The Joys of Nature part 2: The only solution is to eat them @ Somewhere in Northern Thailand
We were living our dreams of camping in the Thai mountains and saving money while doing it. For only 500 baht (~$15) we rented a tent, a sleeping pad, a few blankets, a lake front plot on a bamboo platform, and 60 minutes in a bamboo row boat. We were told that the best time to take out the row boat was sunrise. Not ones to miss out on the best experience, we deferred our reservation to sunrise and set our alarms for 5:30.
With shelter secured, we walked around the lake to familiarize ourselves with the area. The lake was really more of a large pond roughly a mile in circumference, the body of water sat in the middle of a mountainous valley. The surrounding village was home to maybe 100 people and at the opposite end of the lake was what looked to be a competing campsite. We approached the other campsite and glimpsed several people setting up tents. After the walk it was time for dinner:
After dinner we went on a digestion walk; this time we even made a friend, a white dog we named Riley. “He’s so quiet! I love dogs that can chill.” remarked Helen.
There wasn’t much to do, so around 9:00pm we decided to get cozy and go to bed. After brushing our teeth we crawled into our tent. The sleeping pads weren’t the thickest, we could feel the bamboo slats underneath, and the tent wasn’t the largest, Adam had only an inch of room to spare at either end, but it was a tent and we were camping. We listened to our audiobook and began drifting off to sleep...
Suddenly, the quiet village dog, Riley, was startled by something. He released a single loud bark and an answering bark came back from across the lake. Not to be threatened in his own territory, Riley began barking madly at the unknown dog. He kept up a heroic defense for what felt like the next hour, barking his little heart out at what we knew was just his own echo.
Finally quiet, we drifted somewhere between asleep and deliriously awake. Until out of the silence came a distant “Cock-a-doodle-doooooo.” Then we heard another, then another, and another. Soon every rooster in the town was crowing with the fervor of medieval knights defending their castles from siege. Adam thought it must be close to sunrise. He checked his phone. It was 1:30. For the next several hours we’d go in and out of sleep listening to this:
When our 5:30 alarm went off we turned to look at one another. “Might as well take the boat out now.” said Adam.
We crawled out of the tent, stretched our stiff necks and prepared ourselves for a morning row. The boat took some getting used to. There wasn’t a good spot to lean with your back or push with your legs, but with some trying we found a workable motion and made it the center of the small lake:
The still lake with the fog sitting on its surface
Soon the sun broke through the horizon and a new sound joined the cacophony. The campsite from across the lake decided now was the time to blast music:
We shared a laugh, “What is this place?” Adam asked Helen.
“I don’t know you’re the one who said yes to this.” Helen responded in an attempt to wipe her hands of any responsibility for our current sleepless predicament.
We rowed the boat back to its pier, both agreeing that it was time to wrap up this bizarre camping experience, but not before Helen got her roti.
Ban Rak Thai was our next stop for the trip. It is a unique town about two hours north of our campsite. The name translates to “Thai loving village.” The village was founded by Chinese refugees who helped the Thai people fight communist insurgence and were granted citizenship for their efforts. Now it is more of a tourist attraction than anything, but it still holds onto its Chinese heritage. The whole area is decorated with Chinese style architecture and its people speak a dialect of Manderin. The greater area, once famous for their heroin production, now specializes in the production of tea. The plan was to quickly ride there for lunch, maybe walk around the village, find a hotel, and sleep.
The problem with the our plan was that there were a lot of turns that were difficult to spot. Every time we’d miss a turn we’d pull over, Adam would check his phone, reset the trip meter, and pray he wouldn’t miss it a second time. After a long morning of wrong turns, Adam’s frustration was close to a boiling point. He saw a cafe, abruptly pulled over, tore off his helmet, and sat down on the nearest bench, taking a moment to cool down.
Helen calmly walked over to the counter and ordered a water melon smoothie and 2 pad Thais. She had a sneaky suspicion that Adam was beginning to feel a bit hangry.
She was right. We ate pad Thai and enjoyed the river view, which we stumbled upon out of pure chance.
Recharged and almost there, we made quick work of the final stretch. Then looked around Ban Rak Thai for available rooms. We balked when a couple places quoted us at 3500 baht ($100), and were shocked when several locations said they sold out (the town felt so empty), but with some patience we found a comfortable room for a reasonable 2000 baht (~$70).
We showered, took some time to rest, and made a game out of dinner. The rules were we could only order one dish, and we’d take turns picking restaurants. This way we had an excuse to walk laps around Ban Rak Thai and to try the various restaurants. It was a success:
In the morning we called Karen (Helen‘s little sister and the Clark family’s agricultural expert) and told her about the rooster experience. She empathized with our struggle and confirmed that roosters are little monsters. “Everyone thinks roosters cock-a-doodle at dawn but it’s such a lie, they crow nonstop—the only solution is to eat them.”
