Riding the Elephant

The ride from Chiang Mai to Pai was, quite simply, the longest five hours of our lives.  12 people in a 13 seat van, 12 bags, one driver.  Reba and I were the last ones on the bus, thus, we ended up with the back seat.  The back seat is the least desirable because:

A: you bounce more than anywhere else on the van.  This doesn’t seem like a big deal until you get up on those mountain roads with a crazy driver clearly just off a 72 hour drug binge.  Our driver pumped the brakes and gas like a game of hot potato, careening around every curve like he was getting paid by how quickly he got there (wait, he is paid by how quickly he gets there.  D’oh).

B: the thirteenth seat, which would presumably be an extra, is actually where the enormous pile of luggage goes.  Thus, every time the bus goes around a curve to the right, the pile of luggage would teeter and fall onto whoever happened to be sitting in the twelfth seat.  Which would be me.

So every time I would start to settle in, tell my stomach to stop churning, my head to stop throbbing, and my heart to stop pounding, the lunatic devil behind the wheel would rip around a right hand turn, sending the bags tumbling down on top of me.  I then, cursing, would try to shove, stack and rebalance them and settle back in, only to have the process repeat itself.  At one point, I picked up a bag that had fallen on top of me (a zebra print bag.  Who in the hell travels by van with a zebra-print bag) and came to realize that the owner sews.  This would be pertinent because one of her sewing needles had poked through the bag and halfway through my thumb when I picked the bag up.  I wanted to either die or kill.

Rebecca didn’t fare much better, she asked the driver to stop once, so she could throw up.  He either didn’t hear her or didn’t care, but he actually seemed to speed up.  When we stopped for our one break, I went to the bathroom and heard people in both stalls next to me throwing up.  And neither one was Rebecca.  I spent the last two hours of that ride wishing harm upon the driver and his family, and deciding what sort of slow torture I could inflict upon him when we arrived in Pai.

When we arrived in Pai, we thanked our driver (by that point, we were so happy to get out of the van we loved our driver- what do they call that- Stockholm Syndrome?) grabbed our bags, and slumped over to a bench, where we sat for the next 30 minutes before we had the energy to find a place to stay.  A British guy I had befriended when I was capable of speech sat with us, as he had been concerned for our well-being the entire trip.  He was one of the lifelong travelers you meet when backpacking, from England, but spends his summers in New Zealand, winters between Japan and France (on ski mountains) and then travels the rest of the year.  Guy was probably close to 40 and said he hadn’t been back to England in about a decade, just loves to travel.  I like my couch and my dog too much for that (and my family and friends, just kidding.  Jokes!).  He thoroughly impressed us with his ability to sleep on the van.  We were all amazed, but he assured us that if we had spent the last 20 years traveling we could sleep anywhere.  I could no more have slept on that van than fly the rest of the way to Pai.

We found a nice bungalow in Pai and spent the next couple of days exploring the area.  Pai is a backpackers’ town: more guesthouses than houses, more restaurants and bars than markets.  It reminded us a bit of the towns down south: laid back atmosphere, reggae-themed bars, Thai hippies (who are awesome.  We loved seeing the natives with dreads and beards.  We offered them brochures and travel packages to Boone.  Told them to ask Brian and Amanda how nice Watauga County is in the summertime).  Pai was like an island town picked up and set down in the beautiful northern Thailand mountains.

We spent the first day (which saw the worst flooding in Pai in 10 years, but, obviously, we have been very lucky in regards to flooding) exploring the area, by motorbike of course.  We checked out the two main waterfalls, both of which had nice, short hikes preceding them.  We saw our first snake of the trip, and, consequently, I spent the last 20 minutes of our hike deathly afraid of seeing another one (and Rebecca snapped that picture.  No way was I getting that close).  We saw a coffee place with a silver airstream trailer out front on the way back from the falls and HAD to stop for a cup (hello Krankie’s!).  But mostly we were excited about Thom’s.

