King Viranga and Chiang Mai's Mae Had Valley

Part of Ancient Chiang Mai

The district of western Mae Rim, in the northern part of Chiang Mai Valley, is an unexpected and all but unknown delight. Here, by the banks of the Mae Had River, is a rural idyll visited by almost no one, whether Thai or foreign, who does not live in the area. Yet the bustling streets of Chiang Mai are less than an hour away, and the attractions available make a visit well worthwhile.

The road to Mae Rim starts at Chang Puak, the northern gate to Chiang Mai City. It's a busy and sometimes hair-raising journey to Mae Rim, an important market town. Most people pass straight through, taking the left hand turn to Mae Sa Valley at kilometre 18 (Route 1096), or continuing along Route 107 to Chiang Dao and Fang. Few even notice a small, surfaced road leading towards the western hills just a kilometre or so after the Mae Sa junction, yet this is the southern entrance to the Mae Had Valley, a region of lush fields, prosperous villages, and ancient temples.

The people of the Mae Had Valley are overwhelmingly Khon Muang. Their whole lifestyle is a celebration of flatland, wet-rice paddy culture. Their attitudes are conservative, restrained, old-world. There are no hill tribes here—they're not far away in terms of distance, but rather in the more esoteric variable of elevation. The rich valley floors belong to the Khon Muang, as they have since time immemorial. Christians and Muslims are decidedly thin on the ground, too—this is the Lan Na Buddhist heartland, as a wealth of ancient temples bears witness.

For the first fifteen kilometres the narrow, well-surfaced road winds northwest through the small hamlets of Ban Hong Nok and Ban Nong Pla Man to Wang Din. All along the route are small bridges, often just simple reinforced wood structures, crossing and recrossing the rushing waters of the Mae Had and its lesser tributaries. At the end of the rainy season the dominant colour is a rich, luxuriant green, like that of Bali or central Java. The rice fields are rich and productive, tended by well-fed, well-clad farmers in rubber boots who look after their "iron buffaloes" with the same care they must once, not so long ago, have lavished on the real animals. In these prosperous times, water buffalo are an increasingly rare sight. Mechanisation is everywhere, as is modernisation. The houses are well cared for, tile-roofed, sporting television aerials wedged into tall bamboo poles. Pick-up trucks and motor bikes are parked in nearly every yard. There are no visible signs of poverty to greet the visitoróstandards of living are closer to northern Mediterranean than to the Third World.

After Wang Din a road forks left into the hills north of Doi Khom Rong, leading away from the Mae Had and its surrounding flat-lands. Within three kilometres the quality of the road begins to deteriorate, and cracks appear in the surfaceóat the height of the rains it would be unwise to attempt this detour without four-wheel drive. Still, the journey is worthwhile, for the road leads to Ban Muang Kha, a remote settlement which, although still essentially a lowland village, has a background which is not quite Thai. The people who live here are Lawa, the indigenous inhabitants of North Thailand, most of whom have long since been absorbed by the Thai. Today only a few villages in Chiang Mai still acknowledge Lawa ancestry, and Ban Muang Kha occupies a special position amongst these because of its unique memorial to King Viranga.

Viranga was the last independent ruler of the Lawa who, according to legend, ruled over the Chiang Mai area around one thousand years ago. Oral history relates how Viranga fell in love with Chama Thewi, the Mon Queen of Lamphun, who rejected his advances. Viranga tried to win the queen's affection by performing the extraordinary feat of hurling a javelin from the summit of Doi Pui to the walls of Lamphunóa distance of some thirty kilometres.

According to legend, Chama Thewi weakened Viranga's supernatural powers by presenting him with a cap dyed with menstrual blood, thus sapping his strength. The unsuspecting Lawa king, after two failed attempts to hurl his javelin to Lamphun, threw the weapon high in the air and allowed it to pierce his own breast as it fell to earth. He was buried on a nearby hilltop, facing his beloved's Lamphun. The Lawa were never to assert their independence or rule the region again, though their days of glory have never been absolutely forgotten, particularly by the Lawa of Ban Muang Kha.

