After Bhamo there is a gorge, here the Irrawaddy river is calm and wide.
A high cliff towers over a turn in the river, looming up majestically over the small boats and rafts floating by. On this part of the river, the water is not too deep, and boats are hollowed from whole logs or small rafts made of bamboo. Indeed, rafts made up of less then a dozen bamboo poles are often seen with the one passenger lying back and humming a tune to ease the loneliness of his journey.

What struck me about this young boy, sitting on the river bank waiting for the ferry, was how still how sat with his mother, looking out across the river, he seemed so deep in thought, grasping his little toy. Notice his curled toes, I wonder what was going through his mind.