The Overlander, a New Zealand train

The ultimate train ride, the Overlander from Wellington to Aukland passing through the center of the north island.   The train consisted of 6 coaches pulled by a diesel engine as it left Wellington, eventually changing to an electric engine when it reached the edge of the city.  The first sign of an informal atmosphere occurred when the young man working at the small buffet counter delivered hot coffee to the engineer at each stop by meeting him halfway on the platform.  At noon we actually stopped for an hour for lunch at a small town that becomes a ski resort in the winter.  While most passengers ate a sandwich at the station cafe, I wandered nearby streets in seach of street art and graffiti, actually finding a good example to photograph.  One coach had small open air platform that would accomodate up to 8 people.   It was to my advantage that not many people elected to stay there as I spent most of my time enjoying the fresh air and taking photos.  The sign reading "do not lean beyond the railing" needed to be taken seriously since there was barely any clearance as the train passed through tunnels, over bridges and along groves of trees.  Not a wise idea to stick your head out far enough to see the approaching landscape.

The route passes through spectacular scenery, emerald green fields and hills, deep gorges and snowcapped volcanic peaks.   The white dots appearing in the green landscape are sheep, millions of sheep!   I am sure that I saw more of these animals in one day that I had previously seen in my lifetime.    No one can tell you how many there are, but they number many times that of the human population.  Another surprise!   Dairy cows actually eating grass.   Yes, all of the animals are outside; cows, sheep, goats, pigs.   About half of the population of lives in the two or three major cities so that does not leave many people to be scattered throughout the rest of the country.  Farms and villages are few and far between.   The train crossed several high tressles and descended from the higher elevation by circling in a spiral to avoid an otherwise steep grade. There are still some areas that are forested, but it is obvious that the Maoris and later, the European immigrants thought pasture for sheep was more important that trees.   Some of the remaining forests are in the national park near the summit where three snow covered volcanos provide a landscape remeniscient of Central Oregon. 

Second "last day" in Melbourne

Melbourne, St. Kilda Beach, 21 April 2011.
Had a terrific "second" last day in Melbourne, the day that should not have been!   It should have been my first day in Aukland!  Due to the lost passport and travel documents, that fortunately I retrieved from the Carlton Hotel at 11:00 am April 20, I missed my 10:50 am flight to NZ.   That meant spending time at Qantas rescheduling my flight and spending two more nights in Melbourne.   The St. Kilda Beach area of Melbourne had been on my list, according to many a hotspot for street art and graffiti, just what every globe trotting grandfather is looking for!!!!!    Free day, time to explore.   Took the train to the city and tram #16 to the beach.   Wow, boardwalk, pier, beach, yacht club, enticing pastry shops and even Luna Park, a classic entertainment park.   I don't know if this is THE Luna Park, but the wooden framed roller coaster, giant merry go round, carnival rides, all accessed through the entrance which is the open mouth of a huge monster head, certainly recall the early part of the 20th century.  I returned there after dark to take photos of the lights and action.
Typical of my days wandering neighborhood alleys looking for photo ops, camera(s) around my neck and inquiring of locals as to the best graffiti, I met more interesting people.  First of all there were   American skateboarders taking advantage of a sloped part of the boardwalk to perform jumps and other manoeuvres while a professional photographer captured their stunts on film.   I think I got some amazing photos of their silhouettes against the sky.  By asking about their activities, I met the local councilman who was promoting a skate park for the area, and the perfect guide to examples of street art in his district.  He spent 2 hours driving me around to all of the best examples, leaving me at an historic pastry shop to have a dessert and cappaccino.   In one cafe where we stopped, I met a waiter from the U. of Nebraska who turned out to be the first Beta I have met in my travels!   While taking photos of the skaters from my position on the beach, I met Phil, a young man walking his dog, took some excellent informal beach shots, including some of his very artistic tattoo, another form of street art!   Met  and photographed Geoffroi, a student from France who was braving the cold water of the bay.  Finally, asking directions to another collection of graffiti, I met a lady who is a couchsurfer with friends in New Zealand.  We had a good conversation about our experiences as couchsurfers.   I returned to the pier to take evening photos of the city across the bay.   Although there was the option of waiting to see little penguins return to their nests in the rocks, I decided to head to Luna Park for some colorful evening shots of the rides.   Back to the center of the city on the tram, a train ride to Peter and Daniel's house in Craigieburn, my home for the last two weeks, and prepare for departure on Friday.   Another great day of meeting people and exploring Melbourne.

Sydney, Australia

Sydney has taken its place on my list of the world's most beautiful cities.  Situated on a wide bay with numerous inlets, many of the neighborhoods  have spectacular views of the water.  The city center  includes a picturesque and  busy waterfront from which fleets of ferries shuttle passengers to communities situated along the bay.  Neo-gothic cathedral spires and yellow sandstone colonial building dating back to the era of Queen Victoria nestle among gleaming modern high rise structures while Hyde Park and the Botanical Garden provide nearby green space.   As all of the postcards suggest, the soaring arch of the Sydney Harbor Bridge and the sail shaped roofline of the opera house command the attention of camera toting tourists.  Cities with similar settings come to mind:  Seattle, Vancouver, San Francisco, Istanbul, Hong Kong and Capetown.  Accompanied by Dirk and Wolf, my two German dorm mates at the Wake Up Hostel, I explored the beach communities of Bondi and Coogee, known as the best surfing areas in Sydney.  The walkway follows the rugged coastline for about 3 kilometers between the beaches and provides spectacular views of the headlands, small hidden coves and pounding waves.  Surfers ride the swells waiting for the perfect curl.  Graffiti abounds on the cement wall behind the beach, perfect material for my photo project.  Another day, another ferry ride, same companions, this time to explore Watson Bay, a part of the sprawling city that was once a sleepy beach community.  Small cottages still line some streets, remnants of a past when city dwellers considered this a weekend escape and an historic lighthouse marks the entrance to the harbor.  We rarely study Australian history; however, visits to art galleries and historical museums reveal  glimpses of 19th century that resemble that of America, a pioneer spirit, westward expansion, rural life and undisturbed nature.
It is all English, but how did we end up with such diverse accents?  Accent?  What accent?   It is all of the others who have the strange pronunciation!   Often, Europeans have learned "American English" and have less of an "accent" than people from Ireland, Scotland, England, South Africa and India.  Return to the saying on the tee shirt I bought in Bangkok and that is so frequently used in S. E. Asia-  SAME  SAME  BUT DIFFERENT!   Occasionally I will ask someone to repeat a word or phrase that I have not understood, and they will do the same with me.   I find myself speaking more slowly and more distinctly, being careful to enunciate my words to the point that some people ask where I am from and say that I don't sound American.  OK, so I will have a strange unidentifiable accent when I return home!

Kangaroos!  Determined to see some of these critters in the wild, I took a tour to the Blue Mountains  just to the west of Sydney.   The low foothills gradually become a small mountain range reaching elevations of 3000-4000 feet, a succession of  ridges covered with temperate rain forests composed mainly of eucalyptus trees and "Australian bush." Millions of years of erosion have created sheer cliffs, backdrops for numerous spectacular waterfalls that dot the area.  Recent rainfall has encouraged colonies of mushrooms to spring from the mossy ground cover shaded by palm shaped tree ferns.   Thousands of steps have been carved into sandstone cliffs, an essential part of the trail leading to viewpoints and waterfalls as one descends to the canyon floor.   The easiest way to return to the canyon rim is to take the cable railway that claims to be the steepest in the world, a claim that seems justified as one's gaze becomes nearly vertical when the train passes through a long tunnel carved through the cliff.
But where are the kangaroos?  They were not in the forest.   We make one last stop before returning to Sydney, an grassy open area in the national park.   Nearly leaving without success, the driver takes one last dirt road, and VOILA,  a group of four kangaroos busy nibbling grass.  They pay little attention to us as we approach slowly with our cameras; however, as if paid to present some kind of show, the two males rise on their back legs and balance on their tails while they put on a wrestling performance.  Finally, tired of the attention, they hop off to greener pastures and we return to the city.

