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Chiang Mai was my last stop in Thailand. As I left the city in the local bus, I was undeniably excited to explore the new country awaiting me — Laos. Much of my excitement was definitely due to my first scheduled stop in Laos, a program called the Gibbon Experience. The Gibbon Experience is in many ways a case study on the viability of running ecotourism in the jungles of Laos. Laos is an undeniably poor country. While measuring poverty is a complicated, and sometimes contentious affair, to give an idea of Laos’ state, it ranks 133rd out of 182 countries in the Human Development Index. Many families, especially in the northern jungles, subsist through slash and burn cultivation, which is of course extraordinarily damaging to the existing ecosystem. The Gibbon Experience is a program designed to provide an alternative to all this destruction. At its simplest the program is straightforward. By offering tourists three days and two nights in the jungle and using local Laotian guides, the program serves as a source of income to villagers living in the Bokeo Nature Reserve area. As well, the money brought in by the program provides a powerful incentive for jungle conservation.

While admirable, all this is not particularly remarkable. But what is remarkable is how tourists travel around the jungle. Simply put, tourists spend the day ziplining over the jungle canopy in insanely long lengths (think 500 metres) and the night sleeping in giant treehouses straight out of The Swiss Family Robinson. Supposedly this means of travel is less impactful to the jungle wildlife than the alternatives, such as walking on marked trails. Really? Poppycock I say, it’s just a great excuse to romp around the jungle on cable lines. Did I see any Gibbons? No way. Was it an incredible three days? You bet! It was probably the highlight of the trip, full of misadventure, near-misses, big snakes, and giant spiders. And leeches.

My entrance to Laos consisted of a longtail boat ride across the Mekong from Thailand. This was my first sight of old man Mekong (an epithet I have to credit Jon for), and it was a river system I planned to follow through several countries until its end in the South China Sea. After some wandering around and being sprayed in the face with dirty water from some Laotian kid’s watergun, I found a place for the night. A few hours later, I reunited with Jon after his solo trip to the Golden Triangle. He had just scraped through the border crossing, making it through before closing time. The very next morning Jon and I blearily stumbled into the Gibbon Experience office, ready to meet our six companions for the journey.

We met Andy, an American working in Ireland as a photographer; Alex, an Aussie event organizer; Jean-Marie, a colourful Frenchman hailing from La Réunion; Marie, a Swedish train conductor; April, an American accountant and outdoors-woman; and Joanne, an Irish social worker. An obviously eclectic bunch, whose diversity was only augmented by me, the computer engineer, and Jon, the music aficionado and English teacher. A brochure on the wall warned tourists against offending the villagers and guides with risqué swimming suits. Since any Western female swimming suit is risqué by SE Asian standards, (us men get a pass as usual) the warning basically told the women to not swim in full view of any Laotians during our trip.

All eight of us and a driver piled into a pickup truck for our journey to the Bokeo Nature Reserve. I pounced on the shotgun seat, thanking my lucky stars I wasn’t sitting in the truck bed. The drive offered all of us our first glimpse of rural life in Laos. This was accompanied by views of some of the stunning scenery of the northern hills. Rural life looked very simple. Families reside in basic stilted huts roofed by thatch. We were on the cusp of the wet season, meaning that the weather was still unmercifully hot. Because of this, we could see many of the residents sleeping or working or just relaxing underneath their huts in an effort to escape the heat. Many grandmothers walked around bare-chested. I figured grandmas must be excused from the typically conservative Laotian sensibilities. The height of the stilts gave indication of how fierce some of the wet season floods could be. Apart from these pastoral settings, we also drove by many scenes of slash and burned areas. Slash and burn is obviously very alive and well in Laos.

Upon arrival at the base village we met our guides, two nonchalant and sleepy Laotian guides of youngish age. Quickly we set out, walking uphill at a good pace. And quickly the inevitable came. One of us was falling behind, almost in tears and absolutely ragged at the first moderate climb. It’s no fun being that person. I empathized, but part of me couldn’t help but be frustrated at the obvious lack of physical preparation. However, regardless of our physical states, we were all sweaty messes by the time we reached our first zip line. Here we were given our harnesses, and the excitement was palpable as we donned our gear. After a quick and perfunctory instruction of how to use the brake, we were off on our first zip line. It was a short one to a treehouse along our way.

Jon bravely went first. We all watched as he disappeared into the foliage, and we all heard the distinct thud afterwards. It was actually two ziplines. One to the treehouse, and one from the treehouse back to the jungle. The second zip was a considerable distance above a mini valley. It was wildly fun. Dangling on your harness, you launch off the platform and quickly build up speed. As you do so, the quiet hum of your harness rollers turns into a scream, and you begin bobbing up and down with your forward progress. The canopy whips by you as your gain a birds-eye view of the jungle. I was grinning like a madman by the time I reached the end of the line. Jon was waiting for me, also with a big grin. I was too far away to hear this thud, but when I disconnected, Jon told me he smacked into the supporting pole of the second zipline. We realized he was burdened with a worn out brake. Jon’s burden became everyone else’s entertainment though, as most of us would look forward to watching Jon’s entry and the inevitable thud that followed with anticipation. Fortunately, Jon managed to eventually get a handle on his troublesome brake and quickly became quite adept at choking off his momentum at the perfect moment.

