It was a place that did not know day or night. Marcy and I felt as if time ceased to exist as we descended into Tham Hoi Cave in northern Laos--into earth's veins and the subterranean world that would be our home for the next 2 days. The major passages were 15 feet wide and 50 feet high, so in the beginning, it was easy to carry our backpacks--laden with 4 dozen candles, 8 lighters, 3 flashlights, batteries, food, sleeping bags, a bamboo mat, and tupperware containers to use as toilets (leave no trace, only memories.) The Lonely Planet simply said, “Tham Hoi Cave reportedly continues several kilometers into the limestone.” Although I have been a cave guide, I could not have imagined the beauty or adventure that lay ahead.
Marcy and I had removed our watches, but we guessed we had been hiking for about 4 hours when we arrived in a low, wide room about the size of a football field. The ceiling was covered end to end with white stalactites. Five crystalline pillars stood from floor to ceiling in a semicircle in the center of the room creating a natural altar. We whispered to one another as if we were in a church and decided to make our first camp. We laid out the bamboo mat, lit candles all around the room, and ate in silence, inspired by the intricacy of the natural formations. Chocolate with soymilk capped off our meal, and we soon fell sleep.
When I awoke, it was completely dark. The candles had burned out. With my watch hidden, I had no idea if I had slept 6 minutes or 6 hours, but the strangeness of my environment filled me with an anticipation that made me ready to start the day. In the darkness, my eyes were playing tricks on me, and I could see waves of purple light passing through my field of vision. It felt as if I could see the walls. I listened intently to the eerie sounds that echoed through the room. Marcy woke and we sat in silence trying to find our place in this timeless and lightless setting. The walls broke the silence, groaning in a loud, deep grumble. The sound was like nothing I had ever heard. It was as if Mother Earth had turned over in her sleep. We instinctively found each other's hands for security. After a moment, Marcy whispered, “Do you see the waves of purple light passing over the walls?”
We packed our backpacks, said goodbye to the room we named the Crystal Palace, and hiked further into Tham Hoi. The main passage ended and we spent several hours exploring side passages that stopped abruptly. It seemed as if we had reached the end of the cave, but by lighting a candle and following the source of the airflow, we soon discovered a small passage. I could hear the sound of water in the distance, and I suspected that we had found an alternate entrance to the cave. I was wrong.
We crawled through several crevices, dragging our packs behind us, and finally entered an enormous cavern. A large church could have easily fit within it. A river 10 feet wide ran through the middle of the room chanting its song of rushing water. I was in complete disbelief from this unexpected treasure! We sloshed downstream for about half an hour until the river entered a narrow chasm. We would have to swim to go further, so we set up our camp on a sandy beach. The light from the candles reflected off the water as we enjoyed a glass of wine and dined in bliss.
The river's gurgling was loud. After whispering for the last day, we felt like we were yelling just to hear one another. Every once a while, I would hear noises from upriver that sounded like people laughing. Marcy heard the voices too, but we both knew that there was little chance of someone else being this deep in the cave--6 miles down and 8 hours away from the entrance. Neither of us could be sure if the river was simply “laughing” or if we should be concerned that someone with evil intentions had followed us in.
Fear bred more fear. I started to think about everything that could go wrong. If we lost our light sources, we would not be able to find our way out. Could we make it back if one of us broke an ankle or if we ended up with food poisoning--a real possibility in Laos? If I was hurt, could Marcy navigate her way out? My mind would take a seed of an idea and spin tales of horror. I tried to move past the fear and find calm, knowing that we were as prepared as we could be. The constant interplay of beauty, adventure, fear, and joy was overwhelming. We slept, exhausted from our journey.
In the “morning,” we donned headlamps and tied emergency candles on top of our heads. The water was cold as we plunged in. The first passage where the river entered the narrow chasm was the scariest--the walls were nearly vertical and there was nothing to hold on to as we swam through. For two hours, we swam through crevices, trudged through shallow sections of the river, scrambled down waterfalls, and rested on beaches. Neither of us could believe the adventure and beauty that surrounded us. It felt like a dream--a fantasy world. We didn't even know what time it was or how many hours or days had passed.
Our flashlights started to dim and we decided to turn back to avoid swimming with candles. As we swam upstream, my fear was gone. There was only one course of action now--to return to the entrance. There were no more decisions to make. We noticed formations we hadn't seen before, listened to the laughter of the river and the groans of the walls, and we wondered about the purple light that flickered through the passages. We took a few wrong turns, but were quick to notice our mistakes. We hiked upward, having no idea whether we would be exiting in the day or the night. Marcy guessed that we had been in the cave for over 30 hours. I guessed 24. We were both energized about returning to the world above, and our last meals felt hurried. We were focused and I felt as if my feet were carrying me out of the cave on their own accord.
The dim light from the cave entrance lay ahead and time seemed to speed up. As we exited, the piercing sunshine produced a veil of safety. The coconut trees and lush fields exploded with color. My emotions ran amok--relief, joy, awe, pride, tiredness, nostalgia. We had been eight miles deep inside the belly of the earth! I squinted as I searched for my watch. It was 1:00 p.m. Only 17 hours had passed since we entered the cave the night before. We hiked towards the road, crossing rice fields that we had traversed only yesterday. As I accustomed myself to the soft touch of the wind, the warmth of the sun, and the colors of the landscape, the world seemed refreshed and I felt as if I was discovering it for the very first time.