More good luck!  The driver had connections to people who do street art and graffiti, offered to show me some examples and even to meet the artists.  After delivering the other passengers back to their hostels and hotels, he spent several hours introducing me to artists and taking me to see examples of their work.
Another interesting adventure and more photos in my growing collection.

Angkor Wat

On board Quantas flight 2 from Bangkok to Sydney- seafood soup, green salad, fish and couscous, chocolate cake, red wine, time to close the chapter on Cambodia by assembling thoughts on Angkor Wat.

How to describe one of the top ten attractions in the world and one of the top five on my list.  The remains of a civilization that dominated SE Asia from 800-1300, now partially restored ruins that were once covered with jungle vegetation.  Why do we visit the remains of great civilizations?  Egypt, Greece, Rome, Petra, Tikal and Angkor Wat.   Who were these people?  How did they live? What inspired them to build great cities, monuments, temples, shrines, tombs, water systems?  How were they able to accomplish these feats, and why did they disappear?  Thoughts run through your mind as you clamber over piles of stone, climb steep eroded stairways and photograph sculptures missing heads, limbs and other features.  The ruins of Angkor Wat cover an area the size of Paris and was once a city of one million people.  I won't attempt to remember the names of rulers or even specific names of temples.  I will leave that to the history and guide books.  Kings have always built monuments and religions have created great places of worship.   Here in Angkor Wat, the statues represent Hindu and Buddhist beliefs and the bas relief murals portray both military campaigns and scenes of daily life.   As you enter sacred areas you are greeted by nagas, the long 7 headed snake that traditionally protects the gods.  Everywhere you are met by ferocious figures, graceful dancers, demons, gods, kings, elephants, lions, defending entrances and gracing terraces.  From the top of crumbling temples, you look over a complex that is now in ruins and try to envision the site that was once part of a vibrant city.  Climb through doorways that have lost their walls, head through rooms that have collapsed into piles of stone, walk along terraces that once separated pools or canals of water and gaze at giant trees whose roots have engulfed stone walls.  Hiring a tuk tuk for transportation, I spent 4 days visiting the complex beginning with the inner most temples and ending with those more remote, the fourth day reserved for re-visiting my favorites after studying a guidebook that I had purchased from a Cambodian who had lost an arm to a landmine explosion. 
A highlight of my visit was a late afternoon stop at Angkor Wat, the largest temple of the complex.  The sky was dark and threatening, creating a dramatic backdrop for the scene that I wanted to photograph.  A violent thunderstorm developed forcing me to seek shelter in the entrance to Angkor Wat, the perfect place to capture the scene, the silhouette of the temple outlined against a sky from which God could have appeared at any moment.  Angkor Wat, an experience to savor for many years.

