.  Her scream pierced the jungle when she caught through the trees the silver reflection of the eyes of a leopard.  Without pausing she shoved me forward to defend her against what was the most vicious firefly I had ever seen.