Parked up

The last two National Parks are each quite different, one with a lake created by a dam, the other with steep hills that undulate as far as the eye can see. Clare and I hire a car and do them on consecutive days, chilling out in Chiang Mai in between.

Walking in the Sri Lanna (Lan Na is the name of the old independent kingdom of northern Thailand before it joined up with Siam) National Park is a real disappointment, I have to admit. Clare and I head off on a supposed 3km nature trail by a scenic dam.

Two hours later we get to an abandoned village that makes me feel like I've crash-landed into an episode of Lost.

All we have is an apple, and our water soon runs out. So we have to retrace our steps back to HQ. "I wish I knew enough Thai to be able to go in and give them what for for not having a map of this place," I mutter. Makes me feel better to think it. We're revived by a litre bottle of Coke and a couple of ice creams at a cafe by the dam. The equivalent of a few sachets of Dioralyte, I reckon.

We're also revived by a visit to a tranquil waterfall where the water has calcified the limestone over time so that it's the kind of grippy surface you can climb up. 

There are lots of noisy boys stripped down to their pants but we go further down by one cascade and have the  glade to ourselves. Cue more singing, of course.

As the sun sets, we look for a temple called Banphot (I just wanted to go there – if you're Scottish you'll understand) but instead find a beautiful temple on a hill and meet a young monk who speaks perfect English and gives us a tour.

Our final day out, to Ban Mae Kampong, kicks off with the ordination of three monks at Doi Sukhet temple, half an hour east from Chiang Mai. We'd gone up there to look at some well-known and rather leftfield murals in the temple and found the ceremony going on. It makes it all the more atmospheric to see the murals while the priest is chanting. 

So here's another Park that just goes up and down and up and down as far as the eye can see. We drive up the steepest road I've ever seen to the first ridge for a wee walk, a paddle in a waterfall, then lunch in a quirky restaurant/bungalow set-up. 

The highlight of this particular day, though, is a visit to the hot springs, where geysers spout and and spray scalding mist, and the Thais picnic with their feet in water hot enough to boil an egg.

They do that too – boil eggs I mean – and you can buy them in little plastic baskets to hang on hooks under the water.

We seek out the foot massage section and I'm not sure about my lady at first. She's still got her curlers in and a shower cap on. But her touch is firm with the confidence and experience that comes with age. A bit like Mr Spock's Vulcan grip, but not as deadly. 

As you can see, I'm a goner...

Star among Parks

The third Park on the list is Chiang Dao National Park. Dao means star in Thai and this mountain range is a real celebrity, all sheer cliffs and impossible angles, reminding me of the Dolomites or the Pyrenees.

Clare's having a rest day so after a hearty English breakfast in the much-lauded and well-positioned Nest restaurant and guesthouse, she plugs into their wifi and I go off scampering around the lower regions of Chiang Dao mountain (it takes two days to get to the peak and everyone says you can't really do it without a guide).

There's a temple up 350 steps with a splendid aspect and views far up and down the valley...

....a real scramble of a nature trail featuring precipitous paths – one is even roped up – vociferous birdlife and mighty bamboos...

...and some very exciting caves, which I'm guided around with local lady Malee by the light of her hand-held lantern.

Malee points out rock and stalactite formations that look like lotus flowers, or snakes, or tigers. At one point she says Batman or Pacman, but the lump didn't remind me of either. Here I am in the "picture frame".

Outside the cave is a temple, a fish pond, lots of street food and a row of stalls offering an assortment of natural remedies collected by local villagers, all looking pretty much like ginger. You probably have to know what you're looking for – they don't seem to come with instructions.

We drive back the scenic route, a steep road climb that takes the car into its lowest gear.

A road runs over it

I rent a car to visit the second National Park on my list. The driving is the easy bit as they drive on the left in Thailand, though there are ten times as many motor bikes on the road so you do end up with your head on a constant swivel.
Doi Inthanon is the country's highest mountain and you can drive right to the top of it, pose under this signpost, then drive home.

