Besides, superlatives are Umphang's stock in trade. By day's end, we would be camped at Southeast Asia's biggest waterfall (Thi Lor Su, an aquatic Goliath some 400 m tall and 500 m wide), getting ready to trek through Thailand's most virginal teak forests before clambering onto Asia's largest animal (the elephant) to tour some of the country's most remote hill tribes.
"Local people believe Umphang is where heaven and earth meet," added Chai. And indeed I thought I was quite possibly nearing nirvana, lulled by the mellifluous babble of water over timeworn boulders and the warm kiss of the sun through river mist. Damselflies in lurid shades of aqua and puce hovered lazily beside us. Kingfishers flashed amid copious vines and sprawling creepers. Tiny, white beachesperfect and inviting nestled under fluttering carpets of white and yellow butterflies. Scenes like this demanded another superlative: there surely was no more tranquil spot on earth. Farther downstream, though, the Mae Klong flexes its muscles, narrowing into Class 4 and 5 rapids that should satisfy most adrenaline cravings, before disappearing into a maze of deadly subterranean caves to re-emerge in neighboring Kanchanaburi province as the famous River Kwai.
We left the river before the white water fireworks began, at Tha Sai, and set off on foot for Thi Lor Su. Two days later, I was back in sleepy Umphang, suitably sated by superlatives.
I was also boasting a fresh superlative of my own: the world's sorest backside, thanks to four hours of bouncing about on the back of a behemoth in an uncushioned howdah.