Friday 20 January 2017
Why Pai? pronounced pie.
the fire, in the mist, all wrapped up, surrounded by invisible mountains. We still had thermals in the panniers as a last resort. The hazard lights went on and we cautiously made our way over the many mountain ridges that surround Chang Mai. It had taken 6 ½ hours to do 200 kms, that's an average of 27kms per hour. We booked into our room at Top North and that is the beginning of ‘One week in Chiang Mai’.
At the Horizons Unlimited mini meeting, we bought up the place name Pai. “oh yes, it's very beautiful, you should go there”. It’s Friday 13th, and with the lucky Dragon ring on my finger and two origami paper birds in my trouser pocket, we wave Good Bye to Chiang Mai and wish ourselves Good Luck. We are going to see beautiful Pai. The map app shows 2 routes, a quick 3 hour one or a more interesting twisty one taking 4 hours for about the same distance. Just for the interest we choose the longer version.
This time, with blue skies overhead, we ride through countless valleys and hills and mountains, it is magnificent. The road changes from tarmac to pot-hole tarmac. Then to gravel, with small stones which the all-terrain tires spit out like pips with a loud pop. Halfway, the road all but disappears into base course sand still under construction. At hairpin bends, going upor down, the road is composed of interlocking concrete bricks. We join in with the heavy bulldozers and excavators and other heavy construction equipment and keep riding towards beautiful Pai.
As a super-zoom, my camera is not ideal for photographing such stunning landscapes. It’s largest f-stop is 8, ideally an f-stop of 32 is needed to capture the height and depth of such amazing scenery. I set ‘landscape’ on the scene function and hope for the best. Each rise up a mountain is followed by a drop in a valley, where there are fields and fields of strawberries. I notice they are on the East facing slopes, catching the morning sun. The western slopes are covered in patches of Coffee trees; In between the jungle and forest separates the hills from the valleys. We are amazed at the height of the trees, they stretch both below and above us as the road cuts a divide through the contours.
The road improves and we spot a sign ‘Hot Water Springs’ and turn off left along a narrow concrete path. These are Boiling Hot. The steam is wafting off the rocks and water, the smell of sulphur is in the air and our ankles are getting warm just standing on the jetty overlooking the bubbling brook. Let's go. We're nearly at beautiful Pai. Its taken 7 hours, averaging 23 kms/hour. We see another fountain, spewing steaming hot water 2 metres into the air and stop to take photos. We chat to two guys from the Netherlands, riding trail bikes, swop email addresses and information about where to stay and what to do in beautiful Pai. After a few enquiries, we find a bungalow in a sweet smelling garden for 300 baht. Night fall very quickly here, in the space of 15 minutes from light to dark. The street lights come on and we walk around town, find the English Book shop and buy the recommended dirt bike maps for the area. Their is a surprising lack of big car/pick up traffic in Pai, with locals and foreigners on scooters and walking. There’s coffee bars, market stalls and a background hum of peaceful people. No shouting or loud noises or Boom-Boom music. This is good. Chiang Mai had been noisy 24/7. After good night’s sleep in our very pleasant room, where the birds wake us up gently, we look at our maps. What to do in Pai? “Oh look, there’s more hot springs, ones we can swim in”. Just a short ride away .
“Wow, wow, wow, my foot is stuck, I’ve lost my shoe” I exclaim loudly as we make our way through sludge into the warm hot springs at Pai. Hanging on to each other, I slip my foot back into the water, find a toe hold, reach down with my arm, grab the back strap and haul foot and shoe out of the suction. As we only have one pair of shoes each for the 4 month trip losing them is not an option. We soon reach the other bathers and a solid pebble footing and lie down in the flowing river to enjoy the warmth and jungle surroundings. The warm water is continuous, like a warm bath with the hot tap permanently open. My rather vocal entrance had attracted a newlywed couple from NZ, who recognise our SA accents. They swim over and we spend over an hour chatting about their Go Pro Hero battery problem (Brett, they need you), earthquakes, adventure motorbike travel and where to go and what to do in Phuket, their next port of call. When we degenerate into prunes, we emerge from the hot springs sedately via a stone wall, and are dry by the time we get back to Pai. It’s calm and peaceful, and warm, time to do washing and have an afternoon snooze. We extend our booking for another night and as night falls go in search of our friend from the Netherlends who has a Saturday evening stall in the Wednesday Market area. Many people here, locals and foreigners and monks, carry large cloth sling bags. Some are patchworked in bright squares, some subdued earth colours. The monk’s bags are tones of orange. The Saturday market at Wednesday market place is mostly locals and we come across a drawing competition run by the local school. The theme is ‘ My Dream Park’. A donation of 10 baht for a ticket and we pop our choice of number 39 in the ballot box. Hope it wins, we’ll never know. I buy a calm natural earth colour sling bag from our friend, glad that it is authenticated by him as being hand-made by the local Karon tribe people.
