The Ultimate Overland

  We visited a silk workshop today. Amazing how intricate the weaving process is. Proper respect for the craftsmen and women who create such beautiful cloth.   Driving to meet Ed’s uncle, who lives here, we hit proper rain. Not just a bit of rain but tropical rain. We got soaked. Difficult to see very much but at least it was warm. Apparently it is most unusual for the time of year.  We have arrived in a national park called Khao Yai. Birdwatching tomorrow (rest day).  Art has left us. He’s on his way to the airport having been with us for three weeks. He’s shooting tomorrow. 🙄

“If the border opens at eight, we should be there at eight,” was the declaration last night from one of our party. It necessitated a 7:15 a.m. start. I dared not mention that the border actually opened at six… With a hasty breakfast (surprisingly good coffee — machine-made, quite nice bananas, and so-so bread) at seven, we left a few minutes late (Ham’s tummy was not happy, and he was attending to necessities). So we arrived a few minutes after the notional border opening time. Various bored Lao officials hid in their glass boxes, one labelled  Customs , another  Passports . Nigel marched to the front of the queue — admittedly, this was me alone, unsuccessfully trying to figure it out — and presented his passports.  Stamp, stamp. Next, customs.  Handing over the form, I fully expected to have to wrangle with authority, as we were leaving from a border not identified on our entry form as the departure point.  Stamp, stamp. Next. What? Is that it? At a funeral pac...

After dinner, Chris persuaded the band to give him the ‘mike’, and he delivered his famous rendition of  The Wonder of You . Talent spotters were seen rushing towards the stage to sign him up. This morning, one or two blurry heads appeared for breakfast (best coffee so far; thanks, Nellie). We agreed to travel, first off, not in the direction of our hotel but—laughingly—to add miles by heading towards the mountains for a while, having a look, turning around, and getting back to where we started an hour and a bit later. We knew the main road south was so perfect that we would still complete the journey before an early lunch. Complacency has a habit of biting back, and so it proved today. The main road had not been upgraded, as the last two days might have lulled us into thinking. It was a shocker! Drivers are hearing squeaks and groans from the cars at every bump; nervousness is creeping into the camp. Will we get there? Only two weeks to go, and it seems within our grasp—but fortun...

We rested last night at a strange hotel. It did not appear on any hotel app, nor on Google. The receptionist in Luang Prabang helped us find it, and there was some trepidation as we approached the two-horse town claiming to be its location. We passed a newly built but still skeletal structure that looked like a future hotel, hoping it wasn’t our target. We passed another hotel we had telephoned endlessly without success; it looked quite derelict. Eventually, we reached the spot and—phew—there was a hotel. Not speaking a word of English (and why should they?), we resorted to Google Translate. No, they didn’t have a booking for us (groan), but yes, they did have a double room (that’s fine, I thought, Nellie and I will be comfortable). I tried harder, and at last we ended up with the correct number of rooms. Nellie went off with the daughter of the owners to buy beer and organise a take-out for dinner. She struggled to keep the menu ‘normal’—i.e. no heart, brain, intestine, foot, claw or ...

  Did we die and go to heaven? Leaving the hot-air-balloon/paraglider/long-tail-boat infested Vang Vieng, we headed south. There was talk, last night, of an Expressway. No-one (well, not me) believed this was possible, but blow me sideways we passed through a  peage -type control and glided along on a magic carpet of smoothness. Chinese built obviously, it seemed we were the only people to use it. 100 km of perfection, except the advertised petrol and service station was built but completely empty. No petrol there.  A quick coffee stop, including the use of a camping gaz burner, in a petrol station (huh?) and then some normal road condition for what we thought was going to be the remainder of the journey (all 150 kms), turned out to be a false worry; mostly we had pretty good tarmac and arrived at our destination somewhat earlier than the planners had planned. (Hah! That would be you, Ed)  I might add that the standard of driving was impeccable, in fact even more imp...

