Back up the river

Morning mist flowing upstream, clinging to steep limestone hills rising into the blue sky, early sun painting their slopes as a few early walkers pass across the bridge. Today another journey, this time by boat up the Nam Ou to Muang Ngoi, a small village that has followed me in my dreams since I embarked upon the boat out.

Arriving at the boat office, half a dozen others already waiting, a small stall selling fruit and snacks and, more importantly, coffee. The light is amazing now, jade  water flowing below the haze, the sound of outboard motors as boats sail by. A couple stop distorting passengers from riverside villages weighed down by bags and boxes, climbing from the jetty and dispersing into the dry red dust of the road.

Closer to departure a rushing torrent of backpacks begin to appear around the corner, getting busy now, the boat's going to be crowded; bagless day trippers congregating at the top of the steps, departure approaching slowly, the sun heating up as shadows shorten and a queue forms beneath the uncounted shades of green scrambling up across scrubby brown cliffs speckled upon the naked stone, tumbling slopes in a collage of improbable angles…

Upriver, sat behind the pilot on the floor, water splashing, passing bathing buffalo and river traffic, white water and villages peeking out from being a fringe of trees; daily life continuing along the river as we pass. At some point we turn a bend and roofs appear caught in the glare of the sun, Muang Ngoy approaching, bigger than I remember, the familiarity of the hills as we slow and turn for shore, the first return of this journey now upon me, bringing with it the hope of a pause, the slow intake of breath, the search for a room...