Biking Around The 4,000 Islands

With seven tourists crammed snugly into a narrow barge we set off along the Mekong, rocking and swaying, weaving around sandbanks and overgrown, uninhabited islands, to Don Khon, right on the Cambodia border. 

Don Khon has countless clusters of wooden bungalows built overlooking the river, each one offering beautiful views and a balcony complete with hammock. Ric and I, in search of peace and serenity, managed to book ourselves into the one place on the island hosting a 48 hour party for dozens of the owner’s friends and family. The loud, grainy music wasn’t too much of an annoyance compared to the revolting smell that came from meat left rotting in the sun. By the afternoon of the second day all the cooking had been done and everyone was too drunk to clean away the animal remains strewn around the yard behind our bungalow. The nauseating smell was accompanied by party guests who occasionally joined us on the balcony to spit or vomit into the river, and gangs of small children who thought our room was part of their playground and who tried to steal my ice-cream. To say we chose unwisely is an understatement. The party was in order to bless the house, which had been built exactly one year ago. The only respite from the Laos folk music straining over the speakers was when a group of monks and family elders performed a Buddhist blessing, chanting in a monotone only slightly less offensive than the music, and lighting enough incense to mask the stench of the meat.

Despite the poor choice of accommodation, Don Khon was a lovely place to spend a couple of days; it is a small island with a population of a few thousand people, somewhat overrun with tourists. Palm trees line the river, as do hippy cafes where travellers pass the day sitting on cushions on the floor, sipping fruit shakes and comparing notes on various sleepy destinations around Laos.

Grazing on the Mekong.

A single home perched on a river island (right). Don Khon bungalows (left).

Over a breakfast of surprisingly good omelettes, we joined forces with a girl from Sweden and another from France and set off on bicycles to find the rapids that slice across the Mekong. We found the first set of rapid with ease, 1.5km from the town. Somphamit falls, although they’re more rapids than waterfalls, crash over a landscape of black, volcanic rocks that would look more at home on the moon than on the edge of this peaceful, flat island. The bar overlooking the falls provided a perfect place to hide from the sun for a few hours and eat a local lunch of spicy papaya salad and sticky rice.

Invigorated after lunch, we decided to extend our bike ride and do a loop of the entire island. This proved to be more challenging than any of us had expected. The island had severe storms every night we stayed there and the roads were a mud bath; we were constantly getting the bikes stuck, having our flip flops swallowed by brown ooze, and occasionally falling off. 3.5km from Somphamit we reached the eastern tip of the island where we climbed to a view point overlooking the river. From here it is possible to see rare irrawady dolphins, but we weren’t that lucky.

Somphamit Falls.

Proceeding along the south side of the island the path got narrower and increasingly overgrown until we had to dismount to duck under trees, dense plant life surrounding us on all sides. When it came to crossing a collapsed bridge we were all questioning whether or not we’d taken a wrong turn, but eventually we emerged and crossed a wobbly suspension bridge onto a tiny island, surrounded by more rapids. Ric and the two girls stripped down to bathe in the Mekong and I was feeling a little jealous for I couldn’t bring myself to swim in my thong in front of the curious local fisherman. I had the last laugh though when I spotted a buffalo shitting into the water just meters away.

We made in back to our noisy, smelly bungalow, covered in mud, just in time for sunset. The loop around the island is entirely flat and easy enough to cycle of a bike with no gears, I imagine it’s much easier in dry season when there’s less mud around.

Tour De France; Lucy crosses the fallen bridge.

Across the river from Don Khon is Don Det, which translates as Ghost Island because of all the dead bodies that float down the Mekong from further upriver and get washed up onto the rocks that surround the island. Don Khon and Don Det are home to a curious railway built by the French in 1893. In search of greater colonial power the French wanted to establish a trade route along the Mekong to China, starting in their flagship colony, Vietnam, and traversing Cambodia and Laos. However, the formidable rapids around Si Pan Don made this impossible, so the French built a tiny, pointless railway which crossed Don Khon and Don Det. The idea was to use a special vessel that would be dismantled at Don Khon, loaded onto a train, transported to the north side of Don Det, reassembled and dropped back into the river.

The railway was abandoned at the start of the Second World War and France lost its colonies in Asia soon after. Today the only evidence of the railway is two rusting steam engines on display and a sturdy concrete railway bridge connecting the two islands. I found it very peculiar that the small island I cycled around in a matter of hours had once had a railway.

Concrete gantry on Don Det, once used to lower boats back into the river.

We Stayed At…

Don Khong – Pon’s Guest House: 50,000kip ($6.25/£3.75) for a large, basic double. Has a nice second floor veranda to relax on and the owner is super friendly and helpful.

Don Khon – Bouphane Guest House: 50,000kip ($6.25/£3.75) for a river front bungalow and hammock, avoid during family parties!