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Published on July 13, 2007

The sheer cliffs of Sai Thong National Park go by odd names, such as "Pha Ham Hod", which might be translated as "Shrunken Balls Cliff". That sort of thing won't make the park anyone's dream destination, but if you stand at the edge of the precipice in question, the adrenaline thrill is terrific.

Below is a vast, idyllic valley, with houses that look like matchboxes against the curling backdrop of the high range.

"Sai Thong National Park should be more famous, but it's in the shadow of its sister, Pa Hin Ngam National Park," says a ranger, somewhat enviously, as he guides us along a trail.

Both parks in northeastern Chaiyaphum province share a reputation for producing endless fields of Siam tulips - the wild curcuma plant known as dok krajiao in Thai. But big sister Pa Hin Ngam has had more promotion, says the ranger, thanks to local politicians whose friends there benefit from tourism.

This is one case where you might want to thank the politicians for playing favourites. Sai Thong has none of the crush of campers that Pa Hin Ngam gets when the tulips are in bloom.

Tucked peacefully away in Nong Bua Rawe district, Sai Thong National Park proffers one of country's best cliff-walking routes - especially at blossom time during June and July. The trail, apparently designed for an easy walk, covers three kilometres through four fields of Siam tulips and other wildflowers.

We set off from the car park and stride up to Ham Hod Cliff. The park is like a plateau rising from Chaiyaphum's plain. Below it the small town of Phakdi Chumphol grows even smaller as we ascend.

"In the winter a sea of fog usually blankets the whole valley," says the ranger. "Stand here at the fringe of the cliff and you feel like you're on the edge of the world. The town completely disappears."

We leave Pha Ham Hod to the enjoyment of a pair of young women camping there, both standing confidently at the lip of the cliff taking snapshots.

The path leads downward into the first field of tulips, but these buds already look brown and haggard, having gone ahead and bloomed earlier without waiting for us.

Midway to the second field the rain comes down, making everyone scramble for plastic bags to cover their digital cameras.

"How lucky you are - it hasn't rained here for a week!" the ranger jokes sarcastically. "You brought us rain!"

"You want luck?" replies a visitor. "Maybe we should stay for a week so you guys have enough water to last all summer!"

Unlike city-dwellers, of course, country people have a reason to be happy when it rains. The meadows and woodlands bow in thanks to each new downpour.

But our dusty path is now a muddy path, and every once in a while there is the hysterical laugh of a trekker who's taken a spin.

Half an hour later we arrive at the second field of wildflowers, a grassy slope layered in white Siam tulips.

 "The white tulips make this park unique," says our guide. "You won't find them in Pa Hin Ngam National Park - or anywhere else for that matter."

Butterflies flutter by as we admire the teeming ivory blossoms carpeting the green meadows. With cameras in hand we circle around, trying any odd angle for the winning shot.

"The best is yet to come," we're cautioned. "You'd better save your batteries."

The final leg of the path is a wonderful undulation among the rolling verdant hills. We're following our feet southward, past fields of cycads - the ancient plants that look like little palm trees - and odd-looking geological formations known as "robot rock".

Suddenly there is a huge patch of green meadow sweeping down the valley and then stretching out into the upland. Popping up everywhere over the grassy blades are thousands upon thousands of pink Siam tulips in big, beautiful bloom.

Immediately we're struck silent by the "pink power" before us, the wildflowers glowing against the vivid green.

"Are the flowers edible?" I ask the ranger. Embarrassing question, perhaps. How could I be thinking of dinner in such a setting? But the Siam tulip is actually a member of the ginger family. The young shoots of some species are tender and sweet and juicy with chilli dip.

"Well, not this type of tulip," he replies with a tone of relief. "If the plant were edible there would be nothing left to flower. The young shoots would find their way straight into everyone's kitchen."

We horse around among the gorgeous flowers for an hour. Most of the women among us find plenty of opportunities to pose with the blooms, almost wishing their beauty could be transfused.