Luang Prabang to Saigon

As with Huay Xai, I had intended to spend a couple of days in Luang Prabang and ended up staying for nearly 10 days.  What a beautiful spot on the banks of the Mekong.   Many French colonial building have survived and have been turned into boutique hotels, restaurants abound, French tourists are everywhere!  In some places it seems like a French village with Buddhist temples and monastaries. I found a small hotel on a side street, the Pak Am, met the hotel workers and even visited their Hmong villages.  The morning market was just around the corner, so village people, mostly women, begain arriving very early to set up their stalls.  Many of them came across the Mekong on the small wooden boats and then balanced their baskets of produce on the long bamboo stick resting on their shoulder as they climbed the steep river bank.  The variety of offerings was amazing, and not always identifyable.   Various parts of animals, actually, all parts! poultry,fish, tubs full of frogs, pupae from cacoons provide protein while tubs of different kinds of rice, baskets of colorful fruit and green veggies and even weeds from the bottom of the river, are the accompanyments.  The wide assortment of people and clothes complete the scene.  Most of the locals eat a noodle soup breakfast at the market and in the evening there is a food market with buffet style offerings- a plate full of food for $1.00, many kinds of grilled meat and fish, spring rolls and some deserts.  Fresh fruit is abondant;  mango, pineapple, dragon fruit, papaya.  Tents sprout in the main street like mushrooms at the evening market where tribal women offer Hmong quilts, embroidered items, tee shirts, silk scarves, many of which they have woven themselves.  Luang Prabang has many "wat" or Buddhist temples and monastaries so groups of young novice monks walk the streets going to and from class and stroll about in small groups in the evening.  Most of them want to practice their English if given the opportunity and are willing to sit in the shade and chat.  Their saffron colored robes add color to  photos.  In the morning, they get up at
4:00 am for prayers, go through the streets at 6:30 am to collect alms consisting of sticky rice and other treats.  They have a morning meal and lunch, but do not eat after 12:00 noon!  Most of them come from rural villages where there is no opportunity to continue their education; thus, the temples provide free schooling until they are 20 years old,
 Since I was able to arrange my Viet Nam visa from Luang Prabang, I did not go to Vientiane, the capital city.  I flew to Hanoi to avoid a long bus ride.   My friend, Rich Litchfield, who volunteers as an orthodentist every year in Hanoi, reserved a hotel room for me and I was able to meet his orthodentist friends.  I had a wonderful multi-course lunch with one group, spent a couple of hours in English conversation with them, and had a Vietnamese restaurant dinner with the family he has known for 12 years.   One of the first courses was deep fried swallow!!!   Although initially hesitant, I decided to crunch on the little corpse, mashing the bones and head and finally washing it down with a swig of beer.  Not sure of the nutitional value of such a little critter and am certain that I would not order it on my own. 
Hanoi is hectic- motor bike traffic dominating the streets, changing lanes often, not stopping at intersections, and particularly, not stopping for pedestrians.  You take your chances each time you cross the street and just keep walking.   Drivers are experts at calculating the speed at which they are traveling and the pace at which you are walking. My favorite means of transportation, on the back of a motorbike taxi.  Most sidewalks are occupied with sales stands and parked motorbikes: thus, you walk on the edge of the street.  I finally got used to the old section of the city, but still got confused and lost the day I left.  I visited the Ho Chi Minh mausoleum complex, Temple of Literature, Hanoi Art Museum, and museums dedicated to the wars fought in Viet Nam.  It is hard to walk far without seeing  a poster or sculpture of  "Uncle Ho." 
I spent 2 nights and 3 days on an excursion to Halong Bay, that amazing place where steep rounded mountains rise out of the bay.  Capturing the entire scene is impossible, but I certainly tried, and did a few 360 degree videos.  The low clouds added an air of mystry to the bay, making you think you were on some small pirate ship about to surprise an enemy crew around the next corner.  One night spent on the boat, moored with 30 or so, other wooden junks, a visit to an oyster farm where we saw pearls being taken from the shells, treks to two sets of caves, a visit to monkey island where there is a small beach and a few monkeys and the return cruise, rounded out the experience.   A group of only 6 passengers, several delicious dinners and a friendly crew, made us feel special.  
I also went to a village near Hanoi known for its silk production; however, more interessting than the small production of silk, was a small factory on a back street producing stacks of plastic bags!  The initial substance looks like a gigantic glob of play dough. It is heated,  shredded, blown into a  giant transparent bubble, and is cut into strips to form the bags.  So this is where some of those bags that are everywhere, come from!
I decided at the last minute to include a trip to Sapa, a small town in the mountains, known for its Hmong villages and terraced hillsides.  It is at a higher elevation, was in the clouds and was very cold.  The only heat ;in the hotel was the electric blanket on the bed that  I quickly took advantage of.  Went on a short trek to some villages the first day, walked the small city to see the market and shops and then went for  a 12 km trek through the terraced rice paddies the second day.  Even though it is too early for the rice fields to be planted, it is an amazing sight.  Most challenging was the muddy hike for several km, down the mountainside on the slickest quagmire of yellow clay I have ever seen.  At first refusing to buy a bamboo walking stick from one of the children, I finally relented and paid 50 cents to the girl who persisted by following me, knowing that I would eventually realize the necessity of such a pole.  I also grabbed the hand of the tiny Hmong lady who kept following me on the other side.  She also knew that eventually I would accept  her help.  Camera around my neck, bamboo pole in my right hand, Hmong lady's hand holding my other, I slipped and slid my way down the steep slope.  Thanks goodness for the rubber boots that we all rented at the hotel.  Rice paddies, rustic houses, cascading stream at the bottom of the valley, wispy clouds floating by, the scene was post card perfect.
Took the night train back to Hanoi, shared the 4 bunk compartiment with a German tourist and two Vietnamese men.  Had a restless night bumping along the track laid by the French over a hundred years ago, was too hot at the beginning and too cold later.   Not my favorite way to travel, but one more adventure.  I then took an afternoon fligjht to Ho Chi Minh City/ Saigon, where I am today. 
The city streets are wider, but traffic is just as hectic.  Museums seem to concentrate on war memories, and I am becoming sturated with the historical events that have not been kind to Viet Nam.   I think Hanoi is more traditional and interesting than Saigon.  In addition, the weather in Hanoi was cool and comfortable; in Saigon it is hot and humid.   I prefer cool!