We slept that night in a veritable palace of a treehouse. I couldn’t believe how massive of a treehouse the place was. It had two levels and ample space for way more than eight people. It even had a shower! Unfortunately the toilet, which was a simple squatter emptying directly underneath our giant tree, was also home to a bee’s nest, providing for some uneasy bathroom sessions. But, only Jean-Marie was stung. He never told us where though.

As soon as we arrived, our guides put on coffee (yes the house had power) and served us rambutans and lychees. A couple of hours later, a Laotian women ziplined in with hot and delicious dinner. I was dumbfounded at the combination of being perched above the jungle canopy in the middle of wilderness and being served hot food and drinks after a good shower. “Was this actually happening?”, I thought.

That night just as I was nodding off to bed I heard the distinctive sound of someone ziplining into the treehouse. The guides had arrived and quickly evacuated us, as they were worried about a brewing storm. Once arriving at their hut, they ushered us in. Inside three women sat up up on their elbows, waking at our arrival. The men gave us some stools, and we huddled around and whispered while the women mutely stared at us. It was awkward and we felt like intruders, so we quickly fled outside under the awning to play some Crazy Eights. While it did rain around us and thunder in the distance, the storm never really came.

The next day we set out towards the second treehouse of the trip. The rain we had last night brought out some morning leeches. Now these aren’t your layabout Canadian leeches that only latch on when you step in water. These are proactive suckers. They must inch around and under the ground layer and actively latch onto any passing foot walking through. Sometimes you can see one on the trail absolutely racing for your foot. Good thing racing by leech standards is still pretty slow. Looking down on my socks, I often saw several at one time progressing upwards toward my juicy ankles. They must also have microscopic hairs or barbs, because if you pull one off of you, it sticks to your fingers. A good hard flick from your other hand will usually remove it.

Close to our lunch stop we passed an abandoned treehouse. Ants had taken it over, and the guides emphatically denied our requests to even check it out. Apparently the critters had completely infested it, making it untenable even for a visit. For our lunch break, the guides brought us to a wonderful swimming hole and waterfall. They made sure to leave us well away from the hole to avoid gaining any unwanted glimpses at bikinis or speedos (thankfully none of the guys wore speedos). It wasn’t long before I got involved in a dunking contest with Joanne. She won using the age-old tactic of dunking me then sitting on my head while I was underwater.

As fun as it was, empty stomachs and the prospect of food around the corner brought us all out of the swimming hole. Again, we were magnificently fed. A good stout uphill walk later, and we were soon ziplining again, arriving at the last short zip before our second treehouse. Just before arriving, I heard a scream and yells for help. Around the corner ahead of me I saw Marie racing towards me at a dead run. Greatly disturbed, she told me she came across a snake and it tried to attack her. Jubilant, I walked ahead to check it out. The thing was so camouflaged I didn’t see it until it hissed from the bush next to me and coiled up. It was obviously defensive, Marie must have mistaken its hiss for an intent to attack. Very afraid of me, the snake fled through the trees. I thought he was huge, but the guides shrugged indifferently and told me it was a small python.

Very quickly all of us had zipped into our second and final treehouse for the trip. While smaller and lacking the outright luxurious amenities of our previous abode, the second treehouse was still magnificent. Better yet, should there be a storm we were instructed to stay in the treehouse, unlike the first one. I was fervently hoping a storm would pass over us that night.

We had time to kill, meaning it was time to play on the ziplines and go for swim in the river our house overlooked. While we were goofing around in the river, I left my boots with socks inside on the bank. And the damned proactivity of the jungle leeches really paid off for one sucker. It must have been attracted by the delicious odours emanating from socks (I only had one pair for the trip), as unbeknownst to me it crawled up my boot and into the toe of my sock. Actually the bugger really hit the jackpot, as once I put on my sock I spent another two hours walking around and ziplining. One of my zips, by the way, included the longest of the experience. I believe it was roughly 500 metres of zipline. Absolutely awesome!

After my return to the treehouse, I removed my sock to hang it over the balcony and was surprised to see a leech fall out and plummet to the ground below. Looking down at my feet, I noticed blood leaking from a bite. The leech had been sucking on my feet for so long and had injected so much anticoagulant into my bloodstream, that the bite bled for an astounding amount of time. Eventually I resorted to staunching it with one of my gloves. The glove looked like evidence at a murder scene. Jon was very quick to snap out some timely O.J. Simpson jokes. I presume the leech survived, meaning its fall denied me the chance at revenge. If leeches could think, this one would certainly have looked back in wonderment at the lucky events that allowed it to procure and escape with such a bounty.

