It was an old, slack rope bridge over shallow, swift moving water. We stepped out onto the bridge, our weight took up some of the slack, giving the sensation of the ropes stretching like wet spaghetti. We quickly darted back! On our second attempt we were able to rationalize the bridge's mechanical inclinations and walked out further. As I approached the middle of the river I caught wind of my name being yelled and turned around. Marc had fallen through. He was hanging between two wooden slats, one of which was broken in two. I skittered back and offered to take the bag containing our money and swag. I was swiftly admonished and offered to help Marc as well.
When we made it to the end of the bridge both of us exuberantly jumped onto the shore. We looked back at the bridge and hoped we would have the courage to make the crossing once again.
The path led upwards, ascending a jagged mountain face. The limestone cliff rose precipitously and we soon had a beautiful vantage point to stop and have a puff. The valley stretched below, the river gaining a snake's form as it hugged other jutting mountains with it's lush tree-green sweater.
The mouth of the cave was only 100 ft. further than where we had stopped and the coolness than emanated from within greeted us well before we saw its entrance. The proverbial Laotian cave greeter was waiting at its entrance, to greet us with the always cheerful sounding "Sabadee!" and offer to rent us flashlights. We outlaid 10,000 KIP ($2), and listened/watched as the greeter described the cave as having a boot shape, and repeating a few times "one hour" as he pointed at our flashlights and then at the cave. We smiled and entered.
The mouth was wide but short and we had to duck to move forward. The floor dropped down, and as we climbed down with it we came into the massive abyss. We were both struck my it's enormity. The floor of the cave was a massive football field with it's own cathedral stadium. The cave's ceiling vanished upward, our flashlight beams unable to reach it's confines. The end of the cave was not visible, only a pitch black hole vanishing deeper the harder we looked for its end.
Marc offered an exultant "Whoa!" and I repeated his sentiments. There was a slight delay, but we were rushed by a hundred or more bats, sweeping all too close to our yelling faces. The rush ended and we decided to be quieter until we were further away from the cave's entrance.
The narrow shaft of light from the mouth of the cave receded quietly behind us, as were enveloped into our subterranean world. The floor was a flat, colourless cinder reminiscent of the moon, but the walls were jagged, glittering folds, teeming with the eyes of cave creatures big and small. We moved deeper and deeper into the mountain's bowels, surprised at the expansive nothingness our light beams could penetrate and our minds could not perceive. At one point our lights could not find the cave floor to our right or left and and our footsteps changed from muffled to hollow echoes.
"Wait!" I said to Marc, "Don't move!".
I shuffled over, ever so gingerly to see where the floor had gone. Gone it was. We were on a narrow and thin rock veneer, bridging a deep chasm. I got a sense of where was safest to continue and directed us that way. Once we understood the formation and our good luck we had in not veering too far from the intended bridge over it, we crept to the chasm's edge to investigate further. Like the ceiling, our flashlights were not strong enough to unveil it's depths. We gathered a few stones and tossed them down. 1, 2, 3, 4 5, 6, 7 ...thud. 1, 2, 3, 4 5, 6, 7... thud.
Only in Laos will be rented a flashlight with dead batteries and given entrance to a cave with unmarked, 700ft. drop offs.
Marc and looked at each other with grave expressions, understanding how close we were to never leaving. The bridge we had inadvertently crossed was indistinguishable from the emptiness surrounding it.
We continued, deeper into the heart of the mountain...