We're such procrastinators. Six nights we spent in Luang Prabang and once again, as in Vientiane, we still had errands to run in the morning before we left. I'm not a morning person. I want to sleep in and I want to get an early start. But if we waited until we had all our errands done then left the next morning, we would still be there.

A few more of those mornings and I'll have an ulcer. I remember one day in Campbell River, British Columbia when we didn't leave until 2:30 pm. On mornings like this I can hear the clock ticking and feel the sun getting hotter and I have visions of us on winding roads at dusk pushing ourselves to make it before dark, only to arrive exhausted, hungry and irritable.

We finally left Luang Prabang around 11 a.m.

The population density was thinning fast as we went north and we expected to have to cook for ourselves one of these days. Since we arrived in Bali on Jan. 20, 1998, we had ridden 6,000 km across SE Asia and had always found someplace to serve us breakfast, lunch and dinner.

That time was coming to an end. So we stocked up on ramen noodles, jook (rice porridge) and cookies.

It was hot. I have made fun of people in tropical climates when they say "Man, it's hot today." I want to say, "It's hot as hell everyday, haven't you noticed?" Watch CNN any day and I guarantee you the forecast for Singapore is 31 to 33 degrees Celsius.

But now I can tell the difference between hot and hotter. That very pretty somewhat hilly day felt like an oven. The thermometer on my bike computer doesn't read correctly in direct sunlight (Cateye: what am I supposed to do, ride with a beach umbrella?) but it felt like 48C (118F). My water bottle was hot to the touch. When we stopped I squeezed the sweat out of my helmet pads and the stream made a little puddle of mud on the ground. If I didn't do this regularly the stinging sweat would run into my eyes. My hands sweat so much the handlebar tape squishes like wet tennis shoes. My fingers get pruned.

Around 20km out of town, still along the Mekong and level ground, we stopped for a drink at a picnic table under a tree in front of someone's house. They sold drinks, soap, hard candy, twine and simple little thing their neighbors might need. Most of these places have coolers of crushed ice so they can serve drinks cold.

As we drank Joan noticed several new looking straw baskets hanging from a board on the house next door. Last year she lost her helmet visor and she's been experimenting with different things to replace it. So she tried the basket. She put on her helmet, fit the cone-shaped basket over it, and it fit perfectly. Everyone laughed at her. But it worked great. A man at the shop gave her some twine and made a big deal out of tying the basket onto her helmet (through the helmet's air holes). The basket has a sort of a commodore's hat shape. Joan said it looked like something Sir Francis Drake would wear. I said she looked like Capt. Crunch.

It cost about 15 cents. In New Zealand, we had seen a replacement visor alone, nothing more than a piece of plastic with some velcro, for US$25!

After about 30km we crossed the Nam Ou then turned right and followed that river upstream. We had some good vistas of black and white limestone cliffs. We ate sticky rice and some pretty bad green soda with ice for lunch at a little village. All the kids around came to stare at us while we ate.

The villages had lots and lots of kids and they almost always go crazy when we ride through. The first one who sees us starts to yell and then everybody runs out to the road to wave and yell (Sabadee, Hello or bye Bye!) In some ways it's sort of a hero's welcome. But sometimes I don't want to be the center of attention.

We climbed a few big hills when a big rain storm came through. That was a real relief. It was heavy rain and drenched everything quickly. I've never seen so much steam rising from the road. It cooled us so much steam came off our raincoats.

The last 30km we went through a relatively flat valley and passed many small villages. It was a good thing it was flat because we were tired. The sun, hills, distance (115km) and the late start had really beat us up. We rode the last 60km or so almost without stopping.

We reached Pak Mong shortly before dark. Pak Mong is a truck stop. It's kind of shabby and muddy.

We asked around for a guesthouse. People quickly showed us to a building at the corner and pointed to a door that led into the darkness of an old wood building with a corrugated roof. In front of the building were a few tables and outdoor kitchens where they mostly served soup from giant pots heated over a wood fire. Joan had room duty (we alternate who has to check out the hotel room each night; the other person watches the bikes). A friendly, well-dressed woman greeted Joan, as Joan said, "like an old friend" and then showed her the "sheet" room.

JOAN: She led me into this large, barn-like building, which was dark because the electricity was off. Behind a large sheet lay four thin futons, side by side, on a wood platform, separated only by mosquito nets. It looked awful but we had no choice. I asked them to turn on the light but they didn't understand. They turned it on later.

ERIC. It was good the light was off. I never saw how dirty our sheets were.

We got a better idea of what it's like to live in a Lao village than we would get in a hotel. First, it's noisy. Those wood plank floors makes lots of noise, especially when kids run around on them. Second, though we don't see much activity in the villages during the day, lots goes on in the evening. Everyone constantly walked around the house, talking and moving stuff around. Even after the generator was shut off, they got out candles and were still busy at I don't know what.

We piled all our stuff on one of the beds, slept in another and hoped no truck drivers arrived in the middle of the night to sleep in the other. We were lucky that the rain cooled things off and we weren't hot.

When I first lied down I though I would just rest for a few minutes then find some food. But I was so tired I didn't get up again until morning. I slept fairly well but woke several times. Twice rats scurried across the floor just above our heads. Once something ran across the corregated metal roof. Another time a couple dogs started fighting and a horse whinied. The rats were creepy but I was too tired to worry about them. I knew this place would wake at sunrise so I didn't want to waste any silence worrying about rats.

It's too bad we arrived so tired. I would like to have met the family whose home this was. Not that we could have said much to each other but it could have been a better experience at least. But if we hadn't been so tired, we wouldn't have stayed there.

Next: Mountains and Hmong Village

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