9 WORST Tips for a Road Trip From Thailand!

9 WORST Tips for a Road Trip From Thailand!

Today we’ll look at the highlights of the Bolaven Loop. I’m getting too old for this. This is a young person’s game. When most people think of Laos’ famous Bolaven Loop, they picture twenty-somethings on rusty motorbikes, bouncing down muddy roads, fueled by a misplaced sense of immortality and whatever’s fermenting in the hostel kitchen. A decade ago, I’d have been all in. But these days, the romance of an authentic backpacker experience has worn a little thin, which raises a rather middle-aged question: Is there a different way to do it? One that doesn’t feel like the Wild West. Can you travel in comfort, sleep in actual beds, and eat recognizable food? Today, I’m giving you the grown-up’s guide to Pakse, and asking: Can you do the Bolaven Loop by car? See some of the best waterfalls in Asia… …without needing a tow truck or a chiropractor? Continue on Route 20 for six kilometers. (Car horn) You’re in the wrong… Tip #1: Don’t cram too many people into your car. We immediately ignored that, as our group of seven assembled in Ubon, Thailand side. How many people can stay in the car? This car, in the book of the car, they say you are allowed to sitting seven person. Seven people. From Bangkok it’s embarrassingly easy Plane, train, bus or car and Ubon sits about 90 kilometers from Chong Mek, the little border town. We drove late, found a 600 baht hotel with a perfectly adequate breakfast, just 300 metres from the checkpoint. Get in the photo. The plan to cross in our own car sounded like an administrative nightmare. In reality, it boiled down to a pleasant little quest for official stickers. First, for the car’s passport, then another for Lao insurance. The final and most crucial part of the process was ensuring that all the humans in the car also had their passports. Enter X, our Minister for Logistics and Morale, who somehow pre-arranged most of it, negotiated insurance and currency exchange. Tip #2: Check the latest rules before you go. That, and filling up the tank on the Thai side, was the last piece of sensible, grown-up thinking we did for the next 48 hours. From Thai exit to Lao entry took roughly 45 minutes, an almost suspicious lack of drama. And just like that, sabaidee, Laos. Lao is renowned for its unique culture and some of the world’s finest coffee, so naturally, our first stop was a roadside Amazon. I made a passionate speech about supporting local farmers. It was immediately vetoed in favour of a familiar logo and reliable air conditioning. Democracy in action. Then we began our trip on this legendary ‘Road to Hell’, and disappointingly the road refused to cooperate. It’s a 40 kilometer, well-maintained toll road, the price of which was cheaper than one Amazon coffee. Our first clue the roads might not be quite the same as in Thailand, were the cows. Thailand’s strict laws keep most animals off the road. Here, you’ll still share it. The odd hoof on the highway is included at no extra cost. In under an hour, we reached the Lao-Nippon Bridge, a symbol of modern Lao that catapulted Pakse from sleepy riverside town to full-on regional hub. You can even walk across it to visit Phou Salao, where a giant golden Buddha gazes thoughtfully at the city. Over the bridge, you’re dropped unceremoniously into Pakse, the charming and chilled-out capital of southern Lao. Our first mission: hit the legendary Dao Heuang market, the region’s biggest fresh market. And by fresh, I mean still blinking in a bucket. Tip #3: maintain a certain level of professional, emotional detachment from lunch. I mistakenly made eye contact with a duck, long enough to realise it won’t end well for either of us. Same inevitable ending, different timelines. Okay, hold on. Before spiraling into existential dread, let’s lay out the mission. A couple of months ago, I was talking to someone from the Ministry of Agriculture in Ubon Ratchathani, and I asked her one question about why she thinks there’s not that many tourists coming to Ubon at the moment. Ubon is a closed city Ubon is at the border of the country You have to intend to come here It’s not a province you pass through Do you have to view Ubon as a closed city, or would it be beneficial to view it as an entry point into Laos? This isn’t a holiday. This is a mission to win an argument I’d constructed entirely inside my own head. And there’s no greater feeling than the validation of one’s own opinion. It’s the reason the internet was invented. With that in mind, you can start to see that Pakse is already a cross-cultural hub. The size and variety of fish alone tell the story of the Mekong. The air smells of padaek, the potent Lao version of Thailand’s pla ra, used to make delicious papaya salad. You can buy authentic baguettes, a French colonial hangover, and even the national beer is a fusion. The malt is imported from France and Belgium, whilst the hops and yeast come from Germany. It’s all here, a sensory assault of cultures mixing. Is Lao food any good? It’s delicious! And speaking of beer, we’re here to stock up on provisions. For research purposes, of course. At about 60 pence a can, Beerlao is cheaper than bottled water in the UK. How much is a can? 24 THB This region is famous for coffee, But beer will be my drink of choice Really good! Anyway, theoretical framework established. Let’s actually start this loop. Next stop is the waterfall. Tad Fane waterfall. The attractions are all inside a resort with a small ticket booth at the entrance, where we were greeted by the head of security. Macadamia I’ll open it for you They haven’t been cooked yet The main attraction is the stunning view of one of the most beautiful waterfalls in Asia, apparently. It was rainy season and the clouds had crept into the valley. We couldn’t see the falls, but the thunderous roar was impressive. So we waited it out in the coffee shop, noticing everyone else patiently waiting in their zip-line gear. Because nothing says “I’m about to trust my life to a carabiner” quite like a latte macchiato. This portal to the afterlife was temporarily