On to Cambodia.

Life on the Mekong

"Shoving off" and "watching the world go by" have literal meaning here!  Left the Gateway Villa Hotel where I had been staying in Huay Xai for the two day slow boat trip to Pak Beng and Luang Prabang.  Bid my friends goodby, shared a tuk tuk to the dock with a German couple, bought my ticket and played petanque with a fellow passenger while waiting for departure.  My fear that this would be some kind of party boat did not materialize.  The potential party crowd found their place on the bow; smoked, drank, sang and did not move!   Everyone brought food and drinks aboard for the 8 hour trip to Pak Beng so they would not have to purchase the more expensive offerings on board.  As someone who has always had his nose pressed against the windows of trains and planes in order not to miss any of the sights, it is hard to understand how some people can read, sleep, listen to ipods or chat for the entire trip without appreciating the amazing scenery.  This long, narrow, flat bottomed boat is controlled by a pilot in the front.  The wheel is connected to a small rudder in the rear by means of chains threaded through PVC pipe above the windows and the very rudimentary throttle has a small cable running to the diesel engine in the rear. A glance into the engine compartment gave me comfort as it had been blessed with flower offerings and a small Buddha.    Relax, take photos, eat and enjoy!  
Day two-  After spending the night in Pak Beng, the village full of guest houses that is midway between Huay Xai and Luang Prabang, it is time to continue down stream.  Taking advantage of the swift current, the boat slips into the middle of the Mekong, gliding between steep ridges covered with tropical vegetation, occasionally old forest, but more often low trees or cultivated patches that have replaced the original jungle. Jagged rock outcropping line the banks, extending into the river at sharp angles and creating brief areas of rapids.  Since it is the dry season, the river is low and the boat scraped bottom on several occasions.    Bamboo poles extend from the rock formations, supports for fishing nets of fishermen who live in nearby villages.  Beautiful sandbanks with multiple water lines resembling stairs have accumulated between the rock formations providing variety to the landscape, playgrounds for children, warm resting spots for clusters of water buffalo and an easy place to grow peanuts at this time of year.  They also serve as a reminder of the water level during the rainy season, perhaps 30 feet higher than today in the narrowest places.  The surface of the river glistens; silver and gold ripples masking the murkey brown green of the water.  Mountain ridges, four to six deep, continually appear before us and slowly fade into the distance behind the boat.  Many people pan for gold in small inlets, others fish from rocks using weighted throw nets.  Long, slender wooden boats moored at the river's edge indicate the presence of villages hidden in the trees.  Seated near the front of the boat, all I hear is the low, steady drone of the engine and  light splash of water along the bow.  Slow boats heading north pass making the same sound, but an occasional "fast" boat, a small banana shaped boat carrying 8 passengers wearing crash helmets, creates a slight turbulance as it roars past.  We stopped several times to allow villagers to jump onto the beach where they were greeted by family or friends.  For two days, life proceeded at the pace of the Mekong current.
Relaxing in Laos, and loving it!

