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Rice paddies in Wawi Valley

As the trail crested the rise, we had before us a gorgeous panorama. A long, narrow, gently-rising valley lay in the late-morning sunshine like an etching. The bottom of the valley was terraced into a hundred tiny rice-paddies, each filled with water and glistening in the reflected sunlight. In the distance we could see a tiny figure cavorting in the muddy water, completely naked, and oblivious to these round-eyed foreigners watching from afar. Not far away were a dozen adults each in the familiar planting attitude, legs planted in the mud, water up to the calf, back at 90 degrees to the lower body., the right hand moving like an automaton plucking seedlings from the bunch held in the left hand and plunging it into the mud. Beyond the rice paddies was a scattered collection of farmhouses, some dry crop fields, and finally the forest that climbed up to the surrounding hills. Somewhere at the head of the valley was the Poang Salam waterfall, and our goal.

Traditional village above the trail

We had left our Karen-Swiss guesthouse early that morning after eating a hearty breakfast of banana pancakes, eggs, and tea. With two fellow-tourists we were hiking in a side valley to the main Wawi valley and hoping to reach the Poang Salam Waterfall. Karen is of course the name of one of the local hill tribes. The owners of the guesthouse we were staying in were an international couple, one Swiss, one Karen.

The information provided by the guesthouse suggested that a guide was essential, but Gerry generally dislikes guides and once they showed us a good map of the area that we could buy, we all agreed that self-guiding was reasonable. We each ordered a sandwich and picked up a bottle of water and off we went.

Kerri, Diann, and Jan

Our two companions, Keri and Diann, were both ex-Peace Corps volunteers taking a long trip after completing their two years of service in the south pacific island kingdom of Tonga. The trail started from the main road a kilometer from our Karen Gueshouse through a small village and then quickly climbed up the hillside to flatten out after a while giving lovely views of the valley below.

Being sure we were on the right path wasn’t easy, but eventually we agreed that getting to the waterfall would be nice but wasn’t the be-all and end-all of the excursion. In fact as the day wore on, it became less and less important as we walked on dirt paths through some delightful mountain scenery set off with water-filled rice paddies, hillside villages of thatched-roof houses, and views of peasants weilding buffalo-drawn ploughs.

Pack horse and owner carrying basket on thumbline

By one o’clock we were approaching the end of the valley and felt we ought to be nearing the waterfall. At this point we almost lost the path as it wound through a patch of shoulder-high grasses and shrubs full of stickers that effectively hit what on closer inspection was clearly a well-beaten path. By one-thirty, we could wait no longer for lunch and so found some shade in a patch of bamboo forest and sat down on and near the path to eat our sandwiches. No sooner had we sat down than we heard a bell ringing warning us that a pack horse was coming. We moved aside and sure enough here came a family of hill-tribespeople with two horses and a number of dogs hauling goods either home or to market. From our lunch point we climbed very steeply until at last we heard and then saw a waterfall. We were never sure that this was the waterfall. We pressed on until we got to the top of the cliff and decided it was finally time to turn back.

Farmers going home

On the return trip the effects of our exertion started to take effect. We were all somewhat dehydrated and three of us had foot sores and blisters of various kinds. Two and a half hours into our 3.5 hour journey when we were all visibly flagging we found ourselves being overtaken by dozens of villagers making their way home from the day’s toil in the fields. It is hard to describe the pleasure with which we watched these sturdy, smiling people pass us by. Out came the cameras as our fatigue was forgotten for a while. They acquiesced graciously and stared just as much at us as we did at them.

And then finally we reached the village, the main road, and heaven be praised the roadside stand that had bottles of cold water. We each downed half a litre right away and all but Jan sat down to cool off further with an ice cream. Jan hobbled on ahead with only one thing on her mind:  getting back to the guesthouse and taking off her boots. Oh such bliss!