Getting from Mae La Oop to Mae Chaem: A Local Thailand Travel Adventure

A unique temple sits on the forested hills above Mae Chaem

From Mae La Oop to Mae Chaem

After several immersive weeks in the tiny village of Mae La Oop—sleeping on floors, eating with host families, and working shoulder-to-shoulder with local NGOs—it was time to move on. Our next stop was Mae Chaem, a much larger (though still small) town tucked into the mountains of northern Thailand. In 2015, tourism was only beginning to make inroads there, and while Mae Chaem had more infrastructure than Mae La Oop, it still felt a world away from the tourist trail. Our work there followed a similar rhythm: supporting education efforts, learning from community leaders, and trying to be more useful than in the way.

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After wrapping up our time in Mae La Oop, we returned to Chiang Mai for a short rest. And by "rest," I mean I came down with a nasty cold that put me in bed for three days and left me light-headed for the next two. Because travel, right?

Once I reached the “just barely functional” stage of recovery, we decided it was time to head out again. Our next stop: Mae Chaem. We figured the journey would be simple enough.

A Theory of Local Thailand Travel: Simple and Easy

Here’s how you go (2015 prices):

1. Red songtaew to the Chiang Mai bus station —Songtaews are everywhere in Thailand. They are (usually) red pickup trucks with a covered back and two long benchseats bolted down ("song taew" means "two rows") for passengers to sit on.

   
   

   From just about anywhere in Chiang Mai, just flag down a songtaew, and tell the driver you’re headed to the bus station to catch a songtaew to Chong Thom. From anywhere in central Chiang Mai, the ride costs about 20 baht (about $0.50 USD).

2. Yellow songtaew to Chong Thom — At the bus station, just say “Chong Thom” to the first person you see and you’ll be pointed in the right direction. These leave every 30 minutes or so, and the ride costs 35 baht (about $1 USD).

3. Yellow songtaew to Mae Chaem — This leg is less predictable. In theory, they leave every two hours from 9:30 to 5:30, but reality has its own ideas. Plan to show up early and wait. Cost is 70 baht (about $2 USD).

So that's the plan. Sounds easy enough.

The wife shwoing how to ride the back of a songtaew

Yellow songtaews are for inter-city travel. When you have them all to yourself, they are even quite

The Reality of Local Thailand Travel: Hold on for Your Life!

The first leg went perfectly. On the ride to Chong Thom, we had the back of the songtaew to ourselves—feet up, breeze in our hair, living our best budget-travel life.

Then we hit a snag. Apparently, our travel day coincided with the start of Buddhist Lent. Translation: every person with roots in Mae Chaem was headed home. The songtaew to Mae Chaem was already jam-packed a full 45 minutes before departure.

We did the only thing rational travelers could do—we procrastinated. Confident there was still space, we milled about. Until 8 more people climbed in. Uh oh . . .

Time for Plan B.

We checked the handwritten schedule and saw another songtaew was set to leave about an hour later. Great, we thought. If this one leaves full, we’ll just grab prime seats on the next.

Then station workers grabbed our bags got tossed them on top of the already packed songtaew.

Welp. Guess we’re going on this one. Somehow.

Michelle and the girls bravely fought their way into the back. Realizing the only "seats" left involved squatting in the aisle for three hours, they wisely retreated. One kind local suggested they might be more comfortable in the cab, so all four squeezed into the tiny back seat.

Which left me. I would definitely not fit in the cab with my family.

I needed a plan C

The final frontier of Thai public transport is the back grill of a songtaew. It’s a narrow foot platform on the very rear of the truck with rails to hold onto while you stand and dangle your entire body into open air. So that’s where I went. Along with five other people. SIX of us. Hanging off the back like overpacked luggage.

Now remember—I was recovering from a cold. As the truck pulled away, I wondered what would happen if I got dizzy and fell off.

I decided not to think about it.

After about an hour of this(!!!) , my hand cramped from holding on so tightly. So, I did what any sensible person would do while zooming through the misty mountains of northern Thailand—I climbed onto the roof.

Nestled among bags of produce, I made a surprisingly cozy nest. From there, I watched the villages pass below and waved back at amused locals laughing at the sight of a large foreigner happily perched on top of their public transport.

It was fantastic.

And then it started to rain.

At that point, I had to make a decision. Climb back down (in the rain, on a moving truck), or just embrace it. I embraced it. After weeks of roasting in Southeast Asia, being cold was almost refreshing.

Yes, the blinding rain made it harder to duck under the occasional low-hanging tree branch, and yes, I took a few leafy hits to the face. But it was still great.

We pulled into Mae Chaem in a downpour. I was completely soaked. But I wouldn’t have traded my ride for the cramped, stuffy cab where the wife and daughters had spent the last three hours packed in like pickled mangoes.

Here’s what I learned: you don’t get car sick riding on the roof of a truck. Yet another lesson filed under: because travel.

Still recovering from being sick, and almost an hour into hanging onto the back of a songtaew as it drove a twisting road through the mountains of northern Thailand, I risked a selfie. My face kid of says it all

 Other posts in the Mae La Oop Series:

• Getting to Mae La Oop

• How To Get Clean in a Karen Village: a Breathtaking Bucket Shower

• How to Hunt and Eel in a Karen Village

• Planting Rice in Thailand

• Sitting in Silence: Watching Development in Action