We Took the $20 Chicken Boat Up the Mekong. The Goats Rode in Back.

Taking the ‘slow boat’ refers to the Mekong, that meandering giant river unhurriedly winding its way past cities in Southeast Asia. We connected with the Mekong in Luang Prabang, Laos’s old royal capital. We went upriver against the current, the truest ‘slow boat’ experience with far fewer people.

There is a choice of ‘tourist’ boats with polished mahogany benches, bright tapestries, prepared food, and lovely hostesses ($$$), or the Shompoo Cruise, the local attempt at emulating the pricey tourist option ($$). We chose the Lao Chicken Boat, first choice of the locals, owned and lived in by a resident Captain and his family and furnished with comfortable old bus benches ($20 Canadian). We arrived early at the pier to claim a good seat near the front, away from the loud engines. We found a seat with intact stuffing and bolstered our comfort with life jackets.

Then there came an assortment of ‘passengers’, all appeared local but not all human! There were chickens of course, several birds in cages, some goats, two lambs, and one rather world-weary but friendly old dog. They were accorded passage outside in back beside the engine.

We made our way upstream to the Thai border (Huay Xai/Chiang Khong), a two-day journey with one overnight. We glided past limestone karsts and remote hillside villages, where the boat was literally beached to allow the locals to jump into the water and disappear amongst the trees. Children waved from the shore. We stopped at the sacred Pak Ou Caves, filled with thousands of Buddha statues, and along the way saw farmers working their fields with their beloved elephants.

The boat is open-air with a protective roof, and the ride is lovely on a sunny day with the murky water flowing alongside (although the bathroom requires a little bravery; there are communal flip-flops at the door). You can dangle your hand over the side in relative safety, as crocodiles are now very rare in the main river, but you never know!

As the sun set, we arrived at Pakbeng, a remote jungle village with a handful of buildings on one well-packed dirt road, several guesthouses and a lodge. We stayed with a young Laotian couple with rooms above their coffee shop. It was cinder block with cold water only, but spotlessly clean and the bed was comfy. Oddly enough, the best restaurant in town was Indian, and the food was divine. We fell asleep to the sounds of the jungle and were up before dawn.

For the early morning departure, we trundled down the steep clay road past the delectable French pastry carts (Laos was a French colony) to the river. At the water’s edge, farmers were bathing their giant pachyderms in the pre-dawn light. It was magical to watch the elephants stretch and spray themselves, basking in their brisk morning scrubdown with long-poled bristle brushes. We teetered our way across the other boats’ decks to find our own, taking off our shoes as we stepped aboard, because this was the Captain’s family home. One more day along the river, and we were at the Thai border.

Marilyn Goulding, of Canmore, Alberta, is a retired clinical researcher who loves to find the hidden gems of travel that make for good storytelling, so she’s always invited to dinner parties.