Day 10: The Road Goes Ever On and On and On....
After a restless night for me due to the ache in my knee and the hardness of our sleeping palette, we had breakfast and said goodbye to our H'mong hosts. Thus began our 6 hour trek from Hang Kia to Van Village, home of a group of congenial White Thais.
So, if yesterday's climbing craziness was the lowest level of Hell, today was at least the most tortuous level of Purgatory. Or maybe just a higher level of Hell. Yeah, I think so. The trek was 13km over an old "road" covered with what were once well-kempt stones, sometimes on a level, sometimes at an improbable angle that just taunted gravity to make our trip quicker the hard way. Our view left us often to find our own way and passing natives laughed and pointed at the slow foreigners as they went merrily down the path like mountain goats. To describe the agony that washed over us from head to toe would be boring, so I won't speak of it further except to say that one false step would have sent us sliding down the slope or plunged us over the side of the cliff. Suffice to say that it sucked horribly and we thought it would never end.
Of course it did, and when we stopped for lunch, we were both so exhausted that we could barely eat. After an hour's rest and a trip down a steep, muddy slope to a "traditional" Asian bathroom that just added insult to injury to my aching knees, we headed back out to walk the last 3 km to our stop for the evening over a flat, paved road like civilized people. My upper back was cramping after carrying my backpack for so long, so I was ever so grateful to be able to roll it.
With an escort of clever children with not half bad English, who admired our tattoos, and angry barking dogs we reached Van Village. The house we stayed in was a traditional house on stilts, so getting up and down the stairs was interesting. We took a quick tour around the vicinity of the house, where hired men were helping the house owner store wood for later building, and saw more water buffalo, a tree growing grapefruits as big as your head, chickens with their chicks, roosters, turkeys, and a bunny! Our host was a congenial, widowed empty-nester, who welcomed us graciously into his home, shared dinner with us as we watched Hong Kong actions movies, and just like our H'mong host, plied us with shots of homemade wine during dinner - as did our cook - until we feared for our ability to get back down the steps to used the WC and the shower. But we smelled so bad after two days of hiking and not being able to shower last night with the H'mong, nothing could have stopped us, not even the knowedge that we wouldn't have hot water. Fortunately, our kind host set up our sleeping pallets for is, including our mosquito netting, covers, and those tiny ow things so we didn't have to. His contribution will be large. ^^
As I write this, I am sober thanks to the cold water in the shower and the sound of fighting dogs. Thank goodness for ear plugs.
So, if yesterday's climbing craziness was the lowest level of Hell, today was at least the most tortuous level of Purgatory. Or maybe just a higher level of Hell. Yeah, I think so. The trek was 13km over an old "road" covered with what were once well-kempt stones, sometimes on a level, sometimes at an improbable angle that just taunted gravity to make our trip quicker the hard way. Our view left us often to find our own way and passing natives laughed and pointed at the slow foreigners as they went merrily down the path like mountain goats. To describe the agony that washed over us from head to toe would be boring, so I won't speak of it further except to say that one false step would have sent us sliding down the slope or plunged us over the side of the cliff. Suffice to say that it sucked horribly and we thought it would never end.
Of course it did, and when we stopped for lunch, we were both so exhausted that we could barely eat. After an hour's rest and a trip down a steep, muddy slope to a "traditional" Asian bathroom that just added insult to injury to my aching knees, we headed back out to walk the last 3 km to our stop for the evening over a flat, paved road like civilized people. My upper back was cramping after carrying my backpack for so long, so I was ever so grateful to be able to roll it.
With an escort of clever children with not half bad English, who admired our tattoos, and angry barking dogs we reached Van Village. The house we stayed in was a traditional house on stilts, so getting up and down the stairs was interesting. We took a quick tour around the vicinity of the house, where hired men were helping the house owner store wood for later building, and saw more water buffalo, a tree growing grapefruits as big as your head, chickens with their chicks, roosters, turkeys, and a bunny! Our host was a congenial, widowed empty-nester, who welcomed us graciously into his home, shared dinner with us as we watched Hong Kong actions movies, and just like our H'mong host, plied us with shots of homemade wine during dinner - as did our cook - until we feared for our ability to get back down the steps to used the WC and the shower. But we smelled so bad after two days of hiking and not being able to shower last night with the H'mong, nothing could have stopped us, not even the knowedge that we wouldn't have hot water. Fortunately, our kind host set up our sleeping pallets for is, including our mosquito netting, covers, and those tiny ow things so we didn't have to. His contribution will be large. ^^
As I write this, I am sober thanks to the cold water in the shower and the sound of fighting dogs. Thank goodness for ear plugs.