An introduction to dirt

Closing time at muang long morning market

Prior to our stop in Vieng Phouka we had planned on continuing up the main highway to Luang Namtha, then deviating west to either Muang Sing or Muang Long. Both those towns would be several days away using that route, so we had been equivocating how far into the middle of nowhere we wanted to ride, knowing we would also have to ride back from Nowhere. Our trip with Somhak the day before traveled over the early part of a dirt road that eventually cuts through a national park, ending up in Mueng Long 80 kilometres away. While our map showed this road disappearing in the middle of the park, Somhak assured us that it remained mostly flat all the way through and that motorcycles used the route frequently. Whether he had personally seen this road seemed unlikely. 

Friendly guy on the road out of Vieng Phouka

Despite the uncertainty, we found ourselves leaving town via the same route we had seen the day before, towards Muang Long. Crossing into uncharted territory, we passed several Hmong villages, as well a new bridge Somhak had spoken highly of. While the bridge was a simple metal and concrete affair, it was a rather powerful technological demonstration in compassion to the cable and bamboo suspension bridge just upstream.

Standing on the new bridge, looking at the old bridge

Unfortunately, at that point we had to confront an inconsistency between Somhak's and our map's description of the terrain. While Somhak believed the road to be rolling hills, our map showed a 900 meter climb from the river to the point where the road disappeared. Sadly, our map was correct.

The slow pace gave us plenty of time to appreciate the Nam Ha protected area

Fortunately morning clouds took some of the sting out of the dirt climb, and the agriculture around Vieng Phouka faded into a mix of primary and secondary forest. At the higher elevations, Akha villages predominate, but their reactions were similar to the mixed ethnic groups we had seen below - lots of staring with frequent Sabaidees. The day wore on, and villages became far less frequent, maybe every twenty kilometers. At one point, we rounded a corner and startled a cow, who took off running and startled some children who had just detected our presence. The children turned screaming away from us, running with the cow down the road. We followed the mixed stampede all the way into the safety of a village. Luckily everyone survived.

Somhak's second prediction was correct, the road did not disappear into the forest where our map said it did. Indeed, while the surroundings became more remote, the road remained reasonable quality. We did have to make a few creek crossings on small bamboo bridges, and dismount to avoid mud washouts. Only until we dropped out of the 1000 meter mountain range into Mueng Long did the riding become uncomfortable, with the exposed rocky road bed forcing us to once again ride our brakes all the way to the river below.

The 50 mile, eight hour ride concluded at sunset, and we easily found a guesthouse for the night.

Descending into muang long at sunset

The next morning, the cumulative effects of Thailand's mountainous roads, along with yesterday's remote dirt ride, began to wear on Brooke's and my desire to continue pushing the limits of our bikes. We took a lackadaisical trip to the morning market, where Akha women in ornate, silver bejeweled headdresses sold everything from laab (common) to donut like snacks (common) to forest song birds (unfortunately common) to what looked like a chopped Burmese python (less common).

 Then we headed to the town tourist office. We thought maybe we could book a hike or tour for the day, but when the former English teacher manning the office saw our bikes, he immediately suggested we ride into the mountains, and take a back road to Muang Sing. Apparently his optimism infected Brooke and I, because despite our map having no road outside of Muang Long, we immediately decided to pass the day catching up on laundry in town, and embark on another back road adventure in the morning. As I signed the tourist log, I noticed that only fourteen foreigners had registered this year...