November 21, 2014
Only a Little Bit Up Please
Kalaw to Nyaungshwe via Aungban and cutoff to Indein
Before setting off for Nyaungshwe, which was anywhere from 39 to 62 miles from Kalaw depending on who you asked or what you read, we went to see Sam of Sam’s Trekking.
Sam is a 73 year-old Burmese man whom I met 14 years ago in Kalaw. He started Sam’s Trekking when, after retiring from being a school teacher all his life, he needed income. Sam taught history, including the recent history of Burma. The government wanted him to cover up certain nasty facts but Sam is not one to revise history. Therefore, he was fired a short time before he was to retire and receive his pension. Sam told me that this was a common tactic of the government’s to save money (or more accurately, to direct more money towards themselves), and, in this case, to cover up their horrible atrocities, namely the student massacre in 1988.
Being a good trekking guide is much like teaching and Sam, who must have been an excellent school teacher, became a great guide. Lonely Planet Guidebooks recommended Sam’s Trekking above the other trekking companies every year. Like his insistence on teaching the truth Sam kept to his high moral standard in the way he introduced foreigners to the hill tribe peoples.
He wouldn’t take more than five people at a time into the hill villages. He gave each person who signed up to trek with him a list of things to buy at the market beforehand: notebooks, pencils, soap, toothbrushes, toilet paper, cooking utensils and food. He gave these items to the headman of each village his groups stayed in and he, the headman, would be the one to distribute them. Sam also encouraged his trekkers to interact with the villagers as much as possible using his guides as interpreters. Sam’s guides were required to know all the various dialects which helped to avoid misunderstandings with villagers. Because of all this extra attention to detail the trek I went on 14 years ago was one of the best I’ve ever experienced. Sam is the reason why.
I have great respect for Sam and therefore, each time I’m in Kalaw I look forward to finding him. He doesn’t trek any longer but he has several guides and his business is booming. He also got his family involved in the restaurant business - Sam’s Family Restaurant - where Sam can be found now days lecturing potential trekkers as to routes and what they might expect if they sign up with Sam’s Trekking.
We told Sam we were on bikes this time and were heading to Nyaungshwe (Inle Lake) the next day. Sam’s eyes lit up and he told us that we didn’t have to go on the main road, that there was now a road through the back country. He said it was beautiful and “Only a little bit up please. Not much.” I love how Sam ends most of his sentences with “please”.
He gave us detailed instructions and allowed us to photograph his handmade wall map and then gave us his phone number in case we were in trouble. “Call me anytime please. You can describe what you are seeing and I will tell you where you are.” Sam’s enthusiasm about the area has always been intoxicating. We felt in good hands, and bellies, as we left his restaurant.
The next morning we rode out of Kalaw on the main road the few miles to the bustling crossroads of Aungban. Except for the big trucks and huge buses, I’ve always liked the main road between Kalaw and Taunggyi. It dips and rolls, twists and flows matching the natural contour of the land and makes you feel as if you're on a carnival ride rather than a road. And, it’s one of the few roads in Myanmar that is in pretty good shape. There are elevation gains and then wonderful losses and all the while the views are rather magical with patchwork fields extending up the sides of huge hills.
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We stopped at the Aungban bus stop, the best in Burma in our opinion, where there are dozens of kinds of crudely packaged and labeled local snacks. Vendors sell everything from quail eggs to orchid plants. Seriously. Behind the central hub which is Cherry Restaurant there is a good bathroom which we figured was the last one we would see that day and with the intriguing poster out front “Smell Fighter” how could a traveler not go inside?
All set, we set out. We crossed the railroad tracks please, found the pond on the left please and turned right please, just as Sam had instructed. To my surprise the road was paved - narrow, but paved! We were immediately happy because we were instantly in the country as if we were trekking.
Within just a mile or two I stopped to photograph Andrea on her bike behind me (to illustrate this blog) and between rushing (not locking my brakes) and not having a top bar on my bike in which to secure the bike between my thighs, the weight and unwieldiness made the bike collapse and in so doing the cleat-like spikes of a peddle sliced three gashes just above one of my ankles. And I didn’t get the photo. Not many miles into the day and blood was running into my sandal! Plus, my water bottle cage had been ripped from its moorings on the frame. A bad start? Not really. The amazing beauty of the countryside made up for the mishap. I knew we were in for a day of seeing beautiful fields and the weather couldn’t have been more perfect.
