In the morning, I am not feeling very alive, but we are having a group truck clean so I have to get up if I want to avoid being ostracised again.....
In the afternoon, Laurie and I go tubing down the Nam Song river, the activity Vang Vieng is apparently famed for. The tube is rented from the town, and then the rental company take you to the start by truck tuk (kind of a truck, kind of a tuk tuk). The truck tuk we get into is filled with Australians, one of whom is a young lady who still has serious scabs from falling off a motorbike in Vietnam. She is about to join in on another reckless adventure.
The start point for the tubing part of the river is at a bar which is just a wood hut with a wooden platform on stilts for seating and mingling. Then I notice that on both sides of the riverbank there are more of the same. Most of these have some sort of zip line or swing throwing drunken late teens / twenty somethings into the river. At this time of year the tide is low, so it is no surprise to learn that there was a death in the river within the past month. In fact, reports of deaths here seem to be quite common, as even when the river is not so shallow, it has a very strong current, so if you don’t hit your head on something, you may well drown.
However, when in Rome....at the second bar, which is populated by many picturesque young women in bikinis, I decide to try the trapeze swing, which is probably the safer of the options available. I do it once, and even with the river at its low-ish water levels, the current is still quite strong, and I am aided back to the bar by someone throwing a line for me to grab.
With the tube rental place taking a deposit which is non-returnable if the tube is brought back after 6pm, it is clear that many of these ‘floaters’ have no intention of getting their deposits back. In fact, I think there are several people at the first bar which will have only used their tubes for the 10 metre float to its platform. However, Laurie is being a bit of a party pooper, plus I am in no mood for drinking, so we don’t stay and decide to float onwards to see what lies ahead.
After we float past the first few bars, it is apparent that we are now alone on the river. It is only 1pm and far too early for most to move onto the next rung of riverside bars. Passing one of the bars here, the owner is touting for business by holding up a sign advertising the availability of ‘psychedelic shrooms’.
With the river flow at its low point at this time of year, it quiet and slow and I find myself having to propel myself with my hands at times. This is more exercise than I had planned.
We stop at ‘The Last Bar’ – a misnomer it turns out – where we have been told that there is a cave nearby. We get directed to the cave by the friendly son of the bar owner, as its path is amongst the jungle growth. The cave itself is not greatly spectacular, but the scenes of the high rising cliffs protruding from the jungle horizon are a highlight.
We get to the tubing finish line with an hour or two to spare before the cut off time, and we stop for dinner at a nearby restaurant which is empty except for us and yet has incredibly lacklustre service. It does do a passable red Thai chicken curry though, and we are seated in a booth overlooking the river, albeit somewhat precariously, so I am happy here chilling out.
I have an early night, which is only slightly interrupted by Essex’s now nightly pub return performance.
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