A couple of years back, I was working and running in Attapeu, I noticed a new track cut off the main access road — one that hadn’t been there before. I’d run that stretch plenty of times and never noticed a trail in that spot, so it must’ve been freshly cut, maybe only a few weeks old.
One morning, curiosity got the better of me. I followed it in — a muddy Iron Buffalo trail winding along the contours, under bamboo and low forest canopy. The air was heavy and damp, the path slick with mud and tyre ruts. It curved around a small drainage, climbed the next hill, then dipped again into thicker bamboo.
Through the trees, I caught sight of the familiar blue and orange of tarps strung up over a makeshift shelter — a small hunting camp, maybe thirty metres off the trail. The fire was smouldering, bamboo racks for processing animals.
I didn’t take any photos there, and I didn’t hang around. The footprints looked fresh, and I figured the hunters were either still asleep or already out in the forest. The trail looped around the far side of the camp before petering out into barely discernible single tracks for trap lines or hunting sorties, but that was my signal to turn back.
Laos is full of trails like this — old and new, not for running but for extracting resources from the forest. Each one serves a purpose, and half the adventure is figuring out why it’s there.
For more on staying safe and respectful when exploring local trails, read:
👉 Trail Safety in Laos: What Runners Should Know