Route 6

Leaving Cambodia, it is 150 kms from Siem Reap to the Thai border at Krong Paoy Paet along ROUTE 6. We pack the bike and leave just after 9am for the 2.5 hour ride to the border. Well it took nearer to 5 hours. We saw it all.
The general aim if you are a very big truck or flashy luxury tour bus is to travel as fast as you can down the middle of the road, hooter blasting everyone else out of the way, and of course be as overloaded as you dare. Conversely if you are a small motorbike, the aim is to keep out of the way and stay alive. There are numerous 'no hooting' signs. We reach the border and get separated ( Rule no 2,broken). B is allowed through on the bike, total time 2 minutes. I stand in the queue as a passenger, total time 3 hours. B is allowed in with bottled water and relieves me of my back pack. It is very hot and there is standing only. When I emerge through the exit door he is nowhere to be seen. The vehicle exit and people exit are at least 500 metres away from each other. Rule no 4, "if you lose each other go back to where you were last together". I somehow persuade the Thai immigration officer to let me walk back through the vehicle arrival section and there is darling B patiently sitting. Where had I been for 3 hours?  Its now 5 pm,, only a few hours of daylight left and we want to get as far south as possible down the eastern edge of Thailand. There are many police checks and blocks as we ride parallel to the border. We eventually find a wonderful spa resort by sunset and send the experiences of ROUTE 6 to the memory bank.

Happy Smile Tiger Bar

"ICE COLD Chang beer, Singha beer, Tiger beer", B chants merrily as we stop at a traffic light and wait for the long 120 second count down before the mass of bikes surge off.  The locals look on in amusement and amazement, they've seen lots of interesting things happen with these 'farang' (non-Thai/western visitors). This particular happening is a large polystyrene picnic box bungee-strapped onto the front shopping basket of a worn out 135cc Tiger motocross look-a-like. And the rider is making a joke of selling his chilled boozy wares whilst baking in the heat at the very long stop. The traffic lights have convenient flashing numbers counting down in seconds until the green zero signals GO.  Sometimes there can be a burning hot wait of 120 seconds, so why not amuse the crowds with a bit of banter. The number gets to 3, 2, and everybody revs across before 1, zero, GO.
Our friends, P&S, from freezing France have arrived for a month's winter sun on the island of Phuket, and we have an exciting collection of places to show them and things to do.  Mixed in with fun in the sun are compulsory visits to the dentist and optician. The first few days are filled with renting a bike, sleeping away the jet lag, and warming up to Thai cuisine. The dental surgery we have been attending for the last 10 years is situated in the middle of the Island, so 30kms from the north (airport beach bungalow end) and about 34 kms from the South (snorkel beach bungalow end).
B and I are staying in a room-to-rent in a road off the airport beach that we have nicknamed Boom Boom Alley. The noise and the beat goes on until 4am, the stray men get drunk, the bar girls are sweet and the room is cheap. Before P&S arrived we had ridden around to lots of resorts to find suitable accommodation, alas either full or too expensive.  Then by chance, we meet up again with Boo, the previous manager of Paradise Bar in Boom Boom Alley. Her neighbour has a spare room , a few kms inland . So B and I follow Boo, up and along and around the houses, and have a wonderful surprise. We know the neighbour! We had met on several previous holidays through her brother, who ran a beach restaurant.  When the tsunami came he scaled a100 foot tree and hung on. To this day he still cannot comprehend how he climbed it. He had lost his restaurant then and now again when the military cleared the beaches of unlicensed traders. It was so good to meet up again. The room is comfortable, spacious, clean, and quiet. We have a place to stay, and P&S from freezing France have a place to stay.
It's Time to get on with the places to see, things to do and appointments with dentist and optician.
After 3 days of R&R at airport beach bungalows we move to snorkel beach bungalows at the South end of the Island. Our friend and her neighbour Boo have kindly agreed to look after all the extra winter gear whilst we go off exploring and travelling. To get to the South end of the Island, the bike ride is either a tortuous Ride along Cliff top roads for 60kms or straight down the middle, through the city centre and out the other side, with the dentist in the middle. We move our belongings from North to South, stopping off to make appointments. One month later we have done a total of 17 trips to the the dentist, optician and audiologist!  These were combined with outings to the beach, celebrating Chinese New year, strolling up the infamous Soi Bangla, dancing the night away at a go-go girl disco, exploring the old city of phuket town, wandering around temples and markets, shopping and eating out. All four of us now have happy smiles, clear vision and B no longer accuses us of mumbling 'cos he can now hear. Our combined average age is 67 years and some parts are wearing out.
We have booked into the snorkel beach bungalows for 14 days and awake each morning to the sound of the waves which are 10 metres from the front door at high tide and as far as 40 metres away at low tide. We sit on the stoep, read, sketch&paint, watch the waves, swim&snorkel, and devise a plan to make beer o'clock easier on the pocket. What about a coolbox with ice someone suggests? Good idea. It's a hot bike ride to the supermarket through winding roads and busy streets filled with open air restaurants, bars, stalls, art galleries and traffic. We buy a sturdy polystyrene cool box and bungee it on to the front basket of the Tiger bike.  TIGER BAR is born.  It is stocked with beer, thai whisky, tins of ice coffee, bottled water and ice. We off load and now relax on the stoep without spending too much of our diminishing baht. A beer at the bar costs 160baht, a beer from the supermarket is only 33baht. 50 baht equals 1 british pound. And so in between visits to the dentist, optician and audiologist we also detour into the supermarket for liquid provisions and the local ice delivery driveway. The timing of the ice buying is quite critical. A 10kg plastic bag strapped onto the front basket melts ever so fast on the 5kms ride back to the bungalow through the village and around the cliff tops, giving B and me a ice cold water splash as we ride along.

There's a 4 day gap between appointments so we decide to ride off the Island, heading North towards Khao Lak and the Similan Islands. TIGER BAR comes too, as we pack up and say goodbye to snorkel beach bungalows.  TIGER BAR also contains fresh bread, peanut butter and fresh paw-paw slices. The 100kms ride up the coast was packed with events. In search of accomodation the GPS on our phone took us down a strange plantation road directly to the sea, so before we retraced our route Tiger bar was opened for a picnic and refreshments.  Back on the main road we followed a twisty route, passing a turtle conservation facility where we saw these pretty creatures being bred for an annual release back into the sea. It was hot and we were thirsty, thank you Tiger bar. Another Cul-de-sac! Will we ever get to Khao Lak. We followed a shortcut road through busy streets and were halted by a colourful procession of Chinese/Thai, bearing treasures on high platforms and lighting firecrackers . The smoke and noise and excitement roused the crowd, what a lucky detour. We just missed a bright orange snake as it coiled and slithered across the road. And there in the distance was a large monitor lizard, also trying to avoid being roadkill.

As dusk  approaches we find a hotel, opposite a market and a beach. After such a long eventful day there's still time for a swim and sundowners. Tiger bar sure came in handy and is now ready for restocking.  We have booked a speedboat trip with Island snorkelling for the next day. No turtles in their natural habitat were spotted, but plenty of other delightful water world creatures were seen and photographed. The next dental appointment was looming, so after a few days exploring around Khao Lak it was time to head south again.
Tiger bar was stocked with provisions for the journey back to airport beach bungalows. We took the inland route high up and over the Phang-Nga ranges, through banana plantations and jungle vegetation, stopping every few hours to rest legs, refuel the bikes and quench our thirst. B is chuffed to discover that the Tiger bar adds weight to the front wheel making the bike handle better. (A counter balance to me, I suppose!).
 By now Tiger bar is as battered and worn out as Tiger bike. The bungee straps have scored deep grooves in the polystyrene lid. The front basket bolt has sheared, gaffer tape has been replaced by a new bolt and the outside of the once-white box sports dusty trails dotted with unlucky miggies. We made it home in time to clean up, unpack and head off to the dentist again.

