Chiang Mai (Northern Thailand) Tourist Guide


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A Journey to Wawee

Text : Tachyon and Terryl
Image : Tachyon

Anybody in Chiang Mai who's a coffee aficionado knows of the coffee hangout on Nimmanahaeminda Road called Wawee. But the word ‘Wawee' itself - weird, don't you think? What does it mean, and where does it come from, exactly? Being a bit of a coffee nut myself, I did have some idea, so I was delighted to get a call from the cafe saying they were organizing a trip to Wawee mountain up in Chiang Rai province.

So, there we are, I thought. It's the name of a mountain. And since the mountain won't come to Mahommet, as we say, it was only appropriate I and the indefatigable magazine team should go and see the mountain. Not to speak of getting out of the office and its toils for a while, and ‘working' by taking a trip into the boonies. So here we were, then, of an earlyish weekday morning, hopping into three vans and two pick-ups outside Wawee cafe - and there we were, not much later, heading out on the straight road to Doi Saket, and then the somewhat more exciting highway 118 - steep hills, small, almost forlorn little habitations, and the big cool forest around us - and then, beyond Chiang Rai itself, following a serpentine route not too far from what's described on some maps as 'a sensitive border area'. Well, I don't know about what was out there, but after a couple of rough hours being bounced about in our vehicles, we were aware that some of our own border areas were getting to be pretty sensitive.

Anyway, round about midday, we got to our destination safely - said destination being the Wawee Highland Agricultural Research Station. True one poor Tourist Guide intern had been somewhat sick on the way, but the rest of us were in pretty good shape. In the still cool highland air of the research station, we joined the few tourists who were strolling round perusing lots of coffee beans laid out on the ground for drying.

Once we'd off-loaded our gear, we had the privilege of being given a briefing by the director of the station, learning that we were up at some 1,300 metres above mean sea level, and that the employees at the station are locals, for the most part - Akha, Muser, Lahu, Lisu, Karen - you name it, pretty well. As well as migrant Chinese. A colourful lot, obviously, which makes this an even morer attractive tourist destination. And however much better off the cultivation of coffee is now making the local population, their lifestyles haven't changed that much so you see them now as they were then - meaning right way back in time.

After a bit of a snack, we shimmied up to one of the local peaks to see the sunset. Boy, was it chilly up there! Just see us piling on more and more clothing, so that what with the flowers, the mountains, the glorious expanse of the sky, with the sun sinking so gracefully, you might have imagined us like a lot of over-weight (overclothed) Julie Andrewses, with baskets of flowers on our heads, singing, "The hills are alive with the sound of music...". But I tell you, cold or not, that sunset alone was worth all the hours we'd put in getting there.

I'd like to tell you how hospitable our hosts were, and tell you the details of the varieties of local foods we supped on, but I have to admit that it was a bit of a crazy evening. You see, along with the food hospitality, there was also the drinks hospitality - that's to say the generous supplies of hooch besides what we'd brought along ourselves. And there was this pressing need to keep ourselves warm too. You wouldn't want us to freeze to death up at that wintry elevation, now, would you. So although in some ways it was an evening to remember, it was also - forgive the paradox - a bit of an evening that we can't all remember in detail, especially come the cold and frosty dawn of the following day. We survived the hardships of that freezing evening, that's one thing we can say for sure.

And let me say this, the rigours of our situation didn't stop us performing our journalistic duties. Picture us getting up, slightly fuzzy-headed, quite a while before dawn: trudging unbreakfasted up a slope permitting a favourable view of the dear old sun coming up again as it keeps on doing. And while we were waiting, lighting a small bonfire and huddling round it - so that there was the slightly sanctified feeling of being Indians paying their respects to the Great Spirit above the American pines. Cold, still, darkness and the dancing flames of the fire - all very elemental. And as the sun came up, we saw that daily miracle of the sky flushing, turning a soft, golden yellow, the details of the valley below revealing themselves... and the air - at last - warming.

Afterwards we were ready for fresh activities, visiting the plantation, walking mainly upward as it seemed - looking over the areas under coffee cultivation first. And extensive they were too, as our aching calves soon informed us. And we learned something - that not only coffee, but also the macademia nut is cultivated here. Macademia - an expensive nut I've always liked, but this was my first viewing of the big trees that produce them. The station director told us that the local people are being helped to grow both cash crops. In between the great nut-trees, we saw the familiar red beans of Arabica coffee everywhere. Arabica does well up at this altitude, the director explained, and being resistant to disease, can be grown without using dangerously toxic pesticides.

Our next destination, fortunately near the coffee plantation we were touring, was a lovely place called Buddha Uttayana, a wild-life sanctuary. As well as having a well that local people regarded as sacred, this park - so peaceful and fertile - is full of cherry trees, and if you want to see the blossom at its best, be sure to come back in December and January next year: sorry, folks, you've just missed it this year. But don't be sad - don't give Wawee a miss. It's got so very much else that makes it a place to get out to.

Well, dusk by this time, and your leg-weary guides and pioneers were glad that the path was going down for a change. But not too tired, reader, to enjoy one final night of feasting and revelry, one more night to more or less remember. When we hit the road in the morning for the long bumpy ride back to Chiang Mai and a resumption of normal duties, I think we all felt the same way. That this had been an exceptional couple of days, and that we owed a great deal to the kind staff and workers at the Wawee coffee company who'd been our generous hosts.

One thing's for sure: we all now have a much clearer picture of what Wawee means, and that picture of hills, forest, cold air and clear skies is going to be with us when we have our next matutinal cup of it.