Next stop was Done Khone, where my journey was to end. Known as the Tahiti of Laos for its languid charm, it is one of thousands of small islands that rise from the Mekong river at the south-western tip of Laos; it is also famed as home to the extraordinary freshwater dolphins of the Mekong.
It would have been difficult to find a fairer spot than my rosewood veranda, but it was time for dolphin spotting. I had been told to follow the old railway trail to the "dolphin viewing" village, before the heat of the day, so I began my walk.
After an hour I left the jungle behind me and reached Ban Hang Khone, a sleepy, flower-tumbled village, once an important hub of railway activity.
Here, I met Noi, a local guide, hoping for a better chance of spotting a dolphin from his canoe. As we left shore, we both looked doubtfully across the large expanse of caramel-colored water strewn with stony islets. After a while, we moored up by a rocky outcrop and I clambered out. Noi remained in the boat smoking roll-ups. I sat and waited.
Mekong dolphins look similar to Beluga whales; they have a rounded head with no beak and a flexible neck. They have 76 teeth in their famous smile. Sadly, they're among the world's most endangered species. Locally, they are called paa khaa. Laotians neither hunt nor eat the dolphins, believing them to be reincarnated ancestors. One ancient myth tells of a beautiful maiden who was forced into marriage with a hideous python. To avoid her fate, she leaped to her death into the Mekong -- the spirits took pity on her though, and transformed her into a paa khaa.
The villagers say the dolphin population has halved in the past few years. No one knows why. Environmentalists have helped to organize fish conservation zones and a system of cash compensation for fishermen who release dolphins alive if they are netted. Reports suggest, nonetheless, that the dolphins continue to disappear. There might be as few as 10 left in Laos.
"Paa khaa, paa khaa," Noi hissed, flinging his rollie into the water, and pointing to a couple of specks in the distance. There were two, and they were getting closer. Soon they were 15m away and I could make out their fins as they rose from the water. Then they disappeared. Minutes passed. My heart sank. Well, at least I'd seen them.
Then, quite suddenly, 2m from our rock, a dolphin poked its head out of the water and looked me in the eye. I fell back in shock. Noi was so excited he almost lost his balance on the boat. The head disappeared, only to re-emerge a few seconds later with the second one. Now both dolphins were giving us the once over. It was heart-stoppingly wonderful. Then they vanished.
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