For some reason most of our appointments were after 6pm and they were nearly always more than 2 hours long as the four of us were seen in turn. The ride there was at dusk, the ride back in the dark. We always seem to dose off at the dentist: was it the result of a busy fun day or was the delicious ice cold fresh fruit cooldrink laced with a calmative ingredient? Anyway the power nap meant we enjoyed the 30kms ride home in the dark, stopping en route for a bite at one of the many Thai restaurants. 

P&S from freezing France are now warm, relaxed and have completed all the dental and eye checks. They leave tomorrow and catch a lift with Boo to the airport. She is 8 months pregnant and rides her 125cc chariot, consisting of a fixed side car made out of reinforcing rods in great style, cowboy hat perched atop for shade to complete the image. 

We say goodbye and then pack up our belongings and head back down the island for a last few days at snorkel beach bungalow. Tiger bar's use is nearly over and and Tiger bike needs to be stripped, packed away in cling film/food wrap for next year's adventure.

Cambodian Landmine Museum and Village

Sad, very sad. We sure learnt a lot about the 60's & 70's in South east Asia. Television came to South Africa in 1975, so there was only radio to communicate about world affairs. No fb, u-tube or mobile phones. We were aware, but it was the other side of the world. In the 80's & 90's, we became more world wise, with Internet and TV, but we didn't really know what was happening.  Today we learnt what happened and how landmines and UXO's (unexploded ordnance) still disable thousands of people worldwide. It's terrible. This museum and village offers a home to  injured children, where they receive education, medical care and social rehabilitation. We hope our 10 dollar ticket helps a bit towards their plight and the brave people who clear landmine sites. The innovative home made armaments and bamboo pipe bombs, produced by the KhymerRouge, created horrific injuries to humans and beasts. No offroad riding, here.
We were on our way from the north east Thai/Cambodian border, heading to SiemReap. The day before we had ridden from KhongChiam, starting on big roads, riding as the crow flies, in a straightish path, the roads getting smaller and less well maintained.  It's getting near 4pm, time to start looking for a place to stayover. We see a handpainted sign, NatureHugArtCamp. Mmmm, this looks promising. We turn up the dirt road and meet two little girls aboard a scooter. Sleeping? We gesture.  They do a swift u-turn, waving follow us. 3kms later, through a rubber tree plantation we enter what looked like the workers' camp. Mmmm, not so promising after all. The head worker comes out, signals we must wait for the boss to give permission. We signal back, point to sun, point to watch and head off back down through the plantation to the tarmac road.
Rule number 3: NO ISOLATION, NO SEPARATION.
We need to get a move on, there only 2 hours before dark, the roads are getting worse. The potholes start appearing and B starts his Body English, aka 'Reading the Road'. This means moving your body weight to miss objects.  In his competition days, B was known as the untidiest Enduro Rider. Most Enduro riders stand on the pegs to manoeuvre  their bikes, B sits. He throws his body to the right and kicks legs left to add more counterbalance, when he needs the bike to veer right and visa versa. I sit straight upright in the middle like little miss Prim. At some point B laments, "I  wish this bike was a scrambler,  then with hard tyres we could ride over the top of the holes." Me, I 'm happy to Dawdle and Dodge, even with bum bones taking a pounding. He explains about tyre pressure and punctures. Its always a balance: on rough rocky terrain one needs to increase the tyre pressure to prevent punctures, but you lose grip. On sandy tracks, one tends to lower the pressure, but then can get caught out by a hidden stone that will puncture. Punctures cost valuable time in a competition and crunch knuckles.
We stop at a traffic light about 19kms from the border and do the 'sleeping? gesture ' to the man on a scooter alongside. He nods.  Nonchalantly whilst smoking, he carries on riding down the main road, we follow. The road turns into a construction site, earth moving machines on one side, cars and bike going both directions muddled up on the other side. Then he veers off down the newly laid concrete slab section, ah, this is better, bikes only here. Just before 6pm, fag number 5, we come to some bungalows, we wave goodbye.
Whoever / wherever you are, nice man, thank you.
Keen to reach the border we awake early in the morning and share our very ripe paw-paw with some guinea fowl. We always try to carry at least some padkos (picnic food), usually peanut butter sandwiches prepared before we set off.
The border crossing is easy. On enquiring about currency, the official states in order of importance,  "we take Dollar, Euro, Thai baht and Cambodian kip." Anything goes.
We start off on the one and only road to SiemReap, doing more Body English. Slowprogress and the road is rather isolated. We are quite relieved when we spot a roadside cafe, where we stop for coffee and noodle soup lunch. Never mind there are chickens scratching at our feet under the table. A shifty eyed bloke starts a conversation, maybe he's being friendly, but we don't feel comfortable. Bowing politely, we retreat onto the bike. Eventually we arrive at a temple site, bus after bus pull into the parking area. Three cute little girls, about 6 years old, start to hassle, one dollar, one postcard. We had received a leaflet of rules before entering Laos,  which included 'Do not give money to children, it encourage begging'. We applied the same here in Cambodia.
I enquired about a ticket to see the temple. No, we need to buy ticket at AngkorWat,  20 km away, group tour only. Really? We tootled off down the road, lined with stalls all identical. Rows of palm sugar candy, then rows of hats, then rows of beautiful identical cloths. No free enterprise here. We found this throughout the small corner of Cambodia that we visited, perhaps it is all like this. We don't know, we didn't fancy staying to find out. We drove around AngkorWat, not bothering to get in a group tour with zillions of viewers. It's big, it's impressive, but no magic here for us. We land up in SiemReap  and struggle to find a room within our budget( up to 12GBP per night per room) settling instead for a guest house at double our normal price. Peanut butter sandwiches for supper. Our impression is that there is a Master/Servant type system. The Very Rich, as in tour companies, big buses, etc and very poor, as in locals earning very little. We couldn't seem to find a middle class, free enterprise, self promotion. Come on guys, Communism and Colonialism are like grit in your eyes,  get rid of it! Start your own business.
Not too many smiling, friendly faces, either. Perhaps they are all still very sad.

