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Peggy Smith, Marcia and Harvey Jones by
Ben Dickerson's Land Rover-1983 |
In Chiang Mai, we were to be working with the Thailand Karen
Baptist Churches (TKBC) who shared an office building with the Lahu Baptist
Churches. The Lahu and Karen also had student hostels housing students from
outlying villages studying in Chiang Mai. The Karen had the Center for the
Uplift of the Hilltribes (the name has now changed) which had started as an
agricultural school but has morphed into a Bible School. There were a number of
churches for the Lahu and Karen in the city as well as the Thai Tribal Crafts. The
Church of Christ in Thailand (CCT) had a hospital, a leprosy center, large
private schools and churches. Several other mission organizations were also
located in Chiang Mai reaching out to various tribal and ethnic groups as well
as ethnic Thai. Our work and worship would intersect with some or all of these
groups to one extent or another so there were many people to meet and meetings
to attend.
Of course, there were also trips out to villages. There were
a few villages where we might go there, do a little business then come home
within the same day but precious few. I don’t think there was an “average”
village trip. Most trips were usually 1 – 3 nights but some might last as long
as a week to 10 days. Our mission life was generally a work trip, followed by a
couple days at home to catch up the paper work, write up whatever talks,
lessons, or sermons we might need to do, get ready to go again, followed by
another work trip, rinse, and repeat. It was church work, so often we were out
for Sunday services and special occasions so there weren’t too many weekends or
holidays off. But it was what we had signed up for and it was a great way to
spend a career. We’ve often said we wouldn’t trade it for anything.
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A road of the squishy mud variety. While
dramatic looking, the hard packed, slick variety
of road was more scary - Too easy to slide off
of a mountain side. |
But there were certainly adjustments to make. In the early
1980s roads had not yet reached many of the “Hilltribe” areas where the Karen
lived. The mountains were rugged and on a par, I suppose, with the Appalachian
Mountains in general size and characteristics but with a tropical twist. Soon
after leaving Chiang Mai the pavement would end and dirt tracks would begin.
Depending on the nature of the soil the road was composed of, during the rainy
season the dirt road could be anything from deep squishy mud to hard packed,
but wet, with a thin, slick as ice mud glaze. In the dry season, some of the
dirt roads especially where logging trucks were running, generated dust so
thick it made a big, liquid looking
wave
in front of the truck that would billow behind leaving us blind and very dirty
for a prolonged time. Any time of year, ruts, rocks, washouts, streams, shaky
bridges, cattle, water buffalo and any number of other hazards were present.
The old fashioned, boxy looking Land Rovers were the
vehicles of choice for the veteran missionaries when we arrived on the scene.
On maybe our first mountain trip out of Chiang Mai Marcia was in one Land Rover
that was driven by Rupert Nelson. I was a passenger in another Land Rover. We’d
made it several hours out of Chiang Mai and had made it up and down a couple muddy,
slippery mountains already. But the veteran mountain travelers in the group
were concerned about the road ahead and weren’t sure if we’d finish our trip or
not.
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| Land Rover fording a stream on a nice day. |
We came to the base of a mountain known to be particularly steep
and slick. So a couple of the vehicles in our group pulled off on a wide spot and
nominated Rupert to drive his Land Rover up the mountain to see if he would
make it or not. Rupert agreed and backed to the base of the mountain so he
could get a running start. Off he went with a roar, spinning tires and flying
mud. He passed us all by at a good clip and disappeared up the mountain. A few
minutes later though back down the mountain he came, backwards, slipping and
sliding hither and yon mostly at the mercy of gravity and the ruts in the road.
Rupert got to the bottom of the mountain and let it roll up the other side as
far as it would go so he could get an even faster running start. Up the
mountain he went again, zipping past us as fast as he could go, disappearing up
the mountain once again. Alas, back down he came again, backwards, slipping and
sliding as much as before. Marcia had a window seat looking out forlornly as
she slid and bounced with the car. I wondered if my husbandly duty demanded
some sort of attempted rescue but I couldn’t think of anything to do that would
have been helpful so I just stood there and watched, wondering how worried I
should be.
Rupert reversed even further up the opposite mountain and
made one more gallant dash past us and on up the mountain as far as the Land
Rover would take him. The third time in this case, was not the charm so back
down the mountain he came once again going just as backwards as on the previous
two trips, sliding, swerving and bouncing just as much with Marica looking just
as forlorn as before. Fortunately, neither Marcia, the Land Rover nor anyone needed
rescuing but it was agreed that if Rupert wasn’t getting up that mountain,
there was even less chance of making it up the really rough road up ahead. So,
it was time to revert to “Plan B”. I’m not sure what Plan B was or where we
wound up that night but it was an early lesson in what mountain travel was
going to look like for us.
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