Josh Cormack-Butler - Laos, SE Asia, Jan 2026
5 Days Trekking in the Jungle - Josh & Imogen
After three days sampling the best Franco-Asian food Luang Prabang had to offer, I felt we were due an adventure. Days spent eating croissants and drinking Lao coffee were great, but it didn’t feel like we were experiencing the real Laos, one of Southeast Asia’s least developed countries. To change that, we boarded the brand-new Laos-China railway and headed north into the mountains, where we signed up for a five-day trek deep into the jungle.
We arrived at the tour office, counted out our ninety-six 100,000 Kip notes then drove to morning market to buy provisions. Our English speak guide, Xai (pronounced 'Si') expertly navigated the dark and bustling market, picking up fruit, veg, rice, spices, eggs, pork and the highlight, eight live fish from a paddling pool poured into a plastic bag.
As we made the bone-rattling drive to the start of our trek, we made small talk to a French group over the sounds of the fish flapping in the boot.
We arrived at a village and were welcomed by a small boy who waved and shook our hands whilst cheerily saying "bye-bye, bye-bye", I wondered if this was a bad omen or just the extent of his English. Xai handed us our gear for the trek, 3L of water each and two -5 rated synthetic sleeping bags without compression sacks. This could be a problem, I'd brought my trusty Tupilak 45L rucksack and Immy, just her 10L Dora the Explorer backpack (which I'd insisted would be plenty). Our guides were having similar troubles with the zips of Xai's rucksack straining under the load and Wat (our local Khmu guide) having to carry half the food in two carrier bags.
Looking like a group of Scousers on the Pyg Track we said our au reviors to the french and set off in the morning sun.
Two hours of climbing rolling hills above stepped rice padis followed, with a view of forested Karst mountains in the distance. We paused in a small open hut on the edge of a field, some confusion followed then Xai made a phonecall. Apparently, the farm belonged to his cousin and Xai couldn't find the cooking pot, so much for being in the wild!
After an hour of cooking, lunch was laid on a banana leaf platter on the floor, comprising of fish soup, spicy cucumber salad, some fruit as well as everyone's portion of sticky rice. An offering was made to the spirits then we ate using bamboo chopsticks, banana leaf spoons and our fingers.
With full stomachs the afternoon's climb in the tropical heat was hard. Above the farms, the gradient kicked up and Xai set a mean pace. The only consolation was that Wat was struggling more. We had to pause every 20 minutes or so to wait for him to catch-up, then he'd collapse in a sweaty heap and trill complaints in singsong Khmu. Xai confessed it was Wat's first trip as a local guide.
As the sun was dipping we reached the summit and our stay for the night. The frame of a large open hut with a holey tin-roof stood before us. Xai explained that local hunters had used the floorboards for firewood but not to worry, he'll collect some banana leaves for us. Banana leaf was proving to be a versatile material but I thought a mattress was pushing it.
As Xai and Wat collected firewood, Immy tearily said she didn't think she could do this for four more days, why couldn't we have done the three day trek. In my defence I suggested a five day trek thinking I would have been haggled down. I said let's see how tomorrow goes (by then it'll be too late to turn around).
After dinner Xai hung a mosquito net then tucked a thin dinosaur play mat underneath for us to sleep on. I thought it was cozy, Immy disagreed.
In the morning we woke to a burning orange sunrise above the clouds with smoke trickling out of a hill tribe village across the valley. What really raised our spirits though was breakfast, Xai had been smoking the pork and fish all night above the fire and had made scrambled eggs cooked inside giant bamboo.
As we ventured further into the jungle the track became more vague, I checked the downloaded map on my phone and no trails or streams had been recorded here, this was more like it. We would be following a stream for the rest of the day so Xai felled two small rubber trees and made us each a walking stick. Seemingly endless steep muddy banks, loose stepping stones and slippery log crossings followed. Despite still carrying a tray of eggs in his hand, Wat was in his element, his flip-flops appeared to have gecko like qualities as me and Immy struggled to stay on two feet.
Eventually we entered a clearing with a firepit and a raised bamboo hut, surrounded on three sides by the curving stream, it was an idyllic spot.
We had a full body wash in the knee-deep stream, feeling refreshed despite pulling leaches off our ankles and putting dirty clothes back on. Meanwhile Xai had been busy carving two ornate bamboo cups for us as souvenirs, the perfect size for a long black. On the back he'd inscribed "Happy Year New 2026".
As darkness fell Xai pulled two bamboo spearguns from the roof of the hut and told us to rest here whilst he and Wat went 'fish hunting'.
We watched the stars until we got cold then tucked into our sleepings bags. We were just dozing off when a torch lit up our faces and said "Hello, you want to see some animal?" We were led outside to see a bright glowing eye up in the tree. "Civet, Civet!" Xai exclaimed as the figure of a large dark cat skulked away.
I asked Xai if he'd had a successful hunt, he smiled and proudly showed me a bag full of small fish and a frog the size of my fist.
Day three we glimpsed a troop of macaques as we crossed the valley to another stream. Despite the efforts of my top-heavy bag to tip me over we were urged on by Xai's claim of tonight's "brand-new five-star accomodation". Along the way he'd often stop to gather bark off a tree or dig up a root, explain it's medicinal properties then pocket it to flavour tomorrows water.
Our nights accommodation was in fact so new that it was net yet complete. Wat and Xai wove sheets of bamboo leaves together for me and Immy to attach to the rafters. That night we were grateful for our mosquito net as hundreds of spindly spiders covered our new roof.
By day four our heavy legs stumbled over every tree stump and trip-wire like vine they could find¹. In the afternoon we came to an area of sparse forest with a giant mango tree in the centre. Xai explained this was the old site of the village we'll be staying at and that in the 1980s the government forced the hill tribes to the lowlands to bring them under state control.
We descended out of the forest and could see our home for the night, the village of Nalan Neua. We crossed the patchiest bamboo 'suspension bridge' I'd ever seen and were greeted by a pack chirping puppies. After a wash in the river we were given a tour around the village that, despite housing a number of western tourists in homestays, seemed to be an authentic view into rural Laos. There was no electricity or phone signal and chickens, ducks and young children roamed freely.
After dinner, we watched a dance performance by the girls of the village wearing traditional dress, three songs later we were invited to join in. Me and Immy laughed awkwardly as we tried to imitate the elegant moves whilst Wat filmed us from the sidelines, probably to go on Facebook later.
The next morning we were woken by the drones of a soviet sounding AM radio in the village centre then, after some cultural activities, made our way back to the main road.
As we walked past the stream of tourists making the quick trip to the village and back, I felt grateful to have experienced the jungle’s solitude and and for learning just a few of bamboo’s thousand-and-one uses. Immy described the experience as “testing, fun and exhausting” which compared to ‘we’re done’ I'm taking as a win.