WELCOME TO THAILAND

It's taken 26 days of fun and adventure to get to Phuket. Our route took us east from KhonKaen, to Mukdahan, then followed the border with Laos  alongside the Mekhong River, staying over at KhongChiam. We crossed into Laos at ChongMek and went south to the Laos / Cambodia border exploring around the 4000 island area for a few days. Having failed to cross into Cambodia via the Laos route, back to KhongChiam, then headed south west to the Thai/Cambodia border at Choam. We cut through the north west corner of Cambodia straight down to SiemReap and directly West again along highway 6. Then directly south along the border down to KohChang.  After a few days of R&R, it was time to move again to catch the train in Bangkok, which would take us to SuratThani. From there a 5 hour ride to NaiYang beach on the island of Phuket .
The coastroad from Koh Chang was easy and pleasant, stopping along the way at various beaches for eating and drinks. We found an enchanting boutique-by-the-sea for the night. Rose patterned curtains, complimentary gowns and towelling slippers, little positive messages of friendship, love and family stuck up on bathroom walls and up the stairs. The visitors' book was a pile of sketch pads, in which previous guests had drawn some meaningful pictures. Quite delightful. I photographed a few pages. Everybody seemed to glide around as they whispered and smiled at each other, and breakfast was included for the grand sum of £17. No need to pitch our pop-up tent in this place. It was spotless. We did still however fumigate the room with Baygon, before we went out for dinner. A delicious bowl of TomYamPrawn overlooking the sea.
We had looked up the train timetable on the Internet and knew we wanted a 1st class cabin, so that the train in effect became accommodation for one night. A 1st class cabin costs about £20 and is a double bunk private compartment, with aircon and washbasin. There is a train every hour but only the 15h30, 17h30 and 19h30 had 1st class carriage. As our headlamps are still rubbish, we decided to give the 15h30 a miss as it arrives at SuratThani at 1 am. So we took it easy to arrive for the 17h30, 200kms, 5hours. A 9am start, easy do it. Unless you get caught in a cloud burst in the middle of Bangkok, with flooding,  and oil slick roads turning into a skating rink. The cars were making waves and the water levels rose rapidly, blocked drains are a feature of Bangkok.We pulled up for cover conveniently at lunchtime outside a Chinese restaurant, motorbike parked in their reception area out of the torrential downpour.
2 hours later, the sun came out and dried up all the rain. Still easy does it after the 2 hour delay, we're almost there, Google maps says 21 minutes. But that's if you are a car and can go on the motorway. We had already been 'guided' by the highway patrol off a motorway at the Toll. We had seen a sign 60kms before the Toll, red circle with motorbike picture with red line through it. We chose to ignore it. So this 21 minutes, stretched to 3 hours as we wiggled through the backroads of Bangkok, getting stopped at all the Tolls, Definitely No Motorbikes. As a car, the navigator wanted us to get on the Toll road, so we changed to being a bicycle. And we landed up at a dead end in front of the very wide Chao Phraya River. A few puzzled words later we calmed down as motorbike after motorbike overtook us up the pavement and disappeared left. We followed. How lucky, a ferry boat to cross the river, 10 baht, 20p. Wow, we'll be at the train station soon. Oh no you won't. This river is like the Thames, it has a big loop, which means you need to cross it about 4 times. We had landed up inside the loop, the train station was outside the loop. It was a timewarp,  we thought we had stepped back in time at least 100 years.  Just like the country folk from yesteryear, chickens, pigs all over the road. In the near distance skyscrapers and sky train filled the horizon, yet here we were in the heart of Bangkok. As a bicycle the route took us away from the Tolls, but much longer. We got to the station at 17h00. Rush to ticket office, timetable has changed, there's now only one train leaving at 18h30, so we have a bit more time.
"Two 1st class tickets, please."
"Sorry, no have 1st class,  no have sleeper, only seat. Wait till Monday."
As it's Saturday this isn't really an option. I ask at another counter, rephrasing my words. "One Sleeper, please"
"Yes, ok"
"Another sleeper, please"
"No have, only seat "
That's OK, we now have one sleeper and one seat and a place for the bike.
Is 6pm, we made it, just.
A relaxing 12hour train journey followed, with B and I taking turns on the sleeper bed, until everybody was asleep, the conductors had checked tickets, then we squeezed in together. The sleeper carriage has rows of double bunks, plastic packaged clean sheets and pillows, all tucked behind shiny taffeta pleated curtains, gently blown by the overhead  fans.  Once you're behind the curtain it's private.
Dawn arrived, we went back to the Seats carriage. The ride to Naiyang beach up and over the weird shaped mountains of PhagnNga was one we have done at least 7 times before. We spotted 3 black/white/red beaked king fishers perched on overhead cables, herons and a crane.
We chose Naiyang beach as it is conveniently only 2kms from the international airport, it is beautiful and we are meeting friends arriving at the airport from the UK in 2 days. In one year since our last trip here, it had changed almost beyond recognition. The rows of sea side bars, restaurants , beach umbrellas and deck chairs ALL GONE. Just one big sweeping bay of white sand and blue sea. What had happened? In a bid to halt corruption and unlicensed businesses, and to protect the marine status of the coastline, under military rule the army had moved in and cleared the lot. We hoped our cheap 'room to rent' was still there in Boom Boom Alley. It was, under new management. Last year's owner, Boo, rode passed. Hello, we called.  Greetings all round. " We have friends arriving tomorrow,  we are looking for a quiet room, no boom boom. "
OK, she will look and ask around.  Sure enough a few hours later, she returns to say her neighbour has a room, would we like to look.
We follow her away from the beach to a lovely quiet rather posh Thai suburb, go up the stairs, respectably greet the Thai way, called a 'nop'. And get a lovely surprise, it is the sister of a set of family with whom we had made friends in 2002, and kept in touch with by staying at their bamboobungalows on the beach and dining at their restaurant over the last 10 years on repeat visits. What a wonderful reunion,  as their place on the beach had too been flattened. She explained that her family had been on the beach for as many generations that she could remember, and you didn't get papers then. Her brother G had miraculously escaped the Tsunami by skimming 100 feet up a tree, he looks at the tree every day and wonders how he did it. The family has now bought land to re build their restaurant and they are using the surrounding 4 acres to grow all the vegetables, supplying both their own and others' tables. The Thai people in general are amazing at surviving and adapting. No-One can take this away now, they have the papers. We have a Boom Boom room for us, a quiet room for our friends, we've been re united with old friends, and now it's time to go to the airport.
They are here, hugs and kisses. WELCOME TO THAILAND.

William Never Eats Sweets

West, North, East, South.  Reading from left to right, with North at the top. William Never Eats Sweets. That's how I navigate. In the northern hemisphere, the sun is on my left in the morning, right in the afternoon as we travel south. This system fails a bit at midday and nighttime.
We get to UbonR and there are lots of traffic lights and crossings. Its midday. "Which way," B calls. " Not sure, go straight," I shout back through the visor. I twist sideways to get the map out from under the bungee on the pannier, then in the breeze unfold it, turn it around so that the map points the same way we are going. (I am a girl, after all). The shadows re-appear, midday had passed. I tap B, " Turn around, we should have gone left."
Some maps are better than others. If the map doesn't show the road we are on, then we use Maps.Me. This works without wifi, just gps location. However it is quite important to download the map of the country you are visiting, before you get there, when you are in a wifi area of the country before. We forgot to do this in Cambodia. Our map shows only main roads, where were we? So then we go to Google maps. Oh, there is only one road. This is it. This is the main road. We bounce on, missing potholes, slowly, slowly from the Thai/Cambodia post at Choam.  We had gone through the Thai side, no problem, no lecture. The very nice young officer produced an A4 pad, labelled Tesco, Power of Attorney Form, in English and Thai.  He tore off a sheet to use for next time, and willingly accepted the photo letter of which we had a lot of copies. Walk with the bike to the other side, this time with lots of carts bearing lots of goods.  Fruit, sweetpotatoes, melons,  personal possessions, it was not an International Border crossing. We were treated like royalty, seated at a separate bench and table under a tarpaulin.  First the customs officer came over, then the immigration man, we handed over some dollars, got stamped and set off. Down the one and only road.
En route from Khlong Hat, where we had enjoyed a stay in a very respectacle bungalow in a litchie plantation, we set off south towards Koh Chang. Fortunately, there were Army/Police checkpoints at regular intervals as we were riding along the length of the Thai/ Cambodia  border which is under dispute. We asked directions. Too many roads to choose from.  Midday, again. I spotted a sign, oops, we were going in the opposite direction, just a minor 20kms detour. Never mind, we have 8 days to get to Phuket.
After a ferry crossing on a rather rusty barge we get here, it's beautiful, the gentle sea is lapping less than 5 metres away, we are in a bungalow on concrete legs. Surrounded by coconut palms.
And that's it. William Never Eats Sweets. Navigation in a coconut shell.