Flooding in Pai

I'm resisting the urge to run just typing this caption

Great spot for a cup of coffee

Yay! More waterfalls

Thom’s elephant camp sits about 7 kilometers southeast of the town.  We heard it was one of the best places to ride elephants, and had been the first in all of Thailand to offer bareback rides.  I had been watching for a month as Rebecca resisted the urge to run up and wrap herself around every elephant we saw.  The time had come.  We got out to Thom’s and signed up for the 1.5 hour ride, which gave you a short hike through the hills and then finished in the river.  As soon as we got there, the friendly woman behind the counter gave us a bushel of bananas and told us to go feed our elephant, a 22 year old female.  We didn’t waste any time.

 

Some fun facts about Asian elephants:

They eat up to 300 pounds of food a day, which means they eat constantly throughout their lifetime (I felt closer to the old girl already)

They don’t really sleep because of the constant foraging for food (I do usually find time for sleep, though)

The gestation period is 22 months (Reba: I thought we had it bad)

They live up to 60 years

They are awesome.

When our guide showed up, obviously fresh out of bed and quite possibly suffering from the classic, “spent my life in northern Thailand doing WAY too many psychedelic drugs and hanging out with elephants” syndrome, we jumped in the saddle pretty quickly, so to speak.  The trainer would yell out a command and the huge mammal would lift up his front foot, bending the leg and giving a stool of sorts for the rider.  You would put your foot in the elephant’s ankle and boost yourself up while grabbing the ear (Rebecca was really worried this would hurt the elephant).  Then, as you are standing on the elephant’s leg, the trainer would give another command and the leg would start rising, and rising and you would put your other foot on the “knee,” grab the rope, boost up again and then throw your leg over.  And then you are sitting on top of an elephant.  Where you would feel the incredibly rough skin and wire-like hairs digging into your legs because, you know, you thought it would be a good idea to wear a bathing suit.  The first half of the ride we spent in the creek, hills, and meadows.  Riding an elephant on flat ground is exactly what you would think.  They move pretty slow, and it’s easy: you just sit there, hold the rope, let your hips sway with the giant animals steps, and admire the scenery.  Piece of cake.  When you are going up or downhill, however, it’s a bit tougher.  The shoulder blades (where I was sitting) move a lot more in various directions on the hills.  Going uphill was no problem.  But every time we started down a hill (or when she would lean down to grab some bamboo to eat, which was approximately every 9 seconds) I would have to lean way back to keep her from rolling me off of her suddenly shifting and massive shoulder blades.  It was a little disconcerting, considering her back is 12-15 feet off of the ground.  I constantly envisioned my fall (which I would nimbly recover from) that was invariably followed by the large foot and several tons of pachyderm crushing my lifeless body to the jungle floor.  Thousands would weep, and mourn the loss of Michael, elephant accident victim.  I worry too much.

Eventually, we wound our way to the river.  Once there, we split up, and went on the old girl one at a time.  I got up on her, stood on her head, sat on her head, and was having a grand old time when the command came.  Suddenly, that massive head came crashing down in the water so hard the spray got Rebecca 10 feet away on the shore.  Needless to say, I was hurled into about 6 inches of water way too fast.  I think our guide felt bad when I got up, nursing my bloodied hand, and he took it easy on Rebecca (once we talked her into getting up on the animal).  The next time I jumped on, I made our guide promise he would flip me into the middle of the river, rather than onto the shore. You know, where the water would break my fall.  I knew he had done too many drugs.  Hell of a nice guy though.

Look, she's eating!

We had an uneventful ride back, our guide walking us down the road rather than riding with us.  I spent most of the ride hoping he would not “accidentally” give the “duck your head like a missile is coming for you” command, thereby tossing us into the middle of the road.  He did not.  I was appreciative.  Elephants are, still, the coolest animal ever.  Friendly, awesome looking, deep, soulful eyes- and I swear they have a sense of humor.  When she threw me off I’m pretty sure she smiled.  Along with every time she would stop and forage for some more food, while our crazy guide yelled at her to keep going.  It was an amazing experience, but I will say, if you go: 1 hour is enough.  1.5 is overkill.

We had checked one more thing off of the bucket list, but we had one more place to go before we could say goodbye to Thailand.  John Spies’ Cave Lodge, one of the most famous and oldest guest-camps in Thailand.  Magnificent caves, the mighty Khong-Pai River, and an enormous mountain pass to motorbike over to get there.

We could hardly wait…