Lao New Year and climbing at Xe Bang Fai

Looking Ahead

As the guests slowly returned, a sense of normality came back to the valley. Camp 2's restaurant remained closed because there simply weren't enough visitors to justify opening it, but considering everything that had happened, March turned out better than we had expected.The temperatures gradually climbed, making climbing less pleasant, but I finally managed to get back on the rock. It felt good to climb again.

Just as the heat began to settle over the valley, Lao New Year arrived. For several days, the country transformed into one giant water fight. Buckets, hoses, and water guns appeared everywhere. No one was spared, not locals, not tourists, not passing motorcyclists. In the hottest time of the year, the constant soaking was more than welcome. After the difficult weeks behind us, the laughter, smiles, and playful chaos felt like exactly what we needed.

One of the highlights of the month was the arrival of the annual school group from the French School of Singapore. Their energy brought life back to the camp after weeks of uncertainty. Before long, however, the season came to an end, and we closed the camp once again—this time as planned. After we dismantled the temporary restaurant, it immediately found new tenants. Whenever the afternoon rain rolled in, the local cows gathered underneath the roof as if they had reserved the place months in advance.

By now, we knew we wouldn't have enough money to rebuild the restaurant before the following season. Instead, we focused on smaller renovation projects, starting with the bathrooms. Life slowed down, and for the first time in months I had the feeling that there was time to breathe.

I also decided it was finally time to learn Lao properly. For a long time, I had tried to take a shortcut by memorising words without learning the alphabet. Eventually, I had to admit that it simply didn't work. Quentin wanted to learn as well, so together we began deciphering the Lao script. At first, it looked completely impossible. Lao isn't read strictly from left to right like English. Consonants form the centre of each syllable, while vowels appear before, after, above, below, or wrapped around them. Everything seemed to be arranged in little circles. I was convinced I would never understand it.

Then, one day, it simply clicked. From that moment on, learning became much easier. I could write down new vocabulary, remember it more easily, and, perhaps most importantly, finally pronounce the words correctly. Progress came surprisingly quickly.

Xe Bang Fai

To finish the season, we made one last trip to Xe Bang Fai. Several routes needed maintenance, and one long-standing project was still waiting for its first ascent. While Tom, Matti and Yoni worked out the moves on the project, I spent much of my time sketching ideas for the climbing comic that had begun during the weeks of closure. In the end, the route was sent and graded 8a.

Tom and I climbed one last multipitch together—a beautiful, relaxed 5c. Looking down at the heart-shaped island in the Xe Bang Fai River, I found myself smiling. Somewhere during that climb, I made peace with the previous months and everything they had brought. On our final day, we finished maintaining the routes before heading back to camp. Looking back over the season, I realised how much I had changed. Of course, I would have preferred not to go through the fire, the accident, and all the uncertainty that followed. But life doesn't ask whether you're ready. It simply happens.

And despite everything, this season created more meaningful memories than many comfortable years ever could. Before coming to Laos, I worked in advertising. Much of the job revolved around finding increasingly creative ways to package things that weren't entirely true. The culture gradually reflected the same behavior. Life was certainly easier and well paid. But it rarely felt meaningful. Managing a climbing camp is often exhausting, chaotic, and occasionally heartbreaking. Yet it has given me experiences, friendships, and stories that I would never have found behind a desk.