closed. Eventually the zip-line reopened, but the clouds remained. And I had to know where all these screaming people were disappearing to. After signing up, I noticed the 100 kilogram weight limit. At nearly 90 kilos, I was mathematically fine. Emotionally, I was a rounding error away from disaster. My anxiety wasn’t helped by being the only person pulled aside for a special tutorial on manual braking. This is the most roundabout way I’ve ever been called fat. This created a perfect storm of overthinking. I was trying to film the video’s opening hook with one hand, remembering the emergency braking system with the other, and crucially, trying not to drop my phone into a canyon. So, as I uncontrollably spun around, filming little more than a shaky blur, my speed kept increasing. Pulling down on the braking mechanism like I’d just been taught, achieved absolutely nothing. Hurtling backwards towards the landing platform, bracing for impact, I remembered the duck and thought maybe he would outlive me after all. Tip #4: When filming your final moments, keep your face in centre frame. Then, a violent jolt. Turns out there was an automatic braking system at the end of the line that they’d failed to mention. Now, if you think I’m exaggerating this whole traumatic ordeal, allow me to present this terrifying footage. Yes. Well. Luckily, there were two more zip-lines, and once my heart rate returned to a medically acceptable level, I was more prepared to enjoy it. The second line, passing directly over the top of the falls, highlighted its spectacular scale and was truly exhilarating. Panic attack aside, I would highly recommend this experience. Right, on to the next stop. No more coffee for me, though, my heart’s been through enough. If my intent of this grown-up’s guide was to show comfort and convenience, then our first overnight stop was somewhat of a failure. The hotel was a postcard from the outside. Ooh, it’s got a private balcony. Inside, however, there was a distinct lack of running water. In my room, there was a poignant painting of a Lao woman bathing gracefully with a bucket. Tip #5: The paintings in your hotel room are not art, they’re instruction manuals. The views from our own private balcony were, admittedly, magnificent. A proper escape, but also a strange sense of deja vu. And while we couldn’t wash our hands, we could at least cleanse our souls with the scenery. This feeling of spiritual purity, combined with a deep suspicion of a kitchen operating without running water, inspired us to reject the hotel restaurant and take our chances in the town of Thateng. This is the Laos lottery, look I bought some already Look, take a photo What numbers did you get, the cat numbers or.. How much can you win? I can win 73,880,000 Kip ($3,400) That’s OK We found a dimly lit place whose menu consisted entirely of duck and beer. When we asked for rice, they didn’t say no, they just presented us with another side quest. X hopped back in the car, soon to return with our carbohydrates and a sense of victory. The locals invited us over for a drink, and just as the cultural exchange was getting truly authentic, they switched to the universal language of all dive bars: Hotel California. If you haven’t mumbled your way through The Eagles with a stranger on a roadside in Laos, have you even really lived? The next morning, the grown-up’s guide seemed to be back on track. Breakfast was surprisingly excellent. There was a proper menu with four regional choices. And the locally grown coffee had a delicate hint of jasmine with a clean, orange peel finish. Naturally, I had to check if my co-star was on message. How is the coffee? Coffee is coffee. Ugh. No, you can’t just say that. The entire point of a travel vlog is to heighten reality, to make the viewer feel… envy. You can’t go to one of the world’s greatest coffee regions and just say “coffee is coffee.” I mean, sure, I probably couldn’t pass a blind taste test between this and a jar of Nescafe, but we’re not supposed to say that part out loud. We’re supposed to say stuff like… The hotel grounds were delightful. The entire resort was designed to complement the landscape, with buildings woven around small rivers and waterfalls. It was serene and tranquil, offering a moment of true… Can I have one more of these for my Aunt? She wants to have one of these too. What in Buddha’s self-inflicted chaos is this? How is everyone still eating, and where did all these extra plates come from? I know breakfast is included, but it’s obviously supposed to be one dish per guest. You’re not supposed to treat the menu like a checklist. Tip# 6: If you’re wondering who the winners and losers are when a restaurant bill is being split, you’re the loser! This led us to a brief, intense, and entirely unfilmed negotiation with the hotel staff. It was centered on the philosophical question: how much are eggs worth in the absence of running water? A deal was struck. Friendships remained intact. Now, can we please get back on the road? I’ve carefully planned a full itinerary of spontaneous fun. Continue on Route 20 for six kilometers. (Car horn beeps) You’re in the wrong… So with the bill settled, we drove 45 minutes to the next waterfall. Tad Lo. Now, this was more like it. A stunning view with a coffee shop so perfectly positioned, it felt less like a caf and more like an oddly familiar film set from some half-remembered dream. The whole place looked as though it had been art directed by a lifestyle influencer, and right on cue, a full-scale selfie session was in progress. Hello! Eventually, I was summoned into a photo myself to provide evidence for Facebook that I was, in fact, physically present and attempting to have a nice time. This ritual continued a few kilometers upstream at a waterfall that was for me the most beautiful of the trip. Mostly because we were the only ones there, which simply meant a better, more exclusive backdrop for photos. Everyone curated their moments for the highlights reel. I filmed them doing it for my own. After all, this is my movie, and sure, their footage looked good, but they don’t