Ever-deeper levels of remoteness: Sangkhlaburi

There are increasing levels of “remoteness” that travelers can explore on their voyages. Each level deeper into the unknown reveals more surprises and electrifies the soul more. If you spend all your time at home and at work, then even going 50 miles away feels like a little adventure into the remote.

From there, the farther you go, the more exciting the adventure.

I got an insight into this phenomenon on my current trip to Thailand when I found myself in a town called Sangkhlaburi (สังขละบุรี) near the Myanmar border. Going to Thailand is already a trip to a different world – but being out here was another few levels removed from, say, Bangkok.

I’d already taken a train all the way from Bangkok to Kanchanaburi, the location of the so-called Bridge Over the River Kwai. From there I’d taken a train line called the Death Railway to a small town called Thong Pha Phum, just because I liked the name. Both felt like ever and ever further universes away from Bangkok.

And now, thanks to Thailand’s simple and reliable bus system, I’m in Sangkhlaburi. It’s sunny and hot, and there is a large reservoir nearby. A large wooden bridge connects Sangkhlaburi with a small village called Wang Kha, which is only about 15 kilometers from the Burmese border and which houses a community of Mon people, a stateless group stuck between Myanmar and Thailand.

It feels like it’s taken a series of complicated and obscure modes of transportation to get way out here. I haven’t seen many other tourists, and it’s not a place you hear anything about. It really feels like being in the wilds of some unknown outpost on the edge of civilization.

My every cell sparkled with the thrilling sense that I’ve achieved something – I’ve reached a place that takes focus, ingenuity, and hardiness to get to.

It’s an overstatement, to be sure; there are a couple of resorts in Sangkhlaburi, and the tourist site Three Pagodas Pass on the border. I came here on a regularly scheduled bus, after all.

But nobody on a short trip to Thailand would bother coming here. This is a destination for travelers, not tourists. If you have an open mind, a free spirit, and a restless inquisitiveness, you’re the kind of adventurer who might find themselves spending some relaxing days in the secluded expanse of the Sangkhlaburi area.

Sri Daeng Hotel

My first couple of days in Sangkhlaburi were spent at the Sri Daeng Hotel, a great value for money in town near the small central shopping district with clean, cheap rooms and a nice simple restaurant. Here I tried to fix the watch I bought in Thong Pha Phum (unsuccessfully) and had a base from which to walk around town to get my bearings.

P Guesthouse

Eventually I moved to P Guesthouse, recommended by Lonely Planet and situated right next to the reservoir deeper into Sangkhlaburi. A hostel with wi-fi and the usual traveler food in their restaurant, the room here was small but made of large, smooth stones, keeping it impressively cool even in the stifling heat.

Unfortunately as soon as I checked in I saw two worrying things on the bedding: rat droppings, and a bedbug. I told the staff and they came and changed the sheets, but I still didn’t feel all that great about it.

But that afternoon as I napped and rested in bed I noticed some new droppings falling into my jeans, just like the ones I’d seen. They were from a lizard scampering across the ceiling.

I laughed out loud at myself – it wasn’t a rat after all, it was a lizard. That I could accept! And I kept to my perennial travel rule of never putting any of my bags on a bed in a hostel or cheap guesthouse. In all my travels I’ve only seen bedbugs once, and that was at a guesthouse in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia. Fortunately they didn’t get in my bags, and I hoped they wouldn’t here either.

Mon Bridge, Thailand’s longest wooden bridge

The main attraction of Sangkhlaburi is the large so-called Mon Bridge which goes over a small river attached to Khao Laem Reservoir and was built so Mon refugees and Thai people could traverse the area. Signs around the bridge are written in a mesmerizing mix of Thai and Burmese script. It’s practical local touches like this that really set the traveler’s heart a-trembling.

The 850-meter bridge’s official name is Uttamanuson, after beloved local monk Uttama. Some sources list it as the second longest bridge in the world (after Hōrai Bridge in Japan at 879 meters) but reliable information remains elusive. It may very possibly be Number 2.

When I was there, there was construction on part of the bridge, and you had to walk over rickety planks to get to the main part. It seemed scary to me until I saw a bunch of local kids climbing all over the bridge’s structure and doing flips into the water.

Mon Bridge is for pedestrians only – bicycles are ok but no cars. Cutouts along the sides have benches for sitting and watching the water and people; houses on the water cluster in groups in the crisscrossed shadows of the complex wooden beams that hold up the span.

I visited the bridge twice, once on foot and once using a bicycle I rented from P Guesthouse. Both times, there were but few people using the bridge, and no other Western tourists, only locals. Again, the sense of being in a remote (but friendly) place was strong.

Wang Kha

The Mon village of Wang Kha, across the Mon Bridge, is a curious place: it’s one of the most obscure, hidden places I’ve ever been in Thailand, yet it’s home to several magnificent Buddhist structures. It’s like a special prize for people who bother to make it this far.

I had seen the beautiful golden Chedi Putthakhaya from the restaurant at P Guesthouse, but biking to it yielded a much more richly absorbing complex.

Flanked by various figures with fresh, colorful coats of paint – reflecting the area’s unusual mixture of Thai, Burmese, and Indian influences – you walk up the stairs into the main building, which on the day I was there, in the late afternoon, featured more Thai and Burmese signs, figures in simple but lovely robes and scarves, locals paying devotional visits and lighting candles, and sunlight coming in sideways from the West highlighting sleepy dust particles in the air.

As I left this building, it was being locked up (I was the last one out). The guy closing the gate after me spoke some English and we had a friendly chat about where I was from and what the temple was all about. I gathered that this Uttama guy was really important to local communities.

Another short bike ride away, up a hill, leads to Wat Wang Wiwekaram, a Buddhist temple complex. Even fewer people were here – the light was fast fading, and I only saw a couple of people walking through the area, and they looked like they worked there.

But the carvings and decorations were magnificent – all this work, all this carefully designed beauty and expression of humble human spirit, on buildings up a dark side alley in an unknown Mon refugee village across a vast rickety wooden bridge so far from any big city. It’s a special feeling, seeing such grandeur tucked away in such a rural-feeling place.

These are the sorts of experiences you have to earn: even if you found a package tour that included these sites (and there may be such a thing) it isn’t anything like making your own way there. And, best of all, it’s hard to really plan something as eye-opening and rewarding as this. It may seem a simple destination to plan for in retrospect, but the gratification comes in the discovery of something new that you just happen to stumble upon on your travels.

What surprising gems have you discovered on your travels?

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