I'm Right Behind You

The life of a pillion is not a passive one. We needed to do 275kms within 5 hours. The bike can cruise between 60-70kms per hour, however livestock, traffic, fuel stops and leg stretches get in the way. After reviving ourselves with a midmorning coffee at Nakabhouli Hotel the ride was on. We had half a tank of fuel, so would be filling up again within 50 km. The tank holds 3.5 litres, which does about 100 - 120 kms, so the first bit was comfortable.
I love fuel stops. They give me a chance to ease myself off the bike, straighten my knees, do a few star jumps, update My Tracks with a marker /photo, pay the attendant then jump back on, give a squeeze, and off we go.
Different squeezes mean different things. I can squeeze with my hands,  arms, or thighs. Full arm squeezes, under armpits and around the tummy mean ' I am having a wonderful time, the world is great and things are good'. Hand squeezes at waist level signify ' I am getting a bit anxious, there's too many hazards, take it easy, I cannot see what's happening'. I can only look left or right, front-on is blocked by a helmet. I cannot see the road surface and need B to warn me about bumps or potholes. If I lean to far out and peer over his shoulder my back is twisted. I am constantly adjusting my vision whilst keeping my position stable. Big thigh squeezes have their own meaning, too. One big squeeze,  together with a left or right finger point signifies there's something interesting to look at over there. Two short brisk squeezes, 'did you see it? '. A thumbs up confirms he did. When B sees something to talk about he waves his hand in the general direction, up there, over there, far away, on the ground, wiggles like a snake, flaps like a bird, rolling hills, beautiful landscape.  I give three thigh squeezes in acknowledgment. A TIGHT LONG SQUEEZE = DANGER, SLOW, STOP. Actually, it's a bit like a back seat driver putting on the brakes. 
When B leans forward, there's a bump coming up.  I lean forward in tandem to miss the shock wave. If he stays forward so do I. When he wiggles his back ii is time for a massage, so thumbs and fingers do their thing up and down his spine.  We do shoulder raises and drops, together in harmony. He stands up on the pedals, I flap-pat his bum cheeks with the back of my hand. When he sits down, I stand up on my pedals and do a few clenches. I do ankle flex and extend. His throttle arm gets tired, I lean through under the right armpit and take over for a while so he can stretch his fingers.
Another 100kms has gone by. " My knees are bursting, " I shout into the wind. "Another 20 k's"  the wind blows B's voice back.
We fill up again, relief to stand and straighten, then get to the Laos/Thai border. Stamp out, stamp in, export papers retrieved, bike imported in, 10 minutes. We made it by 4pm.
A cruise into town by 5h30,  just before sunset (our headlamps are still pathetic). Brioche all gone.
Same again tomorrow?  Anytime, I'm right behind you.
STATS:
Moving speed was 47kms per hour. Average speed over whole trip was 34 kms p/h. Maximum speed peaked at 71 kms p/h.

All before 11 am

The title should read Ferry, Fall, Failure, Flat and Fun before 11am, but that's a bit long.
My husband, B, is on a mission.  His chin is strapped into his helmet. Nothing is going to stop him. His stamina is unchallenged. He pushes on, advancing by cunning riding, at the front. Gaining kilometres steadily and surely, always on the lookout for the next gap, the next opportunity to be the winner. This is what won him endurance races in the Kalahari and Winter Berg. This is what is going to get us back to Thailand before the border closes. I once asked him "What do you think about when you are riding?" His answer,  "The next move. "
We had enjoyed a few relaxing days riding around Khong island and Don Det, one of the 4000 islands in southern Laos. We had watched the sunset over the Mekhong, and as we slept, the earth carried on spinning to present us with a glorious 6am sunrise through the bungalow window. We had found the shallow waters of the special Irawaddy dolphins, and enjoyed the boat ferrytrip. It was time to leave and Dawn woke us up.  Packed, fruit salad and coffee we headed to the sandy beach, which was the bikeferry stop.
F is for Ferry
7am, shouldn't be long to wait.  We watched a bustle of Japanese arrive on their super sleek off road bicycles, to spend the next hour unclipping them, folding them into zipped bags, lined with cardboard. When the passenger canoe arrived they neatly carried them onboard and settled in for the10 minute boat trip. Various groups of young things in unsuitable flipflops slid down the ramp  and waited in the sand. A chattering band of Chinese arrived with smart wheelie suitcases slipped down the ramp and carrying their bags on their heads, got onto the dugout canoe. We waited for the bike ferry. The bike ferry is two dugout canoes tied together with a platform, holding up to 3 motorbikes. We waited. Our motorbike was first in the queue. Other bikes arrived, they were going to a different island, their boat came and went. We waited, the fullness of the fruit salad had worn off. B needs feeding at regular intervals, especially bread. The shop opposite sold lovely brioche rolls, 10 for a pound. We scoffed a few. Another bike pulled up, chatty Slovak from USA on a Vietnamese registered bike. Time for tea, to wash down the bread. Two charming Canadians, with the crispest, cleanest, pressed shirts arrived on their 300$ cycles.  More chatting.  Hurrah, 9am, here is the ferry.  We eagerly line up to ride on. "No jumping" the boatman calls as B bounces up the ramp and onto the deck.  Money was handed over and the tiny Honda putt putt motor took us across the mighty Mekhong.
F is for Fall.
First on, first off, B put the Tiger into gear.  At the moment B pulled off from the deck a local decided to chase the buffalo away from her fishing patch. They frolicked in the water and then leaped excitedly in his path. The route from the ferry to the road was a 20 metre steep hill climb up a wooden slat ramp, built on a sandy embankment.  He headed up in 1st gear, easing it up to the steeper bit at the top. As he got to the top he saw a toddler running into the road towards him.  He made his move.   He put the bike down on its side, missing the child, but jamming himself underneath.  The mum scooped up the baby, the locals scooped up the bike. I ran up the ramp and scooped up B. A bit shaken and a torn shirt. The Slovak and Canadians were following quickly after.  Due concern was given all round. The headman came over and shook B's hand dusted him off very apologetically, giving the mother a scolding glance. 
F is for Fail.
The aim was to cross the Laos/Cambodia border. It was a short 70kms pleasant ride, together with Slovak friend. When we got to the border the laos officials told us to leave the bike, walk to Cambodia customs and if they allowed us to go in, then so would the Laos officials. So we were in Cambodia for 10 minutes without the bike.  The very nice young officer refused us entry because we didn't have the correct papers from head office in Pnohm Phen. Even my very best sad face was not persuasive enough.  We turned around and walked back to Laos, knowing that we now had a 600km journey to get back up to chongmek, then around the south east corner of Thailand and try and cross at the Thai/Cambodia border.  Our Slovak friend tried a little harder, sitting on the pavement, making a stand, pulling out some extra money. No luck. He walked back a bit more dejected as he had a 800 km detour all the way to Vietnam. We started the long trip back up to chongmek, a mere 275kms away.
F is for Flat.
10am . We scoffed more bread rolls and headed north. Ooops, a wobbly wheel one hour up the road, in the middle of nowhere. Hopping off, we knew there might be a long push ahead to find a repair shop.  Less than half a kilometre, we found a bush garage, willing to patch the puncture for less than a pound. He did it like a bicycle wheel, using tyre levers he pulled the tube out while the wheel was still in place. The homemade valconising kit consisted of an inverted domestic iron, held in a screw clamp, welded with welding rods. The temperature was tested during the valconising   process by flicking water on his contraption. Enough steam = enough heat, therefore time to unplug the power source. Back on the road, we drove passed the nakabhouli hotel where we had stayed a few nights previously.  As it was 11am, we pulled in for coffee.
All caffeined up, we hit the road, stopping only for fuel and bread scoffing. We got to the border by 4pm,  filled in forms, entered Thailand and headed for the happy town of Khong Chiam. We love it so much we just cannot stay away.
F is for Fun, ' cos that's what it is. 

