Letters from Indochina (Part 38)

This entry is part 38 of 44 in the series Letters from Indochina

May 7, 2025

Letters from Indochina (Part 38)

By Simon J. Lau

Today was my last day in Nong Khiaw. Unfortunately, it didn’t end the way I’d hoped! First, I had planned to hike Pha Daeng Peak this morning, a mountain known for its sweeping views of the Nam Ou River valley. The trail is steep and occasionally grueling, but the real reward is at the top. Those who start before sunrise often reach the summit just in time to rise above the clouds, then watch as the mist slowly lifts to reveal the valley and town below. Many say it’s one of the best experiences in Nong Khiaw, maybe even in all of Laos. And by all accounts, it’s worth the effort.

But I was still wrecked from yesterday’s trek. I suspect I was severely dehydrated, hours of hiking under the sun will do that, and things only got worse last night when I ran out of water and couldn’t find a place to restock until morning. Rather than push myself when I was already feeling run down, I made the call to skip the hike altogether.

Thankfully, I had scheduled a late-morning departure to allow time for the climb that never happened. So I slept in and tried to recover before the long, bumpy five-hour journey back to Luang Prabang. That’s when things went from disappointing to outright infuriating.

A van pulled up to my guesthouse, and I was surprised to find I was the only one in it. I asked the driver how many passengers were expected for the trip. “Sixteen,” he said. Sixteen? I’ve taken these shared vans before, and even twelve is a tight squeeze. I already knew something wasn’t right.

We drove to a local minibus station, and that’s when it hit me: I was being dumped into a crammed, sagging, overloaded minibus. People were packed shoulder to shoulder, luggage was bursting from under the seats and tied precariously to the hood, and the entire van looked barely roadworthy. It didn’t just look uncomfortable, it looked unsafe.

As I stood there processing what was happening, I could feel my blood boil. I spun around to my driver and demanded my money back. He couldn’t understand much of anything I was saying, but he could see that I was visibly angry, and he quickly handed me back all my money. With my cash and luggage in hand, I walked straight back to town.

I knew there were other options, established shuttle services that leave daily at 8:30 a.m. and 4:30 p.m. I hadn’t wanted to wait until 4:30, which is why I originally booked an 11 a.m. ride. However, at this point, I didn’t have a choice. When I arranged the new trip, I made sure to confirm the number of passengers and the quality of the vehicle. I also told them what had just happened.

The new broker looked at me in disbelief: “I’ve been doing this a long time. I’ve never heard of that. How could they charge you the shuttle price (premium price) and then pass you off to the local service? That’s a no, no.”

After some digging, I realized what had happened. There are two types of transport here: shared shuttles aimed at foreign travelers, and cheaper local minibuses for budget-conscious travelers and locals. My first driver saw a chance to pocket the difference by handing me off to the much cheaper, local option, hoping I wouldn’t notice or would be too embarrassed to say anything. Sadly for him, I’m not afraid to speak up, or in this case, yell.

I ended up at a riverside patio bar, fuming, and firing off a series of pointed messages to the first vendor. I told him I had his number and photo from WhatsApp, and threatened to blast his business on Reddit, Google, and every travel forum I could find. I ended the messages with: “DO NOT DO THAT AGAIN.” He quickly blocked me, but I think he’ll think twice before trying to scam someone else again. Getting that off my chest made me feel a lot better.

Later, I caught my shuttle back to Luang Prabang. It was uneventful, just the way I like it. Still, I couldn’t help wishing the roads were better. It’s only 87 miles (about 140 kilometers) between Luang Prabang and Nong Khiaw, yet the ride still takes five hours. Deep potholes pockmark the entire route, and every one of them felt worse because I was sick. Then again, maybe that’s part of the tradeoff. If the journey were easier, the crowds would come, and perhaps it’s that grueling ride that helps keep Nong Khiaw the quiet, special place it is.

Although today didn’t end the way I’d hoped, I’m still leaving with very positive memories of Nong Khiaw. It’s a beautiful little place, and I hope it stays mostly local. And next time, I’ll still have something new to look forward to: hiking Pha Daeng Peak, this time with Jean along for the adventure.