A River Lost in Time But Open for Travel

A journey up the Mekong into the jungled heart of Southeast Asia has had a hold on popular imagination since Martin Sheen's nightmarish voyage in Apocalypse Now. Francis Ford Coppola's film, shot in the Philippines, probably did as much to inform armchair experience of the Vietnam War and its virgin forest battlegrounds as any travel brochure. But recreating Captain Willard's mythical journey has been impossible for decades due to civil war in Mekong and tourist restrictions in communist Laos. Until now. Although not yet officially announced, the Mekong border crossing has been reopened to foreigners, allowing river travel from the Cambodian capital Phnom Penh to southern Laos for the first time in half a century.

The fighting and political concerns that kept outsiders away for so long also acted as a kind of bell jar. River life has changed little since the Mekong was a major artery of French Indochina, when mustachioed messieurs shot crocodiles from steamboats while mademoiselles sipped fine wines and snacked on tinned delicacies. The journey begins in Phnom Penh, a city of wide boulevards where the Mekong meets the Tonle Sap River. The first leg starts at dawn—a six-hour ride upriver on a modern ferry to the town of Kratie. For the best views, pick a spot on the roof—as far forward as possible to avoid being soaked by spray. The Mekong is more than 1 km wide at this point, and fishermen throwing butterfly nets from bobbing sampans are a common sight. Arriving in Kratie at noon, you have time for lunch and a short siesta. Then hire a motorcycle taxi to the town's northern edge to see endangered freshwater dolphins frolicking just off the river bank in the late afternoon.

After a night in Kratie (there are several basic hotels, all less than $10), it's seven hours to Stung Treng. An American visitor in the 1920s described the town as "a savage little poem," and there is little to see. But you must stop to obtain permission to cross the border, either from the immigration office ($1) or the Sekong Hotel ($20, but hassle-free). The last three hours to the border are by outboard-powered dug-out. The going is slow but the pace affords fine views of the delta at its most pristine. The thick jungle harbors flocks of parrots, egrets and electric-blue kingfishers, while the banks are lined with tree roots twisted by monsoon floods into banyan shapes.

The border post exudes an air of the illicit—a battered desk, a netted bed and a rack of rusting AK-47s cram a one-room shack. The Cambodian guard may ask for a $5 "gift" to expedite the paperwork: refuse only if you have plenty of time. The Lao post is on the opposite bank. The official there will also ask for a tip and may invite you to get drunk but it's best to beg off, as your next halt, Don Khon, is still a 20-minute boat ride away.

This jewel of an islet, known to the French as "the Tahiti of Laos," is a perfect rest stop. Flanking it are waterfalls, including Khon Falls—the largest in Southeast Asia—marking the start of an unnavigable stretch. On arrival, follow an old railway track to the main village. A French hospital has been converted into the fine Auberge Done Khone ($14-$22 a room), great for a cold beer and a stunning sunset. If you must have air-conditioned accommodation, an hour upstream by canoe is the island of Don Khong. There a French colonial house with a spacious veranda overlooking a garden of mango trees has been transformed into the 24-room Auberge Sala Done Khong ($20-$30). Feast at the restaurant on succulent Mekong fish steamed in banana leaves. Both rest houses are owned by Auberges Sala Lao, tel: (856-31) 212725. From Don Khong take a bus to Pakse (three hours) and continue to Vientiane or cross into Thailand, an hour away.