MUANG CHIENG KONG TO MUANG LUANG PRABANG.
Muang Chieng Kong became our head-quarters for ten days, and from
there I made a boat expedition to the Chieng Sen boundary, north-west;
and also one north and east inland, the object being the examination
of the gem deposit, its extent, character, and, if possible, its
value.
From the Chieng Sen boundary at Hoay Nam Kung, extending for some
miles towards Chieng Kong, is a rapid piece of river tearing through a
series of gneissose and schistose rocks, which form high hills on
either bank. The gem-bearing gravel is not found until several basalt
sheets are encountered below Nam Ngau, a largish tributary flowing in
from the north. The hills on the left bank then become lower and more
distant, and these, consisting of a dark crystalline rock, the exact
mineralogical character of which has not yet been determined, seem to
be the source of all the stone-bearing gravels which are found
deposited in the streams flowing from them. The average thickness of
the gravel is 5 to 20 inches, and consists of quartz and fragments of
the crystalline rock above mentioned. The overburden is a reddish clay
soil of an average depth of 10 feet, through which the Burmese, who
are found wherever there are gems, sink large pits some 10 feet
square. A sharpened bamboo will be often first driven down to
ascertain if the gravel underlies the spot, it having been found very
capricious.
Explorations were made in the neighbourhood for many years
before--about two years ago--the first paying gravel was found; the
Burmese relying all the time on the presence of what is known as
_nin_, small black stones which have turned out to be black spinel,
and are always to be found in close proximity to the sapphire. When
washing gravel in a stream these little water-worn crystals are found;
it will only need industry and time to find the gem gravel, which will
be somewhere near, although in part perhaps denuded away. The _nin_
have been followed for years, and now there are over two hundred men
reaping the reward of their indefatigable patience. I found _nin_ and
struck gravel in all the streams flowing in on the left bank between
Nam Ngau and Hoay Pakham, which is the main scene of the operations at
present, and lies about 1 mile below Chieng Kong. On the right bank
there are apparently no signs whatever, except at Hoay Duk, a stream
exactly opposite Hoay Pakham; but only a few _nin_ are to be seen
here, and there is no water for washing purposes. East and north of
Hoay Pakham, again, are half a dozen more streams flowing, from that
side of the range I have spoken of as the source of the gravel, into
the Nam Hau, which eventually reaches the Mekong. Some of these have
been found to be rich, and on one the Burmese built their bamboo
villages and made their clearings; but after a fortnight's work the
places were abandoned as being terribly unhealthy, sunk deep in the
jungle valleys, and very difficult to get stores to.
[Illustration: A GEM-DIGGER'S CLEARING, CHIENG KONG.]
When the present large workings are exhausted, both those and the
streams towards Nam Ngau will get their fair share of attention, no
doubt. The distance between the extreme points where the gravel exists
and the limit of our present knowledge is over 10 miles, but within
that area it is not by any means continuous, and any attempt at
estimating the probable output and the extent of reserves could only
result in the most erroneous conclusions. Owing to the secrecy
observed by the Burmese in the matter among themselves, and the fact
that they usually travel long distances to find a market for their
better stones, the output up to the present of saleable stones is
merely a matter of conjecture, and is variously estimated by the
headmen as from 3 to 6 catties, say, over 22,000 carats perhaps. One
man showed me what he declared was the result of his year's
work--three good stones of rich colour and good water, for which he
expected to get 100, 60, and 50 Rs. respectively, and some forty small
ones (some of them of very poor colour), which after an hour's
bargaining one could certainly have got for 50 Rs. He had, besides, of
course, numberless fragments and scraps which were valueless. The
chances are, from what I saw, that this is a fair example of what the
average digger obtains; but it must be remembered that no information
voluntarily given by the Burmese on this head is ever reliable. They
invariably keep something in reserve, for they never feel quite
certain what the Englishman may be up to with his questioning; and
even among themselves the dodges resorted to to hide the exact truth
are very amusing. In buying stones one always has the worst produced
first, and after an exhaustive pick out of them all, presently,
slowly, out of infinite wraps of paper and cotton, come some better
ones, and after an hour or so the best are produced, and probably this
is the real extent of the man's stock; but if through impatience one
closes the bargains too early, the best are never produced, but will
be kept for the future, and will eventually be taken over to Rangoon,
or even Calcutta.
