On tour with The Doors
The national Cambodian sport of 'corruption' continued even as we tried to leave the damn country. Our overcrowded minivan was stopped three times on the way to the border by police wanting a back-hander. 
Then at the border itself we had to pay $2 'overtime' each to the Cambodian officials - because it was Sunday. When we asked for a receipt we were told that there were "no receipts on Sundays" and refused to hand back our passports until we paid up. Then, after a short stroll through no-man's land, we arrived at the Laos border control and guess what... they wanted $2 each for overtime too! We were handed back our passports with a presumably ironic cry of "Enjoy your stay!"
We eventually arrived at a little town called Nakasang where we caught a tail boat
to Don Det. Don Det is an island in the middle of the Mekong, part of a group known as "4,000 Islands" - although from what I could see, about 3,995 of these were just a sandbank or a tree. We thought we'd spend a day just exploring our island and went for a leisurely walk down a narrow track. A couple of hours 
later we were back where we'd started, having circumnavigated the whole island. Don Det is evidently quite small. It is a very sleepy, laid 
back island where lots of sleepy, laid back travellers sit around getting stoned while waiting to watch the sunset. With little else in the way of entertainment, and as the sunsets are pretty spectacular here, we decided to join them.
The next day we joined a small group for a kayaking trip around some of the other islands. Claire and I were in a double kayak and we paddled surprisingly well given past form. We almost looked like we knew what we were doing - but that may have just been because the rest of our group 
were particularly rubbish. Our guide was a little toothless maniac who shared his kayak with a German woman who looked like she knew what she was doing. He was more than a bit mad, spoke no English, laughed like a nutter and would try to splash us while we waited for the others to catch up. In fact h
e was titting about so much that he capsized his boat. The German woman was not amused. It was a great day though - we saw amazing waterfalls and paddled through yet another group of those supposedly rare Irrawaddy dolphins before arriving back at our beach in time for another sun set.
The next day we got a boat to Nakasang and went to the 'bus station' only to discover
that our 'bus' to Pakse was in fact a pick-up truck with a canopy. Our bags were lashed to the roof while we were squeezed onto the two benches in the back with about 20 other people. Sat to my right was a young mother who spent the entire journey breastfeeding her baby, alternating it between each boob as we bounced and bumped along the highway. To our left was a couple with three little kids, the youngest of which went to 
toilet on the floor of the truck right next to Claire's feet. At Pakse we changed to an actual proper-looking bus to take us to Thakek - it was, however, a wreck and had an entire restaurant's worth of furniture strapped to the roof. It was also falling apart quite 
severely inside - there were whole panels of ceiling and walls that were missing or damaged, which exposed the badly welded bodywork underneath. We'd set off at 7am that morning and we arrived in Thakek just after 9pm. That's 14 hours of my life I'll neither get, nor want, back.
The attraction that would determine whether or not the journey was worth it was Khong Lo Cave - a 7.5km naturally-formed river tunnel through a mountain. We hired a boat piloted by two local guys, one steering from the back and the other sat up front with a powerful head torch to lead us through the cave and spot hazards. I hadn't been told there would be hazards. I had also naively assumed that a boat would keep me out of the river but soon found that there was quite a lot of river 
actually in the boat. On top of that, we had to step out of the boat whenever the river got too shallow so that our two guides could drag it over the rocks to the next bit. I was 
ill-prepared and had chosen to wear trainers on this particular day - not the best thing to be wearing when you're knee-deep in cold river. The caves were very dramatic, full of amazing stalactites and stalagmites and, despite having wet feet for most of the day, I really loved it. It probably was worth the long trip after all.
We took another local bus north to Paksan. Half way through this journey
I was asked to vacate the comfortable back seat (the only one with nearly enough leg-room for me) so that they could cram a truck-load of solid wooden doors on board. That's not an exaggeration - they literally backed up a truck and put 24 doors on the back seat and in the aisle. We arrived in Paksan only to find that our 
connecting bus to 
Phonsavan didn't leave until 8am the next day. We were stranded. We managed to find somewhere to stay and then went and did what anyone would do in our situation - had a beer and got a massage. From a boy called Linda.
