Good morning
It is 6:17 am I am sitting on the top deck of the Pandaw 2 sipping my coffee. The sun is rising over the bank behind me as I face the starboard side where a small village is coming to life. We have been moored for the night 25 km from Yangon near a place called Kawetkin. Several fishermen in a small canoes have just paddled by setting their drift nets not far from us. The small gold stupa is catching the morning rays. Several monks have just walked beside the river edge towards the stupa. I can hear the thwack of the woman beating her laundry on the river bank. And now the morning water taxi of kids for school has just crossed the river behind us and landed. I am transported to a different time and place. And a blessing...there is a cool breeze off the river which requires a fleece.

Yesterday we cast off from Yangon about noon. The first part of the trip was through the Twante Canal dug by the British in 1885 to join the Irrawaddy River to Yangon. The canal is 25 km long and tidal. Homes are perched on bamboo stilts along the banks. We stopped at a small fishing town, Twante City, mid afternoon for a walk along the "strand"...the British named all the front streets of towns along the river banks "the strand". It was 33 degrees....but the people were friendly. Gary captured some lovely images of kids, grandmas, young ladies....all keen to see their photos in the camera after he had taken them.

At 6:00 pm as the sun set we reached the Irrawaddy Delta area and set a northward course. It was magical to be there with the small fishing boats silhouetted briefly against the red rays. Darkness falls quickly...tiny lights marking the fish boats could be seen and the Pandaw 2 kept its strong search light sweeping the river in front as it made its way north. We will now be exploring the delta area of the Irrawaddy River for the next couple of days. We enter the Irrawaddy River proper on Thursday November 24, after we have visited the sleepy delta town of Myanaung.

The Irrawaddy River as Rudyard Kipling and George Orwell called it is a corruption of the Burmese name Ayeyarwady Myit literally translated as "Blessings for the People".... A testament to the way it's silt-ladened waters replenish the country's fish stocks and soil every monsoon. We are moving north from the huge delta which is the rice bowl of Myanmar. The river drains southward 2,000 km from its source in the eastern Himalayas to the delta on the Bay of Bengal.

Since ancient times the river has formed a strategic artery between China and the ocean. Numerous civilizations have sprung up along its banks. Invaders, missionaries and merchants from across the globe have used the Irrawaddy to get reach capitals and/or resources. In Yangon we found St George's Cathedral was celebrating over 500 years of a Catholic presence in Burma. And from reading "The Elephant Company" we know how the British organized to exploit the teak forests.

The river is alive with small wooden fishing boats setting or hauling in nets, larger cargo boats being loaded to move all manner of goods from gas cans, bamboo poles, furniture, sacks piled high, food produce, chickens and so on...and ferries of all sizes are loading and unloading kids and families as they move across the river from settlement to settlement.

Journeying up the Irrawaddy River will be the defining travel experience for us in Myanmar. Aboard the teak and brass old colonial-like Pandaw 2, with the 16 other passengers, chugging slowly along we will get a feel for how it was in the colonial times, before automobiles and railways, when the river was known as the "Road to Mandalay". I can almost put myself in the boots of George Orwell travelling upriver to take up his post with the Imperial Police in 1929.

Where we are today in the delta,,the channels are wide and brown, small farms, rice paddies and plantations line the shore. Wooden fish boats are pulled up in front of the paddies.
Work goes on repairing boats, fishing or digging in the fields. The Pandaw 2 glides quietly by...but the motorized fishing boats and the river cargo ships can be heard for miles. This is not a quiet river!

Doreen