In a few years' time there will, no doubt, be more men at work, and
larger areas of pits in work. At the present moment the ground in Hoay
Pakham has only been dug out for a distance of half a mile from the
flood level of the Mekong, with a breadth averaging 80 yards. Work is
only carried on in the morning, when the pit will be bailed out dry;
at noon the digging and washing ceases, and the men return home, and
sit all the afternoon in their houses chaffing, talking, and picking
over and enjoying the sight of their stones, in which they find great
delight. The washing consists simply of cleaning the basket of muddy
gravel with water, and picking over the remains twice by hand. The
operation is very quick, and the eye never misses the faintest sign of
colour.
With regard to the rubies I had expected to find, from my own
observation, and subsequently from conversation with the diggers, I
soon saw that not only have none been ever found, but none of the
signs of the ruby as known at Chantabun or in Burma have been seen. A
Siamese official who had been sent here a year ago by the Government
to test and report on the place, seeing some small garnets, thought
they must be rubies, and thinking to advance himself at head-quarters,
bought a very fine Burmese ruby for 70 Rs., and sent it down with his
report as having been found in Chieng Kong! From this, of course, very
large hopes of the character of the find had been entertained: I fear
now he is somewhat in disgrace. Fever, due to the thick forest
standing high overhead all around, and the peculiar sickliness always
caused by the upturning of new soil, especially in the damp beds of
the streams, is very prevalent.
The Burmese houses are very different from the Siamese and Laos--mere
bamboo shanties only lifted some 2 feet off the ground, but with all
sorts of handy little shelves, window-shutters, doors and lockers,
which are generally absent from the others; and in these, as being
easily and quickly constructed, the men always live at their diggings.
I do not know the character of the Burmese in this respect at home,
but in this country they are always overflowing with friendliness and
hospitality to any Englishman; and the headmen at Chieng Kong,
especially one by name Monghu, who became a general favourite with my
people, and who accompanied us and worked with us everywhere, I can
never forget.
The Chow Muang here was lately dead, and just before we left the
cremation ceremonies began in the big square before the principal wat.
At night the place all round the funeral pyre was lighted with
candles; three or four of the head monks were reading in a kind of
chant from their Pali manuscripts from the tops of temporary bamboo
pulpits, and among the booths standing round; the people squatted in
their cloaks, listening to music or hearing descriptive songs and
stories, which now and then produced roars of laughter. In the day
sports were going on, and there was some very good boxing between the
champions of neighbouring villages, who at the end each got three
rupees, victor and vanquished alike. The men strip, and their names
and the places they hail from are given out. They then salute the
master of the ceremonies in the ordinary Laos fashion, touching the
ground with their forehead on bended knees, raising the clasped hands
to the head, and proceed to business. For some moments they warily
watch one another, stepping and dancing round with a good deal of
attitudinizing of an alarming description, by the extravagance of
which we can generally tell the best man. The blows are rather
round-armed, it is true, and kicking is allowed; but it is wonderfully
quiet and masterful, and when they warm to it, very hard rounds are
fought. The umpires squat round ready to separate the men, call time,
and generally see fair play, and at the end of each round the two men
squat down, and are offered water out of silver bowls, the bearer
respectfully on his knee handing them the ladle. The keenness of the
onlookers is tremendous, especially when the men are well matched; but
what produced most enthusiasm was a fight between boys of about ten
years old. The little fellows showed, I must say, a great deal of
pluck and more science than most of us did at that age at school; they
kept their tempers well, and at the end of each round their seconds,
stalwart fathers and uncles, were beside themselves with delight,
stroking their heads and dancing round them with tears of laughter
running from their eyes.
There were some sword and sword-and-spear dances by two men in slow
time to music, with silver-handled weapons, and accompanied by the
gestures in which all these nations take such pleasure.
During the time I was in Chieng Kong district the weather was getting
warmer. Up the river we had the minimum 54° three days running, just
after sunrise, at which time heavy mists shrouded the river valley,
and subsequently 56°, 58°, 60° were the minimum at the same time.
