When we awoke to the jungle sounds enveloping the river bank, there were much delighted, musical chattering among the guys. Their traps set the night before had caught some good sized fish and eels. Bob brought me a Nescafe, and as I washed and changed I saw the elder Guide race at lightening pace from the north, carrying a large branch with outstretched arms and yelling with great excitement. I could see something among the leaves, a nest perhaps, and hurried down to see what the excitement was about.

Just as he put is down, he jumped back yelping and dancing high in the air. It was an Ant's nest, and we were to add this special treat to our morning stew of fish sauce and eel for breakfast. The Ants eggs were a particular delicacy and highly valued for their sweet flavour.

Bob and I ate Joerk (sp?), a local rice congee, and sticky rice with the breakfast stew. It was all very good, a quite a change from Bob's perennial breakfast at home of museli, soy milk, yoghurt and fruit. More green bamboo poles had been cut to boil water to refill our drinking stocks, and the plastic bottles of brownish - bamboo flavoured water (a little herbal and smokey like a weak tea) were cooking in the river as we ate.

Quickly camp was broken and packed up with the he minimum of fuss, and we were on our way again, heading up from the river bank through the jungle once more. Thankfully, although dense, there was little need to crawl for far today. The skies had cleared, and we enjoyed being able to walk largely upright for long stretches. More flowers, fungus and insects were pointed out to us, more leaves discovered which had herbal and curative properties and the casings of some huge bombs dropped by the Americans during the IndoChinese conflict of the '60's and '70's were a frightening stark reminder that Laos remains the most heavily bombed country in history, surpassing all of Europe in WWII.

There were still many creek crossings, some requiring a lot of faith and leaps across the great unknown, others perilous bamboo poles with bamboo twine holding it together and in one case a raft made of green bamboo. Stopping at a cliff for a break we were aware of the great majesty of the place. I was far more careful than usual though, as Laos is not the place to get sick or injured, even if into he centre of the Capital..Out here, it would be disastrous.

For lunch a fire materialised before we had even taken off our packs, once again on the rocky floor of the low river. A further few hours trek saw us rock hopping over great chasms up river, as we continued to gain altitude. The sound of the river was strong, but subterranean as it flowed through great caves beneath us. Near a tranquil lagoon, we stopped to establish camp for the night.

We all entered the water, where it pushed it's way through narrow rocks to run clear and fast and washed the grime of the day from our bodies. Choi's melodious singing filled the air with his rendition of songs that sounded like hymns (Jerusalem perhaps? He was wearing Juventus football shorts), but with a sweet lilting ornamentation so typical of this part of the world.

Just as I finished washing out my shorts front he day and setting them out of some hot smooth rocks to dry, Bob cried 'SNAKE' with great excitement. He called for me to stay put. As first thought to be a relatively benign python, it came out from a cave were I had been seconds earlier, and was quietly swimming up river into the lagoon. Although curved, it was estimated to be around 2 metres long, and it's body was as thick as an arm. Upon rearing it's head, it proved to be no python, but a far more dangerous Cobra. Bob got the camera as Sai looked on cautiously, and took this photo with his arms outstretched to their full extent, and maybe shaking just a little.

The local guys, once they had returned from their expedition collecting mussels from the river, were equally excited and very impressed with the photo. As an hor's deuvre I dined on mussels cooked on green bamboo splints, liberally laced with garlic. It may have been the highlight of the meals on the trek, although with so much it is difficult to tell!

We had a wonderful, relaxed afternoon and then had another candle -lit dinner of sticky rice, a rich and fragrant fish soup cooked with lots of wild ginger and some leaves which imparted a sour, lemony taste, the delicious air dried beef, cooked on sticks over the fire, scrambled eggs and onions, and the piece de resistance, a rich, quite beefy eel stew. It was delicious and I can still hanker for it. The guys were very generous with their supply of Lao Lao whisky, and Choi made an offering of sticky rice and fish to the spirits in a makeshift shrine before we ate to protect us from misfortune. It must have worked.

With chopsticks made from some bamboo for Bob and I on the spot, we had breakfast of spicy rich noodles, nescafe and more, before we finally headed on our way to the roadway to be collected. A large swimming hole provided much welcome relief, although we were soon to learn that a crocodile (but not so big) had been recently sighted there.

Giving a lift to villages out collecting wild mangos back on the way (about a 20km walk in stifling 39* heat), we had a jolly old time, sharing lunch at the local guides house, where more Lao Lao was drunk (as an energy drink), and we supped on dried buffalo skin, soup, dried beef, rice (of course), tinned sardines, and chilli, with sugar cane juice to drink and a typical Lao sweet (desert is not a concept here) of sago pumpkin, palm sugar and coconut. Delicious and refreshing, it cleansed the chilli tang from the mouth perfectly.

A brilliant trip which defied all expectations. I feel I understand the Lao in a way I never could otherwise.