We briefly catch mum and her group to share the excellent hotel breakfast before they continue on their way - she’s seeing Wat Phou today and I’m very excited on her behalf. We’re booked for departure shortly after them, in a van transfer to the mythical Si Phan Done: the 4,000 islands where the Mekong suddenly widens and creates an ever changing panorama of little islets before thundering down into Cambodia.
The trip is advertised as a short two-hour journey, and on the map we’re not far. But our van faffs around picking up passengers all over town, then some more 30km downriver in Champasak, before inexplicably backtracking a dozen of kilometres to pick up a final passenger. By the time all of this is sorted out two hours turn into nearly five before we make it to our destination of Don Khone. At least the last part of the journey is a very scenic boat ride between green islets and larger islands, dotted with a few wooden houses and some stately trees. We safely make it to the pier at just past 1pm, and set out to check into our guesthouse - hopefully we can still fit in some sightseeing this afternoon before Ollie needs to jump on a few meetings.
Don Khone is extremely rustic compared to everywhere else we’ve stayed in Laos: the hamlet is mostly ramshackle bungalows and abandoned building sites clustered around a dirt road, with more cows, chickens, cats and dogs roaming the street than motor vehicles. Our guesthouse was highly rated but it’s absolutely basic: the wooden stilt room looks like it could fall apart any minute, most of the switches don’t work, and the room doesn’t include towels, covers, or soap. But it looks clean, and very importantly, there is a mosquito net - the first one we’ve had in Laos, and judging by the quantity of critters we’ve seen on the way here, we’ll need it. It’s only for two nights as well, and we need to break our streak of comfortable hotels before we get too used to it! As we check in formally, it turns out we can get towels - later, but it’s something.
Having dropped the bags off, it’s time to explore. We’re once again setting out at the hottest time of the day - and now that we’ve come back south the temperature is noticeably higher, so we slather on sunscreen, take out the hats and stock up on water before starting. Don Khone’s sights include the remains of the old French railway - an attempt to bridge the falls of the Mekong through land - and the Li Phi waterfall, believed to carry resident’s spirits away after their death, both within a couple of kilometres’ walk. We take our time and chase the few patches of shade along the way. The remains of the French railway aren’t very picturesque: a small, rusted locomotive and a barebones concrete bridge; but the story is almost comical in its ambition. It seems a lot of the early colons thought they could just dismiss the Laotian’s warnings about the scale and dangers of the falls as superstition!
Speaking of waterfalls, we soon get to Li Phi. The entrance is over an adorable wooden bridge decorated with hanging rooster cages, followed by a scenic stroll amongst bamboo clumps to the riverside. The rapids start out quite tame, but they soon devolve into roaring drops of ten to twenty meters, this branch of the Mekong breaking up into hundreds of small streams all finding their own path through a maze of jagged rocks. The sight was well worth the walk and we take a moment to soak it in from various angles, careful not to venture too close.
We head back towards town, the heat diminishing slightly as the afternoon wears on, and look for a nice place to settle down for a few ours for work and admin. Unfortunately, while wifi is now widespread even in this rustic village, it’s hard to find somewhere to hide from the myriad of mosquitos buzzing around. And even when we set up a bit further from the banks, in a bid to avoid bites, our chosen spot comes with nosy cats and dogs, curious children, regular shouted conversations and seemingly, an active chainsaw in the backyard if the noise is anything to go by. It’s not exactly a restful setting even if the food is delicious, and poor Ollie needs to run away to one of the neighbouring abandoned building sites to take his calls.
While he’s hiding from the various nuisances, I’m just in time to enjoy a gorgeous sunset over the Mekong. I go up on the famous railway bridge, and finally get the appeal: it’s not about the structure itself, it’s about the views you get from it. It's a perfect lookout over the channel between the two islands of Don Khone and Don Det, a lazy expanse of water framed by coconut palms and scattered with islets of various sizes. The bridge is a popular spot at this time, as it would be of course, but there’s plenty of space for everyone and the flamboyant sky is a fantastic backdrop for the beautiful scenery.
Sunset notwithstanding, we’re starting to feel like the islands were mis-sold to us. The guidebooks and reviews spoke of a serene, tropical paradise ideal for spending a few lazy days by the river, with many sightseeing spots in easy walking distance. But in a couple of hours this afternoon we’ve already toured the sights, and far from relaxing we are constantly on edge from tuning out the noise, and trying to fend off mosquitos, critters and curious pets. While Ollie is working I’ve booked our transfer to Siem Reap, in Cambodia, for the day after tomorrow - but we’re both starting to wonder what we’re going to do in the meantime!
The one remaining suggested activity is a boat tour towards Cambodia to see another waterfall, and try to spot the pod of endangered Irrawaddy dolphins that reside around the islands - according to the guides this is one of the only places in the world where it’s possible to see them. As we head back to our guesthouse, we enquire about the tour. Only to be met by a guffaw: « No more dolphins, gone! » says the operator. We’ll never know what happened - hopefully they moved on to bluer waters?
As we get back to our room, having finally secured our towels from the reluctant owners, we realise we’re staying opposite the one disco (?) on the island. It’s open-air, and their stacks of subwoofers blaring local music are taller than me, and so powerful that they’re noticeably shaking our room, even from thirty meters away. It’s the final nail in the coffin - I call the van company transferring us to Siem Reap, and we’re luckily able to shift our booking one day earlier. Like the dolphins, we will be leaving these somehow inhospitable shores, sooner rather than later!
Lovely pictures though!