The maximum in the shade at the sala or under the coverings in the
boats was 91° at 1 p.m.--the average 89°. But in the jungle, where the
south-west winds could not reach, the heat was very great, and the sun
was very fierce, especially on the great banks of sand, which are so
characteristic of the river. The height I make 1250 feet from the sea.
These sands, over which we used to trudge for miles from stream to
stream, got so hot after 11 a.m. until about sunset, that the men
could not bear walking on them, and took to the water; the glare is
tremendous to the eyes. After sunset the rocks retained their heat so
that some long-haired Shan dogs we had with us would not lie or walk
upon them. There is a great deal of mica, iron pyrites, and magnetic
iron ore in these sands; and washing among the bushes, which in many
places fringe the higher parts, or some feet down, where a larger
gravel lies, one seldom fails to find a small speck or two of gold.
The water itself, at this season, rushes through a deep gorge between
the rocks and sandbanks, which form its flood-bed, a narrow but very
deep column of water, working out for itself, where a bluff rock sends
a huge eddy whirling inwards, broad bays often 50 yards across. While
the distance between the high-water level on the opposite sides of the
valley will be nearly half a mile, the stream itself will often work
through its deep channel only 200 yards, and even less in width. The
scale of things here is not so large as that below, where the volume
of water has increased; but the character of the river is much the
same.
[Illustration: CAMP AT THE FA PA RAPIDS.]
The camps we formed on the sand spits, lulled at night by the thunder
and roaring echoes from the rapids, were wild and beautiful in the
extreme. The jungle, too, was full of night sounds--the bark of the
deer or the "peep, peep" of the tiger, of which we often heard three
or four at a time; and in the morning their tracks were everywhere
upon the sands. It is curious and worth remarking that when one got 4
or 5 miles inland on the left bank no traces of tiger were to be
found; while, on the other hand, the elephant tracks became very
numerous, and were really useful in threading the jungle; the
destruction they work among the trees is wonderful. They seem,
however, to avoid the tiger zone near the river, as the tigers in turn
prefer the waterside, the latter probably finding greater facility for
hunting deer there. There is no doubt that any one who has the
inclination, and no work and plenty of time, might have excellent
sport by watching for tigers at the drinking-places, which are
generally well marked, and are in retired bays, among rocks and
bushes.
Bananas and coconuts are very scarce at Chieng Kong; and on the third
day after our arrival I had to send the elephants on their way home,
owing to want of wholesome young green food. This all points, with the
barrenness we noticed coming across the Nam Sug valley, to a bad soil.
They complain that in the hot months, May and April, it is terribly
hot and dry, and that "nothing grows;" meaning thereby, no doubt,
things do not grow well.
[Illustration: ONE OF OUR ELEPHANTS, WITH HOWDAH ON.]
The departure of our elephants was a day of mourning to all of us. The
mahouts, very rough Siamese, burnt as black as Hindus, with long locks
of hair hanging round their necks, had been very good fellows, and,
however long their days, had never complained. All those who have
travelled with elephants feel the fascination of the beasts, with
their quiet, patient, and sagacious way of treating life; the merry
twinkle which sparkles from the small, sharp eyes, and the endless
little pranks they are ever ready for; and after some weeks of
travelling many a tired and weary day together, this becomes quite an
affection; and be sure, if you are fond of an elephant he knows it,
and reciprocates it very soon. So we were all very sorry to see them
swing off for the south again.
The voyage from Chieng Kong down to Luang Prabang (or Muang Luang, the
"great town," as it is usually called) occupies five days if there are
no interruptions; the return journey takes from ten to fifteen days
against the current, there being a number of bad rapids. The scenery
is magnificent, and far surpasses anything I saw on the Mekong below.