I've been recommended the Ang Ka trail, which is usually a cloud forest and I must say I'm half hoping for misty weather, the norm at the top of this peak (when you tell locals where you're bound they do that shivering thing). But on my visit it's as sunny as sunny can be.
Annoyingly you have to do the trail with a guide, at a cost of 200 Baht. I hang about to see if I can tag along with another group but no one's around. Eventually this young guy, called Pong, says he'll guide me for free. Here's Pong...

It's a trail of three parts, he tells me, first through the rainforest, then across an alpine meadow with panoramic views of the range, and back over a series of forested ridges and valleys. Pong calls this the "meaning of life" part of the trail – full of ups and downs.

Pong is Hmong (yes, I know, ha ha), one of the tribes of northern Thailand, and lives in a village inside the Park boundary. He has learned all his English on the hoof, as it were, and walks with a dictionary in his hand, which he refers to when struggling to find the right words. As well as familiar flora, such as azaleas and blueberries (which are dry and turn to dust in the mouth) he mentions all kinds of natural wonders and birds, many only seen on this particular mountain. We see a Partridge, a Yellow Bellied Fantail and a Green Tailed Sunbird. Apparently we're just past Humming Bird season. They come when the rhododendrons are in flower.

As we near the end of the trail Pong deftly but sweetly engineers a sit-down on a bench in a glade to conclude his guided tour (and, I assume, afford me the opportunity to show my appreciation). I already had 100 Baht (about £1) in my hand. It's so little to me, but is it enough? I'll never know.

Being the highest mountain, Doi Inthanon chucks off some powerful waterfalls and I take in three on the drive back.

I watch the sun setting over Doi Inthanon in my wing mirror as I return to the city...

Park life

Thai people love getting close to nature and there are National Parks all over northern Thailand with soaring peaks, cascading waterfalls and enough rare birdlife to fill a twitcher's notebook. I can imagine my dad being very taken with the set-up. They're easily accessible and most have little bungalows or larger lodges that can be booked for overnight stays, and usually a restaurant and shop on site. Just don't try asking for a trail map – I visit five Parks in all and even in the Park HQs, with Clare speaking Thai, they look at us as if we've asked them to dance a jig.

Khun Tan National Park is our first excursion and we take the train from Chiang Mai, passing beautiful little country stations like this one. There's a little old lady opposite who seems to be enjoying the journey too.

The train stops right by the National Park entrance at Khun Tan station. Clare and I trek up through teak trees and bamboo groves to the office – beautifully landscaped with flowers in bloom, sprinklers on full flow and this statue of a poe-faced girl scout – who tell us that yes, we can have a bungalow, for 150 Baht each (about £3), but the shop and the restaurant are both closed today. We've got a sesame bar and two apples and plan to do a 14km trek to the top of the mountain. The lady on duty takes pity on us and says she'll be our takeaway driver and bring us a meal from the village at 6pm.

Off we go up the marked trail. The rainforest is cool so the walk is not too taxing. The only person we meet is a man sawing timber in a hamlet half way up. He gravitates towards us for a chat but insists he's never lonely. We sing a Bulgarian song at the top, naturally. 

Here's a teak leaf. They're so stiff they make brilliant cooling fans. 

Back in our bungalow we devour the food and prepare to bed down (after we've chased out the giant spider and a cockroach, and sealed up the plughole in the bathroom where red ants are marching in). Good job I'm not averse to the odd insect, as I am woken up in the night and have to brush ants off my face and hands).

The next day the restaurant is open but there is nothing I want to eat so I have a wafer and a cake in a packet – all the rage in the 7 Elevens here – and some coffee that tastes of earth and sugar. Ugh. 

The train back is two hours late, two hours we spend at the station, a very beautiful one mind you, singing, playing cards and watching the lady food hawkers jumping on and off southbound trains. A bunch of uniformed men arrive, seemingly to make an inspection of the premises with clipboards and a camera. The best-kept station awards, perhaps.

Here's our train at last, emerging from the tunnel that was completed in 1920 and built migrant workers, many of whom died in the process. The entrance to the Park is just on the left of the tracks. Oh, and the station seemed to be home to several dozen roaming dogs. This one is not the guard's pet. Back on the train, I love that they're open to the elements – with no air-con they have to be – but back west the health-and-safety brigade would have a field day.

