Garmin GPS devices don't speak Thai

Buddhist Temple in Pai

The cool mountain breeze whips our sun-kissed skin as we wind northward to a trendy little tourist town called Pai. I get lost among the organic cafes and knock-off Ray Ban dealers, wishing I had an extra week to hang around and  take a course in how to build with bamboo using nothing more than a machete. Alas, we only have a month until the school semester begins, so I resign myself to a future self-taught course that will likely end in me surrounded by heaps of bamboo and a half-constructed shelf that gives under the weight of a coconut. (At least I can use the machete to open the coconut.)

After a few espressos, we attempt to drive all the way to the next village but fall short as the sun sets and fog descends. Luckily, we've packed camping gear and happen to be in a country that abounds with national parks free of charge. We are greeted by the most friendly park ranger I've ever met, who excitedly welcomes us as though no one ever comes to visit his neck of the woods.

The fog has become so thick that we are soaked by the time we find the camping area, and another charismatic ranger gives us a tour of the site which is impossible to see in the dense fog. The walkabout feels more like we are swimming through murky water with $#!tty headlamps, along a trail dotted with very oddly-placed old sinks and toilets that are no longer functional, but rather a feeble attempt at  "decorative" humor.

I'm not laughing as my bladder pleads for relief that is not going to come from any of these porcelain shrines to irony, so I shlup through the mud until finding a place that doesn't seem to be within earshot of the rangers, who are all warm and dry inside one of the wooden buildings nearby. Meanwhile Paul and I--along with all of our gear--are drenched and stinky, wondering why we didn't stop for a meal before trekking into this quasi-wilderness. My relief finally comes as I hover near what I determine to be a dangerous precipice near a wood from which any number of huge animals are probably creeping, but I try not to think about it.

We set up the tent and ignore the growling of our bellies by popcorn reading to each other until the cold puts us to sleep (naturally, we haven't brought blankets or sleeping bags of any kind, so we use our clothes and riding jackets as pillows and warmth). The next morning, the rain actually begins to fall and we have no choice but to wait it out as we dry out my tent under one of the dilapidated buildings that luckily still has a nice roof overhead. (We realize we could have camped under this shelter all evening, but the concrete probably would have made my yoga mat an even less effective sleeping pad than the damp ground.)

We then continue onto the only place we've made reservations on the entire trip. It's a good thing Paul planned ahead for this part of the journey because the Cave Lodge is full of explorers both young and old looking for an adrenaline kick inside some of the most exquisite caves our planet has to offer. We set up shop in the dorm beneath mosquito nets while our host and world-renown caving expert creates hand-drawn maps for us.

Paul has insisted that we want a challenge and have a lot of experience in caves--which is true for him--so the Aussie spelunking guru decides to give us some tips that lead us off the beaten path and into what I will heretofore refer to as the abyss...

Hitting the Road

On the train to Bangkok, Paul taught me how to play backgammon and we slept fitfully on the squeaky, metallic rattle chambers they call "bunks." We met a pair of old men who are bicycling across the country, a very fit Thai version of Cheech and Chong. A six hour layover in Bangkok reminds me why I don't like cities, especially a sweaty metropolis that combines the heat of Houston with the sprawl of LA. Good ice cream, though.

Our final leg of the train ride screeched into the Chiang Mai station many hours later, where the spectacle of six men lowering our oversized metal steed onto the platform provided an encouraging display of human strength and coordination. Again, it was an impressive but useless struggle that could have been avoided with the addition of a simple ramp that really could have been fashioned from anything. But I digress...

A short stint in Chiang Mai included a frolic on the local rock wall, delicious Indian food, and cheaply rented bicycle rides powered by Thailand's finest brew (endearingly named "Chang," which means elephant. The image conjured by this marketing is not so far off from the flavor it offers).

While constructing our own language to describe the quality of "hairpin" posed by oncoming curves, our faithful yellowbike transported us from the traffic of Chiang Mai to the beautiful highlands and national park where you find the tallest peak in Thailand--Doi Intanon. We lit incense at the Buddha statues and payed homage by placing coins on elephant statues. I'm pretty sure that makes us bona fide Buddhists.

Cruising around the national park led us to stumble upon some pretty breathtaking waterfalls. Another job well done, Mother Nature. Also, hiking in the gorgeous countryside and humid jungles led me to realize that the spider living in my bathroom is, in fact, not the biggest arachnid that the country has to offer. 

After drinking our weight in espressos and buying a few months worth of reading at the best used bookstores in Chiang Mai, we began riding northward towards the land of the caves, where the adventure really begins. Stay tuned....