Then at the border itself we had to pay $2 'overtime' each to the Cambodian officials - because it was Sunday. When we asked for a receipt we were told that there were "no receipts on Sundays" and refused to hand back our passports until we paid up. Then, after a short stroll through no-man's land, we arrived at the Laos border control and guess what... they wanted $2 each for overtime too! We were handed back our passports with a presumably ironic cry of "Enjoy your stay!"We eventually arrived at a little town called Nakasang where we caught a tail boat
to Don Det. Don Det is an island in the middle of the Mekong, part of a group known as "4,000 Islands" - although from what I could see, about 3,995 of these were just a sandbank or a tree. We thought we'd spend a day just exploring our island and went for a leisurely walk down a narrow track. A couple of hours 
later we were back where we'd started, having circumnavigated the whole island. Don Det is evidently quite small. It is a very sleepy, laid 
back island where lots of sleepy, laid back travellers sit around getting stoned while waiting to watch the sunset. With little else in the way of entertainment, and as the sunsets are pretty spectacular here, we decided to join them. 
The next day we joined a small group for a kayaking trip around some of the other islands. Claire and I were in a double kayak and we paddled surprisingly well given past form. We almost looked like we knew what we were doing - but that may have just been because the rest of our group 
were particularly rubbish. Our guide was a little toothless maniac who shared his kayak with a German woman who looked like she knew what she was doing. He was more than a bit mad, spoke no English, laughed like a nutter and would try to splash us while we waited for the others to catch up. In fact h
e was titting about so much that he capsized his boat. The German woman was not amused. It was a great day though - we saw amazing waterfalls and paddled through yet another group of those supposedly rare Irrawaddy dolphins before arriving back at our beach in time for another sun set. The next day we got a boat to Nakasang and went to the 'bus station' only to discover
that our 'bus' to Pakse was in fact a pick-up truck with a canopy. Our bags were lashed to the roof while we were squeezed onto the two benches in the back with about 20 other people. Sat to my right was a young mother who spent the entire journey breastfeeding her baby, alternating it between each boob as we bounced and bumped along the highway. To our left was a couple with three little kids, the youngest of which went to 
toilet on the floor of the truck right next to Claire's feet. At Pakse we changed to an actual proper-looking bus to take us to Thakek - it was, however, a wreck and had an entire restaurant's worth of furniture strapped to the roof. It was also falling apart quite 
severely inside - there were whole panels of ceiling and walls that were missing or damaged, which exposed the badly welded bodywork underneath. We'd set off at 7am that morning and we arrived in Thakek just after 9pm. That's 14 hours of my life I'll neither get, nor want, back. 
The attraction that would determine whether or not the journey was worth it was Khong Lo Cave - a 7.5km naturally-formed river tunnel through a mountain. We hired a boat piloted by two local guys, one steering from the back and the other sat up front with a powerful head torch to lead us through the cave and spot hazards. I hadn't been told there would be hazards. I had also naively assumed that a boat would keep me out of the river but soon found that there was quite a lot of river 
actually in the boat. On top of that, we had to step out of the boat whenever the river got too shallow so that our two guides could drag it over the rocks to the next bit. I was 
ill-prepared and had chosen to wear trainers on this particular day - not the best thing to be wearing when you're knee-deep in cold river. The caves were very dramatic, full of amazing stalactites and stalagmites and, despite having wet feet for most of the day, I really loved it. It probably was worth the long trip after all. We took another local bus north to Paksan. Half way through this journey
I was asked to vacate the comfortable back seat (the only one with nearly enough leg-room for me) so that they could cram a truck-load of solid wooden doors on board. That's not an exaggeration - they literally backed up a truck and put 24 doors on the back seat and in the aisle. We arrived in Paksan only to find that our 
connecting bus to 
Phonsavan didn't leave until 8am the next day. We were stranded. We managed to find somewhere to stay and then went and did what anyone would do in our situation - had a beer and got a massage. From a boy called Linda.
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