100%, SIR, 100%

Having already established that Thai Immigration would OK our entry , if Thai Customs would also OK it, we confidently entered the interview office. And then we got the lecture. We stood, while the officer sat. The stamp was not right, the paperwork was not right, we were very lucky, he was being lenient,  next time do this, next time do that, and more. We patiently stood and nodded humbly at appropriate times. We were sent to another office to get passports photocopied. And then in the small interview room, these were stapled together with other papers. The departures forms were stapled. The stapler was working overtime. No hurry, we have 14 days to get to Phuket. At last it seemed like the paper stapling activity was nearing the end.
"OK, can we go now?", we asked. "No, " he replied "One more question. How well did you understand my English?"
We loudly chorused together, " 100%, Sir, 100%."
He was really chuffed, and with a broad smile he said "Now you can go. "
We calmly walked out of the hot, cramped cubicle, slowly walked to customs, picked up the export papers, sedately climbed aboard the bike and rode into no-man's land, and then burst out laughing with relief. We were out of Thailand, almost in Laos.
The tarmac ended.  The road along no-mans land was a chaotic 1km dusty ride.  In Thailand traffic drives on the left side of the road, in Laos on the right. The first 500 metres from each end are the same as the country you departed. It is in the middle that it gets interesting as the drivers start to move over to the country they are entering, so that when you arrive at the gates you are on the correct side.
A big building with lots of table height cut out perspex windows awaited us, we parked with all the other bikes in front of a no-parking sign. There was a bus load of silver haired Germans and young French professional types, hovering in front of window 3. For the locals, it is easy, they just squat to get to chin height so they can peer in and communicate with the voice through the window. Us foreigners, being at least a foot taller have to perform a weird 3- bend zig zag shape. We were directed to window 5, handed in our passports and blow me down with a feather, got another long lecture about the condition of our passports. Why were some stamps blurred? Sorry, sir, I put them in the washing machine by mistake , (a hectic trip from Malaysia on Chinese new year, 4 years ago,  overwrought and overtired to remember everything). "These staples are no good, they will break my rubber  stamp." He proceeded to remove all the staples with a serious hook thing. He then told us to tell  the Thai authorities next time to stamp the passport consecutively in the book,  and not waste pages. Would we dare, I don't think so.
B and I took it in turns to do the eye contact bendy dance while we nodded in agreement at the poor condition of our passports. Then we were handed 3 papers each to fill in. Reading the heading which clearly stated 'legible capital letters', I wrote in my best block lettering. NO way we're we going to get another reprimand.  Two a day is more than I can cope with. It took ages to fill in 6 pieces of paper. Johnny from Sweden plonked himself down alongside, borrowed my pen, scribbled something totally unreadable, was off,  out,  over the border, had his Beer and was back again with his new 30 day visa almost before we had finished our form filling.  He does this every 30 days, until they send him back to Sweden.
We paid, we got through customs, we got insurance, got a simcard.
We were through and on our way to Pakse, for a beer and lunch.

Seen any lions today, dear

When I was a child living in Africa we used to go camping in the bush. This was before the days of gates, fences and gamepark regulations. My dad would load up the car with tarpaulin, rope and provisions. The animal sounds of grunts, snorts and roars would sing us to sleep. On my 9th birthday I got a Kodak Brownie camera. I still have in my treasure box a 3inch square format black and white photo of two majestic male lions, black manes framing their fine features. Wherever we go travelling now, we play a game called 'spot the Lion'. In Europe the Lion is usually a statue on a gatepost.
On our Thai Tiger motorbike we rode from Khongchiam to the Laos border then down south to the Cambodian border. Over the 4 day trip the terrain changed from green rice paddy fields to dry  savanna interspersed with scrubland and dense bush/thickets/tall trees. It became almost African-like. We started to play 'spot the Lion' . We saw a lush green topiary giraffe and a miniature concrete sculpture elephant, but no lion. There was a white and black striped plastic wrap around a wooden frame resembling a zebra.  The wet wallowing water buffalo became hippos and the dry grazing water buffalo became rhinos. But still no lion. The roaming piggies became warthogs. Free range cows and goats stayed as they were because that's what they are in Africa too. The slinking dogs wandering across the road and along the embankments became hyenas. But still no lions.
We reached the end of the road at 4000 islands, in time for the sunset. Photographing the sun setting over the river prompted me to ask B, " is this the Mekhong, Limpopo, or Zambesi River?".
"Not sure", he replied as the beers arrived. I looked up from my camera lens to see a printed magnificent charcoal drawing of a lion emblazoned on the busty T-shirt in front of me. For a brief moment we were back in Africa, we have seen our lion.
Thank you, waitress, you made our day.

Stamp? What stamp?

When we started our travelling, more than 10 years ago, we had a map and paper and pencil. Now we have a kit bag full of gadget stuff.
There is a go pro hero 3 attached to the front bar of the motorbike. This can be manually switched on/off  as we ride along. Or from the  pillion seat I can do the switching via our old android mobile phone connecting it to the wifi setting on the camera. When we go underwater the go pro is attached to our walking pole, the same one we use to fend off the snapping dogs. The go pro stores the photos/videos on a 16Gb micro sd, of which we have a few.
We have an note 3 phone which automatically uploads the photos I take on my wristwatch gear via bluetooth. The Gear is specific to the Note 3 and runs a 15sec video, with automatic stop. There are lots of other things it does, when attached to the phone, including receiving email notifications, sending and receiving phone calls. Quite useful when we are riding and the helmets are on.  The Note 3 android phone lives under the seat, recording our journey on mytracks, via gps location. We leave the French simcard in this phone. There is no shortage of wifi connections at cafes, motels and corner shops and we have mobile data if needed, mid route for Google maps navigation. We do have local maps and meet a chap from Slovakia  who introduced us to maps.me, really good and doesnot need wifi  after downloading maps of the current country.
We also carry a galaxy tab 4, into which we insert the mlsim card of the current country, for emergency calls.  The tab 4 doubles up as my sketch pad with various art apps. The bigger screen also is easier for writing and viewing photos. All photos are uploaded to a common site via cloud technology, when we are in a wifi zone.
We have Skype to talk to family and friends, Facebook to keep in touch and this blog.
Of course all these things need charging.  We carry a battery backup in case all else fails and this is kept fully charged via the cigarette lighter/car charger plug under the seat in a little boot compartment. In this boot we carry a hip flask bottle of whisky ( medicinal and nightcap necessity), plus rags, one spanner to adust the auto clutch and one screwdriver. The USB cigarette lighter adapter has two ports so we can multicharge as we go along. We have Thai USB plugs for charging in the rooms.
Fortunately most charging are USB one end and standard fitting the other end so two cables work on everything. We put these gadget things to good use everyday, but even more so when we got to the Thai/Laos border.
A foreigner teacher, living in Thailand, who had recently been to Cambodia advised us to carry spare passport photocopies and at least three passport photographs. Riding up and down  khongchiam high street and signalling in signlanguage what we wanted, we found a shop that did both copies and photos. Yeah.
Photocopies were easy. Passport photos were interesting. We were positioned in a dark non-reflective glass cubicle studio behind two photographic umbrella reflectors, against a bright blue or white sheet. We chose a white backdrop. Photos were taken on a compact camera, steadied on a tripod. B was a bit tall for the standard height so the tripod was lifted off the floor. The sd  card was removed and inserted into a computer, and Adobe photo shop opened. The photographer proceed to crop, magic wand, cut, paste, blur, clone and blend. He didn't  quite understand when I asked him to remove my scraggy neck and lipstick run lines. One hour later we had passport photos. Not exactly how we expected as it seemed to be mostly jackets with a small head on top. We  accepted them anyway after all that effort.
Having gathered all our papers/photos,etc in one new sturdy bubble envelope we setoffortheborder, waving goodbye to the mechanic and the happy town of khongchiam. One hour later we parked at immigration and stood with bended knees in front of the low window. A nice smiling officer came out and looked at the bike and asked us for the stamp. What stamp? The stamp that gives us permission from the Thai owner to take the motorbike out of the country. As foreigners we don't own the bike, even though we paid for it, it is actually owned by the sister-in-law in our Thai extended family. Oh dear, we don't have the stamp. Even my best sad face didn't work. Hello again to khongchiam for another night. Hierdie boere het n plan gemaak. (Translated= these south Africans made a plan).
Using note 3, previously mentioned, we emailed said brother-in-law, married to Thai wife, who are no longer in Thailand but gone home to Wales. Please, a letter in thai with I D,  to be scanned and emailed back to us. 7 hours time difference meant we had to wait till they woke up to get the message. This was duly done, thank you. Then back to photocopy shop. We then forwarded this email, which was in fact a photo, to the Thai shop owners email address, who then printed it out, x3,  on their photographic paper. Thank you.
Too late to go back to the border, so another night in khongchiam.
Overnight we re-assessed the passport photo situation and decided that they needed to be more head and less jacket. Back to photocopy shop. Closed.
The pharmacist was very helpful, and after stocking up with antifungal, antibacterial , antimosquito and anti-everythingelse lotions we were told about another photocopy shop. Also closed. The cafe next door knew about a studio in the video/computer  shop, and we followed a young lad down a side street.  While he played computer games we did the photo shoot thing again. This time blue background, big head, crop to collar bone level,  x3. Good. Time to go to the border.
En route, we passed a blond curly ponytail blowing under a helmet on a local bike and waved to a fellow foreigner. Johnny from Sweden was also on his way to the border to cross over, have a beer and renew his visa. He informed us that the Thai are sticklers  for paperwork. This time we are super-prepared.
A different immigration officer asks for the stamp. We grinningly produced the permission photoletter,printed as a photo . Mutter, mutter, he will speak to his boss, who says it's OK, but only if customs say it's OK.  There are two sections to all border crossings,  immigration and customs. We had passed the immigration test. We walked through the gate, leaving bike on the other side, to the customs window and handed in the permission photoletter. Clutching it delicately he then walked back to immigration where a brief discussion took place. Oh dear, what now. Smiles all round, we passed. So now we walked back and we're invited into the immigration room to be interviewed. Johnny was right behind us.
Thank you digital world.

