Vang Vieng Laos travel by Lary Kennedy
When I was around six years old, my father built me a jungle gym. Not sure why—no one else I knew had one. When asked, he said I was very athletic and thought it might challenge me.
More than likely, it was something to keep me occupied, somewhere to burn off energy instead of arguing or finding new ways to torment my little brother.
Boy, did I love that thing.
My brother was petrified watching me fly up and down those metal poles like a monkey. Standing ten feet up on galvanized steel felt intoxicating—exhilarating. I felt completely at home. That urge has never left.
To this day, if I see something I can climb, I climb it—as my previous neighbors in Austin will attest, after often finding me perched at the very top of a tree above them.
My desire to climb, oddly, supersedes my extreme fear of heights. Go figure.
So where better to get my climb on than Vang Vieng, the adventure capital of Laos?
Vang Vieng sits in a wide, flat valley carved by the Nam Song River, surrounded by steep limestone mountains that rise sharply from the ground. The base is open — fields, scattered trees, and quiet stretches of road — but it quickly gives way to dense vegetation, sheer rock walls, caves, and narrow paths cut straight into the terrain.
Talk about a backpacker, outdoor-adventurer paradise. Vang Vieng has all the bells and whistles — kayaking, hiking, caves, camping, tubing, swimming, biking — everything but the kitchen sink.
Once known as a “debauched party town,” the city has worked hard to shift toward eco-tourism and focus on the sheer abundance of natural beauty surrounding it.
Vang Vieng has roughly 25,000 residents and somehow receives nearly one million tourists a year. It’s crazy when you see how underdeveloped it still is. There’s essentially one main road, and aside from restaurants, nearly every storefront is selling tours.
And there’s no shortage of them.
With so many options to choose from, so many people ready to run them, and so many tourists ready to be loaded in, there’s always a van full of strangers heading out on your “personalized” adventure.
I’m so ready for a killer hike. Praise the powers that be, Vang Vieng is way cooler than the hell I’d just left. My energy level isn’t exactly at 100 percent, but my monkey sensory has activated. The motivation to fling the ten pounds of Burger King, margarita pizza, and rice clinging to my small frame outweighs my lack of energy — and my somewhat unfit muscles.
TripAdvisor owes me ten bucks. My New Year’s resolution is to actually use my freebies while they’re still viable instead of hanging on till useless. I book an entry-level half-day tour: Nam Xay Viewpoint and Blue Lagoon 1.
My open-air van is packed. — the roads are bumper to bumper with vans just like mine. This is Vang Vieng’s “off season?? ” Like WTF..
Our driver explains it’s International Women’s Day. Well DUH of course. How did I not know this?
In Vang Vieng — and across all of Laos — it’s a full-on holiday. Two of the six major holiday’s recognized by the Laotian Government are dedicated to women. Sweet.
Government buildings close, men handle the housework, and women get to whoop it up. Sign me up for a spa day. My whooping days are over. Well…toned down anyway.
The massive designated parking area for the Nam Xay Viewpoint is packed. Approaching the base, our guide tells us the 1,000 ft climb would normally take 20 minutes but under the circumstances we can meet back here in 30 minutes.
What Mister Guide leaves out is that this so-called “easy 20-minute climb” would, in the U.S., come with a warning label, a liability waiver, and at least three reminders not to die on the way up.
Heading up this dusty, rocky, packed, nonstop incline in 90-degree heat — losing my small water bottle and gasping for air — I begin to question why any woman would forgo a facial and foot scrub in lieu of this.
When reaching the top, the “summit” isn’t really a summit at all — more like a small, uneven ledge just big enough for a handful of people to shuffle around while taking turns at the edge.
At the top, there’s a motorbike perched right at the edge — the photo everyone waits for. I take one look at the line and opt out — my fear of heights and that edge are not a great combination. I regret it almost immediately.
Damn, damn, damn.
I’ve completely betrayed myself.
How better to embody Living Like I’m Dying than to sit on a Harley, the ultimate symbol of rebellion, on the precipice of death.
Instead my body overtaken by that horrifying, one–of–a–kind tingling forcing me to backup and get as close to the ground or I’ll die instinct.
