Trek from Kalaw to Inle Lake
I walked through a poor village that consisted of nothing but small bamboo houses and shelters for livestock. At an altitude of around 1,400 metres above sea level it was only about 8 degrees Celsius, and the morning sun was slowly waking. Its rays chewed their way through the smoke of the fires and the morning mist. Before me lay scenes that could have looked exactly the same 300 years ago, yet the year is 2019 and I am on my way from the little town of Kalaw to Inle Lake.
It is a trek that is hugely popular with tourists and can be walked in either direction. In Myanmar there are still not many places where you can set off on an organised trek, and independent trekking here is still a little outside the rules. I arrived in Kalaw at 4 in the morning, aching after the ten-hour bus journey from Yangon. It was cold outside and I hurried off to my booked hotel to catch a little more sleep. After breakfast I went to find the trekking office I had tracked down online before setting off. I chose it mainly because they take a different route to the lake from everyone else. For a three-day trek with accommodation, meals and a guide I paid 500 CZK, and we agreed that the following day at nine in the morning I would set off, together with a small group of about 6 to 8 people.
I spent the rest of the day wandering around Kalaw. I visited a fairly large market, a few temples and some restaurants. Two of the temples are right in town, so I headed for one of them. As Buddhist tradition demands, I took off my shoes and socks before entering. For about 15 minutes I walked around the pagoda, taking photos and filming. When I returned to the entrance, I was horrified to discover that my shoes were gone. Just great. The only shoes I had with me, stolen — and the day before I was due to start a three-day trek, no less. Since I really didn't fancy covering more than 60 km in flip-flops, I set off to a few shops along the main road to find some footwear. Of course there was no outdoor gear to be found, and in the end I had to settle for some odd Skechers trainers that were, at first touch and glance, clearly Chinese knock-offs. Well, at least they only cost 300 CZK.
The next morning, with my new footwear, I set off together with a group of seven towards Inle Lake. The countryside around Kalaw reminded me a lot of European landscapes. If someone had told me, in those pine forests, that I was somewhere in South Bohemia or Croatia, I would probably have believed them. We passed through the pine woods quickly and reached dusty tracks running between fields. Chilli and ginger are the main crops here. Here and there we also came across cabbage, onions, rice or grain. As our guide we were assigned Moomsan. He told us he was 49 years old and lived beyond the mountains in a tiny village in the jungle. He spoke decent English and kept us constantly supplied with stories — how a cobra bit him in the jungle and, after a shaman cut the wound open and rubbed it with opium ointment, he couldn't walk for three months; how he fell 13 metres while felling bamboo and broke his collarbone; how he was jailed twice for guiding tourists without the required licence…
After a few kilometres we found ourselves in a small village. Loud music could be heard from far off, and as we came closer Moomsan informed us that a wedding was taking place. Apparently, if we paid something, we could join in. So each of us pulled out the requested 15 CZK (1000 MMK) and were soon greeting the newlyweds and heading for the wedding feast. But don't picture it the way we know it at home. Out in front of the house stood a large makeshift shelter where everyone sat on tarpaulins, and pork and candied vegetables were served. Still, it is the finest thing the locals can offer you, so the word feast is definitely fitting. To marry an unmarried woman, the groom reportedly has to pay her family 2,000 USD, which by local standards is a truly staggering sum. After lunch we moved on to another shelter where tea, pickled ginger, pickled tea leaves, cigars and the ever-present betel leaves had been laid out for us.
As our journey went on, we found ourselves ever more often among fields full of chilli. The locals were just harvesting it and drying it on large mats in front of their houses. In some places the whole plot around a house was literally buried under chilli peppers. The houses here were also larger and built of brick. The ground floor of a house is usually used to store the harvest, while people live upstairs. That was the case in the house where we arrived for our first night's stay. A ginger store downstairs and two rooms upstairs. One for putting up tourists, and in the other the family slept. Their dining room and kitchen were in one small bamboo room standing next to the house. The food was of course cooked over a fire, and the little electricity the family stores in a truck battery is generated by a solar panel. That day, along the way, we met nothing but friendly people; everyone greeted us, waved at us, and some of the children plucked up the courage and wanted their photo taken. It was no different with our hosts. Tired after 22 km in the heat of a clear day, we ate our fill, and by around nine everyone was heading off to sleep.
