The film ghostrider with Nicolas Cage is a pretty bad movie.
At least in the opinion of the film aficionados. But on the way home from the trek, some things remind me of it, without Satan, without fire and without a skeleton. But with numerous anxious moments. But on the wonderful smelling morning, shortly before the trek, there are no premonitions. Nothing like that.
Today, trekking is the order of the day - six hours somewhere in the hills, along scattered Shan and Palong villages. There is a handsome group of mostly young Travelers, and once again - who would have doubted it - I'm the grandaddy of the troupe.
Bumpy Roads
So far so good. The pickup, on whose cargo area we are sitting tightly packed, takes us into the hills.
The street, if you can call it that, does not meet the western standard, to say the least. The monsoon rains and other climatic malignancies have formed them into a kind of river bed, interspersed with deep ditches, holy, rocky, with eroded roots and sharp rocks.
Mitch, our guide
And so we set off, led by Mitch (who probably has given himself that name because his real one might be ineffable for our tongues), a young Palong, 25 years old, who speaks 6 languages fluently.
Let's see: if I remember correctly it was Palong, Shan, Burmese, English, Chinese and Malay. Panting behind him (the longer the trip, the more intense the panting, the more sweaty the t-shirt, because, dear people, - it's hot, damn hot) three Dutch, two Germans, two Italians (!) And me.
Let's be clear – it's not a comfortable hike for elderly people, oh no, because Mitch sets a pace that soon the breath for the mostly inexperienced trekkers runs out. In the meantime, the road leads steeply uphill, mostly in the blazing sun, which now really ignites a hellfire over the poor trekkers.
As a result, the group slowly lengthened, but that doesn't really bother anyone, because at the next stop at the latest the lost troop will come together again. On the way we meet again and again children, big, small, funny, serious, curious, fearful and clever, whose vocabulary is quickly clear.
Stopover
After a little over a panting hour the first stop. We are expected in a small inn. Actually it is not a real restaurant, but simply the living room of a family. Toys and children surround us, questioning looks. Curiosity. For them we are people who could just as well come from Mars.
Village in no man's land
At some point, after long and admittedly arduous hours, interrupted by tea and coffee breaks, an extended lunch in a small village with children and wonderfully dressed elderly women.
At the Destination
Then we reach - in the meantime it is half past four - today's destination, where we are expected by three motorcyclists (because the rest of the group has booked a three-day trek). How shall I put it, the guys don't really radiate what you'd expect from someone who's about to transport you down to the valley on rickety mopeds. Dark mirrored sunglasses, the hair either hidden under chic caps or combed back with gel, the look determined and slightly aggressive. Well, let's see ...
We ought to have known. The sun sets at about six o'clock, and a few minutes later it is as dark as in a cow's stomach. Well, hopefully the trip won't take long, but the nervous glance of the three drivers at the watch ought to have made us suspicious. But what follows will certainly go down in the annals of my collected travel experiences.
Indescribably
So, how to describe it? Imagine the worst dirt road and multiply it by ten. Then add a million deep ditches and holes, muddy puddles whose depth can't be estimated, dug-in tracks of other vehicles, bushes and branches growing onto the road, sharp rocks we whiz past by a hair's breadth, slopes on the side of the road dropping into the depths, and then, yes, you have a pretty good idea of what we'll have to endure over the next two hours.
We are being shaken and stirred, tossed around, to the right and to the left, up and down, while we try desperately to hold on to something that is not really meant to be held, while the rider, feet outstretched on either side for the purpose of keeping his balance, heroically tries to avoid falling.
Naked Madness
The crazy thing is - you get used to it. In time, you just find it pure naked insanity, even if your spinal discs howl, your butt cheeks go numb, your hands and arms just ache. That's it, dear people, it's these experiences (if you survive them) that make the thrill of such trips. Of course, it's not base jumping or similar silliness, but it comes pretty close. In short - simply wonderful!
Ghostriders in the Night
At least as long as there is daylight. Because as expected, eventually the night falls on us, and now it becomes really critical (and I forget pretty quickly everything I just claimed). I have not the slightest idea how the guy can see anything, because the headlights on his vehicle are - non-existent.
No light
Now I get a little nervous, because even with a lot of fantasy I can not imagine how it is possible to drive on such roads without lights. The three ghostriders on bad roads have now become three blind ghostriders on bad roads (and notice: a short time later, the three blind ghostriders on bad roads become three extremely freezing blind ghostriders on bad road, at least as far as I'm concerned).
So it's going down the mountain, over a thousand meters in altitude, past long ranges of hills, through dense forests, past isolated villages whose inhabitants can only be perceived in shadows. And just before I write my testament in my mind, a small miracle happens: the driver suddenly remembers that he actually has a light on his bike. A deep, deep sigh of relief.
Dangerous
But then again, who wouldn't have guessed it - we're not quite there, oh no. Eventually - thank God - we leave the mountains, the roads get better, paved, wide. Which of course prompts our three ghostriders to get the maximum out of their machines.
Now it gets really dangerous. In Myanmar, conservatively estimated, only one out of two vehicles drives with some kind of lighting, meaning that half the time you can't see either the oncoming vehicles or the ones ahead. Which, however, is more of a challenge than a problem for our three pilots. They whiz through between slow-moving huge Chinese trucks, overtake cars, tractors, other motorcycles at hellish speed, overtake each other, probably to show who is really the king this time.
We stop in front of our hotel, the proprietor Lily greets us, laughing heartily and loudly at our bewildered faces, while we simply remain seated for a few seconds before we release our numb hands from the holders and slowly, very slowly get off our scooters ...
P.S. Matching Song: Johnny Cash - Ghostriders in the Sky
And here the journey continues ...
