Dreamscapes Travel & Lifestyle Magazine
Issue link: http://read.dreamscapes.ca/i/586302
FALL/ WINTER 2015 DREAMSCAPES 53 abruptly with a jolt and a squee, replaced by what appeared to be a stretch of kitty litter. Tire carcasses lay strewn across the dirt, which we would recall when we later passed a pickup truck with ribbons of rubber streaming from its rapidly-shed- ding rims. One hundred kilometres later, we stopped for the night in Thalang, a shy vil- lage of wooden bungalows crouching beside a still lake. The next morning, we set out on ground, which, due to roadwork, was even more decrepit than the gravel we'd ridden in on. But we pressed on undaunted, inching and sliding through fine sand that kicked up and frosted our skin in silted terracotta. "How long will this take?" I wondered aloud. "I think a butterfly just passed us," mut- tered Pat. Cryptic signage advised us to "slow up down" and warned of "accident ahead." Bamboo stalks clustered like asparagus bun- dles and five-metre-high grasses shimmied in the breeze. Farmers toiled in verdant rice paddies as goats, pigs and cows meandered across the road with no regard for the ques- tionable status of our brakes. Villages consisted of a smattering of stilted wooden shacks—often outfitted with dust-caked satellite dishes—and grinning children who shouted "Sabaidee" as we passed. "Isn't it incredible to be in the middle of nowhere?" I enthused when we stopped at a shop selling gasoline in empty water bot- tles. "Bangkok's infamous Khao San Road finally feels a million miles away." The sudden blasting of Gangnam Style drowned out Pat's response. The roads improved in Laksao (a com- paratively bustling metropolis with two traffic lights) and it was an easy cruise to Kuon Kham. After an exhausting 120 kilo- metres, we turned into a guesthouse situated across the highway from where a gilded Buddhist temple sparkled amidst the tangle of jungle. A SUBTERRANEAN VOID Day three commenced with a visit to the Konglor Cave: an enormous cavern spliced by a gurgling river tucked within the bowels of the Annamite mountain range. We pro- cured a guide and a motorboat and, styl- ishly attired in lifejackets and headlamps, sputtered into the abyss. Stalactites and sta- lagmites gnashed and clawed around us as I silently reminded myself that of course