Adventure in Laos

Lots has happened since my last entry; however, I decided a quick jump forward was necessary to capture events of the last few days.

Left Thailand, crossed the Mekong River on a small wooden boat and landed in Houeixai, a small river port in Laos where I intended to spend one night before continuing on a two day "slow boat" trip to Louang Probang.   All of that changed when I read a notice announcing an evening campfire at the home of a family beginning a project to help village people, and that they needed volunteers.  Dinner and a campfire has turned into a week of tutoring English several hours each day and invitations from students working at my hotel to visit their villages and meet their English teachers at the local college.  When one student took me to the college on his motorbike, I ended up teaching two classes and met three of the five teachers.   I have a standing invitation to return. This evening I have been encouraged to attend a celebration at the local Buddhist temple, a farewell dinner for the couple that has been volunteering at the project, and have more invitations for the weekend. I am certainly learning more about Laos and Lao culture by interacting with locals here than if I were to simply photograph more temples, Buddhas and street scenes.

Yesterday the family operating the volunteer project planned an outing for the French couple, Igor and Veronique, who were married recently and who are on a one year, around the world honeymoon, and me. We rode on motorbikes behind three of the men in the family to a village 70 kilometers from this river port and had an experience we will never forget!   First of all, these are small motorbikes meant to be ridden on city streets rather than treks in the mountains.   I rented an additional bike since the family had two vehicles and only foreigners are allowed to rent bikes.  Lao time means that things happen slowly, so we left the house about 10:30 am, all wearing helmets, two of us carrying small backpacks with cameras and a few snacks, and began the adventure.   I immediately thought of the Beta Theta Pi principle of "confidence and trust" as the bikes went screaming around turns and raced out of the town.   I could not worry about what might happen this day, must believe that the driver in front of me knew what he was doing, and just enjoy the experience.  I hung on for dear life, anticipating the corners and bracing myself for bumps in the road.  The pavement ended about 15 kilometers from town, the speed barely slowed, and the serious challenge began.   Unimproved mountain roads, single lane, torturous curves, steep inclines- one indicated at 15%- loose gravel, dust, all combined for a wild ride.   These people begin riding motorbikes at about age 10, and most of them on this type of road, so it is not a new experience for them.  Once we left the paved road, we began climbing into mountainous terrain, ascending ridges, descending into valleys, one after another, occasionally passing through local villages where children, chickens, dogs cows and even water buffalo quickly stepped aside as they heard our approaching bikes.  I must admit that the landscape was spectacular, especially the views from the ridgetops where a succession of  ridges resembled the surface of a giant blue cauliflower.  Tall trees have been removed from much of the area and only here and there stands of original timber still remain.  Otherwise a few old trees rise above a tangle of bamboo, vines and smaller varieties of trees, all of this seemingly inpenetratable. 
We stopped briefly in several villages to contemplate the houses, usually standing on  stilt like frames built of wood, sometimes with wooden slat walls, but more often sided with sections of woven bamboo.  The common roofing material is woven grass and only a few buildings have corregated steel or fiberglass.   We stopped for lunch at a roadside stand at the side of a house where the lady had a black pot setting over a small fire.  She prepared noodles for us and offered a soup with chunks of a glutenous substance made from rice.   Several times we had to chase the chickens away from the area where she was preparing the food!  Not an unusual occurance here.   Around villages situated in the valleys and along streams, small plots of rice are cultivated during the rainy season.