The quilt-like quality of the fields is what this part of Burma is all about. Many different and colorful crops are grown. There were squares of land full of plants with tiny yellow flowers (rapeseed?) next to squares of plants with even tinier white flowers (sesame?) adjacent to rectangles of cyan-green leafed garlic, next to cabbages, alongside spring green wheat and golden, ready-to-harvest rice. A few fields had been harvested leaving brown stubble which added to the patchwork with color and texture. It was an eye full in each direction and from atop one of the rolling hills one could see quite far into the design of the quilt.
We had flown over the same region a few years ago and I remember my nose pressed against the window, not believing my eyes and thinking that we should trek from Inle Lake to Kalaw. And indeed we did. That was in 2008. This time we were trekking on our bikes through basically the same territory.
We didn’t know how close we were to where we had trekked until we rounded a bend and there suddenly in front of us was the old wooden monastery where monks had bedded us down six years earlier - Hti Thein Monastery. I was shocked. Development has been moving quickly in Burma and where there had been a trail a few years ago there was now a gravel road and from the looks of the handful of new cars passing us, we figured the road extended all the way to Inle Lake. A cutoff road. A shortcut from the main road, gravel now but in no time it will be paved and widened and then full of traffic.
We enjoyed the scarcity of vehicles, tried not to think of the imminent future development and concentrated on the “Only a little up please”. It turned out to be a lot of up thank you Sam. I kept telling Andrea that it would soon be all down but around each turn was another steep hill. False summits faked me out over and over.
We were sweating a lot but in every little hamlet we found a small general store that sold water. People hanging around outside the stores were either from the Pa’ O tribe or Danu and they were very curious about us and our funny looking bikes. They observed every detail of how our panniers attached, the folding aspect of the bikes, the many gears, but the click-stand was always the biggest hit. Letting it unfold snapping together quickly on its own, same as a tent pole, always produced admiring gasps from onlookers. Seeing practical things in action impresses people who are always trying to figure out how to fix things. It’s a hard life in those hills and to see something work as slick as the click-stand the men were nearly spitting out tea in astonishment. They are such ingenious people that I hoped by seeing the click-stand in action some invention might immediately be assembled in their minds as well - something they come up with which makes their lives easier.
Eventually we made it to the summit and we knew it was the real summit because of the little roadside shrine. They don’t just put them anywhere. Well, wait a minute, they do put them just about anywhere but they always put one on top of a pass. Inside the two small-paned glass doors were packets of incense, candles, flowers, a gold pillow, some weird looking stuff in a jar and some rice - I guess everything someone or something needs.
On the other side of the road was a view that could have been the other side of paradise. The patchwork of colorful fields, deep red soil and green, closely-grazed hills stretched into the distance There was, as well, an enticing view of Inle Lake - one of the most unique places I’ve ever been. The thought of returning spurred me on but the best was knowing it really was all downhill from there, please.
The road turned out to be steeply downhill and covered with small, newly hammered into pieces, sharp-edged stones. We had to ride the brakes hard for fear of puncturing tires or sliding out. But it was a welcome down thank you.
At the bottom we connected with the small but paved road that runs along the west side of Inle Lake near Indein. We had come nearly 30 miles and were glad to be down on flat road. But the road turned out to be way longer than I had anticipated. We rode another 17 miles before we crossed the bridge into Nyaungshwe, the main town of Inle Lake.
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Entering Nyaungshwe for me was to be entering a circus of sorts, (or a nightmare). In six years the town had been turned into a Khao San Road, Bangkok or a Siem Reap, Cambodia, meaning that there were inappropriately dressed backpackers wandering the street en masse, tourists of all sorts, swarming packs of motorbikes, loud, black-fume belching trucks, cars going too fast, hotels rising too tall, guest houses extending too far, restaurants everywhere, PIZZA!, big buses, small buses, minivans, refurbished (destroyed) temples, modern stores - AGH!!. I was riding into town in shock and nearly getting wiped out by unconscious backpackers crossing the street without looking. Only six years ago Andrea and I were just about the only foreigners in town and it still was the sleepy. quaint little place I had always known. I realize there is no stopping "progress" but it is still shocking when it descends like a tornado.
We basically fought our tired way to our old refuge, the Remember Inn, where we have always stayed while in Nyaungshwe. There we were greeted by a half a dozen girls anxious to carry all of our panniers to our room. One brought out a platter with glasses of watermelon juice just for us. Andrea hates watermelon but she was so thirsty she gulped the juice with gusto. It was nice to be welcomed by workers and owners we knew. There are great benefits to returning to a place repeatedly and arriving the back way by bike was certainly a wonderful new way for us. Despite all the progress in town and being tired and bloody, trekking by bike is great fun.
Lovebruce
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