gravel road up to the border and were pleasantly surprised to find a gloriously paved surface carving its way around the mountainside and into the valley below.
Their chances of finding a campsite were low. The mountain slopes were too steep to pitch tents on. There was nowhere that would conceal them from the road. The boys thought of the landmines and unexploded ordnance that covered the countryside.
Around another bend, there was a flat plot of land behind a small, worn fence. An old lady was working it with a hoe. There were plots of corn planted beyond her and a small, thatched hut a short way up the hill. They approached her. ‘Suh-bye-dee!’ one of them said with a smile on his face.
‘Do you mind if we pitch our tents here?’ She replied with a greeting then spoke in Laotian. Arthur hurried to get his phone on which he had a photo of a tent saved. The lady looked at the phone then back at us. She laughed then spoke again before pulling an old phone out of her pocket and making a call. She looked serious when she spoke and it was clear she was discussing our presence on her land with someone else.
An old man with a creased face and dark eyes came down from the hut. He smiled with a warmth that immediately put them all at ease. He indicated to the hut and invited us to stay in there with him and his family. We smiled and graciously turned down his offer but accepted the patch of grass out the front of his house. Kids giggled and played around them as they set up the tents. They shared sweets that they had brought across the border and smiled as their faces lit up.
‘Well, this isn’t half bad!’ I said to Arthur and Sean as they unpacked their bikes. ‘Not at all. The view is insane,’ said Arthur, pointing out to the hills. A scooter roared past down the winding road. ‘I honestly thought we were going to come unstuck there. I don’t know what we would have done,’ Sean said.