Reasons to be cheerful in Chiang Mai (part one)

• Clare's terrace... 

... where we sip Rosé on the evening of my arrival looking out at the dark shape of the local mountain, Doi Suthep. It's where I hang my washing and it dries in 20 minutes. It's where you can hear the local dogs howling at dusk and the cocks crowing at dawn. There are also regular bugle reports from the local military base. And it's where my cousin Clare throws a little terrace party for some Chiang Mai friends, and me. 

Mojitos, bruschetta, Won Ton, crispy grilled chicken, friend Yara's Syrian dips oozing olive oil, followed by Rose apples, star-shaped biscuits and sugary cinnamon cake baked that afternoon by Clare. 

A sudden thunderstorm with sheet lightening appears and the terrace is awash in minutes so we retreat indoors. The terrace is also a good place to be when the sky is suffused with glowing pinks, around 6pm every evening. 

And a good place to smoke the throat-scorching "cheroot" made from locally produced tobacco that I find a woman rolling at a market stall outside Chiang Mai. A one-off, I can assure you.

• The Centre of the Universe…

… is Clare's local salt-water swimming pool and is truly sublime, as the moniker suggests. I plug in to its healing powers on more than one occasion, when I'm worn out from gadding about and just need some action of the sun-lounger kind. There's a restaurant attached and I become rather partial to the scrambled-eggs-on-toast-and-cafe-latte combo. My only gripe is… brrr… cold showers. Even in this weather they're a shocker.

• Flower power…

… is all the rage in this lush landscape and when I hit town the Flower Festival is in full swing. Clare and I tour the displays and rate the award-winners. 

Who knew Chiang Mai had an orchid society? Or that the Dr Who writers have been here looking for inspiration? 

It's a happy scene, with schoolchildren out and about in traditional dress and stallholders picnicking by the moat that surrounds the historic old town of Chiang Mai. 

We come across a group with clipboards sniffing a row of hyacinths, moving them up the ranking, or down, according to the wow factor of the bloom's scent.

Chiang Mai is also the flower-power capital of the north – of the hippy kind – and it's a while since I've seen quite so many tie-dyed floaty trousers. And if it moves, like this VW camper van, why not crochet a cover for it?

At the Sunday Walking Street – a night market where you can shop while you walk, up one way and back the other – the sightings of crafty creations go off the scale. There's even a stall selling home-crocheted doggy wear. Here are bespoke slippers for animal lovers.

• Veggie nosh…

… is some of the best I've tasted. No surprise, given all the new age types who've made a life here. Clare takes me to her favourite, an unpromising few scattered tables around the back of a temple. She orders spring rolls, a spicy papaya salad and a yellow curry, and we kick off with fresh fruit smoothies. Deelish.

Anchan is another place we try, run by a young Belgian chap and his Thai partner. Melt-in-the-mouth pumpkin yellow curry, and a type of flower tempura. Another time, one of Clare's choir pals, Jean-Pascale, cooks up Sun Hemp flowers in an omelette. Eat your heart out Hugh Fearnly-Whittingstall.

Top of the smoothie pops for me is this mint, honey and lemon number that I order with vegetable tempura in Blue Diamond, a cafe shaded by palms, cooled with whirring fans and frequented by homesick ex-pats. 

I also enjoy a latte and creamy carrot cake in a leafy little cafe called Fern Forest, eavesdropping on a lovers' tiff at the adjacent table. She's Thai, he's English, and can't get enough of her. She's arranging to see a friend and he wants to tag along but I'm not sure she wants him to. She's not saying no, exactly… but he fails to pick up on the subtext and off they go. 

Here's a lemon soufflé I whiled away an hour over, in the Art Cafe by the Ping river. 

One of the major treats of my stay is a trip to the home of a French/Thai husband and wife who run a French bakery in Chiang Mai. Every Saturday morning they hold back a few batches of croissants and pastries and open their garden gates to friends and friends of friends. The coffee, and the French conversation, is free. The smell of Gitanes – or Thai equivalent – pervades the air, and all sorts of news and views are exchanged – close your eyes and you could be in a Parisian cafe, albeit a left-leaning one. No pics of this event. That would not have been cool...