For the mechanically minded

It's all about the Bike, The Bike, The Bike

3 Stones on a Mountain

There's a long road to cover between Khon Kaen and Mukdahan. We do a bit of Google search and read about a dinosaurs park at Kalasin. OK, let's go there. It's on a back road, off the main route. Soon some huge concrete dinosaurs loom into view. Impressive, man made structures. We carry on and come to dinosaur museum.
RULE 1: NO SPENDING. Our miniscule budget only includes spending on bike, fuel, food and rooms. NO SHOPPING, NO TRIPS, NO MUSEUMS, unless they are free. We look at the concrete imprints of dinosaur footprints in the car park, and ride on. Mmmmm, disappointing. And then we see a blue sign in Thai, with an arrow right. Blue signs generally mean tourist attraction.
It's a rock plateau, not granite, not volcanic, but flat and ideal for off-road. We reach the end and there in front silhouetted in the setting sun is a monumentous natural twin sandstone pillar, upon which precariously balanced are two gigantic granite rocks.  We stop in awe. "This is the place for dinosaur footprints, " I announce as I dismount and march off.   It is magical. Many people before us have laid many cairns. Many people before us have placed delicate vertical sticks under the rocks, as if propping them up. We spend over an hour exploring.  We listen in the quiet to ancient voices.  I place 3 pretty stones on a cairn.
Thailand is full of National Parks. They are not expensive, 4 GBP, and if there is one in the area, we can stretch our budget. 20kms outside Khong Chiam, there is a National Park. Another bit of research tells us about the Rock Art there. It's already 3.30pm, we have 3 hours before sunset. RULE 2: NO RIDING AFTER DARK. As the headlamps are still pathetic we really need to stick to this rule. Can we make it, yes we can. We leave our helmets at reception so that the parkrangers can look for us if we don't return. Again, we pass a collection of pillars with rock roofs balancing on top. We climb the path to the top, guided by cairns, and reach another plateau. This one has been struck by huge forces and is cracked by 50cm wide crevasses. We hop, skip and jump our way to the edge, which is conveniently marked viewpoint. Lying below is the Mekhong river, this side Thailand, t'other Laos. The Mekhong  starts in the Tibetan plateau, and flows down this fault line, cliffs here, plains there.
Back on the bike around sweeping curves, great road. The bike's having fun, it's got a new tyre and inner tube which we had fetched from Phibun, 80kms round trip in the morning, now fitted and being tested. There's another plateau. It's a massive flat rock at least 4 acres. A section about 6 rugby pitches big doubles up as a car park. Everything was monster size. 3 brilliantly decorated two storey buses, with at least 10 monster speakers framing the front windscreen and spotlights to match. That must be some loud hooter, or sound system for rallies, parties or calling lost passengers. The circular walk to see the rock art was 4kms. Could we do it and still drive the 20kms home before sunset? We have 1.5 hours. Let's give it a go, so we did, accompanied by Nordic pole. We step down, down, down to the base of the cliff. Looking up is like falling backwards. Everything appears upside down. From base to top the cliff reaches 260metres, with inverted shelves about halfway up. Hanging from these are crystallised drops which have curled back to form elephant trunk shapes. Attached to these are huge waving bee swarms. My Sony bridge camera with its amazing 30x zoom did the trick and we watched with wonder using it like binoculars.
At the 2 kms mark we reach the rock paintings. We have seen Bushmen paintings in Cedarberg and Gifberg, and Rock Art in the South of France. These cliff paintings, about 20 to 50 metres up,  depicted baskets, fish, nets, harvesting. Daily life from ancient times. It was magical. 2kms to go, time marched on, so we must too.
Along the cliffbase,  up, up, up and then the plateau. Walking West we watched the sun getting lower and lower. Hurry up, Nordic pole is having fun. Leap on bike, fetch helmets at entrance gate, head home to KhongChiam. We made it.  Halogen bulbs go on the top of the bike shopping list.
That night I dream about the 3 pretty stones in the dark, up on the mountain. One for yesterday, one for today and one for tomorrow.

Its all about the Bike, the Bike, the Bike.

I have spent a lot of time hanging around in motorbike workshops. Our 135cc Tiger has been upgraded to a 140cc and B says it "feels lovely".
In the village we stayed in with our extended family, the loose ignition switch was tightened and the chain and sprocket was replaced by the local mechanic.
In Khan Kaen, a total of 6000baht, about 100GBP, was spent to do the following: new stater coils, rectifier, battery, starter switch, hooter and indicators . The new 36 tooth sprocket was replaced by a 32 tooth one. The starter motor was overhauled. A service was carried out. The bad earth terminal was fixed. A new cush drive fitted and also new brake linings, rear. And the problem with headlamps resolved, or so we thought. Tiger originally had one headlamp bulb, somewhere in the travels this had been replaced by 2 headlamp bulb configuration, but the wiring was still only for one bulb!
In Mukdahan a new sparkplug made riding a bit better and drilling a bigger hole in the petrolcap reduced the stuttering when the tank got half empty.  With no fuel gauge this did act as a warning to fill up at least every 100kms.
In Kong Chiam the cylinder head gasket blew and the piston siezed . So the search was on for another workshop, fortunately at the junction as we entered the town.  Late Saturday afternoon and the mechanics expressed a lot of oohs and aahs as we scrapped in. So now, another 3000baht, 60GBP to replace piston and sleeve, lap the valves and replace the timing chain. Well this mechanic is a genius, number one. He took the bike to his home and worked on it the whole of Sunday. He rebored the engine cylinder 20/1000 oversize,up to 140cc, replaced the timing chain and rocket shaft. Cleaned the air filter and carburettor. He repaired the headlamp configuration back up to 2 bulbs and now we also have a tail light. At some stage in this bike's history it had been fitted with a side car (Thai version) and the wiring harness possibly damaged in the process. This master of ingenuity used the metal cover from a AAA battery to weld. He clipped a set of jumped leads onto the battery, with a nail held within one clip. He fused the broken wires together and welded a piece of the battery metal cover to the wires as the wire had broken inside the socket. This enabled him to solder a new lead onto the welded arrangement to get the tail light to work. He replaced the rectifier and positioned the plug the correct way round. He repaired the fuel gauge and again secured the ignition switch. New disc pads in the front have stopped the scrapping noise.
Tonight, Monday, he cut a bracket off the frame of another bike, welded it on to the existing bracket and raised the front section of the seat by 2inches, so now B is not falling forward when he rides. And then presented B with a speedometer drive off the same scrap bike. We are only short of a speedometer cable, but we can ride without that.
And there we have it, a bike that "feels lovely".
Border crossing into Laos tomorrow. ......