The river has cut its way almost at right angles to the strike of the
rock, a series of schists which appear to have been considerably
distorted, until the neighbourhood of the Nam Oo is reached, when the
limestones which form the splendid scenery of that river come in. The
latter rocks are also seen on the right bank of the big river, where
it takes its southerly course south of Ban Soap Ta (one day from
Chieng Kong), and there seems to be on the top of a synclinal. They
are always characterized in this country by the peculiar dense
forests, like the Dong Phya Yen in Lower Siam, the Dong Choi round
Chieng Hon, and another one we touched in the valley of the Nam Ngau,
east of the Nam Ing, known as Pa Kung Ngau, where the sun never enters
owing to the dense foliage, and the elephant tracks form the only
paths. We took twelve days going down, making on the way some short
expeditions into the country. The inactivity in the boats soon made
itself felt, and after five days there were ten men sick out of the
twenty Siamese, six with fever and the others with sores, to which
they are very liable, any scratch or wound of the slightest
description, especially about the feet or legs, always giving rise to
them; in fact, I kept one knife on purpose for lancing these things.
Wherever we go sick people are brought, and the chief ailments among
the Laos were fever, affections of the eyes, and dysentery. The latter
is generally taken in hand too late, and ends fatally.
The first day from Chieng Kong we brought up on the south bank, at the
mouth of the Nam Ngau I have already mentioned; and I was two nights
away with only two or three men visiting some gold washings in the bed
of the river. The percentage is extremely small, and is the same in
character though not so rich as in the Mekong sands. The usual small
fee of two rupees a year is paid by each man. They work waist deep in
the cold rushing stream, and cannot go on for more than ten minutes at
a time. A basket is sunk under water with one foot upon it, and the
gravel from the bank prized out into it with the usual iron-shod
bamboo; it is then lifted out, carried ashore, and washed. This
operation, here and throughout the Mekong district, is done by a man
standing in the water, with a wooden tray in front of him, shaped like
a Chinaman's peaked hat, the diameter 30 inches, and depth at the
centre 5 inches. As it floats on the water, moored by a string to a
stone, the basket of gravel is emptied into it, and the larger stones
picked out. A rotary motion is given to the pan by the continual
shifting of the hands from right to left; at the same time the water
is expelled, or dipped up, and sent running round the edge by a
depression of the rim being sent round "against the sun," until all
the light material is gone. What remains is usually a little magnetic
iron ore, with a speck or two of very fine "float" gold for every four
baskets of 14 inches diameter and 3½ inches depth. It is then washed
carefully into a small oblong box, in which it is carried home and
handed over to the women who, I am told (for I never saw it done), use
mercury obtained from Chinese merchants for the subsequent freeing of
the gold. On the way to Nongkhai we met several gangs of men,
generally seven or eight in number, living in their boats and engaged
in washing in this way in the sands of the river, in which, according
to all I could gather, the gold seems to be redeposited in small
quantities by every year's flood season.
[Illustration of Chinese peaked hat]
What the gold prospects of the country are, there have been no
sufficient trials to show, but with the advent of the French on the
banks of the river we may soon know something more on this head. The
Laos consider they do very well if they get 2 hun per man in a day (5
hun = 1 fuang or 1/8 tical); but their work is very intermittent, and
the search for gold seems to have the proverbial effect upon them, for
in several cases I found their assertions were not over-truthful.
Up such rivers as the Nam Beng, Nam Ngau, Nam Oo, and Nam Suung, the
gold seems to be in old water deposits which extend beyond the present
stream beds, and will probably be found to cover considerable areas in
the valley bottoms.
Both calcite and quartz exist in great abundance in the mountain
ranges we came in contact with, and to the denudation of these two
minerals a great deal of the alluvial gold presumably owes its origin,
as well as perhaps from the crystalline limestones. I was, however,
unable ever to lay hands on an undoubted gold-bearing vein of either
character, nor could I get any information of occurrence of the metal,
except in alluvial sands and gravels. Some large nuggets have been
found up the Nam Beng and Nam Oo, and up the former river a Chinaman
from Luang Prabang had tried systematic working of a kind. After six
months' work he lost 200 ticals; and when a Chinaman loses money,
especially in a country where money will go so far, the chances are
that no one else will make their fortunes. I subsequently found at Pak
Beng that the Kache he had employed had swallowed all the decent-sized
gold obtained! This is another instance of the difficulties the miner
has to meet with in Siam; and with fevers, superstition, robbery, and
physical difficulties, the list is a rather alarming one.
