October 12, 2000
The Mekong, flowing from the frigid Tibetan plateau to an immeasurably vast
delta on the South China Sea, is the twelfth longest river in the world and the
world's tenth in terms of volume of water. It is not a navigable whole, much to
the chagrin of the French former colonizers of Indochina. Rapids obstruct the
river's course in several places. Of these, the mighty falls in the Sihandon
(four thousand islands) region of the Lao Mekong just north of the Cambodian
border, Somphamit to the west and the larger and more ferocious Khon Phapheng
to the east, are splendidly impressive and would certainly excite interest
among the intreped readers of Canoe & Kayak, Whitewater Paddling and
similar publications. Unknown to recreational paddlers in the wider world, the
mighty Mekong's immense falls patiently await the attentions of the likes of
Shannon Carroll and Doug Ammons.
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Both sets of falls offer Class V+ dangers and
thrills; the time to attempt either would be in July and August when the Mekong
is running full and swift. In January there is more rock than water in evidence
and fearless local fisher folk clamber over slickly wet rock surfaces to rig
precarious, flimsy but visibly effective fish traps over the tumultuous billows
and crashing surf. A brief experience of tubing the comparatively demure Nam
Song River at Van Vieng in Laos encouraged me to try tubing the Mekong, Then
brown as oxtail soup, full and flowing at a brisk walking pace, in August
1999.
Dire warnings of probable disasters and the menace supposedly
posed by electric eels (they are, in fact, both rare and shy) reduced my tube
trip to a mere three kilometers, from Mr. Tho's inexpensive bungalow resort on
Don Det to the sturdy old railroad bridge linking Don Det and Don Khon. A light
railway was constructed early last century to bypass the falls and make the
Mekong a navigable waterway of sorts; it was abandoned in 1945 and the rails
are now used for fencing local yards. |
Khong Phapheng Falls
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For the locals who
inhabit the thirty-odd inhabited islands of Siphandon, the Mekong is both
larder and highway: every adult, wrinkled crone and toddler can handle a wooden
canoe with confidence and adroit skill but tubing was seemingly unknown in
Siphandon until then.
Kayak recreational tourism has to be one of the
cleanest and nicest form of tourism; we pollute hardly at all. If we spend
relatively little, that modest expenditure finds its way into the packets of
the lower-middle entrepreneurial class and peasantry of the locality, rather
than the metropolitan wealthy who own vast hotels and resorts. Ideally, I would
like to see Siphandon become a year-round kayaking resort for responsible
kayakers; the local children are well nourished, cheery, self-confident and
healthy but they could use some better clothes. |
Ms. Tho
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My Innova Safari kayak now lies at Mr.
Tho's ramshackle thatched-hut resort on Don Det; readers of this article are
welcome to use it so long as they stay at Mr. Tho's or have a meal there.
Should you feel you need it, written authorization may be had from me by e-mail
at sonoekurimoto@yahoo.com
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From the Chinese truck
tube ("Double Coin Brand") rented from Mr. Pye in Muang Khong to an inflatable
kayak is none too great a step. Then a resident of Osaka in Japan, I ordered an
Innova Safari kayak to be sent to Mr. Pon's guest house at Muang Khong on the
island of Don Khong ( Don means island in Lao, as Ko does in Thai and -shima in
Japanese) from the Innova distributors in the U.S.A. (www.innovakayak.com). The
Innova, made by the painstaking Bohemians of Gumotex in the Czech Republic,
proved to be everything the American distributor claimed; it is tough, buoyant,
comfortable and light enough to haul around and carry with ease.
The
morning of the kayak's inflation drew a crowd of onlookers and eager
participants; the kayak's rightful owner was brusquely elbowed aside while
every available man and youth in the village tried the Innova experience, to be
followed by Mr. Pon's serving girls - almost certainly his second or third
cousins, for everyone in Siphandon seems to be related to everyone else.
Squealing with glee, the two waitresses crossed the navigation channel to Hat
Xai Khun, accepted the plaudits of all onlookers and returned aglow with
triumph. |
| In January the Mekong is low and sluggish, a
mere shadow of its mighty self in July and August. Still, I had not been in any
kind of kayak or canoe in moving water for over two decades and the 22
kilometer passage from Muang Khong to the old railroad bridge at Ban Khon was a
languid delight of six hours, enlivened by numerous stretches of Class I
whitewater, rather fewer stretches of Class II and one lamentably brief stretch
of Class III. |
Lillies
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Every village on Don Som
and the other islands passed contributed a host of enthusiastic, if bemused,
onlookers; a simple kayak journey had the improbable air of a royal progress,
like the young Elizabeth Tudor being rowed on the Thames. A bright red
inflatable kayak had never been seen before in Siphandon. Being now neither
young (alas) nor unduly given to strenuous endeavors I was content to return
from Ban Khon to Muang Khong with the light Innova by powered launch (an
informal waterbus service makes the journey several times a day) and then to
return with the current. A muscular and enthusiastic young American set an
interesting precedent by taking the Innova, in the unaccustomed role of a cargo
vessel, thrice from Mr. Thos on Don Det to Ban Nakasong on the eastern Mekong
shore to bring back crates of Beer Lao on the grounds that Beer Lao was to be
had cheaper at Ban Nakasong; this entailed strenuous and unceasing paddling
against the Mekong current, a fairly demanding feat. |
South Korean Stamp
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A glance at a detailed map of Siphandon
suggested possibilities beyond unswerving adherence to the main channel, that
had been delineated by navigation markers in the French period. Bearing to the
west of Don Som takes one into quiet water frequented only by local fishers,
local delivery boats and occasional waterborne commuters (grannies, aunties,
tiny children and piglets).
I regret not having taken the westernmost
channel from Muang Saen on Don Khong through the maze of islands to Don Xang
and thence to Don Det; there simply wasn't enough time. It shall be done by
other outsiders, if not by me. |
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There is a drawback to
exploring the more minor channels of the Mekong when the water is low and
sluggish. In January such channels are often blocked by green water weed in
dense mats like the thick white polystyrene used for encasing computers and
refrigerators. An hour or so spent struggling out of this heavy, clogging and
impeding stuff can upset the best laid plans; I was overtaken by nightfall in a
baffling maze of bushes and islands west of Don Det. Forward progress in the
starlight appeared impracticable, a night spent in the Innova would have
offered a midnight feast for every mosquito in Siphandon and invited
agonizingly stiff joints the next day. While pondering these uninviting
alternatives, your chronicler was cheered to observe a bonfire flare up a mere
hundred or two meters away. After forty minutes of struggling with the mats of
weed, I bumped into a moored canoe, struggled up the riverbank leading to a
small community on Don Puey. Let it suffice to say that the civil and
hospitable people in this insular hamlet, Don Puey being an island with maybe
25 families, offered the forlorn wayfarer a change of clothes, a hot meal and a
bed with a mosquito net. A payment of approximately $4.00 was readily accepted
(costs in Laos are low, except for the visa and the expenses incurred in
getting there in the first place. My spouse complained bitterly that on
occasion I was spending over $20.00 in a single day!). |
Now, let me offer suggestions: go to Laos in
July and/ or August. The truly adventurous could try doing the falls mentioned
above. Those with more time but less enthusiasm might consider a kayak/canoe
trip from Luang Nam Tha down the Nam Tha River to its confluence with the
Mekong and a journey downstream to Siphandon. Whether a kayak journey from,
say, Jinghong in China to the river's mouth in Vietnam is politically possible
is necessarily open to question. Sooner or later someone will do it; why not
you, dear reader?
William Corr
Professor of English
Yosu
National University - Korea |
Khong Phapheng Falls
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