Trekking Around Chiang Mai

On Tuesday morning I woke up early, checked out of my room, and waited downstairs to be picked up for my trek. When choosing my trek the previous day, I had the option of visiting an extra tribal area at the start of the trek for 500 Baht more. I didn't want to be the lone member of the group to omit the start of the trip, so I decided to accept it. Furthermore, one of the tribes was the 'long neck' tribe, a topic which Bjorn had been enthusiastic about on my first day in Chiang Mai. As it turns out, however, I was the only person in my group to opt to see the extra tribes.

I was taken to a small village which comprised of four tribes. It surprised me that there were four tribes there rather than one, but nevertheless I went along with it. Being the only person from my group to choose to see the village, I was shown round by my very own personal guide, but what I saw was nothing but hugely perplexing! Each of the four tribes had just a few huts, with a Thai and English sign on the opening hut stating which tribe they were. Small tourist oriented shops selling locally made wristbands or ornaments were manifest. There would always be a few people or children dotted about, seemingly doing some sort of tribal chore such as chopping wood or sewing. A beautiful curved road of stone weaved through a small rice field, and a relatively modern looking church nestled on the top of the slope in the final tribal section. As my guide continued to spill out random tribal facts and figures, there was only one question on my mind; 'Is this for real?'. It's a question I didn't pluck up the courage to ask, but I was confident of the answer. It felt like I was visiting a museum rather than a genuine village. On the ride to meet the rest of my group, I could just picture the tribe people watching their widescreen TVs and playing their Playstations in the back room of a hut, waiting and laughing until it was time to resume their places in the village before the next flock of gullible tourists were due. Whether I was being too cynical, I don't know, but my hopes for the tour had very quickly diminished.

An hour later I joined the rest of my group. Even if the tour was to be a flop, it didn't take long to realise that I was with a great group of people. Our group of ten included four Frenchmen, one Canadian and one Korean. It was probably the English, however, who I bonded with the most. They were Ed and Alice from Dorset and Kirsty from London.

A fantastic elephant ride was next on our itinerary. This ride was good, probably even better than my previous elephant ride. At one point my elephant freaked out and almost decided to go on a stampede, but to my relief he decided otherwise. Next up was a three hour trek. The first half of the trek was tiring, but nevertheless fun. There were some great views and it was an excellent opportunity to get to know the group. It was also an excellent opportunity to discover that the grip on my shoes was probably not ideal for walking up steep slopes!

After a quick break, the second half of the day's trekking began. This was tough. It was uphill almost all the way, often up rocky steps. Sometimes it was just dirt steps. Every time I looked up it appeared that I was at the peak of the hill, but looking up a minute later only appeared to have moved the peak higher. We climbed slope after slope, and I clearly wasn't the only one finding the experience quite gruelling. The views were increasingly spectacular, but that doesn't mean much when you're constantly concentrating on where to find your next foothold.

By the time we reached a break point towards the top, I was covered from the chest down in a marbled sheet of dirt. Looking at everyone else, however, told a different story. While I had seemingly showered in gravel, everyone else looked they just had participated in the Daz challenge - and with pleasing results! As we all rested to catch our breath, we had a chance to take in the scenery. To think that we had climbed so high was extremely rewarding. Furthermore, we knew we were close to our destination.

When the hill tribe village was in sight I think everyone felt relieved. For me this was particularly true for it was nothing like the tribal village I had visited earlier in the day. Although there were clearly a good number of huts solely used for tourist groups such as ourselves, it was clearly a real village.

After settling in our hut and taking a shower I was ready to explore. It was not long before I came across an American tourist who was attempting to start a game of football with some local kids. This was an opportunity I could not refuse. As the two versus three football extravaganza kicked off, my team began on the offensive. I passed the ball to the American. The American passed the ball back. After weighing up my options and drawing the opposition towards me, I spied the American free with a clear sight on goal. As I played the pass, however, the American had just begun to make a different run. He was wrong footed, and he failed to reach the ball. It was at this moment I realised that our miniature football pitch had no fencing round it. As the ball dropped off the side of the pitch I became aware of another fact; I had just kicked a child's football off the edge of a pitch on a very lofty hill top village! I had potentially lost the ball and conceded a thrown-in in a single move. Luckily for me, there was a hut not too far away to break the ball's fall and one of the local kids managed to receive the ball before it's momentum continued.

While the ball was in retrieval, a small boy approached me and appeared to want something. As he tugged my shirt and began prodding me, it took me a moment to work out what he wanted. I eventually sussed it out; he wanted a ride. As I picked the boy up onto my back it became apparent that he knew where he wanted to go. As he pointed down various dirt tracks, I duly took him. The faster I went the louder he began to giggle. At one point I found myself back beside my group's hut. I turned around to the sight of a light downward slope. There was only one thing to do. As I accelerated down the slope and weaved around the other children, the boy's laughter began to increase. However, my energy was doing the opposite. I was tired and placed the boy down. The boy, however, began to prod and tug again. "No more" I said, but even if he understood he wasn't prepared to break. He only gave in when he came up with a new request. He pointed at my money belt! Not only had the boy acquired himself a free taxi ride round the slopes of his hillside village, but he wanted payment for it! Is this a service he provides westerners? There was only one way to divert his attention; another ride. The craze of taxi-ing children around the village had began to take off, and my team took great pleasure in overtaking Kirsty's Taxi Service as we sped through the dirt track. Exhausted again I eventually put the boy down, desperately trying to offload the boy into the hands of another unsuspecting and naive tourist.

Later that evening my group resigned to our hut. After being provided with a great meal, our guide unleashed his guitar playing skills on us and we camped around a fire beneath a clear night's sky. The earlier uphill struggle was totally forgotten.

The following morning we began to trek again. As soon as we began it was uphill and my recuperating legs began to burn. I started to question why I had decided to haul children around the village so soon after such a tiring trek the previous day! We were already very high though, and before long we began to descend. A few slippery rocks over some low streams reminded me of my inadequate footwear, and the steep hillside drops besides some narrow ledges did nothing to sooth my mind. The day was much easier than the previous one though, and in the evening, as we settled in our jungle campsite, everyone seemed relax. Ed and one of the Frenchmen had bought some wooden slingshots from some villagers and took great pleasure in aiming at some strategically placed plastic bottles. The following night's sleep was particularly cold, but I was tired enough to barely care.

The final day's trekking involved barely thirty minutes on foot. Following this was some disappointingly slow, albeit fun, river rafting, followed by a slow drift along the river on a lightweight bamboo raft. After this we headed back to the city.

On my return to Chiang Mai, I decided to join the Canadian in finding a place to stay. This has been slightly awkward so far because I never got round to memorising his name! There always gets to a point where you have known someone too long to ask "So what's your name again?'. Unfortunately for me, I think that moment was two days ago. I will address him as 'mate' until we go our separate ways; I think this should suffice.

Tonight I will take things easy and rest. I am ready to leave Chiang Mai, but am yet to decide on where to go. One possible destination is Pai; it has been recommended to me by a few people. Furthermore, as I checked Facebook just moments ago, Arm has added me as a friend - and he was also in Pai at the time of writing. Tomorrow is a new day.