4 U-Turns, 2 tumbles and a ditch

There are dogs everywhere. There are two types of dogs. Those that guard and those that wander around in the traffic. The guard dogs lie in the driveways and front verandah, eyeing the passing traffic. These are the ones to be wary of: they are doing their job, barking, chasing and keeping strangers away. The ones that wander around are annoyingly and unpredictable.
Being of an artistic nature, I spotted a Monet-type haystack a little way down an open dusty road, and just had to take a photo.  Carefully checking for dogs, all clear, we ventured down the road, scattering hen and chicks in our path. We should have known better! Out rushed a black yapping skippertjie-look alike. While he snapped at us I snapped away on the camera and off we rode. U-Turn number one.
Later on in the day after a coffee and ice cream cake delight in Daracorner coffeehouse in Mukdahan, with views across the Mekhong, suitably  refreshed we set off following the river south. Well the road ran out about 2kms later. U-Turn number two.
On the way back we spied what possibly could have been a through road to the main road. Big mistake. No through road, but the arched entrance to a village full of dogs lying all over the road. Now normally dogs in the road are the placid ones, they are not guarding any particular home and as street dogs just wander about or lie in the way, getting warmth from the tarmac. Well these particular dogs were actually guarding the whole village, so a quick U-Turn as the barking and snapping erupted.
Unfortunately this U-Turn, number 3, resulted in us ploughing over a bundle of branches and leaves which were conveniently hiding a broken concrete drain cover. I am sure all the dogs were laughing themselves silly as we came to an abrupt halt and fell over.  The barking stopped and so did we. Some helpful local assisted us in righting the bike, only the knobby bit on the end of the brake handle broken. So back to Daracorner coffeehouse and the main road 2034 to Khemarat.
We are now employing the Nordic pole stick waving trick for any dogs that get too close. When there are two dogs chasing at one time on either side of the bike, I use it a bit like a kayak paddle, push left, push right. Perhaps onlookers think this is a new way to power our little bike: a turbo boost to the motor. Or we have invented a new game called Dog Polo.
This area proclaims to have been home to many dinosaurs a zillion years ago. We found a charming dinosaur park, complete with sound effects and huge concrete replicas. In our search for authentic dinosaur foot prints we turned off the main road following a tourist sign. We didn't find footprints, but found a fellow artist sculpting something similar to a dinosaur out of clay and wire. Now B won't walk if he can ride, so he rode up really close to the man and his artwork. In fact so close that I couldn't get a decent photo. Naturally as I was still sitting on the back of the bike, I tapped his shoulder to back up a bit. He did. He put the back wheel in a ditch and I feel off, again. It's painful being an artist.
U-Turn number 4 was a bit more shaky making and had nothing to do with dogs. Our dinner the night before was more than we could eat, so the delicious stir fry rice vegetable was polystyrened up as a take away. Lunchtime looming as we headed south on the 2112  towards khangchiam and I spotted a wooden shelter with seating on the opposite side of the road, a bus stop I think, next to a lake dotted with brightly coloured purple waterlilies. Still thinking with my art head and Monet's waterlilies, I tapped B on the shoulder to cross over the road and take a lunch break. He did. Halfway through the tight U-Turn the Thai mats strapped on to the front basket got hooked under the throttle cable and the bike took off at an alarming speed over the road and down the dry grassy bank heading for the lake. As the bike is automatic, because it is essentially a modified scooter, there was no clutch to pull. Years of experience came to the fore and he put the bike down mid-flight, as it were. I was screaming, what are you doing? But was ever so glad we fell in the grass not the lake. I must stop having these artistic moments.
The trick now was to ride the bike back up the shiny dry slippery grass, so it was my task to push and assist the motor which we have since discovered blew the headgasket. And that is another story.

