It was supposed to be a scenic 190-mile cruise up the atmospheric Mekong River, a ride through nature, fresh air, and small, remote villages after almost two weeks in big and/or busy cities in Vietnam, Cambodia, and Laos. Instead, we found ourselves exposed for two full days to the smokiest air I have ever experienced. With an AQI score of over 500, the air pollution in Laos and northern Thailand tinged the skies with a sickly yellow/gray/brown hue and left its acrid taste in our mouths and noses. Slash-and-burn agriculture is alive and well in this part of the world, and we hit the peak of the crop-burning season, unfortunately.

We left Luang Prabang in the morning and boarded our boat in the small town of Ban Xang Hai. At first glance, we were skeptical, but once aboard, we quickly noted the many charms of our vessel. Long and lean, the wood boat had a variety of seating options, tables, and even a few bed-like couches along the edges. This would be our home for the next two days although we did disembark for the night in between.

Our first stop was Pak Ou, also known as the Buddha statue cave. The shores of the Mekong are riddled with caves, and this one, about two hours into the journey north, is one of two now-famous ones.

We climbed the steep stone staircase and were met by the unexpected sight of thousands of small Buddha likenesses. None is in great shape, but the imperfections – chips, broken limbs, and peeling paint – add to the cave’s aura.

Back on the boat, we continued north, snacking, drinking, chatting and lunching in the comfortable interior. Soon we were also sneezing, coughing, and squinting, as the smoke and its particulate matter settled deep into our nostrils and throats, the crevices of our fingers, and the folds of our clothing.

We tried hard to ignore the air quality, but it was certainly making things a little less pleasant with each passing hour. Although there was no escaping the air, we tried to take our minds off of it with the bucolic river scenes – an elephant being bathed by its owner, small gatherings of animals, passing vessels of all sizes and colors.

To add to our dustiness, we stopped at our first small village, Ban Bor, in the early afternoon. We trekked up a steep hill of sand and dirt to meet a classroom of children whose teacher is a friend of our guide. This enclave was well-kept and calm, and I mostly enjoyed the visit, something I had worried about because I have an aversion to “poverty tourism” in general, and the stops we had planned gave me pause as we moved upriver.

By evening, we got even creepier views of the smudged horizon; as we crept forward, it felt like we were sailing the River Styx, with the filth in the air backlit and yellowed by the setting sun. We got an overnight respite from the air in Pakbeng, a small town in the middle of nowhere but still home to a lovely set of cabin-like rooms high above the muted Mekong.

The following morning brought 90 more miles of smoky, blurry cruising up the river, as well as a second and much more unsettling village stop. We could immediately see and sense that Ban Huoy Lamphane, a poor Hmong village, was very different from the prior day’s visit. Known as one of the most fiercely independent hill tribes, the Hmong resist outside pressure to change; while not a bad thing in theory, the attitude has nevertheless left villages like this one adrift.

There was none of the industry (by which I mean weaving and other arts) of the first village, many children were clearly not in school, and the pride of place we had seen earlier was not to be found. I felt uneasy about our presence here; were we in any way helping, or was this exploitative tourism pure and simple? I happen to be fairly informed about the Hmong – one of my favorite books about a clash of cultures is Anne Fadiman’s The Spirit Catches You and You Fall Down – and after having worked with several Hmong families resettling in the U.S., I was loathe to judge what we were seeing and torn about the efficacy of any help some passing tourists could really offer. A rough visit for me.

We completed our journey up the Mekong, crossing into Thai waters at Houay Xai in the mid-afternoon. We had high hopes, but of course we quickly learned that smoke knows no borders, and the thick air would stay with us until we left for Bangkok a few days hence. In spite of the miasma that enveloped our boat for two days and nearly 200 miles, the boat ride was a pleasant suspension of time, both literal and figurative, and I’m glad we did it.