Laos: Mountains, Mud, and the Mekong

Last week’s story ended in Luang Prabang, after drifting two days down the Mekong on the slow boat. That first stretch of Laos was about temples, waterfalls, night markets, and soaking up the slow rhythm of the river. But Laos still had more to show us — quieter mountain towns, muddy treks, turquoise lagoons, and moments of both chaos and calm.

Our next stop was Nong Khiaw, a small riverside town about four hours north. The drive there was anything but smooth: potholes, mud patches, and drivers passing on blind corners while the van rattled like it might fall apart. Between naps and music, I stared out the window as the mountains grew taller and the Nam Ou River cut its way through the valley.

Hungry when we arrived, we grabbed bowls of noodle soup (I still hadn’t learned to go easy on the chili) before walking through the heat to find a place to stay. We ended up at Delilah’s Hostel, run by Harps, a Kiwi who’s lived in Nong Khiaw for 14 years. Everything was logged in an old invoice book, payment on the honor system. The place was messy but welcoming — more like staying in someone’s home than a guesthouse.

That evening, Lee and I hiked to a viewpoint above town. It was supposed to take 30 minutes, but we powered up in under ten, gasping for air by the top. The summit offered sweeping views of rice fields, jagged peaks, and the river curling through the valley, even under cloudy skies. The descent in the dark was slippery mud, our headlamps catching giant millipedes and spiders on the trail. Dinner was Beer Lao and Mekong fried fish at a floating restaurant, dodging pin bones while the current lapped underneath.

The following day, we packed for a trek. Our guide, Nee, was 17, in crocs, and lit a cigarette at every stop. The climb was brutal — 3 km, 700 m of elevation gain, like climbing an endless muddy staircase. Lee and I took turns carrying the 10 kg bag, sweating buckets the whole way. At the top, we stripped our drenched clothes, wrung them out like sponges, and collapsed in the sun. The afternoon passed slowly — snacks, cards, and swigs of lao lao rice whiskey — until the sky turned orange. With Pink Floyd playing quietly, we watched the sunset fade behind the peaks. Later, we lay back under a sky full of shooting stars and satellites, one of those moments that carves itself into memory.

The sleep that followed wasn’t as magical. Cramped tents, mosquitoes, rain hammering the flysheet, and the whiskey worn off left me groggy and sore by morning. Still, dawn came with mist curling through the mountains and a hot cup of coffee before the descent. Going down was quicker (about 80 minutes) but punishing on the knees. Back at the hostel, a shower felt like the greatest luxury in the world.

From there, we began the long ride south: another chaotic van to Luang Prabang, then a bullet train onward to Vang Vieng.

Where Nong Khiaw was quiet and rugged, Vang Vieng was lively and full of energy. Days here were packed with new adventures:

• Viewpoints & Lagoons – We scrambled up a muddy mountain to a 360° lookout marked by an old motorbike and a Lao flag. Later, we visited Blue Lagoon 1, where instead of swimming, hundreds of tourists gathered to cheer as we dove and flipped off the platforms. It felt like performing in front of a crowd — nerve-wracking but fun, and a throwback to my old diving days.

• Sunsets & BBQs – Golden evenings brought us through rice fields with hot air balloons and paramotors drifting overhead, while buffalo wandered the roads. Dinners were Lao BBQ feasts of pork, duck, sticky rice, and lettuce wraps — hearty, messy, and unforgettable.

• Tubing on the Nam Song River – The town’s most famous activity. We floated from bar to bar in inner tubes, limestone cliffs towering around us, meeting travelers from Ireland, Australia, Germany, and more. Music, laughter, and Beer Lao carried us downstream. We capped the day with massive banh mi sandwiches at Big Mama’s, stuffed with everything imaginable.

Not every day was high energy. Some were spent resting — journaling, wandering markets, or just sitting by the river. Other days surprised us, like when a wrong turn on the mopeds led us into a valley glowing at golden hour. The sun lit up the rice fields, buffalo crossed the road, kids waved, and balloons rose in the distance. It was unplanned, unpolished, and one of the most beautiful scenes of the trip.

Laos in these two weeks was muddy, chaotic, and beautiful in equal measure — from mountain summits and turquoise lagoons to BBQ dinners and riverside sunsets. Now, with our time here closing, we’re heading south to Vientiane and catching a flight to Hanoi, Vietnam, ready to see what comes next.