Guided by Orion's Belt

This is a long story, 23 days long, and we still don't have a happy ending, yet.
It all started when we noticed the one-headlamp-bulb Tiger was trying to be a 2-headlamp-bulb Honda. A tiger cannot change its stripes, it cannot be what it isn't. There was one 12V 25W bulb in the 2 bulb arrangement, the other an empty socket. Its shining power was useless. At the various visits to the repair shop, we asked them to fit a second 12V 25W. Happy chappy, this will work. We set off home later than expected back along the 10kms stretch of highway with streetlamps, no problem. Then 15kms of village roads showed the true value of the twin headlamp. Pathetic.  We couldn't see a thing in the dark, no street lamps, no white lines, nothing to guide us. Until I spotted the familiar 3 bright stars in Orions belt.
The constellation of Orion is predominately a Southern hemisphere one, used for centuries as an easily identifiable navigational tool.  It has other names, the Three Kings, the Three Mary's, the Three Stars, amongst others. It pops over the equator on January 6, which in some countries is a memorable day.  It leaves the Northern hemisphere to go South again about the end of Feb, beginning March. Having lived on or south of the equator most of my life I know it well. Orion and his belt gave us just about enough light to travel a fair way, then no more. It was too dark. We pulled over and waited for a car to appear in the distance behind us, then charged forward, catching their beam to show us the way, until they overtook and sped away. We did this a few times until some wonderful driver realised our predicament and stayed behind us until we turned left through the gates into the driveway.
NO NIGHT DRIVING.
The next day we returned to the repair shop and replaced those bulbs, increasing the wattage to 35. It looked OK in the daylight. We crossed into Laos and headed to Pakse, the first major town over the Mekhong River, and were drawn to a loud musical thumping sound. It was a riverside restaurant in the middle of a midday Karaoke session. The microphone is passed around for potential superstars to sing away, reading off a huge TV, followings words written in Thai, with subtitles of the phonetics, reading something like this: WAW SIN BAH,TEE FUU MI HOO, PIL AN DUM KAH BE DOOO. We joined in, without the mic, just for fun. Then noticed a bloke buying a crooning girl a beer, then another, then another. The more she drank, the more offkey, the more he bought. She eventually joined his table. Ah, I get it, a courtship ritual.
Time to move, we consulted our map. It was only 2pm, too early to look for a room and decided to push on the mere 100 kms further down south towards Cambodia. Aptly named, Highway 13 disintegrated into a pothole feast, with wandering cows and goats, carts, pick-ups and rickety buses. No petrol stations. Nothing. Petrol only sold in one litre refilled cola bottles. The going was slow and hazardous. We set 4pm as our cut-off time to start looking for somewhere to sleep. We pulled up alongside various people in the road and signaled a going-to-sleep  gesture with palms together under our cheeks. Blank looks. A new way of greeting, perhaps?
5pm came and went, of course we don't have a either a speedometer or odometer, the gauge is stuck on 14,000kms. 6pm came and went, the sun went down fast. No streetlights out here in the wilderness. Orion and his belt showed up. On coming traffic, with out-of-focus lights blinded us by switching up to high beam. Our pathetic lights made bizarre patterns on the road, peering through the metal basket in front. We trickled slowly on, waiting for dusk to pass, our lights got vaguely brighter as it got darker. The traffic was crazy, then all of a sudden there was none. Every beast and bird had got where they wanted to. No towns, no traffic, no lights in front or behind. Just B and me and Orion.
"GUESS WHAT, " I  shout
"WHAT?"
"WE ARE THE ONLY PEOPLE LEFT IN THE WORLD."
"SURE FEELS LIKE IT," B shouts back.
Just darkness to the left, right, front and behind, only the sound of the engine as it strummed along.
Something bright in the distance, yeah, a sign for the Nakabhouli  Hotel. We pulled in at 7.30 PM, an hour of darkness riding tensing our shoulders and straining our eyes.
NO NIGHT RIDING.
3 days later, when we returned to the genius mechanic in Khongchiam,  he discovered the rectifier plug had been connected incorrectly. He did the correction, rewired the plugs. In daylight all appeared great. But it wasn't.
Previously the Tiger had a halogen bulb in its one socket, so  now the hunt was on for halogen bulbs. Perhaps we'll find one in the same place we found the special 17inch tyre, an 80kms roundtrip. En route from Khongchiam to the Cambodia border we detoured through Phibun. It's quite difficult to explain that we were looking for Halogen bulb. We stopped at a few places, pointing to our headlight, then pointing at modern headlamps, those with halogen. Go to Yamaha. Where? Down there, turn left, go straight, not sure. We start off and sure enough, get lost. Then spot a policeman riding a Yamaha, he should know. More sign language, then we get police escort to Yamaha, easy. "They no have", but one super helpful mechanic beckons us to follow, we head off after him to a racer boy type shop. They have it all, shiny this and that and one halogen bulb in a dusty box. 100 baht, 2 GBP, thank you, we'll buy it, fitted for free with a smile.
So we're running one 12V 35W standard bulb, with one halogen blue 12V 50W.  Tiger's a bit cross-eyed now. Further down the route in Khlong Hat we found 2 matching halogen bulbs, so now Tiger has 2 beautiful blue eyes. Disappointingly when we returned from shopping for provisions one night, we had poor lights.
The sun sets so quickly here.
Our desperation is growing stronger. We have a night ride coming up. The Bangkok/Surat thani train arrives at 1.30 am, and there is 5 hours jungle night riding before dawn. For back-up, B has rigged up our camping LED headlamp on his helmet, stuck with duct tape and 20 spare AAA batteries to last the 5 hours.
When we get to Koh Chang for a few days of R&R, B fitted 2 X 6V 25W bulbs, expecting them to blow. They didn't. It got him thinking. He removed one of the halogen bulbs and the power streamed through. We now have a super bright light, but the two separate reflectors diffuse the light in the wrong direction. A squint one blue-eyed Tiger.
In our tool compartment, underneath the seat, we have an assortment of 12 headlamp bulbs, 6V, 12V, halogen, all differing wattage.
A Tiger cannot change its stripes. Once a single bulb system, always a single bulb system.
When we got to Bangkok station, we discover there is a new timetable.  The 12 hour train journey to Surat Thani leaves later than before and arrives at dawn. So no night riding needed after all. That's OK .
We've nearly reached our southern destination, and its almost time for Orion to go South too.

Village life: A Wake

Going, going, gong

As far as I understand the purpose of a wake is to prevent the departed from being buried alive. The reason for lying in view for 3 days or more and the accompanying merriment is in the hope that there will be a resurrection or at least no mistake in the diagnosis of death.
In the village of our extended family there are representatives of Germany, England, Sweden, South Africa and more, all fellas who have married into the Thai culture. Their lives are divided between working in Europe the most part of the year, then relaxing in Thailand during the European winters.
About 6 months ago in Germany our friend died and the funeral took place according to European custom. His Thai wife has now arrived in her home for the winter and the wake is now going to take place. This particular affair extended over 3 days, starting with ceremonies by the monks of the village. The monks carry high status and many cushions were built in a wall-like stack alongside a huge 2metre diameter Buddah gong. Mourners went at intervals to strike the gong 3 times with a cloth covered mallet giving a deep echoing sound enough to shake up the dead. Mats cover the floor under a gazebo festooned with ribbons in yellow, the king's colour. The mother-in-law, wrapped in a quilt,  received guests on behalf of the grieving widow. At 23°F it is considered cold here. We were feeling a bit chilled and had put on long sleeves for the occasion. After the initial meeting and greeting we headed off to the concert to be delighted by a stage set of twinkling, shining, sparkling gogo dancers and a prancing lead singer supported by a full band of guitars, drums and keyboard. The 2 banks of speakers were 5ft x 10ft each, and the mixer set was gleaming with lights and sliders. The sound distortion was so immense it hurt our hearts to go nearer than 30 metres. Fortunately one of the foreigners has great experience with sound mixers so in a very sweet way helped the music man to set the harmonies of treble and bass within human range. The 500 strong crowd of mourners/party-goers surged forward and really began to boogie.
Police control was polite and discrete. Sangsong (Thai whisky) and Leo (beer) flowed freely and dancing was random and fun. And then we all got on our motorbikes and rode the kilometre home.
A bellow emitted from one bamboo bungalow : wow, my wife is all furry! In our absence the labrador puppy had snuck into the hut and found the bed very comfortable, only to be turfed out smartly! That moorlan ended as the sun rose.
Three days later there was another moorlan, this one 20 years after the deceased had departed to another world. In Thailand the moorlan takes place when funds are sufficient. One kilometre away we heard the bass thumping again until the early hours.
And so while the departed sleep on, we are awake.

Miggies Stick to Lipgloss

After a year's separation we meet up with our Tiger, made in Thailand. 
This is a 135cc motorbike based on Honda components. It is a cross between a scooter and trail bike, like a Honda scooter with trailbike frame.Very few were built and we bought it in 2008. We have replaced the original rear shocks with competition motorcross shocks. The gearing was a 38 tooth sprocket and is now a 32 tooth. We replaced the rear trail tyre with a larger road tyre, but the front tyre stayed as standard. The standard headlamp bulbs are now halogens. The seat has a double layer of carbon mesh 3D seatcovers which provides a cushion and airflow between bum and seat.
3D seat cover . 
Over the last 6 years we have toured extensively from Chang Mai in North Thailand to Singapore both up and down West and East coasts.
So the state of the bike now is such that the speedometer and odometer and fuel gauge stopped working at 14400 kms. After our trip last year we posted, yes, posted the bike to Khon Kaen from Phuket. Before we can set off on our next trip the bike needs a new starter motor and switch, new back box, new chain and sprocket, rear foot rests, service, indicators, hooter, headlamp bulbs (missing), and according to the new ruling on Thailand all motorcycles need an MOT. Before heading off to the MOT test centre we did the western thing and went to a local mechanic to check the bike over, knowing it h had a lot of repair work y to do. He nonchalantly tapped his foot twice on the rear break and said OK. So off we went following the Thai son of our extended family here in Baan Thon. Riding along a dusty road along dried out rice paddy fields helmet-less and enjoying the wind and scenery, I discovered  to my unpleasant surprise that the miggies stuck to my newly applied lip gloss. Forget western looks , no more makeup.
The MOT man was at lunch so a return visit was required, 15kms back home for a noodle prawn lunch at the local cafe (90baht ). Our lovely Thai extended family nephew did the deed and the bike passed the MOT, certificate in hand we plan to get license, tax and full repairs at Honda shop in city completed tomorrow.
Job done with a few extras, almost a rebuild: 4000baht. So now it's about 2 days of packing, gathering maps, and route planning. I'll leave the make-up behind.

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