have a voiceover script. While they perfected their angles, I wandered off. Nobody followed. Not out of spite, just indifference. I told myself I was looking for a better view of the bridge, a neat visual callback to the first one we crossed, a comforting illusion of narrative structure. I didn’t come here for peace or perspective. I was here for something far more important: content. I sat looking at this magnificent force of nature through a six inch screen and imagined the piano music I’d add to it later. Tip # 7: If you walked off alone, the fun stayed behind. “Where have you been?” X asked. “I found a great view,” I replied. “Do you want to see?” “No, it’s okay, send me the video.” We took a group selfie. I checked the angle. I made sure we were all in frame, and I smiled. A funny thing, memory. I should tell you, the entire time I was planning this trip, scrolling vlogs, looking at maps, I’d somehow completely forgotten we’d done it all before, 10 years ago, almost to the day. It was you, me, my mum, and my brother. And it was only when you jogged my memory that it started to come back. Not as a clear picture, but as a vague, nagging feeling. Each location we visited, you’d remember the exact spot we took a photo. You remembered that the zipline at Tad Fane wasn’t there 10 years ago, but that the skies were clear and the view was magnificent. You remembered the funny little details. The homestay with the kids playing football in the mud, and me slipping constantly because the tread on my flip-flops had worn down to the smoothness of a bald tire. Every step of the way, you would point and ask, “Remember this?” and I’d have to dig through a decade of mental fog to find the person who did. Somewhere along the way, I think I’ve forgotten how to have fun. And the roads weren’t helping. The final stretch was as broken and fragmented as my memory. The grown-up’s guide had officially led us to a place where a saloon car might have made it, if it truly believed in itself, but it would have complained the entire way. I was at least grateful for the truck. The final stop on my itinerary was Pha Suam waterfall. Again, you remembered it well. A place where we’d taken happy, smiley photos. I was determined to find that same spot. A concrete piece of evidence for a past I could barely recall. You, on the other hand, were less convinced. As the road dissolved from tarmac to potholes, you made the logical decision. You stopped the car. I, of course, did not stop. I was on a quest to finish my inspiring travel vlog. So I stubbornly walked the last kilometer. And you were right. It wasn’t there. The whole place was a ghost. Derelict buildings and an abandoned motorbike, and an ominously collapsed bridge right where a photo opportunity used to be. Tip #8: You don’t always get the metaphor you want, You get the metaphor you deserve. Looking at a ruin I couldn’t remember, I knew. I’d been trying to recapture old memories when I should have been making new ones. My grand itinerary had officially ended at a collapsed bridge. I should have just listened to you. You are the Minister for Logistics and Morale, after all. It’s probably time for you to take the wheel. Whilst I was busy finishing a mild identity crisis, you got straight into action. Back in Pakse, you dismissed the Champasak Palace hotel with a quick check of the price tag and found us something even better. This more central hotel just happened to have a chandelier twice the size for a quarter of the cost. The sweeping staircase was more fitting for filming a musical number. Maybe we’ll give it a go after a few drinks. The rooms were comfortable, charmingly dated, and had great views. You found us a perfect little restaurant by the river, with cold beer, followed by an evening stroll past the bars, fairy lights, and the most beautiful and absurd sights the town had to offer. It was all so effortless, and with my tantrum officially over, I was starting to have fun. Then, as we walked back to our hotel in the center of town, you ran into a small electronics shop and emerged soon after with a $3 karaoke machine. It produced a sound with all the rich acoustic fidelity of a bee trapped in a Tic Tac box. And it was perfect. Last but not least, Tip #9: Keep your itinerary flexible, identify the fun one, and follow them. I shouldn’t worry about supplying the fun. I spend my time judging selfies whilst crafting my own version of events for an invisible audience. And while I’m doing that, you’re just living it. And then, for no other reason than to make us all laugh, you descended that grand staircase like you owned the place, holding that tiny machine like it was the crown jewel of the trip. It was the entrance the staircase had been waiting for. You made friends with the hotel staff and had them happily running motorbike errands to fetch us the best late-night papaya salad in Pakse. Twice. We had wine, som tam, and our own private chandelier. You’re the star of this show. Thank you for consistently making me laugh, and for always remembering how to have fun whenever I forget. So, the Grown-Up’s Guide to the Bolaven Loop by car… can you do it? Yes, absolutely. Although, watching this video, you’d be forgiven for thinking otherwise. Our attempt saw the plumbing give out, the road collapse, and the tour guide have a minor breakdown at a derelict waterfall. Certainly room for improvement. Which brings me to my other theory. That Ubon isn’t a closed city, but a gateway to Pakse, and it absolutely is. The crossing between Thailand and Lao is the easy part. And apart from a few bumps, the road is good, and the trip is quite simple. The biggest barrier was a severe case of user error. I’d been trying to schedule fun, to document it, to trap it inside a neat narrative for a travel vlog, and a great trip just doesn’t work like that. You need to go with the right attitude, or failing that, go with someone who does. We checked out at five to twelve the following day and headed back home, still drinking wine in the back of the car, still laughing. Once again, I smiled. And this time, I didn’t even film it.

