Trekking Thailand

If this journey is about being exposed to life-changing experiences, Thailand delivered. After spending four days on the sundrenched islands of Koh Samui and Koh Phangan in the Gulf of Thailand, we jetted to the northern region of the country, and the traveler’s hub of Chiang Mai. Closer to Burma than Bangkok, this town of one million people is known as Thailand’s second city. It qualifies as a must-hit on the backpacker’s circuit of Thailand as a reputed jump off location for trekking the mountains of the Land of Smiles. After happily ingesting our recommended dose of island sand and surf, we were ready for what Chiang Mai has to offer—jungles, rivers, hilltribes, and as reported by fellow travelers, elephants.

Of the 200 outfitters that provide guided treks through the highlands, my travel book suggested one in particular that seemed to meet our needs. Rather conveniently it doubled as a guesthouse. And so Eagle House #2 became our home for the night. Spartan at best, the room was a challenge for Jeannie. It smelled a bit stale, the pillow was not without stains, and an insect or two also called it home. But for $7, the price was certainly right. Jeannie set out to redecorating immediately. I think the frazzled bed spread hit the floor before my bag. “I’ll be using my Balinese sarong for a blanket tonight,” she said. Without any further explanation I knew I’d be on my own for finding covers. Bed linens or not, I also knew a night at the Eagle House would be repaid in the next two days.

The following morning we rose early, I having slept quite soundly under a towel. Backpacks in tow, we climbed into the bed of a pick-up truck for our ride into the mountains, with our guide, Mr. Dang, at the wheel. Each side of the truck bed was fitted with a bench large enough for five rear ends. So along with four Germans and two Brits, Kelly, Shomit, Jeannie and I left the busy streets of Chiang Mai for the bamboo forests of the hinterlands. Our first stop was an eighty meter waterfall at the edge of the Mae Tang National Park. After a stuffy ride in sweltering heat, we relieved ourselves with a refreshing swim in the roiling natural pool. It took all the strength I had to stand upright under the crashing of the falls. The site served as a wonderful introduction to the wildness and the beauty that lay ahead.

After stopping for a Pad Thai lunch at a remote roadside café, we motored up the steep country road to a forest service station, where we bid farewell to the truck. We spent the rest of the afternoon trekking through a lush (and very soggy) mountain rainforest. Between thick bamboo groves and banana leaves the size of cars, we looked out over mist-covered mountain ridges that led right into Laos. The views were shocking, and inspirational enough to make me forget about the leaches that were sucking on my feet.

The air grew thinner as we climbed, but was still so thick with moisture you seemed to drink it rather than breath it in. Shirts drenched, shorts muddied, and knees weary we arrived at our destination for the night—a hilltribe village of 300 people, known as the Karen. We bathed in the river. We watched men cultivate a rice terrace. We ate a chicken that walked the village that morning. We sipped whisky with people of the tribe. We slept on the floor of a wooden hut. We did things we will probably never do again.

The next morning we woke to crowing roosters, ate a breakfast of fresh eggs and the toast we had trekked in the day before, and wasted no time in setting out on the trail. Jeannie and Kelly presented the tribe with some children’s books on our way out of the village, and then we ascended over a massive mountain ridge. The morning was especially hot. Jeannie was distracted from the heat only by her elaborate pattern of inflamed mosquito bites. Fortunately, the trials of the jungle were soon forgotten when a family of elephants appeared from behind a dense thicket of ivy. They were to be our transportation for a three mile journey down the river. I can say the ensuing experience is truly one of the greatest things I’ve done in my life.

For two hours Jeannie and I rode alone upon the back of a quiet, steady animal. Our elephant was a magnificent being. Only separated from the creature’s back by a handcrafted wooden seat, we patted the head and rubbed the shoulders of our friend as he generously shared with us the stunning banks of the Mae Tang River. Only the gushing of the water and an occasional trumpet from the elephant could be heard. The forest at our sides was completely still. I will never forget the silence and peace of the experience. I may never feel closer to nature again.