I’ve had a lot of ‘this is probably a bad idea’ moments throughout my adventures in the past year and half; but as I stood at the top of a two story platform looking into the (possibly shallow?) river below me, I knew this was definitely a bad idea… and then Matt, a blond-haired American with FRAT spray-painted in giant hot-pink letters on his chest, smiled at me, chugged the rest of his beer, and said, “See ya.” just before leaping backwards off the platform. His back layout arched perfectly before he rotated and landed feet first in the quick moving water below. Well, I thought, if steroid-induced Frat Boy can backflip off this thing, I sure as hell can jump! And with that, I launched myself into the air. The water felt more like concrete as I hit before I sank farther down than I thought possible. Kicking my way to the surface, I gulped a breath of air before letting out a cowgirl-esque YEEEHAWWW!
We had progressed about 200 meters downriver and already the chaos of tubing the Vang Vien River had surpassed any labor day weekend spent on Beer Can Beach.
Our trip to Vang Vien Laos had started out ominously enough. Leaving Thailand involved a you-gotta-try-it-once-in-your-life slowboat “cruise” into Laos. The slowboat was really just a glorified canoe that was supposed to hold 80 passengers but (in true SE Asia fashion), the boat crew had loaded well over 120 of us onboard. The only space left once we were suckered onboard was an area designated for luggage. The six members of the Baby Hand Cannibal gang (a biker gang formed during a whirlwind motorcycle trip to the small mountain village of Pai), including myself, claimed a 6X8 foot floor space and set-up our own minibar. We were soon joined by a few stragglers and proceeded to spend the next 7-hours on the Mekong River playing card games and witnessing the inhuman amount of alcohol our mate Dallas Dean could consume. After a short overnight stop in some random river village, we were back on the boat, crowded as ever, spending another 9-hours cruising with nothing but drink and card games to entertain ourselves.
Once off the boat, the gang spent two days in the quaint city of Luang Parabang. We got our first taste of Laos food (amazing) and hospitality (delightful). Several of us took a day-trip to the most surreal waterfalls I’ve ever seen. In my haste I forgot my camera, but we did stumble upon a bear sanctuary… random, I know. With a few of us on short time schedules, we booked a van to Vang Vien; a 5-hour drive away. What they didn’t tell us was that our driver was apparently prepping for his NASCAR career and, despite the worst road conditions ever, happily drove 60-80 mph on a mostly 30mph road whilst passing trucks on blind turns and flying through gravel without any care or concern about fishtailing or hitting the dozens of village children playing along the roadside. With a front-row seat, I didn’t feel embarrassed one-bit when I literally screamed in fear over several close calls. Arriving exhausted from a terrifying trip, we booked into our hostel and got to bed early in preparation for tubing the next day.
Let me paint this picture for you: imagine a typical sized river, nothing too big but quick moving enough to think twice before jumping in, and then picture a half-mile stretch of that river with nearly 20 makeshift bars on the banks complete with blasting sound systems, 30-50 foot waterslides, ziplines, bungy swings, diving platforms, and hundreds of drunk tourists clasping bright yellow tubes. Being a veteran Sac-River tuber, nothing could prepare me for the mayhem on the rivers of Laos. Our gang, already a few drinks in, waltzed into the first bar with a mixture of shock and terror at what we found. Adrenline-crazed people swinging by their feet before dropping into the water, a waterslide with no rules for which way or how many people could slide at once, beer pong games in full swing, and a toddler walking along the bar collecting money for drinks. So we did what we were expected to and joined in the pandemonium.
By the second bar I found myself happily being tattooed with cans of spray paint and by the third – the platform showdown with Matt the frat boy. We had only traveled 200 meters and three bars, but already several hours had passed. Wanting to keep on keepin’ on, we decided to pass a few bars in favor for actually spending some time tubing; that is, until we saw the giant sign that read MUD VOLLYBALL. Flailing wildly, our group (that had now grown to a dozen people) managed to haul ourselves toward shore. The mud volleyball game resembled more of a wrestling/falling match as all of us tried, and failed, to stay upright in the mud pit with a solid foot of standing water. Covered in muck from head to toe, I decided the quickest way to clean up would be a cannonball off the bar deck into the water 15 feet below. I landed precariously close to a pod of British tubers who screamed, laughed, and then helped haul me toward the stairs that led back to the bar. At this point the sun had completely disappeared behind the clouds and, waterlogged, I was freezing.
Grabbing tubes and dragging my mates with me, we set off on the river toward a bar downstream with a huge campfire blazing. I had just dried off and warmed up when Connor shouted my name and pointed yet farther downstream. What I saw was the biggest non-theme-park waterslide I’ve ever come across: complete with a kicker at the end that launched people very high and very fast through the air until they slammed, gracefully or not, into the water.
It looked like something out of a Jackass movie. I had to try it!
Not bothering with our tubes, we all took a trail to the bar and the boys and I practically fell over each other as we raced up the 3 flights of stairs to the top of the waterslide tower. Looking down the slide, which was craftily made with big bathroom tiles, I looked back at Connor and told him to go first. I will not acknowledge his foul reply, but my response was a running super-man headfirst dive onto the tiles. I slid for what seemed like forever, my skin smacking through the gaps between tiles faster and faster before WHOOOOOSH!!!! I was FLYING through the air! In my drunken coordination, I tried turning to ham up the camera and my mates watching before I slammed ribs first into the water. Surfacing for air, I was half sure I had been tackled rugby-style somewhere mid-flight. I looked up at the top of the slide, which now seemed even more insanely high from the water, to catch Connor as he flew ass-first through the air over my head and into the water.
We clamored back onto the bar deck to a chorus of yells and high-fives. At some point we decided to slide again and once more, my body flew like Buzz Lightyear before meeting the hard cold water of the river. On my second slide attempt my hips had sustained bloodied swelling bruises so, with the sunlight fading and my luck pushed to the limits, I called it a day. With all my mates and myself a bit worse for wear, but all stilly happily alive, we tubed the last 50 meters to the nearest take-out point. It had taken us nearly 7-hours, but we had safely tubed the famous Vang Vien River!
-Ash
Fun Fact: Laos is hands-down the most beautiful place I’ve been since leaving New Zealand. I’m glad to be visiting it while it still holds its third-world charm: I fear a decade from now the place will be as over-run with tourists as Thailand.
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