Can you do Laos’ famous Bolaven Loop by car? Is it possible to trade the rusty motorbikes for reliable air-conditioning and still capture the spirit of adventure?

We decided to find out. This is the Grown-Up’s Guide to Southern Laos: a road trip from Ubon, Thailand, across the border to Pakse and beyond. We set out to create a perfect, civilized itinerary filled with Asia’s most spectacular waterfalls.

Join us as we discover just how spectacularly a well-laid plan can unravel…

For years, the Bolaven Loop has been a legendary rite of passage for backpackers. But we believe travel evolves. This guide is for those who still crave discovery but prefer a comfortable bed over a hostel bunk.

OUR “GROWN-UP’S GUIDE” ITINERARY & HIGHLIGHTS:

🌏 The Border Crossing (Ubon, Thailand to Pakse, Laos):

Our journey begins in Ubon Ratchathani, Thailand. We break down the surprisingly simple process of crossing the Chong Mek border into Laos with your own vehicle. Learn from our planning on how to handle the car’s ‘passport’, insurance, and currency exchange.

Pro-Tip: A little pre-planning makes the border crossing a breeze, setting the perfect tone for a smooth, drama-free trip!

🏞️ Pakse & The Dao Heuang Market:

Welcome to Pakse, the charming capital of Southern Laos! We dive straight into the heart of the region’s culture at the Dao Heuang Market, a vibrant assault on the senses. Discover the potent smell of padaek and the fascinating mix of Thai, Lao, and French colonial influence baked into the local food and architecture.

💦 The Waterfalls of the Bolaven Loop (By Car!):

The main event! Driving the loop reveals some of Southeast Asia’s most breathtaking natural wonders, all accessible without a motorbike.

Tad Fane: Home to a thunderous twin waterfall plunging into a deep gorge. For the adventurous grown-up, there’s an exhilarating zipline that soars directly over the canyon, offering an unforgettable perspective.

Tad Lo: A picture-perfect cascade with a serene, influencer-approved coffee shop right at its edge. The ideal spot for a relaxing break and a stunning photo opportunity.

Pha Suam: A visit to this culturally rich waterfall park, which offers a poignant reminder that some destinations are more about the journey than the final viewpoint.

This trip was meant to be a test of an itinerary, but it quickly became a test of patience, memory, and the critical importance of travelling with someone who knows how to have fun when you’ve forgotten how.

This is our road to hell… and back.

Thanks for watching.

CHAPTERS:

00:00 – A Grown-Up’s Guide To Pakse, Laos
01:12 – The Border Crossing – Thailand to Laos (with car)
02:36 – Entry to Laos
03:44 – Doa Hueang Market, Pakse
05:47 – Tad Fane Waterfall & Zipline
08:44 – Sinouk Coffee Resort & Dinner in Thateng
12:05 – Tad Lo Waterfall & Coffee Shop
13:56 – 10 Years Ago…
15:13 – Pha Suam Waterfall
16:23 – A Night Out In Pakse
18:17 – So, Can You Do The Bolaven Loop By Car?

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