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.