This valley of the Nam Ngau is inhabited by people known as Lus. They
wear their heads shaved, except for the top tuft, like all the Nan
men, with enormously loose and wide blue trousers, often trimmed round
the ankle with red; short blue jackets with beads and touches of red;
and red, green, or white turbans. They are magnificently made men,
with very pleasant countenances, tattooed as usual from knee to waist,
but, when clothed, more like the stage-pirate; in fact, a gang of
them, with the long dhâps and an old flintlock or two among them,
standing chatting, laughing, and smoking their long-stemmed pipes,
would make an ideal buccaneer's crew.
At Ban Muang, where we slept each night, the people were the most
friendly I had met; some fifty of them came out to greet us on our
arrival, and we had an orchestra of four flutes in the evening to play
us to sleep. The children and women were extremely pretty. Some
distance south of this place the forest already mentioned as Pe Kung
Ngau begins. Men travelling in it, and even the people living on its
skirts, are subject to a very violent fever, which causes complete
prostration in a few hours, and is generally fatal. The face and
breast become quite yellow, presumably owing to the stoppage of the
bile-duct.
A big dyke has lately been cut from the Nam Ngau to take the water to
the eastern side of the valley for purposes of irrigation. Its depth
and width are about 10 feet, and it must be some miles long. All the
men from the villages turned out to work, and it proved a heavy
undertaking. This valley seems to be all under Muang Sa, and Chow Benn
Yenn found himself among his friends.
[Illustration: THE LEADING MULE.]
We met another gang of Haws, who made night hideous by discovering the
mules had strayed, and every man and boy among them shrieking,
howling, beating gongs, and firing guns by way of attracting them back
to the camp. It was a pleasant night, with one of my men raving and
shouting with fever till dawn.
[Illustration: A HEAD MAN--STERN VIEW.]
[Illustration: A HEAD MAN--SIDE VIEW.]
At Ban Soap Ta, or Pak Ta, we were in the Province of Luang Prabang.
The village is most beautifully situated on the left bank of the
river, just below where the wild torrent of the Nam Ta falls into it.
There is a regular street all down the village, with deep ditches on
each side, between the road and the scattered houses. We met numerous
Kache from inland--a perfectly wild people, wearing only the smallest
strip of cloth, with a long metal hairpin stuck through the hair
rolled up behind, and often a flower in the lobe of the ear. They are
short and fleshy, and, though not prepossessing, we subsequently found
some of them to be good hard workers, and quiet, simple creatures. The
inhabitants of the village were not so smart as our Southern Laos or
the Lus we had just left; some of them wore slight whiskers, and one
or two had thin beards, and there are a good many stout men among
them.
[Illustration: A HAW--PACKS DISMOUNTED.]
[Illustration: LAOS BOAT.]
We here changed boats, our other craft returning with their crews to
Chieng Kong. These boats are mere dug-out canoes, some 60 feet long as
a rule, with 4 feet beam. They are fitted all along amidships with a
light framework of split bamboos, standing up from the gunwale in a
barrel shape. On and tied to these are rectangular-shaped pieces of
bamboo plaiting, of a primitive character, stuffed with dead leaves,
about 8 feet by 6 feet, of which two form the sides, and a third the
roof, overlapping them. Two lots together give a good long cabin, and
sitting on the light bamboo decking fitted at the level of the
gunwale, one has 3 to 4 feet of head room. One's gear goes in
underneath, and the men's cooking and camping gear will be stored aft.
Two-thirds of the way aft an open space is left, and the decking is
discontinued, and here, going through a rapid, bailing is resorted to.
For going down river the most distressingly primitive oars are used,
two or three men pulling at them, working in a grommet. The steersman
stands aloft astern, with a rudder 6 or 9 feet in length, which he
places in a loop on one quarter or the other. To help the speedier
turning of the boat in rapids, a long oar is fitted to work
athwart-ship out over the stern, and the power of these two is very
great, but not too much for the places they are sometimes in. But the
most important and ingenious part is the fitting of bundles of long
bamboos round the gunwale outside. Three of these bundles will go to
the length of the boat, and they not only give the boat 1½ or 2 feet
more beam, and therefore great steadiness, but they act as breakwaters
outside her in the rapids, and as air-tight compartments when she is
swamped. They are turned up at the ends with the boat's run; but they
hide her very effectually, so that she looks more like a bamboo raft
than a boat.
