If you heard blood-curdling screams coming from the direction of Southeast Asia Saturday afternoon, it’s very possible it was the sound of 13 teachers and friends whooping our way through the Nam Lik forest.
Eleven Lao men and women and two foreigners (Regina, from Switzerland, and me) drove about two hours north of Vientiane – the last 7 kilometers on a rippling strip of dusty dips that really doesn’t deserve to be called a road. We arrived at the banks of the Nam Lik River and waited for the guides from Green Discovery, the eco-tourism agency that developed the “Jungle Fly” experience.
Posing.
Walking down to the river
They were late, of course. As the Lao participants posed for their requisite photo shoot, Regina and I wandered down to the water, where we were duly entertained by:
• some guys butchering an animal,
• two young girls washing clothes,
• a man unloading a motorcycle from a long-tailed boat,
• a youngster who had caught a squirrel and tied a piece of fishing line around its leg to keep it from running away, and
• a boy who stripped down to his underpants for a swim.
When my friend Lae came down to check out the action, I pointed to the butchers and asked, “What animal do you think that is?” She went over to them and chatted in Lao.
“Is that a goat?”
“No, it’s a cow.”
“Why is it so small?”
“It’s a small cow.”
We were glad they were a bit downstream from the laundry girls, and even gladder when we saw a woman brushing her teeth in the river water at the laundry spot at the end of the day.
The cow parts get hauled away.
Laundresses.
The strange Lao squirrel.
Finally, the Green Discovery guides showed up and loaded us into two long-tailed boats for the short journey upstream to our adventure course. We disembarked at a would-be-peaceful-were-it-not-for-the-giggly-ongoing-fashion-shoot waterside hut, where the guides built a fire and grilled delicious kebabs for our lunch. The lead guide, Mr. Vat, issued each of us a helmet and a bamboo stick to use as a brake on the ziplines.
Off we go.
Picnic spot.
Lunch … yum.
A brake or a weapon?
He then led us on a 40-minute steep trek into the lush bamboo forest. Regina and I generally stayed quite close to Mr. Vat, asking him questions about the region and the wildlife. Slowly, the Lao group fell further and further behind, but we could always hear their laughter. Occasionally, we paused to let them catch up, and they would slog up the hill dramatically, calling out for a tuk tuk or piggyback ride. Striking poses to illustrate their exhaustion, they shot photos along the entire way, couching all complaints in a smile or a joke.
Grumble in the jungle.
Beautiful bamboo.
We arrived at a clearing, where (after taking a few group photos) we rigged up in our harnesses and got a quick lesson on the equipment. Mr. Vat asked for a volunteer to demonstrate the proper ziplining protocol, using a mini-zipline. Mai quickly stepped up for the demo, but then everyone else wanted to give it a whirl, too. Eventually, we wrapped up the practice and filed across the first suspended bridge, excited and nervous.
Our fabulous group (left to right, back row first) – Li, Kham, Lin, Phouk, Addie, Pick, Not, me, Lae, Mai, Regina, Johnny, Keo.
Bring it on!
No turning back now.
Green Discovery wisely built the course with short ziplines at the beginning, so ding-dongs such as ourselves could get over our anxiety and master the bamboo brake before tackling the longer, speedier ones. There was plenty of screaming and even a little crying as we zipped through the forest canopy on cables up to 37 meters (120 feet) high and 180 meters (almost 600 feet) long.
The most harrowing activity of the whole day, in my opinion, came early in the form of a single-cable bridge with no handrails. We gripped ropes that dangled from above, giving the sensation of standing up in a swervy subway as we crossed the tightrope.
Brave Addie!
Other challenges included a “spider net” that was just what it sounds like; a “U-bridge,” which featured U-shaped cables attached on either side that dipped and swayed when stepped on, nearly sending me into the splits; a few regular suspension bridges, which could trigger a flurry of Lao shrieks with just one or two bounces; and abseiling back down to earth.
Regina makes it look easy.
Wheeeee!
“Abseiling” is just a fancy word for clipping a rope to your harness and dropping off a tall platform. The first time I did it, the guide clipped the rope to my front, so I descended in an upright position. The second time, which was at the end of the adventure course, he clipped the rope to my back, so when I stepped backwards off the platform, I immediately lunged forward and descended face-down. I proceeded to “fly” like Peter Pan, dropping slowly to the riverbank in a theatrical conclusion to an exciting day.
I can fly, I can fly, I can fly!
Lae bails water out of the boat on the way back to our cars.
A pretty sunset wraps up a fantastic day!
A few final notes about Green Discovery’s “Jungle Fly”:
• The guides followed their own safety rules, which I found reassuring. (I wish I had a dollar for every divemaster or tour guide I’ve seen who was too cool for safety or tried to show off by taking absurd risks.) The Green Discovery guides kept their carabiners clipped to the safety cables the whole time and always modeled smart behavior on the towering platforms.
• A portion of the tour fee is donated to poverty-alleviation projects in local villages. This helps discourage the wildlife trade and slash-and-burn farming, which is common in this area.
• I want to do it again!
