Our next stop in Laos is Nong Khiaw, a small rural town set on the banks of the Nam Ou river, nestled amongst jungle covered limestone mountains. Our bamboo bungalow faces west offering amazing views of Nong Khiaw’s spectacular sunsets. It’s the end of the dry season here so it’s hot and the river is still low, but now it’s starting to rain some days. We covered the town on foot before hiring a guide for a few days to explore the countryside further.

The night before our trek a storm rolled into the valley and it was still drizzling in the morning – not the best start for two days of walking – but as we sat and ate our hearty Lao breakfast the rain stopped and both the sun and our guide, Touy, suddenly appeared before us. Touy was a hilarious character. I can only liken him to a panda bear – he wore a bamboo hat, his movements were slow and deliberate, he always looked half asleep and his plodding conversation was often accompanied by a sigh.

That morning we trekked through paddy fields where local villagers were hard at work preparing for the coming rainy season by ploughing and planting rice, repairing river banks and building irrigation channels. Around 80% of Laos lives this way – growing rice and rearing livestock to feed their families. We crossed many streams and as we walked through one particularly muddy stretch I looked down to see the familiar wriggling body of a leech. I hopped up onto a bamboo fence and pulled two of the blood sucking buggers off my feet. I told Touy that there were leeches in the stream, the colour drained from his face and he announced “I don’t wike weeches”. You and me both buddy. Fortunately the only other leech we spotted that day was the one that Touy pointed out sucking blood from a buffalo’s “man bits”.

Just before lunch we arrived at a small village which was home to 30 Laos, Hmong and Khamu families. We walked into the centre of the bamboo houses where we were greeted by the the chief, who claimed to be 34 but looked no older than 25 and was wearing the uniform of all respectable Laos village chiefs – Adidas shorts and a tee shirt. We ate lunch in his hut – jackfruit nuts, sticky rice, omelette, chilli paste and fried fern leaves. The enthusiastic chief offered us Lao Lao – the local moonshine made from fermented rice, an offer which for fear of offending we politely accepted. He dashed over to the side of his hut and pulled out a large plastic oil container from which he poured a triple measure of the home brew. I preyed for absolution before downing the shot – 10 seconds passed and my heart was still beating and I was relived to find I could still see.

Fuelled by Lao Lao confidence, our chief (who spoken zero english) decided to play his part in furthering international Anglo-Laos relations by engaging in conversation from his handy phrasebook. The tattered phrasebook was penned by a Laos professor of Biochemistry who clearly had a sense of humor: the chief spent a few minutes studying the book before pointing to a phrase and handing the book to Jeannie. We looked down to where his finger lay and read the phrase. “I’d like toast and butter with marmalade and honey please”. The look on his face suggested this was not a joke. We repeated the phrase in our finest Queen’s, adding “yes yes” and a polite smile. Encouraged by our enthusiasm, the chief smiled back and searched for his next snippet – “tell my guest that he’s early for his appointment and I’ll be with him in five minutes”. The last I heard was “those theatre seats simply won’t do, I’d rather sit in the stalls” – at which point I left Jeannie alone with the diplomat for fear of damaging international relations with my uncontrollable laughter.

We waved goodbye to the village and headed up into the limestone hills, granting us stunning views of the heart of Laos countryside. Steep hillsides had been cleared and planted with sticky rice and in the distance we saw small huts providing shelter to the farmers from the heat of the sun. We arrived at the next village, Ban Pha Yong, in the late afternoon.

This village was much larger than the first – home to over 140 Hmong and Khamu families, with chickens, dogs and pigs running around, kids playing football and parents returning from the fields. We met a group of men re-working US ordinance from the war into knives, hoes, shovels and other tools in a makeshift forge. At one end of the village was a 15ft high bamboo pole with a basket on the end. Touy explained that when a villager was ill their dog’s hair was placed in the basket to appease the spirits. How pleasant, we thought, the dog helping his sick master by donating a lock of hair. “Yes, that’s right” continued Touy, “before going to hospital they ask the spirits to heal the sick by chopping off their dog’s head and putting it in that basket”. He also went on to tell us that grilled dog and a shot of Lao Lao is a great warmer on a cold winters day. We didn’t dare sneeze or shiver for the rest of the evening.

We slept well following a feast provided by the chief and woke early the following morning – breakfast was noodle soup and beans with steamed rice. It had rained again during the evening and over breakfast Touy mentioned that we would encounter lots of “widges” during the day. After a few minutes of confused conversation it transpired he didn’t mean bridges or ridges…Touy was warning us that the leeches would be out in force as we trekked down to the river. However he told us not to worry as he’d had spoken to the chief and they had a solution. Excellent. I was expecting the chief to return with a tube of leech oil or a herbal equivalent or even some leech-proof gaiters, but he reappeared with a water bottle with a hole cut out, from which jutted a bamboo stick tied to the top of the bottle. The chief and Touy were both grinning as they attached it onto our guide’s rucksack – this little contraption was crafted to please the spirits and keep the leeches away. Thank god it wasn’t big enough for a dogs head.

As we trekked through the boggy countryside we crossed leech infested waters over slippy bamboo bridges. The open fields where the villagers were already hard at work soon gave way to thick forest and, as we reached the tree canopy, we looked onwards to the gloomy path. It was a dark, damp and covered with rotting leaves, a heavenly abode for leeches. We looked down to our feet. There were scores of leeches rearing up their blood thirsty mouths, already searching for our sweet claret. There was only one way out, and that was forward – we ran for it. We sprinted up the slippy muddy path, preying that we wouldn’t fall over and get sucked dry. As I looked ahead all I could see was the distinctive shape of leeches moving into the path, following our vibrations to their next feed. We reached a dry patch and I picked off a couple of leeches and looked over to Touy – his feet were alive with wriggling vampire worms. He reached for his ’spirit’ bottle and pushed a cotton wool pad into the bottom – it was filled with salt water. One by one he blotted all 14 bloody leeches on his feet with the salt – they fell off instantly. The salt was a little insurance policy, should the spirits not yet be awake.

And so went the rest of the day – sprint, de-leech, sprint, de-leech. We arrived at the river bank and hopped into a wooden longboat destined for home. We stopped at an island en-route for a picnic lunch before heading back to our guesthouse for the evening. We had a wonderful couple of days trekking into the heart of Laos, the people we met were kindhearted and the kids were excited to have a falang in their village. We finished off the day (and our guide) with a few cool beers and a Laos card game which Jeannie and I played exceptionally well, despite not understanding any of the rules. Perhaps the spirits were with us after all.