Our time in Pai comes to an end. We dress in our thermals as there is early morning cloud and mist, pack the bike and aim for Mae Ja. This trip is a dirt bike mountain pass adventure ride as described on the GT-Rider Map.
Why Pai? because it’s a beautiful place.
posted from Bloggeroid
Tuesday 17 January 2017
One week in Chang Mai.
We arrive at the Top North Guest House in Chiang Mai after an exciting ride from the roundabout at Mae Sot (see story: Why Pai? pronounced Pie). We are greeted with a choice of rooms and a choice of ‘origami good luck paper birds’. We choose a blue one (bluebird of happiness, etc) and an orange one ( my 2nd favourite colour). For 450 baht we get two double beds and a bathroom. All the luggage is dumped on the one bed, no more bending down and grovelling on the floor to dig stuff out of the panniers. A good sleep and we are ready to ride around Chiang Mai before free beer o’clock with Horizons Unlimited mini-meet at 18h00. The Engine mounting bracket for the front panniers is a bit wide and B feels that the engine is therefore loose in its bolts. We find a kerbside engineering shop that willingly cut the bracket in half. Now the bolts could be tightened tightly and the engine mounting was secured. We had experienced some ‘bumping through’ on the mountain passes from Mae Sot to Chiang Mai and B wanted to replace the standard shock absorbers with YSS gas competition shocks. We rode around some more, found just the right ones and had them fitted for about 85 euros; we have subsequently found out the same shocks in the Netherlands sell for 750 euros.
Chiang Mai is a very ancient city surrounded by crumbling red brick walls that are 3 metres wide at the base. The actual bricks are very flat and thin. And then there is a very wide moat filled with fish and fountains. Each side of the square is about 2 kms, with ancient gates at the half way point. Inside the square all the traffic goes anti-clockwise and outside the moat, clockwise. It is chaotic. Getting out usually involves driving past one gate to do a U-turn at the next gate to get out into the bigger modern city, and those who want to get in are doing the same thing . There are tuk-tuks, bicycles, lost looking tourists, cars, trucks, delivery trolleys, pickups and dogs. By the time we get to HU it’s raining. We wander in to Riders bar and restaurant and are warmly welcomed by the host and MC to settle in for an evening of introductions, story swopping and motorbike chat. It’s wonderful. I slipped off to the loo via the reception and whispered about B’s birthday and getting a cake for the Saturday night event. No problem.
We explore some more and go to Big C supermarket for lunch in their clean and delicious food hall.
As the guest house has a swimming pool we look for a full bathing suit for me, perhaps my bikini is not that suitable. They only have the full body suits for swimming. I’ll stick with the bikini.
On B’s birthday morning we find the less touristy market out of town by the big Narawat bridge. We take note of where we have parked our bike under a red footbridge alongside lots more bikes and then disappear into the maze of stalls and alleys. It is fascinating; clothing in an abundance of sizes and colours. Bright yellow gold jewellery in exotic designs. And then I spot the best of all: a fabric shop where great rolls of intricately woven brightly stripped heavy cotton-thread are standing in columns just waiting to be bought. We have a 35year old 4-seater couch and 2 armchairs at home, recovered many times, and ready to be re-covered again. At 60b (2euros) a metre I can visualize each cushion and backrest in a different stripe of pattern and colour. Sadly we walk away, not this visit. Measure first and plan it for next time.
The HU mini-meeting is great. The BBQ is magnificent, so many lovely salads and vegetables and not a bowl of rice in sight. We carry on meeting and chatting and listening to super-informative presentations by other adventure motorcycle travellers who have done Round-the-World expeditions. The organiser, an American Indian, Doctor of Economics, with a few Travel books to his name, was setting off on his 5th RTW trip, starting in Namibia. We chat to the MC, an ex-dispatch rider from London, who now lives between Boonville, USA and Bangkok.
We have something in common, we both own Tigers. His being the scooter, ours being a more of an offroad version. We meet an American military man who has an original moto-mule trailer. We shared photos of our Ruffec made model, which had been inspired by the moto-mule. And then B was presented with his birthday cake. He was very pleasantly surprised and for a non-speech maker, made a lovely speech. I cut it into bite size pieces and everybody got a taste. It was a grand evening. The guest house was on the other side of the square but we wiggled our way through the middle and got home safely.