[Illustration: ILLUSTRATION OF OAR AND STEERING-GEAR.]
In going up stream, these bamboo bundles are cut adrift, and long
bamboos are used for poling from the fore-deck; the boats winding in
and out among the rocks upon the edges, using the swift back currents
with such effect that, except on the very rapid parts of the river,
the upward journey averages a rate of 3 miles an hour. At the rapids,
the boats must be often unloaded and hauled over, this occupying a
whole day.
In the flood season, from June to October, the whole river valley is a
sea of swift turbid water, often 40 feet above the level of the dry
season, as is attested by the hulls of wrecked boats, gigantic tree
stems, and water marks, which one sees to that height upon the crags
among the sandbanks. Then the boats work their way up among the trees
and bushes on the jungle edge. Below Luang Prabang, a double boat is
used for going down river, and one gets a wide deck upon it of 10 feet
beam; in these, besides the crew of five men, seven men could live
comfortably, while in the single boats, with the crew of four men,
four more make rather close quarters.
[Illustration: DOUBLE BOAT.]
A great deal of rice goes clown the Mekong and Nam Oo for the supply
of Luang Prabang from the hills, that town not being able to supply
itself. This rice goes down in tremendously big bamboo rafts, which
look like floating villages; they are often some 120 feet long and 30
feet beam. They are allowed to go almost entirely with the current,
there being eight or ten long oars rigged out ahead and astern, worked
by as many men, for canting the craft in either direction to avoid
rocks or eddies. There is a drawing in Mr. Colquhoun's book (which, I
believe, is taken from Garnier's work) which gives a good idea of a
small one shooting a rapid. They are very unwieldy, bad to steer, and
not too easy to take down these places.
[Illustration: VILLAGE ABOVE PAKU, MEKONG.]
Small dug-outs of a pretty shape are used in great numbers for fishing
purposes; the boat drifts down broadside to the stream, one man being
at either end with a paddle gently working in one hand, the foot often
helping, and the other holding a line to the net. In these the famous
_pla bûk_ are caught. The weight of an average one is over 130 lbs.
The Laos say they are not common below Nong Khai, and that they
believe them to breed in the retired spots between there and Luang
Prabang. M. Pavie considers they come all the way from the sea, but I
do not at present know his data; they are certainly known at Bassac.
The _pla reum_ is another large fish, often over 120 lbs. in weight,
which is also known on the Meinam. Both are caught extensively, and
are sold cut up in steaks in the markets.
[Illustration: FORTY-FIVE FEET BOAT, NAM OO.]
[Illustration: PART OF THE MEKONG.]
Leaving Pak Ta, the river turns south among a series of schists,
until, after passing the very fine lofty peak of Pa Mon, it resumes
its easterly direction among a lot of wild rapids. We reached for the
night a temporary village on the north bank, where a number of Laos,
engaged in buying rice from the Khache, were encamped. A very wild
night of thunderstorms and squalls of wind. The next day was the
grandest we had on the Mekong, for the hills close in and form a
magnificent gorge, the effect of which was heightened by the wild rain
mists which were whirling among the mountains, as the sun rose ahead
of us with almost indescribable greens, yellows, and reds. This
wonderful scene, and the presence here and there of the little wooden
houses, perched high up in their clearings by the Khache where the big
trees lay in all directions, or of small villages clustering in
apparently inaccessible places, again carried one back to the wilds of
Norway. We shot the big rapids of Keng La, and reached Ban Pak Beng
that evening. In another day, passing three difficult rapids, Ban
Tanun is reached; from which in three days, sleeping at Bans Kokare
and Lataen, Muang Luang was in sight ahead at sunset, with the
fantastic limestones of the Nam Oo over the stern, and wrapped in
thick mists. Our slow speed was due to the constant change of boats
and crews.
[Illustration: KHACHE HILL CLEARINGS; RAPIDS ABOVE PAK BENG, MEKONG.]