At first sight the isolated settlement seems unremarkable except for the beauty of its wild location. Less prosperous than the villages of the Mae Had Valley, Muang Kha is nonetheless comfortably off. Concrete pylons carry electricity over the steep foothills below Doi Pui to provide power for ubiquitous refrigerators and televisions, whilst motorbikes and pick-ups negotiate the switchback road. At the western side of the village, however, in a copse of trees beside Wat Muang Khi, stands the squat, dark figure of King Viranga, pointing his mighty javelin towards Lamphun. Nearby are a group of wooden spirit houses, together with triple fire-stones set in the ground for preparing offerings to the spirit of this great Lawa ancestor. The trees beside Viranga's statue ensure that his likeness is always in shade, adding to the blackness of his aspect. Hanging from their trunks and branches are great ferns, which contribute strangely to the eerie, almost numinous quality surrounding the copse.

For those who wish to follow it, the road continues beyond Muang Kha to two small hilltribe villages, a Hmong settlement at Ban Huai Tao Ru, and a Karen settlement at Ban Mae Kha Piang. A visit to western Mae Rim is essentially an exploration of lowland, Thai and Lawa traditions, however, whilst the road beyond Ban Muang Kha is a dead end. Most people, therefore, will prefer to turn back towards the Mae Had Valley, following the road across hills already traversed until a turning to the left provides an alternative route to Ban San Pa Yang.

The scenery in this area offers an attractive combination of lychee orchards (in the hilly parts) and lush paddy fields (in the flatlands). Every few hundred yards clumps of coconut palms, mango trees, jackfruit and custard apple indicate the presence of small hamlets or solitary farmsteads. In the hot season, between February and April, the countryside fairly glows with golden-yellow soybean flowers. At other times of year, as the cold season approaches, farmers are everywhere preparing sheaths of hay to protect the strawberry fields. The overall effect on the visiting city-dweller is both refreshing and relaxingóhere you are a million miles (but only thirty kilometres) from the increasingly congested and noisy thoroughfares of Chiang Mai.

Ban San Pa Yang is named for a magnificent group of yang trees which dominate the centre of the village, and which are visible from miles around. Like their better-known cousins lining the old road from Chiang Mai to Lamphun, they rise to heights of thirty metres, providing welcome shade over San Pa Yang market, and offering shelter to a wealth of orchids, lichens and small songbirds. The food stalls in the market offer simple but tasty fare ranging from khao rat kaeng (rice and curry) and kuaytiaw (noodles) to northern dishes such as kaeng hang lay (pork cooked with ginger).

After San Pa Yang the road passes through a series of small villages heading towards Route 1095, the main road west from Mae Malai to Pai and Mae Hong Son. The first such village is Ban Don Chiang, named for the great Don Pho, or Pipal Tree, growing in front of the village temple. This templeócalled, sensibly enough, Wat Don Chiangóis a beautiful example of Lan Na village religious architecture. Composed largely of wood and plaster, if the carved door and window frames are ignored it seems very like a Tudor-period English structure. Of course, one glance at the elaborate eaves and roof is sufficient to dispel this illusion, and the visitor is swiftly back in western Mae Rim. Behind the temple is a covered terrace where looms are kept, for this is a village with a long tradition of cloth weaving.

Beyond Ban Don Chiang lies the last stop of interest in the Mae Had Valley, the village of Ban Tha Kham. In the temple of the same name, are preserved a collection of uniquely primitive murals. These portray vignettes of local life, as well as the more usual religious representations, and are believed to be between one and two hundred years old. Here can be seen clear signs of cultural distinctions between 19th century Lan Na and Bangkok. The northern women go topless and wear their hair longósometimes below their waistóin sharp contrast to the shorn appearance of contemporary Siamese ladies, who wore their hair cropped. Unfortunately, due to the salinity of the plaster, many of the murals are faded and some have all but disappeared. Wat Tha Kham is clearly a candidate for future research and restoration by Thailandís Fine Arts Department. In the meantime, it rests quietly in the waning afternoon sun, tended by two or three saffron-robed monks and a handful of lazy, well-fed temple dogs, near the northern limits of Mae Rim's tranquil Mae Had Valley.

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