The Nam Hin Boun River

by JG Learned

Rivers in Laos are more than a source of water. They are still important arteries of trade in much of this sparsely populated country. They yield a large percent of the Laos' protein intake in the form of fish, crustaceans, frogs, other reptiles, bugs and other aquatic critters. They provide a place to bathe and chat and relax after a hard days work and for children to play. They are the lifelines of the Lao people.

Deep within the Lao Central Limestone district, spring-fed rivulets high in the needle-peaked, razor-ridged karst mountains combine to form crystal-clear cascades, tumbling down through virgin jungle on deep-fissured mountainsides perforated by countless caves. Laos is a land of a thousand rivers. One is the Nam Hin Boun.

It flows northwest from its sources before sweeping in a wide curve northwards and then southeast until it joins the roiling brown Mekong, a distance of about 250 kilometres.

Not far from the source of the Hin Boun's main branch nestles the village and rice fields of Ban Natan, encircled by jagged peaks, atypical to the region. It holds to the old traditions and makes its way into the modern age slowly as best it can. Just above the last navigable reaches of the Hin Boun, Ban Natan uses the fast flowing, limpid water to power tiny hydro-generators resembling small outboard engines, in wooden spillways connected to small-gauge insulated wires strung through the trees to individual houses in the village, where they power a light, sometimes 2 and maybe a radio, though reception is fickle.

Broad shade trees and fruit trees, old and scarred, attest to the age of this village. The houses are all in traditional Lao Loum (Lowland Lao) style: neat, wooden-planked houses on stout, octagonal wood stilts: spinning wheels and looms, ploughs and woven rattan baskets beneath; chickens, ducks, pigs and goats, water buffalo and cows wander throughout the village with impunity. The separate grain storage sheds are also on stilts, their design unchanged for centuries, using mortise and tenon construction, shingled with teak shakes.

Three kilometers walk downstream from Ban Natan is the entrance to Konglo Cave. Bombs from the Viet Nam debacle still lie unexploded in the river bottom above the cave mouth where the Hin Boun disappears into the sheer cliff of a mountain, continuing for 7 kilos until daylight appears on the other end of this fantastic tunnel. It is a complete darkness within – one that most people will never know. Within the vast confines are huge sand dunes, numerous unexplored offshoot caves within the riddled limestone and cathedral-like stalactites and stalagmites. Evidence of spirit offerings are frequently encountered.

You must take a boat to get through. At 2 or 3 points, depending on water level, it becomes necessary to jump out of the leaky longtail craft and haul and push them over shelf-rock and sandbars. The boat drivers, with poor light from smoky carbide headlamps maneuver through the darkness with uncanny precision. One loses sense not only of direction but also of time within the heart of the mountain.

The river gushes forth into blessed sunlight through rapids before widening into a huge emerald-green pool, flanked by beach. Artifacts of ancient peoples, mostly potshards, can be found amongst the smooth worn pebbles. It is a wonderful place for a swim and picnic!

A 20-minute walk or short boat ride brings you to the banks of Konglo Village, for which the cave is named. Beyond the village is a wide floodplain, the rice basin of the area, stretching to distant blue mountains. Konglo is accessible via the town of Na Hin, either by 40 kilometres of bad road (only in the dry season) or about 6 hours by boat (easier in the wet when the river is higher).

As the dry season progresses, the upper reaches of the Hin Boun become tricky to navigate due to snag and rock and sandbar: it becomes necessary to frequently jump out and push. Downstream, the clear waters take on an increasingly green translucence due to the high mineral content of the water. Perched on the right bank in the middle of nowhere is a lovely lodge, The Auberge de Sala Hin Boun, where one can sit off the floor to eat, the beer is cold and there is a generator providing electricity ‘til 10:00 p.m. You can sleep in a room in a real bed with sheets; things we usually take for granted. And the roosters let you sleep, at least ‘til dawn!

Continue farther down the river through the sentinel mountains past small riverside rice and tobacco farming communities. Whenever the infrequent boat with a foreign face goes by, excited children run to the banks to leap and wave and shout “Sabaidi!!” (Hello!!). The river takes on a more brownish hue from sediment as you continue towards Nam Senam, the landing near the town of Ban Na Hin, site of the largest hydroelectric producing project in Laos. Continue southeast through the constantly changing landscape of steep cliffs and saw-toothed ridges flanked with dense vegetation to the village of Na Kok, situated on a gentle bend above a beach of super-fine alluvial sand.

Though only a few travelers follow this route, the village children are accustomed enough to foreigners to not exhibit the shyness inherent in places where they've never seen a western face. The villagers are all polite and extremely hospitable. It is an easy place to fall in love with. In late afternoon, villagers come to the river to bathe and relax after the heat of the day; children whoop and holler and swim fearlessly, like sleek brown seals in the fast-flowing current.

Across the river, a 20-minute walk brings you to the entrance to Tam Heup Cave, through which Heup Creek flows, a small tributary of the Hin Boun. This cave is only about a kilometer long and can be walked and waded through. A valley, completely surrounded by sheer jungled ramparts lies on the other side. There is one small village in the hidden valley called Ban Na, about 5 kilometres from the cave-mouth. Ruins of an ancient town, called ‘Aran' by locals, lay sundered and shrouded by thick jungle: tumbled temple pillars give little clue as to their origin. Aran remains a mystery.

As one wends further down the Hin Boun, the dramatic karst mountains thin and gradually give way to the Mekong floodplain. Song Hong is where the river meets Route 13, the National North-South Highway. It is an unremarkable place but convenient for travelers to disembark to further their travels in Laos.

From Song Hong it is about another 15 kilos to the confluence with the Mekong, through paddy-checkered farmland and primarily bamboo jungle. The heat becomes more palpable as you approach the mighty river flowing from Tibet to the South China Sea.

The Nam Hin Boun has reached its end. The Mekong flows southeast to its delta, spilling into the ocean. The evaporated ocean will gather in towering cumulous castles over the Annamite Mountains on the Viet Nam border and collapse over Laos and the springs giving birth to the Nam Hin Boun and a thousand other rivers will trickle, ensuring the cycle and the lifelines of the magnificent Lao Central Limestone District.