With cuts and scrapes still coloring my body from our first motorbike crash, I was hesitant at the thought of getting back on an unkept scooter to drive my wife on Laos’s crumbling backroads. However, I was even less interested in the alternative of experiencing the Bolaven Plateau from the back of a tuk tuk with exhaust fumes filtering our views of the passing countryside. 

If only McKenzie had similar reservations?  ...she didn’t. 

Back on the scooter it was. 

The Bolaven Plateau is an elevated region in southern Laos between Vietnam to the east and the mighty Mekong River delta to the west with many waterfalls gating its periphery. It is blanketed by coffee plantations and farms. As with most areas in this region, it didn’t avoid entanglement in the Vietnam War, having been one of the most heavily bombed areas, in part because of its proximity to the Ho Chi Minh Trail that flanks the eastern border. To this day it is not recommended to go “off trail” here due to the amount of undetonated ordnance still lurking in the fields. For more on this horrible reality, see the Laos Part 1 post. 

We consolidated a few things into a single overnight backpack. One that McKenzie could shoulder from the back of the scooter, checking the rest of our stuff at our Pakse hotel. We’d be doing a 2-day 225km plateau loop. There is also a popular 4-day loop option but something told us we should ease our way into the world of multi-day scootering. 

Our fully loaded 100cc scooter struggled as the highway pitched upwards away from the Mekong. Its shocks squeaked and moaned on the uneven roads. The rear brake took a hefty stomp before engaging. The speedometer didn’t work, a minor annoyance because we weren't ever in jeopardy of setting any speed records. Between the overloaded engine, hazardous road conditions and trying to dodge the stray cattle, pigs and dogs in the middle of the road, it was more zag than zoom. To the chickens credit and our amusement, they respected the horn and quickly darted and dashed off into the ditches as we passed.

Commuter traffic was slowly replaced by tractors and farm trucks. Villages grew smaller. Smiling children with book bags eagerly waved as we scooted by. The temperature dropped a few degrees and the landscape changed as we rode higher up onto the plateau. Farmers worked the fields. Coffee trees started to fill every nook along the hillsides. All while jostling for seat space on our tiny scooter. 

We’d take breaks often for a cold coke. An excuse to stretch out the legs and observe daily life in the rural countryside. 

I couldn't help but wonder when our scooter had its last tune-up. Or what we would we do if it broke down. After all, I’m the friend in Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance who buys the new stuff and relies on the professionals to fix them. Not the the main character who appreciates the tinkering and fixing of the old one. Would we be able to hail a tractor to the nearest village? Would we have to spend the night sleeping on the floorboards of a farmer's hut?

We arrived in the small village of Tad Lo late that afternoon and checked-in to the last room at one of the few guesthouses. It was a homestay, which meant for 40,000 kip (or about $5) we had our own room with two twin beds at the end of a small stilted row house. A German couple could be heard talking through the thin walls next to us and the host family stayed at the end. We all shared the same detached bathroom. That evening we chipped in to cook dinner. We picked mint leaves, chopped garlic, cut onions, and sliced bread fully tapping into the extent of my culinary skills (and underutilizing McKenzie’s). And we dined together from a long table adjacent to the house garden, which grew all the food we were eating. An experience we won't forget.

We elected to go without the use of the shared shower facility the next morning after breakfast. We had 130 km to travel back to Pakse and it rolled by similar to the first day. We took our time. Stopping every so often for a waterfall or to gaze at coffee plantations.  

We returned to Pakse that afternoon a little achy from two days hunched over on a small scooter. Agreeing that 4-day loop would have been a bit much. And I gave myself an pat on the back for successfully captaining us 225 km without another crash. 

-Brad