The next morning we set off again through the fields, and the landscape changed quickly. Suddenly the hills were rounder and the soil drier. Some of the views, I don't know why, reminded me of Tuscany. A motorbike passed by here and there, but there was still no farm machinery to be seen in the fields. Most people here work with the help of water buffalo; the wealthier ones have Indian cattle. In the fields, but also along the paths, someone is always toiling away. Either harvesting the crops, sorting chilli, felling wood — and since we were approaching an area where a lot of bamboo grows, we also met men weaving bamboo baskets. Apparently they weave about six a day and sell them at the market for 700 MMK (roughly 10 CZK). Although the morning was again very cold, over time the sky turned cloudless and the sun really beat down on us. So we welcomed a cooling dip in a small river that flows through the valley. And what a cooling dip it was! My watch showed the water was only about 17 degrees Celsius.
After the cold swim we headed up a steep hill, and then just a few more kilometres and, after more than 20 kilometres, we reached the Buddhist monastery where we spent the night. No sooner had I set down my backpack than a little monk who was playing with a ball in front of the monastery called out to me to come and play. We joined him along with a Belgian from our group. Gradually the older boys and more tourists arriving at the monastery joined in, until it turned into a proper football match — the monks against the rest of the world. Even though they played against us barefoot or in flip-flops, we lost 3–5, and after two hours of play, along with the sunset, we called it a day and went to have dinner. Even though I'm no football fan, I certainly won't forget that game for a long time.
I wake up to the final day, when we were due to reach Inle Lake at last. Another more than 20 km lay ahead of us. We set off at 7 in the morning into the misty haze of the waking day. Just beyond the monastery we passed through a beautiful bamboo village. It was poor, but the locals were smiling, and I thought to myself that money really isn't the main thing in life. I waved at the children, photographed the village's lovely corners, and we carried on, further and further through this beautiful country. The soil gradually turned a vivid red, and a large hill appeared on the right-hand side. It was very dry here, so the fields disappeared too and the landscape grew more barren. Various cacti appeared, along with strange rounded stones that in places jutted high above the ground. After lunch we came to the dry bed of a river, alongside which we descended into the valley over the stones. All at once we were out of the forest and onto completely flat ground. The lake was a few kilometres ahead of us, but we no longer had to go on foot, because in one of the feeder channels a boat was waiting to take us to the town of Nyaungshwe.
It was a beautiful journey. Over 65 kilometres during which you really weren't bored. There was always something to photograph and discover. My feet, admittedly, complained a little about the poor-quality shoes, so I hobbled along with big blisters on my heels, but I certainly have no regrets. If I could, I would have kept going, further and further. Once again I confirmed to myself that hiking is probably what I enjoy most of all. On foot you are closer to people and you take everything in more fully.
Tip 1: If anyone would like a recommendation for the agency I did the trek with, or a phone number for our guide Moomsan, write to me at martin@pribehfotografie.cz
Tip 2: Bring at least one warm layer of clothing, because it is often quite cold in the mornings and at night.
Tip 3: Don't leave your shoes unattended in front of a temple — better to put them in your backpack. Especially the day before a trek.
Tip 4: In Kalaw, visit a great and cheap restaurant. It's on the right-hand side of the main street, about 50 m past the post office heading out of the centre.
Gear: I had with me a Sony A7R II camera, which thanks to its 42 MP resolution gives me incredible quality when shooting, and because it also records 4K video and has built-in sensor stabilisation, it's a perfect travel companion. If only the batteries were better. Naturally, lenses ranging from wide-angle to telephoto, a tripod, a GoPro Hero 7 and other essentials. If you want to travel lighter, I recommend a single full-frame camera and a lens with a wide range. For example the Sony 24–240mm.