This blog is written by Tom Morgan, MAG Regional Information Officer for South-east Asia.

"After this, I quit!" says my colleague Lin, and he is only half joking. He takes the Buddha image that hangs around his neck and raises it to the sky in silent prayer. Then he floors the accelerator.

The problem is that we can't see what is over the brow of the hill, but we need enough speed to get to the top. Worse yet, this dirt track is just a narrow ledge carved out of the mountainside. There is nothing to stop us sliding off the edge, and the bottom is a long, long way down. We are scared.

It is a relief to arrive at San Fen village where the MAG camp is based. It feels a bit like arriving at the top of the world. We can see for miles, and all the surrounding mountains seem to be lower than ours.

The camp is just a large canvas tent set up outside the village chief's office. It sits at the foot of a dusty village - thatched huts scattered over barren earth.

It is already midday so we need to move quickly. We say some quick hellos and set out through the village with Mr Deuane, a MAG technician, as our guide.

Muffled drums thud inside one hut. It is a funeral for a one-year-old child who died that morning. Another child died the day before, and it is not clear why.

Just metres away from the house, other children are carrying each other and laughing. Death is just part of life in remote parts of Lao PDR.

We walk along the path that connects the village with its neighbour, Phu Hin ('stone mountain') village, some four miles away.

Vast mountainsides stretch as far as the eye can see. Most are thickly forested but the scars of slash-and-burn agriculture are also visible.

Along the way we meet various groups of children. All carry baskets on their backs and are gathering something as they walk. We try to start a conversation with them, but Lao is their second language and they seem shy.

After an hour or so we reach the MAG team. They have just finished clearing the path we have walked on. It is to be widened into a road big enough for vehicles, to be built by MAG's development partner the World Food Programme.

Pany, one of MAG's Community Liaison staff who came to the village to plan the clearance work with the villagers, told me that they were very excited when she arrived. Every single person in the village - young and old - came to help her measure the track.

It is easy to understand their enthusiasm. They hope that the road will change their lives. It should make it easier for them to sell mushrooms or anything else they can find. It will also give them easier access to schools and clinics.

The MAG team has cleared land so that the road can be constructed in safety. The team prepares a demolition of a mortar shell, one of three items they have found.

They post a sentry at either end of the path, several hundred metres from where the item will be destroyed, to make sure no one will be around. Then two team members use megaphones to warn anyone nearby that there will be a demolition and they should keep out.

A withered old lady, bent with age, walks past. She doesn't seem to understand what is going on and one of the team members walks with her to make sure she is not in harm's way.

The firing cable is unwound and we retreat into the forest. The team leader presses the button. There is a forceful crack which I feel in my chest, then an eerie whoosh of air and dust. The sound of the blast ricochets around the surrounding valleys.

When it is time to leave, it is my turn at the wheel. I drive slowly and very cautiously, but at one point the car slides perilously close to the edge of the track. It is a strange moment - if the car is going to go over the edge, there is nothing I can do to stop it. But at the last moment fate intervenes and we straighten out.

"After this, I quit!" I say to Lin, and I am only half joking.

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