The final destination and experience had been a well guarded secret so we wondered what was in store when it was necessary to buy candles and obtain a few flashlights at the last village.   Four local girls were hired as guides and we discovered we were to explore a nearby cave complex.   Spelunking had not been on my list of things to do in Laos!    The setting was spectacular as we left the store, walked past the small primary school where laundry, colorful childrens clothing, was draped over the fence enclosing the playground (we speculated that they might wash their clothes during recess), waded across a stream and begain winding our way through bright green rice paddies.  Our destination, large rounded, rocky mound rose from the valley floor, surrounded by a maze of recently planted, and currently flooded, paddies.  Here and there small thatched roof shelters built on bamboo stilts provide shade for those working in the rice fields.  We zigzagged our way along the narrow muddy dikes separating the patches of rice, jumping small streams flowing from one section to another.   I wondered why I had bothered to take off my shoes to ford the stream at the beginning as it was obvious my shoes were going to be very muddy and wet for the return trip.  During colonial times, the French had built a concrete stairway to one cave entrance, but that did not lead to the main network of tunnels.  We continued to another entrance where it was necessary to wedge our way through a slot barely wide enough to allow passage for our shoulders and derriere.   Once inside, the space was larger, we lit the candles, let our eyes adjust to the darkness and began our exploration.  This chunk of mountain was perforated with holes eroded over the millenia and gave us the impression of having entered a giant wheel of Swiss cheese.  An occasional opening above allowed some light to enter from outside; however most of the rooms were only illuminated by the dim light of our candles and flashlights.  Bamboo ladders provided access to some levels that would otherwise have been inaccessible.   Finally, in the far reaches of this complex, there was evidence long term moisture, perhaps tens of millions of years ago.  Seams in the rock showed evidence of mineral deposits, flowing limestone stalagtites and mounded stalagmites where the water droplets had landed.  One giant post about 15 feet high and  several feet in diameter must have taken millions of years to accumulate.  The top surface of another looked like an enormous stone stump whose unique surface looked as though it had been eaten by worms.   Strange dark spots that we thought at first might be bats dotted the top of several high caverns.   We spent more than an hour investigating sections of this massive complex, trying to capture some of the beauty in photos and speculating at the origin of this natural wonder.  At the exit high on the side of the mountain, we had a stunning view of the surrounding rice fields and a small village at the base of a forest ridge, all bathed in the solf light of late afternoon.   Finally, deciding that we needed to reach paved road before it got dark, we left the cave, retraced our steps through the  beautiful rice paddies, waded  the stream- wearing shoes this time- paid the guides and began the return trip.  The lighting was perfect for photography, but we knew that not many stops would be possible.   A flat tire required me to wait along the side of the mountain road for about 20 minutes while my driver returned to see what was keeping the third bike from catching up.  Alone, I listened to the cracking sounds of a tropical forest, took photos of the  bamboo branches curving over the narrow road, nodded to a few people who passed on bikes and to the drivers of a truck that passed and greeted two men walking home from their day's work, axes in hand, not knowing  what was happening or when my driver would return.  Tire repaired thanks to a nearby village, we continued on our way, passing a slow moving logging truck carrying 4 huge logs cut from an ancient tree, carefully descended some of the steep rocky slopes because only the rear brake was working, occasionally coasted to conserve gas, passed workers returning to their villages slowly advancing in their garden tracter like vehicles, speeded on the straightaways to gain time.  In each village, dinner was being prepared  in pots boiling over small fires along the road or near entrances to houses and people were returning home from their work in the fields or forest.  Igor, Vero and I exchanged our thoughts about our ride at each stop, wondering what the next segment would be like.   Crossing the last wooden bridge, we arrived at paved road, achieved higher speeds and raced through the darkness for home.  When I got off the motorbike, I could hardly move and felt as though I had spent the day on a horse or camel.  Can you get bowed legs from riding a bike? 
We were all in agreement that it was a unique and memorable experience, but were not sure that it was one we would want to repeat anytime soon.

Safe and sound in Laos.     Jon