From Ban Tanun I made a three-days' tramp south-west over to the plain
of Muang Hongsawadi, to visit the volcanoes marked on Mr. McCarthy's
map. The track is very rough, up the bed of the Hoay Tap for some
hours, and then over the watershed, from the summit of which, owing to
fires having cleared away the jungle, a magnificent view was to be had
to the south-west over the valley. The contrast between the rugged
uncompromising character of the Mekong valley behind, and the peaceful
expanse of cultivation nestling below us was delightful. The villages
are all of substantially built houses; the people are a smart, tidy,
and pleasant race of Laos, and they are very rich in cattle and
elephants; rice is cheap, and oranges, pomaloes, and other fruit were
plentiful. The Governor, who was subject to Luang Prabang, is said to
be a hundred and twenty years of age, and as his house is some miles
from the sala, he sent a message asking me to excuse his calling.
[Illustration: DHÂP AND SHEATH.]
[Illustration: JUNGLE KNIVES.]
West-north-west about 5 miles is the Pak Fai Mai, as the Laos call the
two volcanic vents which, elevated at not more than 200 feet above the
plain, are situated in a thin bamboo jungle. Each of the vents is
about 200 yards long, sloping slightly in a direction 20° east of
south, and 70 to 80 yards wide; the southerly one is the least
inactive of the two. Slight smoke rises in several places, but for the
most part one can walk about on the bottom anywhere, except at the
south-eastern end, where there is a series of largish cracks, whence
smoke and free sulphurous acid rise in small quantities; here the
ground is very hot, and 2 feet in the cracks are red hot, and one can
light a bamboo at them. There were traces of the action of
sulphuretted hydrogen or of carbonic acid, and the crust of sulphur at
the openings may be due to the decomposition of the former gas. I
could neither hear nor see of there having been any great activity at
any time in the past, but the existence of a present dormant volcanic
action is evident. Why this vent has occurred in the position it has
is not obvious; there is no apparent line of dislocation, nor has it
chosen the valley proper.[3] In the rains there is, I was told, a good
deal of steam rising, as is natural, and more spluttering and activity
than we saw. At the northern end there were traces of elephants on the
slag (which is everywhere highly coloured from iron chloride); they
are proverbially afraid of fire, so it may be inferred that the
activity is not great. Southward the vent, which from the slag surface
to the top of its sides is not more than 30 feet, is advancing, and
the blackened stumps of newly fallen trees and bamboo clumps lie
about, with marks of recent falls in the bank.
[Illustration: MOUTH OF NAM SUUNG, ABOVE LUANG PRABANG.]
The weather was now getting hot, March being the worst month in this
district. Thermometer minimum (for three days south of Ban Tanun)
72°, maximum in the sala 94°. Distant thunder in the evenings
muttering continually. This weather continued, with thick haze air,
till we reached Luang Prabang. We had fresh south-westerly winds
blowing very hot, and at night rain squalls. Our first impression of
the town was not good; after a long day's pulling, helping the men,
who were very tired with the heat, we got in at dusk. The temperature
ashore, in the streets, or on the sand slope, was oppressive; but
when, after some supper, we went up to call on Phra Prasada, the
Commissioner appointed from Bangkok, and there enjoyed some real
coffee and the luxury of a punkah, in the fine new Government offices
he had just finished building, and heard the bugles ringing out all
round, and the weird march music of the kans, which are more played in
this province than almost any other, we forgot the heat in the
pleasures of the change of life.
[Illustration: APPROACH TO LUANG PRABANG FROM NORTH.]
Throughout my stay in this locality, the help we received from the
Commissioner, who is full of energy, was enormous. He has undoubtedly
done a great deal, practically, for the welfare of the people here,
and was most popular; and he has also made extensive collections of
the produce of the province, which will soon be in Bangkok. He is a
man of observation and ideas, absolutely straight, and without any
humbug in his disposition. I was surprised to find that he could read
English well, and talk it moderately, and still more to find this has
all been acquired since he came to the north as Commissioner seven
years ago. This of itself shows an unusual man, and I record it
because it is not often realized that there are such men among the
Siamese. His time was up, and Phya Pechai was appointed to the post
just before I left, and he came south before the trouble with France
reached its climax lately.
[Footnote 3: This valley drains into the Nam Ngum, and so into the
Mekong. The big mass of Doi Luang to the south is the division between
the Meinam and Mekong drainages here.]