Early this morning I was awoken by a knocking sound. It was still dark, and unusually for a residential street in Laos, quiet. As my mind groggily tried to think what the noise could be there was an enormous crack of thunder outside and the window rattled as gusts of wind from the leading edge of the storm hit the house. Ah, just another storm I thought to myself and tried to get back to sleep. For the third day in a row, Luang Prabang would wake up to heavy rain and overflowing drains.

Life in Laos revolves around water. In the dry season there is not enough and only farmers lucky enough to have irrigated fields can grow crops. The hot skies are thick with smoke as the remainder burn their fields in preparation for the impending rains. In the wet season, the country struggles to cope with too much water. Overflowing dams, landslides and major floodings are a regular occurrence. Farmers on lowland fields have to judge the best time for planting. Too early, and they risk losing the crop to another flooding. Too late and the crops might not get enough water as the wet season dries up. A month ago, on a hike to Tad Sae Waterfall (read about our first visit here), the difficulties in coping with so much water in so short a time were apparent.

Happier days before the flood After the flood, a barren wasteland

What used to be green fields with crops and goats is now a barren wasteland. The villagers, on the surface at least, seem to be unperturbed. Less than a week after the flood a few industrious souls had already re-fenced their fields and sowed more crops. We continued down to the riverbank and boarded our boat (thank you Noy’s brother!) that would take us upriver.

After a short time motoring up river we pulled into a muddy landing. Around us, a small herd of elephants were grazing on what plant life had survived the flooding. On a small boat, anchored just offshore, the mahouts were playing some sort of card game and drinking beer lao, no work for the elephants today!

The elephants are left to their own devices today The floods didn’t leave much vegetation The realities of mahouts and their elephants

We set off along a muddy trail and into the trees. A few minutes later, hanging from a tree were the mahout trade tools: chains and spikes. It turns out that elephants don’t really want to spend their days hauling logs and large falung around!

The path began to steepen and after 30 minutes or so the trees opened up to reveal rice, jobs tears and maize crops on either side. The, fields being flat and irrigated would belong to the wealthier villagers.

The path opened up to reveal a patchwork of fields overlooked by misty mountains Flat and irrigated. A very valuable rice paddy! I was a little hot! Rice Lots and lots of rice

The narrow path was well-worn. All these fields were planted, maintained and harvested by farmers on foot and the occasional scooter. A small river, which was running high due to the recent rain was only passable by a narrow bamboo bridge. I wondered how far a farmer would have to walk if (when?) the bridge gets washed away.

After a few more fields the terrain started to undulate and the rice and maize changed to plantation rubber. Our narrow path was now a dirt road and we wandered into a small, obviously poor village, checking out the local school.

The local school Childrens art Teacher accomodation Most houses were 1 or 2 room affairs with bamboo walls and a thatched roof

The village was hard done by, less than 30km away you can spend $40 on an Australian steak or buy your choice of European wines and cheeses. Yet, here the local school only just got a toilet and children walked the dusty streets with distended bellies. As we continued back along the road, well tended rubber plantations stretching off on either side, I asked Noy why this village was so poor when it was surrounded by productive land. He told me that years ago the village sold their farmland to a group of Hmong people (financed by the Hmong diaspora in the United States) who developed the plantations.

The village was surrounded by hectares of plantation, yet they owned none of it Tapping the rubber tree Bags of rubber sap await collection

We continued hiking and the day got even hotter, occasionally I could hear the distant roar of the waterfall taunting me. Before we could get there though we needed to choose the right turn-off on a fork in the road. We chose poorly, and after a small detour and improved directions from a group of rubber farmers we made it to a steep path that led down under the jungle and towards Tad Sae Waterfall.

A small group of rubber farmers set us on the right path A small bug Freshwater crabs live in the rice paddies No idea, a scorpion? It was alive in the water Eventually, we found the path that led down to the waterfall

With so much rain, the clear blue pools we had swum in a few weeks earlier had become a boiling mass of white-water. Undeterred, we continued downstream until the current slowed down in a wide pool. Here, if you kept your wits about you, it was possible to carefully swim in the chest deep water without being washed downstream.

After an excellent lunch it was time to head back downriver. In a few weeks the rains will stop and in a few months, as the last crops are harvested the idea of so much water will seem hard to believe. In Pt 2, find out how much science happens when your laboratory has no running water!