Hike to Nam Hoo

(A tough hike. Beautiful Forest)
(playing with the children at the school in Huay Nam)
(A Karen woman, wearing traditional clothing, at work)
(The tea served to thirsty, tired hikers)

(The fungus is among-us: a forest shot)

The hike to Nam Hoo was brutal. The first 40 minutes were pleasant, but the next 3 hours were straight up hill. At one point our guides got frustrated by the relatively slow pace of our group and just booked it to the top. We spent the next hour trying to discern where the path was and searching for the footsteps of our guides. At the top we paused for lunch, only to find that leeches had wiggled their way in past our gaiters, pants and socks. The anticoagulant that they secrete left us all with bloody feet and ankles.

After lunch we were under the assumption that the rest of the hike would be easy, because we were following a road down to the village of Nam Hoo. The second half of the hike turned out to be one of the most strenuous hikes I’ve ever done. After hiking straight up for another hour and a half with no shade (because we were on a road), we went straight down. The roads were not paved, but rather bumpy dirt roads that were washed away in many parts and eroded on the sides. The compact dirt and loose gravel made it difficult to get a solid footing. The downhill wreaked havoc on my shins, toes and quads. We had a few close calls, with people slipping here and there and their heavy packs pulling them down on their backsides. If it were not for a great group of people, singing and making good conversation, the hike would have much much worse.

Huay Nam tots

Hike to Huay Nam

Hikes through Mae Hong Son

Our first hike us took us through small streams and a few shallow rivers. In all we had about 30 “river crossings.” It was a beautiful hike. Shaded and peaceful. Some of the hike was pretty technical. I remember at one point I was practically rock climbing as I shimmied over a damned up part of the river, clutching onto a boulder. The last part of the hike was brutal. It was straight up hill with no shade. I was cursing the terrain under my breath. It was such a relief to enter the village, Huay Nam—or the village of tots as I like to say. There were so many little kids and young animals running all over the place. The piglets, kids and baby water buffalo ran away from us whenever we got too close. There were so many cute things in the village that it was a little overwhelming.

At one point I was trying to coax a baby goat into coming closer and a Karen woman saw me. She walked out of her house and, without hesitation, picked up the baby goat and put it in my arms. It was so adorable! The next day I tried to follow her example, by scooping up a baby goat. It’s mother came after me and started to get pretty aggressive, ramming it’s head into my knees. The Karen woman just laughed as I ran away screaming.

We spent two very enjoyable days in this village. In the morning of our second day I got to harvest rice with my host grandmother. She also didn’t speak any Thai, but we got by through pantomimes and smiling. I really enjoyed harvesting the lowland rice. With the help of the other two girls I was staying with, the four of us cleared quite a lot of rice (although we only cut and did not bundle the rice). I got into a rhythm and could have stayed out there for hours with the company of my thoughts. The entire rice harvest process is a lot of work and I can see why it is a community event.

In the afternoon we went to the village school to play with the kids. We passed out cookies and asked them their names. The ages ranged from 4 to 11. They were adorable. We played tag. London Bridge is falling down (but with Karen lyrics about vegetables and fruit), duck duck goose (again with Karen words for different animals), birdie on a perch and set up an awesome obstacle course. Of course the little kids always won the obstacle course because they were so tiny and nimble. It was so much fun laughing and playing with the little kids. Hanging out with kids is one of the few times when the language barrier isn’t a painful obstacle.

An excerpt from my journal:

A typical village morning…I was awoken at 3:30 a.m. by the roosters. The one across the street and the one under our house did a call and response for about 2 ½ hours. I officially woke up at 7 a.m. Around 8 a herd of water buffalo walked down the path in front of our house. The were unattended and seemed to know exactly where they were going. The last in line paused, looked me in the eyes and then continued.

(I remember thinking how bizarre this morning was at the time, but by the end of my time in Mae Hong Son, I’d grown accustomed to large packs of animals wandering wherever they pleased. I never got used to the roosters, however.)

Political Ecology of Forests

(Written in Thai on the side of the bus: Chiang Mai to Mae Hong Son)

The field portion of our Political Ecology of Forests course took place in the province of Mae Hong Son—north west of the province of Chiang Mai and bordering Burma. During our time in Mae Hong Son we hiked between Karen villages, staying for different amounts of time in each. The Karen people make up a hill tribe that came to Thailand hundreds of years ago from Burma. The Karen use swidden-fallow (slash and burn) agriculture in their mountain settlements. Over the past few decades the Royal Forestry Department has tried to relocate Karen villages that were within the boundaries of the national park. Forming a network of village leaders and working with an NGO, the Karen showed the Royal Forestry Department that they could live sustainably with the land and preserve forest through their agricultural practices.

In getting to the mountainous province we took an eight hour bus ride with over two thousand turns, and with the way Thais drive, it felt like we were on an endless rollercoaster.

The first village we spent the night in was Pakalo. This is village is unlike the other Karen villages we visited because of its proximity to the city Mae Hong Son. Many Karen families move to this village to be closer to their children who are sent to school in the city after 6^th grade. Elderly Karen move to this village to be closer to the hospital and others move here to work. The village does very little farming and only has an acre or two dedicated to rice production. Most of their food comes from the city.

Here is an excerpt from my journal:

Nov. 2

We’ve arrived in our first Karen village after a bumpy, sweaty and all together uncomfortable 8 hour bus ride to Mae Hong Son. The small village is charming and smells nice—like the woods—damp wood and burning wood. It’s a welcome break to the gripping pollution of Chiang Mai, where the smell of exhaust takes hold of your body and gets stuck in your nose and lungs. Communication with our host mom is tough. She doesn’t appear to speak or know any Thai, except for the word ab nom, which means to shower, which she is very adamant we do (note: Karen have their own language, Backenyaw, but most Karen know Thai because that is the language taught in school).

The houses here are packed so close together and I can hear everything being said. It’s nice and provides a sort of sound track for my experience.

Setting my float into the Mae Ping

Lighting the candle in my float before I put it into the river

Setting off a lantern

Loy Kratong

Loy Kratong is a Thai celebration that takes place in November each year. Before we left for the beautiful mountains of Mae Hong Son, we were able to partake in some of the festivities.

The festival is meant to honor the spirits of the river, Mae Ping, which is the central river running through Chiang Mai. As few as ten year ago the river was a hot spot of activity for city residents to bath, wash clothes and transport goods. To thank the river spirits and apologize for all of the pollution caused by humans, small floats, made out of banana tree cores and decorated with banana leaves, flowers, incense and candles, are put into the river as an offering. Our Thai Ajaans helped us make floats at school and explained the traditions.

In addition to releasing a float on the river, many people release lit lanterns into the sky. On the first night of Loy Kratong I stood on the roof top of our apartment complex and watched thousands of lanterns float above the city. It was gorgeous. I released a lantern with some of my Thai friends. We wrote our wishes on the lantern before we set it up. They said that if the lantern caught on fire, or didn't take off properly, you'd have bad luck and your wish wouldn't come true.

After setting off our lanterns, we went down to the riverside to put our floats in the river. It was absolute chaos. Fireworks were going off everywhere--big and small. Some large ones went off so close to the ground it was terrifying. I bought some small fire crackers with my friends. As the whole city going nuts with fireworks, my friend Adam said, "it's like every 10 year old boy's dream come true." At one point, something exploded in the middle of the river. I shrieked. With whizzing fire crackers and explosions everywhere it felt like I was in the middle of a war zone.

It was exhilarating. From one moment to the next I never felt the same--brimming with glee and fearful for my life.