Somebody had mentioned that a worthwhile place to visit was a temple at the top of the nearby mountain; hoping the rain would stop so we could ride up there, Sunday dawned with not a cloud in the sky. Yeah. The 30kms trip up to Doi Suthep was curvy and winding and very steep, but not being weighed down by luggage the new bike cruised up, no problem. There are people everywhere, it’s Sunday , and all the families are enjoying a day off in the sunshine. We struggle to find anywhere to park the bike until a policeman nods that it is OK to park on the yellow line; we hope so too. And then we start climbing steps, hundreds of them, following the masses and the ceramic tiles of a green dragon. At the top we take of our shoes and enter the sacred place. People are wondering around the golden tomb in the middle carrying bright yellow giant dahlia looking flowers. Some people were praying and holding candles. Some people were just taking selfies. We followed the throng , without flowers and candles, and stopped to inspect the beautiful hand painted friezes on the surrounding walls. B treated me to a Thai silver Dragon ring for good luck.
We emerged from the sacred place and wandered outside to cast our eyes over the view of Chiang Mai city below and the incredible mountains to the West. A few photos later and we trudged down the Dragon steps, bumping into breathless people coming up. We carried on riding around the mountain, but our map confirmed there was no through-route, so we turned around and headed back to Top north Guest House. We had been told about ‘walking street ‘market on Sunday nights, so ventured out with walking stick in hand. We walked ½ kms to the next gate and joined the heaving crowds, all shopping and eating and buzzing and handling local foods and crafts. The congestion of people became gridlocked, so we squeezed our way out and sauntered home on a beautiful warm starry night.
We are in luck, Monday and the sun is still shining. After breakfast of rice and vegetable soup at a local Chinese stall for 70 baht (2 euros) we decide to go to the Breeding centre for the Giant Pandas and other animals. We don’t do Zoos, but had read about these programs where china ‘gifts’ the Pandas for breeding purposes and knew that Chiang Mai was one of the centres. The complex was so vast we succumbed to buying a ticket for the openaired safari-type shuttle bus employing a hop on/hop off system . First stop the Pandas. Not too crowded and we had to leave water and any edibles at reception after walking over a disinfectant mat. Looking cute and cuddly the pandas stared at us staring at them. We asked about feeding time and negotiated that we could come back on the same ticket in an hour’s time. So for an hour we strolled around capturing amazing close-ups with my superzoom Sony. On hearing our South African accents a handsome young man from the UK joined us to ask about Namibia. He had finished his studies, was starting his first job in March, and his Dad was taking him on a trip of a lifetime to Namibia in a few week’s time, before the 9 to 5 life. We spent a lovely hour chatting, looking at tigers and crested cranes and the wild dangerous oversize tabby called a ‘fishing cat’. Back to the Pandas where they entertained us by eating their lunch; We loved the pandas and the bizarre poses as people ducked and manouvered to get selfies that also included the pandas. The shuttle bus drove around some more and we hop off at the orangutans. They were not playing today. We’d seen what we came for, the pandas. Taking full advantage of the hot sunny day we went for a refreshing swim at the guest house and keeping within the budget had brown bread, nutella, peanut butter and banana sandwiches for supper. The weather forecast promised very heavy rain for the next few days. As fellow Tiger owners we had been given a signed copy of his RTW adventure motorcycle travel book “Ashes to Boonville” by Blue88, handle for the ex-dispatch rider, so what better thing to do than read a good book on a rainy few days.
B decides he’s got something better to do than read on a rainy few days. He’s not happy with the low handle bars. He’s tested them for 2 weeks and about 1000kms and has devised a plan to get them raised. Through various contacts at Riders Bar and restaurant, we have been told about an engineering shop that could fabricate any part for a motorbike. The idea was to get someone to machine up 2 fork extensions to raise the clip-on bars. For about 40 euros, 2 Aluminium handlebar fork extenders were machined up to raise the clip-on handle bars. This raised the bars sufficiently so that B can now ride in a touring seating position.
We have an extra set of shock absorbers now and a spare book which are heavy and cannot go on the bike. We find a post office and marvel at it’s efficiency; As you enter the first desk is a packing service function where all parcels are measured for size, bubble wrapped and put in the correct size box. Next stop, take a ticket and wait a short while, then the now beautifully wrapped parcel is weighed and stamped. We show our passports and the package is posted to our family in Khon Kaen. It will take a week. All for under 5 euros. Marvellous. I think again about getting 50 metres of fabric to France. On a previous trip we had posted canvas rolls, paintings and oil paints in a very large box by sea. I could do it again, but not this time.
It’s our last night in Chiang Mai. We’ve been waiting for the weather to clear. The rain is torrential. There’s a lot of other residents getting cabin fever and our neighbours are decidedly noisy; The music is getting louder and louder; it’s passed midnight. B shouts politely above the noise, “Please be quiet”; The response is an expletive telling him to go away. Shortly after a guy marches down the corridor in his jocks and gives their door an almighty kick. Instant silence. Ah, so that’s how it’s done.
