Day 14 – 19 – Trekking in Kalaw and Inle

The reason we had come to Kalaw in the first place was that I was quite keen to do some trekking, and apparently Kalaw was the place to be for non-challenging, non-dangerous treks that never require you to leave your comfort zone. Perfection.

My ideal trek was a three day schlep from Kalaw to Inle lake, our next destination. However, my sister was adamant that she wouldn’t do it, as she was unsure of the state of the toilets on the way. Bearing in mind that at one point on our trek, our shoes were covered in leeches, she is obviously made of wiser stuff than me.

Our guide for the trek was a local man named Ted. Ted wore a bamboo pith helmet and had an infectious smile, a maniacal laugh and a propensity to tell enormous lies at every available opportunity.

The inimitable Ted

Of course, we had sensibly decided to visit Myanmar in the middle of the rainy season. For a while we thought we had lucked out, as the day was clear and the temperature was comfortable. Unfortunately, we then left the graded roads of Kalaw and it all went pear shaped.

One of the dangers of hiking in the hills in the wet season, is that a nice sunny day doesn’t necessarily mean a nice easy trek. Soon after we set off we were to discover that one sunny day can’t repair the damage caused by three weeks of solid rain.

To say the terrain was muddy would be an understatement. I’m pretty sure there are little earthworm houses, whose owners would ask a Kalaw trekker to wipe their feet before entering. By the time we had walked approximately 100 metres, we were carrying roughly a third of Myanmar on each boot (maths was never my strong point).

Nike unveils its new “Mudshock” range of footware

Even a minor incline became a treacherous slip and slide. This was made all the more frustrating by the apparent ease with which Ted traversed the terrain. He seemed to be suspended by helium, as he lightly danced down slopes which for us had about the same amount of grip as Action Man after a delicate hand operation. In contrast, the soles of our shoes seemed as smooth as liberally greased baby’s bottom (I really hope I don’t get any search engine hits for that phrase).

Not that mud was the major obstacle. The villagers rode into town on oxen carts, and where there’s oxen, there’s…

Most of my stories are accused of being full of it… now it’s true!

The trek took in a couple of hill tribe villages, which are always nice to see and photograph. And, as Myanmar is not quite as widely visited as Thailand or Vietnam, they thankfully still had a lot to learn about selling useless handicrafts to stupid tourists.

The trek also took in an observation point, which we arrived at just in time for the clouds to roll over. Still, we got some nice views on the way up. One of the most charming things about Myanmar though, is that as you are walking around, small children come up to you and give you flowers for no particular reason. It is difficult to maintain your cynicism in the face of these displays, so I tried to ignore them as much as possible. My sister, however, soon turned into a walking bouquet.

Strangely enough, this is still better condition than most of the roads in Yangon

The next day, we caught the bus to Inle lake, which, true to Myanmar protocol, left at an obscenely early time, had small, uncomfortable seats and was filled with 70 more passengers than it was designed to hold. However, in a radical break from tradition, it was actually 15 minutes early. Presumably the driver was hauled away somewhere to explain his actions.

The guesthouse at Inle was lovely teakwood home, with an unscrupulously mercenary owner who talked at a million miles an hour so you couldn’t understand a word she was charging. Before we knew it, she had us booked on a boat a massage and a plane ride back to Yangon, all within the space of a single breath.

A local drag boat deploys its parachute

The boatride on Inle lake was quite disappointing though, consisting of various factory tours and numerous opportunities to lighten your luggage by relinquishing some kyat. “Highlights” included a Paluang longneck tribe, who sang a short song remeniscent of the sound my car makes when its fan belt becomes too wet, and a cigar factory where 10 year old girls rolled cheroots for 15 hours a day.

There was also a jumping cat monastery, however by the time we arrived the cats were drinking Gatorade and doing their warm down stretches after a hard day of leaping for tourist.

Inle did however have the best Pizza place we encountered in the whole of Myanmar, with a charming owner and décor from the post concrete minimalist school.

The gastronomic delights of pizza aside, it was time to go back to Yangon.

This entry was posted on Monday, November 26th, 2007 at 4:55 am and is filed under Outside Tokyo, Way, Way Outside Tokyo. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.