If you are looking for a soft adventure trip, the best option is to take one of the inclusive packages operated by "Track of the Tiger Tours", based at the Maekok River Lodge. The company offers various itineraries, but the core of its programmes is a 2-day/1-night river trip by the tour operator's own raft-like barges -- custom-made jobs with flat 10m x 2m metal hulls, bamboo decking and a thatched roof. The rafts are powered by 1400 cc Toyota outboard engines, although the craft travel only part of the journey by motor, the rest by free-floating rafting.

On an overcast morning at the height of the rainy season I set out on the "Track of the Tiger" to explore the Kok. Stained a red-brown by the flood waters, the river was swollen and swift flowing, the current running at probably two to three knots. But we began the journey not by boat but by pick-up truck, visiting on the way several hilltribe villages. At a Lisu settlement we were treated to one of the village elders playing a traditional bamboo-and-gourd flute, its haunting plaintiff melody echoing in my mind as we continued on through spectacular hill country to rejoin the river and board our raft. Then it was the river which captured the imagination.

We were some 25 kilometres downstream from Thaton and the gentle, cultivated slopes of the valley had vanished, replaced by steeply rising hillsides thickly covered with vegetation. After getting underway, the boatman cut the engine and we floated silently downstream, a second boatman at the bows using a pole to keep us from swirling in the eddies of the swift-flowing water. As we tucked into a picnic lunch of chicken and rice, our isolation seemed complete and time slowed, the passage of the day punctuated only by the sight of a lonely hilltribe village and now and again slight rapids as the river squeezed through narrow channels.

By late afternoon we reached our basecamp, which appeared as yet another surprise in this enchanting world. Seemingly in the middle of nowhere, on a bank overhung by lush greenery, were riverside bamboo pavilions with camp beds, kitchen, dining tables and, amazingly, hot showers produced by an ancient wood boiler tucked up against the hillside. A barbecue dinner of Thai and European dishes was served, tasting all the more delicious for its improbability in such a remote spot.

After an untroubled night's sleep under mosquito netting, we took to the river again the next day, drifting in silence through wisps of early morning mist which hung over the surface of the water. Soon the air cleared to reveal again stunning scenery as we navigated through steep gorges cloaked in thick bamboo. A brief stop at a Karen village was a disappointment; the riverfront settlement was clearly used to tourists, and its one street was lined with souvenir stalls.

But at another village a little further downstream we stopped to take an hour's elephant safari into the untamed countryside that lies beyond the river banks. Elephants are not the most comfortable animals to ride -- you feel as if you are in an open boat on the high seas -- but as my beast negotiated streams and rugged hillside trails I took confidence from the fact that, so I was told, elephants are more sure-footed than horses.

Back at the river we rejoined the raft and motored the remaining 20 kilometres down to Chiang Rai. With the valley gradually opening up, the hills receding into the background, we were gently re-acclimatized to the modern world, which suddenly announced itself with the sight of the high-rise Dusit Island Resort. The appearance of this luxurious hotel standing on its own patch of land in mid-stream was startling, but only because we knew what a different world existed just a little way upriver.

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