Rafting the Mae Tuen Rafting on the Mae Tuen is made for nature lovers. The river was extremely calm, so calm and peaceful that the water buffaloes did not notice my approach until I was close. Dipping their heads occasionally in the shoulder-deep water, they stared at my brightly coloured rubber raft with curiosity, probably wondering what kind of animal was moving in. Like a snake, the Mae Tuen River runs through one of the most remote areas of the North passing valleys, rice paddies and colourful deciduous forest between Omkoi District of Chiang Mai and the Bhumibol Dam in Sam Ngao District in Tak. Late winter, water level in the river recedes dramatically exposing countless sandy beaches. Because the weather is dry, the forest changes colour, and even though the scenery is not as captivating as the evergreen valleys of Umphang or Nan, the Mae Tuen still offers peaceful moments to sit back and enjoy a chat with friends or let your imagination fly. Rafting in this section of the river gave me an idea of what the banks must have looked before tourist dollars started pouring in. There were resorts on either side of the river. I sat back and enjoyed the slow pace of life. There were no fierce rapids ahead, no mobile signals to disturb my peace. I watched kingfishers dive for prey, the common sandpiper roam the beaches and occasionally the greater racket-tailed drongo fly overhead. Towering trees allowed ferns to thrive on their trunks. When dusk fell we erected our tents. At night it was pitch dark and the sky aglow with a million tiny lights. The air was cool and fresh, and it was much colder out here in wilderness than in the city _ 10 degrees Celsius. To keep warm we lit a bonfire and then watched thick mist collect over the river. We must have been crazy to trade the comfort of our beds at home to spend a night freezing by the river. But it was worth the trouble: a starry night, clean air and clear stream in the embrace of nature on an isolated island somewhere between Chiang Mai and Tak. When the sun rose next morning it was another story. The clear sky allowed rays of the sun to bask the valley in a radiant glow. We lazed in the sun long enough until our bodies could take it no more. I dipped my hat in the river and put it on for cover against the burning rays. "Last week I was here to survey the place and the water level was alright for rafting. It's a bit of a surprise why it dried up so quickly," Worrayot Jitjong, the tour leader said. At several sections of the river that day we were forced to drag our rafts since the water level was not fit for rafting. The main cause, we were told, was drought but I didn't quite believe it until we approached a bend in the river. From a distance we saw men fleeing as they saw us coming. When we arrived at the scene we saw huge timbers lying by the bank perhaps waiting to be sawed. Our guide noticed the worried looks on our faces and immediately set about allaying our fears. "Don't worry, they won't harm us because they know we are tourists," he said. So that was it. They were illegal loggers and seeing our brightly coloured rafts they thought we were forest rangers _ who have similar dinghies _ and fled the scene. They do it because they were poor, our guide tried to explain, and hoped that our presence that day would help keep them at bay, even if it's only for a short while. When we crossed into Tak I noticed many bamboo rafts lying idle by the banks as if they hadn't been used for a long time. That could only mean one thing _ the current further up was stronger, in fact too strong for them to negotiate a safe passage. But we had nothing to fear because our vessels were much more sturdy than those bamboo rafts. So we paddled on completely immersed in the scenery until one of the rafts got trapped in the rocks. The crew tried to push it clear but the currents seemed too strong. Within minutes the raft was filled with water and all our essential belongings, including food, clothes and sleeping bags, were floating in the river. The incident woke us up from our reverie. Some us who could swim set out to retrieve whatever we could from the raging rapids, while others sat fastened to their rafts. After we managed to free our trapped friends we counted our losses. All the eggs we were carrying for trip were lost, while our clothes, tents, and sleeping gears were soaking wet from the ordeal. But the incident didn't dampen out spirits. As a matter of fact it added to the excitement. It was replayed again and again at the camp fire that evening as we gathered for meals in our wet clothes and cracked jokes. Despite the wet tents and down to our bare essentials, all of us had a restful night. Next morning the shallow river made progress difficult and we decided to call it a day at a village. There our tour leader called one of his colleagues to come and pick us up. Waiting for the vehicle we saw a group of kids take off their clothes and jump into the river. They swam to other side and climbed up big trees via ropes tied to their trunks and then swung from tree to tree. For us, it was a hot Saturday afternoon but the kids were thoroughly enjoying it, filling the valley with the sound of their laughter. "Bangkok kids will feel jealous seeing them enjoying this way," said someone in our group. "On a typical Saturday afternoon, kids in Bangkok keep busy attending tutorials." When the pickup arrived we said our farewells to the rafting crew and the kids. On the way back to Bangkok I reflected on the trip thinking what we could do to prevent the Mae Tuen from running low on water this early in the year. |