Since this treehouse had no power, we spent that night around candlelight. It was very nice and intimate, until someone shined a flashlight onto our thatch ceiling, illuminating several massive spiders looking straight down on us. A quick search ensued, and many, many more spiders were discovered. A loud “Guuuuuuuh!” or ‘Holy Shit!”, heralded each new discovery. These guys though were completely indifferent to our presence, not even moving when Jon took a flash photo right at one’s eyeballs. In fact, for being such stationary creatures, a surprising number of the spiders were sucking the life out of moths that they had pounced upon. The process of liquefying their prey must have been slow, as they spent hours in one spot with a moth in their fangs.

The spiders provided for over an hour of entertainment. But soon after everyone began to fade, and we all started our evening toiletries. Jon as usual was in the midst of some hilarious remark I was keen to hear. As he passed in front of me in midstride he literally disappeared into the darkness with a startled yell. The trapdoor was open and Jon had fallen through it! Not having the layout of the treehouse memorized, I was terrified that he fallen all the way to the bottom. But a succession of thuds followed by a bewildered and pissed off “Arrrrrrrrggghhh!” assuaged my fears. Jon had nailed a few steps down the way, but was otherwise OK.

Jean-Maire soon poked his head out of the trapdoor. He had left it open while using the bathroom. He looked absolutely mortified. After spending 15 minutes alone to process what just happened, Jon recovered from his experience.

Like the previous night, Jon and I were sharing mattresses. Early into the night, an unworldly thunderclap woke us up. You could feel the air being vaporized. A tropical thunderstorm was rolling in. It was preceded by a strong windstorm, swaying the entire structure back and forth. We could hear trees cracking and falling over all around us. Exhilarating. Soon the storm was upon us, bringing streams of rain, frequent thunderclaps, and the most magnificent light show. So much sheet light was striking in the clouds above us that it provided an almost constant illumination, allowing us to walk around the treehouse with no flashlights.

Jon and I quickly pulled two stools to the edge to watch the show. Watching the thunderstorm roll over the jungle canopy was a spectacle and a privilege. While most of us were completely enthralled with the show, one of the girls was terrified. The poor soul began weeping, and no amount of entreaties or logic could calm her. She put on her harness and made moves to zip out of the treehouse. I’m no expert, but ziplining in a windstorm is probably a horrendous decision. Andy tried calming her down by telling her, “Ya know how I look at it? If we’re gunna die it’s gunna happen anyway, so ya just gotta relax and accept it.” Her agitation did not lessen.

Luckily the rest of the girls stepped in and did a fantastic job at calming her down. Needless to say, we were all quite safe, as this tree and its house had survived numerous wet seasons and countless storms. The storm eventually did pass, and soon I found myself yawning. I was so bagged, I didn’t wake up when Jon crawled out of bed on a sleepwalking session. I’d be hard-pressed to think of a worse place to sleepwalk. Awake or asleep Jon was certainly pushing his luck on this trip.

The next day was a simple walk and truck ride out of the Bokeo Nature Reserve. By mid-afternoon we arrived back at our border town and checked into our hotels again. The experience was a great one, and a fantastic example of thinking outside of the box. However, I’m unsure whether it’s a model that can be universally applied. For instance, what if other ecotourism ventures open up in the Bokeo Nature Reserve? That will take funds and clients away from the Gibbon Experience and turn the venture inviable. Moreover, I feel that the real draw of the Gibbon Experience is its distinctiveness. Nowhere else can you zipline over the canopy at such distances and sleep in treehouses for three days. I fear right now there may be only room for one Gibbon Experience in the Bokeo Nature Reserve. Perhaps with greater tourism influx, similar models can be used in other villages and areas, lessening the use of slash and burn agriculture.

Now watch some videos!!

1. Here’s how we entered our first treehouse

2. Here’s a tour of the place

3. Here’s how Jon entered the house

4. Finally, here’s the longest zip of the experience

For more videos you can check out my channel.

And here’s a boatload of pics!

Jon and his soppy shirt (not pictured: me and my soppy shirt)

Jon looking ready to brave the zip

April relaxing in the first treehouse

Our Laotian guides

Getting ready to zip out of the first treehouse

Halfway there!

Jon's turn to exit the treehouse. Look at his glee!

Jon gliding down into the canopy

Morning view from the treehouse

The python beginning to slither away

Swimming in the river. I enjoy Jon's enthusiasm here

My O.J. Simpson glove

One of our spider companions in the second treehouse

Look at its six eyes!!

An area that was slash and burned