The entrance to Borichinda Cave in the Doi Inthanon National Park [near Chiangmai]. Obviously, very few tourists come here - the untrodden 'path' over the peak of a mountain often forked ambiguously and was overgrown by the forest. Signs were infrequent. Finally, a suspended plastic bag unauspiciously heralded the cave opening and hinted at the steep descent.Courageously confronting an army of white spiders lying in ambush, Nic bravely struck out ahead into the gloom to slaughter any lurking dragons:
Once down the steep entrance and out of the sunshine, the enormous bowels of the mountain loomed into view. Particularly impressive was this phallic [limestone?] stalactite towering almost up to the cathedral ceiling. Not too many more centuries to go before it touches, methinks:
This was our second attempt to find the cave, so this time we had taken the precaution of hiring a Park Ranger to navigate. He was a diminuitive Thai man with a big voice, and like most Thais has difficulty imagining that silence can sometimes actually be pleasant and meditative. Perhaps we should have pretended we don't speak Thai. There were a few moments when he stopped: the only sound to be heard was one's own breathing and the distant twittering of bats from on high.
Further into the cave, light glowed spookily through holes in the roof. Bats occaisionally flitted past your ears with a faintest puff of air. It would be an awesome experience to be here during/after a rainstorm, but I'm relieved we weren't... the mud would've been impossible, and the return trip down the mountain even more so.
Marie acknowledges applause after an impromptu pipe-organ recital.Then it was back down the mountain, with Nic carrying the dragon's scalp:
...to the easy bit:
...and over a fast-flowing culvert, which, according to the guide, was the water supply to the nearby village of Sanpatong.
Whenever she goes caving, Nic always remembers to take along her fav brand of Thai drinking water:
