Mountain Escape

The black dog was the first one to bolt. It might've been a Rottweiler. I'm not too sure. I didn't have the time to get the animal's full bio and ancestral lineage as he was lunging towards me. The aggressive barking and howling being sprayed in my general direction didn't help either. That and he wasn't the only one. There were two other dogs that had squeezed under the gate on the other side of the road. A gate which, I assumed, was there to hold them back and keep them at bay. That wasn't happening. They easily squeezed through the gap and into the trench they'd dug to get under the gate. Three dogs had squeezed through. Three became ten. Ten dogs. Ten dogs barking at me and rushing towards me. They didn't want me there and, equally, I didn't want me there either.

Chiang Dao was meant to be a serene escape from the bustle of Chiang Mai. On the foothills of the mountains, it was a quiet place to rejuvenate in nature and visit a temple crammed inside a stalagmite and stalactite-filled cave system. I questioned whether it was a good idea to visit caves in Northern Thailand during the rainy season but decided to go ahead on account of me leaving the rest of my under-thirteens soccer team at home. There would be no need for a scuba-laden cave rescue, I hoped.

The local bus was an easy and very cheap way to get to Chiang Dao from Chiang Mai. After arriving I ate a delicious bowl of noodles near the small bus terminal and then started making my way to my hostel in Chiang Dao. The area was known for its small resorts and bungalows, nestled in the lush forest below the mountains. But those bungalows weren't near the bus station. Instead, you needed to get there using a taxi from the bus station. Walking along the side of the main road, towards the hostel, I realised that what I had booked was not what I wanted. I was only planning to stay in the area for a night. If I was going to stay here I wanted to stay in nature, near the mountains. I wanted the full experience.

So, one-hundred metres before getting to the hoste,l I turned around and returned to the bus terminal. I jumped in a yellow share-taxi which I shared with no one. The fifteen minute drive took me to the entrance of the cave, which sat in a very small area with some guesthouses nearby. I had no internet connection so I hoped there'd be some accommodation I could find after arriving.

As I got out of the taxi, the driver asked me if I had a place to stay. "Oh yeah," I said, "just over here," pointing vaguely into the distance. I didn't have anywhere yet. There were places to stay but it wasn't clear what was good. I was in a small town away from the main town which, itself, was already a small town. I wasn't able to find an internet connection so I started walking up the road. I could see on my map that there were some places less than a kilometre away.

I made my way up the road, past large fields and small, private homes. I was less than fifty metres away from the first guesthouse on the map when the dogs appeared. The pack was barking horrendously as I slowly waddled backward, hoping not to topple over the weight of my own backpack.

I considered turning around and heading for the accommodation further down the hill but before I could, I heard a voice calling from behind me. Across the road from where the dogs were living there was a house still under construction. There were three men on the second floor, finishing off some plastering. They called at me in Thai and signalled to come over. I slowly backed my way towards them, being careful to not spook the pack of evolved wolves who seemed a beat away from attacking me.

I assumed that the men were going to help me. Maybe I could jump on the back of a motorbike and they could take me around the corner? Nope. Instead, from his safe confines behind the house's fence, one man gingerly handed over a piece of bamboo. He proffered it my way and I took it. I hit it to the ground and made a "is this what you are suggesting I do with it" face to him. He nodded.

So I was committed. Bamboo stick in hand, I made my way back towards the pack of dogs who were still only metres away and barking hysterically. Was the bamboo a preventative measure or was it meant to be used in the event of an attack? I didn't want to find out.

I started forward, raising my staff like a dishevelled Moses trying to part the canine sea. Some of the dogs retreated back under the gate. Four or five stayed out on the road but moved backward. I slapped the bamboo to the asphalt whenever I was feeling threatened. I slapped the bamboo on the asphalt a lot.

I wasn't sure if the bamboo slapping was doing its magic or whether they just felt threatened by my raw, masculine energy. (In my mind I looked like an enraged gladiator stamping and claiming his ground but I'm guessing to the passerby it looked more like a kid who was having trouble using his new metal detector.)

I continued forward, past the dogs' gate and followed the road around the corner. I had done it. I had passed the dogs. And better still, there was a guesthouse right there. I threw my bamboo down at the door and went inside. I didn't care what it was, I was staying. The woman at reception asked if I wanted to see the place next door as it was probably cheaper. Nope. I was staying. I was happy to be in the safety of anywhere away from the dogs.

There was one problem. The whole reason for coming to the area was to see the temple in the cave. The temple in the cave which lay only a few hundred metres from the enraged pack of dogs. The enraged pack of dogs who lived around the corner from the guesthouse I had just paid to stay in.

I was trapped.