How is it that I can climb a mountain like it’s nothing, but sitting at the edge freaks me the F out.
Let me be descriptively correct, this was an intense hike. A steep, slippery rock walkway, single file up and down, at points barely wide enough for one person. It’s cooler than Vientiane but just shy of 80 degrees hotter than the Alps.
I’ll take my wins where I can get em. I made it to the top. OMG… check out this view.
Talk around the mountaintop claimed going down was even harder. I fly back down with ease. Perhaps my DNA contains an abnormal amount of Apian.
Back in the vehicle our guide casually drops that we’re heading to another steep climb — Tham Phi Kham Cave, a.k.a. Blue Lagoon 1 Cave.
WTF? He assures us it’s “less strenuous.”
What a liar this guy is. Yet another steep incline.. At least the first 120 steps were actual (worn)stairs. Tour description clearly stated this excursion is suitable for all physical fitness levels. If you’re a sure-footed mountain goat..maybe.
After that climb, we enter the cave and immediately descend down a treacherous rock way leading to a huge reclining Buddha. Awesome. How in the hell did they even get her in here? . hello Blue Lagoon. Mesmerizing, ethereal blue water envelopes my hot, sweaty, body — Perfect way to end the day.
Now that I’ve gotten my feet wet.. I’m ready for the deep end.
After a day to recoup, I sign up for an all-day excursion.
Vang Vieng Tours are like a box of chocolates—you never know what mix you’ll end up with.
Our group: two girls from Belgium, a girl from Taiwan, another from Shanghai, two guys from South Korea, someone from somewhere in China… and Mr. Philippines. All under the age of thirty. I know this because Chatty Kathy Mr. Philippines quizzes the entire van.
When he gets to me, I say no comment.
The agenda: kayaking, hiking, cave exploration, tubing through a cave, ziplining, and finishing at Blue Lagoon 3.
Mr. Philippines and I pair up for kayaking. Big mistake. This kid has never kayaked before, so I spend the entire morning going in a never-ending circle. Shoot me now.
And he doesn’t stop talking. He asks if I’m married. When I say no, he very sincerely tells me he’s sorry. Apparently my life has amounted to nothing since I’m not hitched.
No matter—this puppy dog exuberance is starting to grow on me.
Once we finally manage to move in something resembling a straight line, we pass under a zipline. OMG—what a joke. The saddest excuse for a zipline I’ve ever seen. Chatty P and I exchange a look and start laughing. What a rip-off.
Back in the van, heading toward the cave climb, our guide assures us that is not our zipline.
After yet another long, steep hike up—and a brief detour getting lost inside the cave—I finally make my way out and meet back up with the group.
We grab inner tubes and head into the underground river, following each other single file, pulling ourselves along ropes through the dimly lit rocky sliver of a throughway.
The water is incredible—like floating through a translucent, icy-blue marble. But with nine of us crammed into a narrow space, it quickly turns claustrophobic. I twist my tube to make room for the guy behind me, and just like that—my $500 Maui Jim sunglasses slide right off my lap and disappear into the bottomless abyss.
For real? WTF.
I look down, hoping for a miracle, but with everyone splashing around, it’s impossible. The Belgium girls actually spot them at the bottom, and a few of us take turns diving for them—but without goggles, you can’t see a thing.
We’ve clearly overstayed our welcome—there’s a line of people waiting their turn. Just when my mourning period hits, our guide shows up with a pair.
A few minutes later, he resurfaces—sunglasses in hand.
Arriving at the base of the zipline, Chatty P and I exchange a look—this one is no joke.
After climbing close to 300 bright orange steps straight up the mountain, we clip into a series of five or six ziplines, each one longer than the last, starting around 150 feet up and sending us out over the trees.
Thrilling. Invigorating. Electrifying. Stimulating. Slightly terrifying.
Put all of that in a box and shake it.
Climbing. Swinging through the trees. Feeling free, alive, powerful.
Being me.
Vang Vieng. Basically the same jungle gym—just with better views and slightly more expensive consequences.
If this brought out your inner jungle gym kid, buy me a glass of wine 🍷
