The Vale of Phrao

Part of Ancient Chiang Mai

One of the great pleasures of visiting northern Thailand is the opportunity offered to travel off the beaten track. The entire region from Tak to Mae Sai and Nan is serrated by range after range of largely unpopulated hills, most running due north-south, and each girding a verdant, fertile valley.

Some valleys are more familiar than others, of course. Chiang Mai, for example, is certainly more touristed than Nan. Yet first impressions can be misleading. Near its northernmost point the Vale of Chiang Mai is bisected by a rocky outcrop of hills dominated by the jagged peak of Doi Pha Sam Sao. To the west of this range lies Chiang Dao and the road to Fang - a route frequented by tourists and travellers heading for Doi Mae Salong, or those intent on rafting the Kok River to Chiang Rai. To the east, however - narrow, isolated, and even today visited by few outsiders, lies the hidden valley of Phrao.

Phrao wasn't always hidden, of course - though it has always been well off the beaten track. But since the construction of the Mae Ngad Dam, close by the small junction town of Mae Taeng, some thirty five years ago, Phrao really has been physically cut off from the main Vale of Chiang Mai. Today it is hidden behind a broad stretch of water which entirely blocks the valley mouth, and those wishing to travel to Phrao from Mae Taeng must take a long-tailed ferry boat from the head of the dam. Alternatively, they can take a long and winding diversionary road through the foothills to the east. There is no direct road link via the fertile lowland plain.

All of which begs the question, why travel to Phrao in the first place? True, there are no historic monuments, no city walls or archaic temples. Yet sites such as these exist in plenty in Chiang Mai and in nearby Lamphun. Rather, the appeal of Phrao lies in getting away from organised tourism and recognised attractions. Instead the "hidden valley" offers a chance to see a piece of rural northern Thailand as it once was - pristine, unspoiled, and as traditional as you are likely to find in the first decade of the 21st century.

There are two roads to Phrao from Chiang Mai. The first, and most direct, is Provincial Highway 1001, which runs north from the new superhighway past Mae Jo University. Following the less-developed, east bank of the Ping River, this well-surfaced route runs due north for about thirty kilometres. It then turns sharply to the east and climbs into the range of hills separating lowlands of Chiang Mai from those of northern Lampang. Instead of crossing this range, however, the road turns sharply to the north once again, descending rapidly into the Vale of Phrao at the small Hamlet of Ban Pa Ha. This is the route followed by the regular bus service from Chiang Mai's Chang Puak station.

A second, less direct way to reach Phrao is by taking National Highway 107 north from Chiang Mai towards Fang. After forty kilometres a metalled road leads east from the small town of Mae Taeng to the foot of the Mae Ngad Dam - once the entrance to the Vale of Phrao, now blocked by a massive earth-fill dam. The road passes beneath the face of the dam and terminates in a dusty parking area beside the Mae Ngad Reservoir. This artificial lake extends about four kilometres up the valley, edged by high jungle-covered hills. There are a number of small restaurants by the lakeside, and regular boats carry people up-river to the Manohra Guest House, a popular destination where visitors stay overnight in floating bamboo huts. Additional boats - some of the fast, long-tailed variety, others more sedate vessels - are available for joy riding, exploring the limits of the lake, and fishing trips.

The traveller to Phrao, whether arriving by land or by water, is immediately struck by the richness and fertility of the isolated, narrow region. Throughout its full length of about fifty kilometres, the valley is hemmed in by hills to the west and the east, culminating in a dead-end at Ban Huai San, by the headwaters of the Mae Ngad, in the north.

The first village of any size is Ban Huai Sai, or ‘Sandy Stream’, a peaceful settlement rarely visited by outsiders. Here the local people make a good living from the lush tobacco and rice crops sustained by the fertile fields of the valley floor. Sao Muang - rosy-cheeked northern girls - sit gracefully by a handful of roadside stalls, selling lychees and strawberries when in season, to passing motorists.

At the small, well-maintained temple of Wat Ban Huai Sai saffron-robed monks water potted plants and tend to their kitchen garden as the sun drops towards the forest-clad peaks in the west. A nayn, or novice monk, sits smiling on the stoop of an elaborately-carved temple doorway, clearly appreciative of the rays of the falling sun - it can get chilly in these northern regions after nightfall, even during the summer months. Life is tranquil and undisturbed, and whilst these days the average Huai Sai farmer is more likely to drive a pick-up than a buffalo, he is unlikely to suffer from stress. The increasingly congested streets of Chiang Mai are distant, and Bangkok seems a million miles away.

Beyond Huai Sai the road winds its way north past Ban Pra Du, close by the rushing waters of the Mae Ngad River, to Ban Huai Ngu - that is, ‘Snake Stream Village’. The locals happily confirm that there are plenty of snakes here, demonstrating with outstretched arms - for all the world like boastful anglers - the size these creatures can reach. They don't seem troubled, however. It's a long time since anyone suffered a serious snake bite, and in any case there's a good government hospital with plenty of serum just up the road in Phrao, in the unlikely event that an incident should occur. In the meantime, the good farmers of ‘Snake Stream Village’ tend their fields proudly with carefully-maintained kwai lek, or ‘iron buffaloesd’ - the small rice-paddy tractors which are a sure sign of prosperity in the north.

Close by Ban Huai Ngu stands the elaborate entrance to Wat Doi Mae Bang, the most important temple in the area, and a popular merit-making destination for the overwhelmingly Buddhist population of the valley. Passing motorists remember to sound their horn in tribute - without slowing down, of course. More worryingly, many motor cyclists raise both hands to salute with a traditional wai, steering at high speed with their knees whilst relying, no doubt, on a combination of skill and supernatural protection to keep them upright.

The town of Phrao lies at the northern end of the valley, sheltering in the lee of mountains on three out of four sides. In recent years Provincial Highway 1150, which climbs over the mountains to Chiang Rai, has been surfaced, providing a direct link between Phrao and Wiang Papao. Hill tribe peoples, especially Lahu from nearby hill settlements, as well as colourfully-dressed Lisu and Akha from Chiang Rai, use this road to bring upland produce - mainly temperate vegetables and flowers - to market at Phrao. In the late afternoon, when their business is complete, they return to the hills in old pick-up trucks, burdened with bags of rice and a selection of basic consumer goods ranging from noodles, through washing powder, to medicines.

There is little to detain the visitor in Phrao overnight, besides which facilities are basic - there are no first class hotels, and restaurants excel only in local, northern cuisine. The real attraction of the valley lies outside the district capital, in the unspoiled countryside and contented, tranquil villages. Better, perhaps, to turn the car around, or catch the last bus back to Chiang Mai before dusk falls and darkness closes in from the hills. Alternatively, visitors wishing to stay overnight may back-track to a guest house on the shores of Lake Mae Ngad, where accommodation and food are available in a calm and beautiful setting. Either way, the traveller is sure to leave Phrao's hidden vale restored in spirit and physically refreshed.

Text by Andrew Forbes, images by David Henley. © CPA Media, 2007