Posted on Wednesday, 15 June 2016

Perched atop a vast red rock in Thailand's Esan region, Phu Tok temple is a truly special place. Braving unrefined local driving skills and bumpy highways, Craig Hindmarsh attempted the 226 mile round trip on a 110cc scooter.

There isn't a great deal to do in Nong Khai. The most impressive aspect of this otherwise typically Thai town is that it sits beside the wide Mekong River, a mighty waterway that, on this stretch, marks the border with Laos. Watching the sun set over nearby Friendship Bridge as the cicadas begin their dusk symphony is as exciting as it gets here.

And yet, despite its quiet nature, I have been drawn back here three times.

And other lures are nearby.

On my last trip a German strongly recommended I visit one of the region's prime tourist hot spots – Phu Tok Temple. For a variety of reasons I hadn't made it that time round, but I was dead-set on visiting on this occasion.

The motorcycle rental shop didn't have any 125cc bikes (better for getting out of potential scrapes fast), so I opted for 110cc Honda Click. This little green machine cost me 300 baht per day (about £6) and would, I hoped, get me to Phu Tok temple in one piece. On what was essentially a scooter, the 226 mile round trip now seemed a formidable proposition.

As I told friends and acquaintances about my plans, they all warned me to take extra care: “Watch the road” they would say, “Thai people crazy drivers”.

But what concerned me most was the weather. June is rainy season and sporadic rainstorms were forecast across Esan. Potholes, patches of oil, even road markings – are all made more dangerous by the rain.

By the time I set off on the designated morning, however, the clouds had emptied overnight, leaving only a few puddles which were soon dried by the morning sun.

Travelling east towards the city of Bueng Kan, my route more or less hugged the banks of the Mekong. I joined the busy Highway 212 and soon realised I was meant to keep inside the narrow left hand lane; the main lanes were the preserve of Toyota Hiluxes and trucks, which, when overtaking, didn't leave the kind of safety margins you would enjoy in the UK.

There were other hazards: motorcyclists merging with traffic without even a cursory glance at their mirrors; Hiluxes approaching junctions at speed, making it difficult to know whether they had spotted me or not. In Thailand, it seems road users are only concerned with what is in front of them. What lies behind is someone else's problem.

Progress was steady, made worse by the fact that part of the highway was being re-surfaced. When I gazed in a service station mirror on the way, gawping back at me was a face caked in red dust.

I soon understood that the Google Maps estimate of 2.5 hours was wildly optimistic.

By the time I spied the mighty Phu Tok temple atop its huge red rock, I had been on the road for about five hours. Admittedly I had stopped for a coffee break and taken a couple of wrong turns, but this didn't account for the extra two and a half hours.

And after such a long time on the motorbike, I still had to ascend Phu Tok itself. The temple above me looked like the backdrop to some fantasy or science fiction film.

The conspicuous rock is ringed by wooden platforms, which enable visitors to reach the various shrines. As I climbed the first set of steps it struck me how few foreigners must come here: most of the visiting Thais were saying ‘Hello' or smiling at me. Two young students struck up a conversation with me in broken English and immediately became my tour guide.

Slowly we rose, treading the old wooden platforms. I grew increasingly tense as we got higher. Through the cracks in the planks, way below me, was dense jungle. Here and there lay piles of old planks; whether they were destined for future repairs or a bonfire was not clear.

I wondered how they managed to construct this most precarious of walkways and I lacked enough Thai to ask my companions with any effectiveness; they, in turn, misunderstood my questions to a comical degree.

Sadly it transpired that the uppermost ‘level' was closed due to storm damage, but the views over the hazy Esan jungle were still breath-taking. The exercise, the views and the friendly company had put me in a very good mood.

However, by the time I had descended, I was feeling extremely tired. I had planned to ride back to Nong Khai that very day, but to do so in such a state would have been dangerous.

After saying goodbye to my new friends, I rode back to Bueng Kan and found a hotel. Despite costing just 280 baht (£5.70) the room was spacious and even had air-conditioning. I lay on the big bed for a short rest, with the intention of finding somewhere to eat a little later. However, my body refused to rise again.

Rain began to patter on the roof and balcony, thunder boomed out from somewhere over Laos. The trip back to Nong Khai promised to be even slower – and very, very wet.

But that was tomorrow's problem. I fell into a deep sleep that was impossible to resist.

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