There was still a light hazy mist hanging over the River Kwai when i left the hotel this morning, we were heading up to the seven layers of Erawan Falls early to beat the crowds. It was such a privilege to be there as the jungle woke up, i arrived at 8:40 and had most of the first 5 levels to myself. Each being more breathtaking than the last, i kept stopping to snap views of
Level three of the Erawan Falls, Pha Nam Tok. With the hungry fish swimming in the bottom!
the falls thinking i was at the next level only to round a corner and find that the actual level was a whole lot more spectacular. The walk was a bit daunting at times, twice i came to points in the “path” thinking i had gone the wrong way when all i could see in front of me was a boulder almost as tall as me. Thinking to myself “Surely that can’t be the way, i must have gone wrong somewhere” about to turn around when a chubby Russian or German in speedos would suddenly appear over the top of the boulder with his family traipsing behind him over the rock. Most often in either no shoes or very inappropriate flip flops My little Birkies are doing me very well!
The levels had beautiful naturally formed waterfalls at each of the seven points where you can get in and swim to cool off after your walk. They have the little fish that nibble all the dead skin off your feet as well. I really wanted to jump in but i was still suffering from the slashed toe that i picked up when i went snorkelling in Koh Samui so was afraid to dip in case they went to town on that and i got a horrid infection. Craggy rocks + clumsy cake lady + camera also seemed like a perfect recipe for disaster so i was content with having a splash and taking some pics when i reached the summit.
I only had one little slip on the whole trek and a very kind Japanese lady helped me across a log to safety bless her. I suffered my own nationality’s politeness today on the way back down though. The crowds were starting to arrive as i was leaving so there were streams of people heading in the opposite direction of this very narrow and craggy pathway as i descended. I was
The “pathway” at Erewan Falls, it wasn’t all like this but can you understand my hesitation in parts?!
getting grumpier and grumpier the further down i got as i stood and politely let people past if they got there before me. Getting very irritated if they didn’t say thank you and chirping a very sarcastic “you’re welcome!” every time i waited several minutes for a large group to pass and no one said thank you. I laughed at my folly as a couple of British gents stopped to let the damsel in distress past (that’s me!) I am judging people by my own standards. They are operating on their own, shame on me for expecting them to operate on mine so far away from home. After that i was slightly more bullish, they can wait for one little person to get past, i’m not waiting for 20 people to pass if no one is going to say thank you!
After a quick street food pit stop (BBQ chicken) Surat whisked me off to Hellfire Pass and the museum there. I had been a bit worried about going here on my own as i thought it would be a bit emotional. In all eventuality i felt incredibly lucky to be there alone and the silence allowed the reverence that i think that spot deserves. There is a very small museum at the top of Conyo cutting (or Hellfire Pass as the PoWs named it due to its resemblance to hell at night when it was lit with lanterns) which gives some details on the conditions when the pass was cut. This deep ravine in the dense stone was all cut by hand all those years ago. With primitive support in the form of food, medicine and basic supplies. A project that the British emperialists rubbished when
My favourite, level 5 Buar Mai Long
looking at transport links out of Burma a few years previously. the Japanese were nothing if not determined to get this in place for strategic advantage. Contravening several international treaties in the process.
There is a tangible atmosphere at Hellfire pass, it’s as thought you can feel the heaviness of it’s history in the air. The area is humid and hard to tolerate just when strolling through that space in the late afternoon post the midday sun for someone that’s well nourished and relatively fit. I can’t even begin to imagine how hard it was for the men and women that toiled on this railway line in the appealing conditions they were subjected to. There are so many horribly tragic stories relating to this railway, from the despicable circumstances that the PoWs were kept in to the fact that allied forces bombed some of their own towards the end of the war when they were trying to stop the bridge giving the Japanese
The remainder of the tracks at Hellfire Pass, it’s mind-blowing to think this was all carved out by hand…
any kind of strategic advantage. There were still PoWs employed (they were paid believe it or not) to maintain it and they were victims of friendly fire.
Even more tragic was the fact that much of that work was in vain, the line stopped going much further than Nam Tok shortly after the war. When
Hellfire Pass, Kanchanaburi
the allies ripped up the Hellfire pass section of the line. The remaining Thai section was sold to the Thai government, there is still no continuous rail link between Thailand and Burma. All that effort and vast loss of life, for what? It really is criminal.
I was feeling pensive over lunch and looking forward to riding a train from Nam Tok over the Wam Po viaduct, another feat of engineering that was the handiwork of the PoWs. A beautifully crafted wooden structure perched by the side of the River Kwai, standing tall and in use still for the limited timetable that runs up the line which affords splendid views of the river itself as you pass over it. I jumped on the train with a carriage which was busy with a large group from a French tour bus. They were excited to be on the train too, so excited that they were doing Mexican waves through the carriage. I was seething. I really wanted to stand up and shout “Do you realise 100,000 people died to enable you to take this trip today?! YES 100,000 lives disappeared so you can do a Mexican wave” I restrained myself somehow,
Old Chuggington getting ready for us at Nam Tok station
but it must have shown on my face as i could hear them openly talking about me and wondering where I was from as i looked grumpy and refused to speak to any of them. I was so angry.
That anger soon dissipated as the train moved away from the platform. Another slow moving diesel locomotive was chugging it’s way through the jungle, windows open for some natural A/C. There was a constant shuffle around the carriage to catch the views as we passed the various different types of landscape hanging out the window for the most part but having to duck back in when the jungle reached too far! There was an art to ducking your head in at just the right time! All the while imagining how it was for the PoWs to deal with that terrain in 1942/3.
The train slows down at the vantage points, just before it approaches the viaduct there is a spectacular view of the river curving round as it hits the mountainside. It then slows right down before it heaves its way across the viaduct itself. I would imagine to protect its wooden frame, as both the train and bridge creaked and groaned as we shuffled across it.
The River Kwai opening up on the turn onto Wampo Viaduct
The viaduct hugs the mountainside as it bends round to the right so if you are towards the front of the train and look back you can see it snaking back around the corner in all it’s glory. As well as all the onlookers taking pictures from the roadside from various vantage points on the banks of the tracks.
The Wampo Viaduct, Kanchanaburi
The crowds disappeared after the viaduct, so i took the opportunity to do what i am not allowed to do in Europe and sit in the stairwell of the train. Legs hanging out the side, it was brilliant! The wind running through my hair and grass flashing by my feet. I had the broadest smile, and felt really elated and grateful for the freedom that i am allowed by the sacrifice that those brave men made. It’s a moment that i will remember forever.
I was tired after a physically and mentally draining day so the smiling Surat and my chariot awaited at the station to take me back to the hotel. Accompanied by a dance mix album from 2005! I smiled to myself as it reminded me of so many dodgy nights out with the rats back home.
A happy, tired and pensive cake lady retiring to the tranquility of the riverbank on the Kwai.
Ciao x x x
P.S. This pic below was a random spot as i was walking back up the pass, feeling very sad about the loss. It really perked up my day, i hope it does yours too. Because you all are!