Well done, Nellie, for arranging it in the “car” hotel. In prospect was the first of several days’ hard driving. A team discussion (so vulgar, having meetings), previously held, had recorded a preference to just “get on with the plan”, which the secretary felt obliged to remind everyone meant some very long days on pretty dreadful roads. Expectation management is the key. This having been duly set, we set off duly. ChatGPT likened the roads to those of a war-torn African country. It’s not wrong. I know it’s dull to keep droning on about the state of the roads, but they occupy our minds, our fears, our expectations — and so drone on we shall. Today we all decided to just let it happen. We would go at a pace suitable for the conditions and get there when we got there. The result was a carefree day of bimbling along without a thought about springs, chassis, shocks, steering, etc. We still ended up at the hotel at beer time. The day was not without incident, though. We noticed a rather whi...

  Lazy day. Sorting out car security as we discovered that ‘suspicious persons’ wearing balaclavas and helmets were seen photographing the back of Chris’ car. Could be nothing, but we’d feel chumpish if our spare wheels and tyres were knicked, so we have moved the cars to a hotel Nellie and I stayed in last year which has a gate. Shout out to Maison Souvannaphoum in Luang Prabang for helping out (and in particular Pan).   After a jet wash for Ham and the Vauxhall (so shiny now) half the team visited the touristy waterfalls, nearby. The outing was improved by a spectacular Zip line.  Ed has arrived to accompany Ham ‘till Bangkok and then someone else is joining him, but I can’t remember his name. 

Poor Chris woke to find some ne'er-do-well had rifled through his tool box (protected by a toothbrush through the hasp 🙄) stole the top tray full of spanners, which had been collected over the years and which are practically useless to anyone who doesn’t own a vintage car, and then to his dismay discovered they had knicked his spare magneto too (not a lot of use for that in the scrote’s locker).   He has filed a police report. It is sad that this is the first theft we have experienced on any Ultimate Overland Rally. Laos is one of the poorest countries in the world (although there is not so much evidence of poverty in Luang Prabang) and so it is hardly surprising when four old bangers turn up for someone to have a quick shufti around them in the middle of the night. The nihilism of stealing something of zero value to the thief and great value to the victim is depressing. Oh well, let’s hope it doesn’t happen again.  Nigel mended his tyre. Chris pressure-sprayed the Rolls. Ham...

False hopes, or a day that kept on giving We met a number of Europeans last night; the first since we left, er, Europe. It was less strange than we might have expected, but there is no longer that sense of being a genuine ethnic minority; we have passed peak astonishment, in terms of being Caucasian and in cars older than 15 years, which is the maximum vintage in China. Nellie is complaining she is no longer a commodity.  The road, we were assured by the resort manager, a nice Frenchman, would be about the same as we experienced yesterday afternoon (not terrible) for two hours and then would improve markedly.  Wrong.  The road, after two hours, became The Road From Hell! Squeak and groan went the cars. Crash, bang, wallop howled the chassis. “How can this be?” Mused the drivers.  It was a classic Rallyist’s Dilemma: pace or preservation? Neither were achieved effectively. The journey took 7 hours (we expected 4) and the Vauxhall lost its brakes (thankfully on a piece...

Having posted my intemperate blog last night, I fully expected to receive a phone call from the authorities advising me I was now PNG, as far as re-entry into China was concerned. My fellow travellers advised that I was still within reach of the Spetsnaz equivalent and would be lucky to be breakfasting in the same hotel.  In the morning there was surprise (and I hope a little delight) that I entered the breakfast room with Nellie on my arm. There was nothing about breakfast itself that warrants any further mention.  We had agreed to change our Yuan for Lao Kip. The banks did not open before 9.00 but Chris our very own fixer (think James Garner in the Great Escape) found a shop owner who would do it at a decent exchange rate and no faffing with passports etc.  We departed on a journey which Google had at 4 hours, but which Waze optimistically ventured 2 hours. The first 1 km was perfect. Concrete, newly laid, provided a flat surface for our mighty steads to charge along....