At last, Thursday, the clouds go away and the sun starts shining. After rice and pork soup for breakfast, a quick tour of the local History centre to learn a bit more about Chiang Mai we set Google maps to go to Pai, pronounced pie. It’s Friday 13th, wearing my large shiny silver lucky Dragon ring and tucking the lucky origami birds safely in my trouser pocket, we wave Good bye to Chiang Mai and wish ourselves Good luck.
Saturday 14 January 2017
One Week in Ban Ton, Isan culture.
Happy Christmas. (see story: Mr Homchenjai and his team).We had arrived in Ban Ton, a small rural village in the northern Province of Khon Kaen, home of Isan culture I was coughing and feverish, downed some paracetomol and went to bed. B enjoyed the hospitality of our extended family and suddenly it was Boxing day. Tiger bike had a seized engine. One option was to buy another bike or find another Engine. As Christmas Day and Boxing Day are not part of the Thai culture we knew all the shops would be open. Today’s mission, Monday, was to resolve the bike issue. Luckily for us the rural taxi stops outside the gate of our house with a loud toot-toot every half hour throughout the day for the 40 minute drive into the city of Khon Kaen. The taxi bus is an open aired vehicle where you climb in the back via some steps, with 2 rows of seats either side. It requires a bit of head ducking to get in. I got in first with B following and went to sit down when I heard a loud commotion from the three ladies already in the bus. Oops, they were trying to tell me that I couldn’t sit there, it was next to a monk. So B and I swopped places. At the next stop another monk climbed aboard, there was more noise and pointing. This time I moved across the passageway and sat with all the other ladies. B and monks one side, girls opposite. The monks can look at you but not sit next to you. We trudged around to a lot of Honda, Yamaha and Kawasaki showrooms, me trailing behind and sitting on every plastic chair available, energyless. The option to buy and replace the engine had been abandoned. And then he saw what he wanted. The same bike that he had sat on in Phuket nearly a month ago. Just a few problems, though. “ It needs a bit of modification to turn it into a Tourer for 2up” said B. It had a cafe racer type single seat and at 150CC was a bit low on power, we needed an upgrade to the 135cc Tiger. Otherwise it was perfect. Dual purpose tires for road and off-road, touring type upright handle bars, chain driven and carburettors. And it was a lovely mint green. “ We do a 200cc version”, said the nice saleslady. It was dull matt grey, the tires were inappropriate vintage look-alikes from the 50’s, clip on low sports handle bars, but it did have twin front disc breaks, a single back break disc and an oil cooled engine. Twin rear shocks and 400 x 17 front tire, 450 x 17 rear tire, together with a 6-speed gearbox and an 11 Litres fuel tank with an accurate petrol gauge. The front upside front forks it means less unsprung weight and less flexing of the front forks, for better handling. The fuel tank is 3 x the capacity of the Tiger so route- planning can be more random and not such a fuel- stop worry. We can now do 350 kms instead of just 100kms. The seat height is 790 mm. B needs to mix the 2 bikes together for everything to be absolutely right. The bike is manufactured in Thailand and best of all has a stainless steel exhaust system. B successfully negotiated swopping the tires from the 150cc onto the 200cc but he failed to persuade the lady to swop the handle bars. The deal was done and we arranged to pay and collect the bike the next day. Online banking confirmed that there was enough in the daily withdrawal allowance. We caught the taxi bus back to the village of Ban Ton, stopping en route at a massive Tesco Lotus to stock up on muesli, fruit juice, bottled water and paracetomol. I slept until Thursday and this is B’s story as told to me.
On Tuesday 27th December, we became the owners of a LEGEND, made by GPX racing, who had also produced the Tiger some 10 years ago. The engine is essentially the Honda air-cooled XL250cc, sleeved down to 200cc. It weighs 135kgs. It cost 2000 euros. The modifications began. Tiger bike was stripped of the seat and mirrors. B found a local kerbside motorcycle repair with metal working equipment. Under B’s guidance, a carrier to fit the Tiger seat and a mini luggage rack to carry the beach mat was fabricated. This carrier also became an indicator and rear back light protector guard to stop the rear set of slingover panniers from curving inwards over the back wheel. He also made a set of crash bars attached to the engine mounting to keep the re-engineered day-packs (now tank slingovers ) away from the engine, allowing sufficient air flow around the motor. When I was a bit better I unpicked the stitching and removed the velcro straps from the oldest set of panniers and had found a sewing shop to attach them to the day packs. The day packs are long and slim enough to fit over the tank and under the low handlebars, the soft panniers were wide and chunky and did not fit. Even the baggage got modified. With the Tiger seat on, this Legend is now almost ready for 2up. The magical Green Log Book will arrive in one month, hopefully January 27th or before.
As we want to tour outside of Thailand a visit to the Land Transport Department to get the required stamp was another trip into the city. I left B and Linda (Thai family) to do the necessary and carried on sleeping and coughing and gurgling. Always bearing in mind the all important visa expiry date which was January 6th, we needed to think about getting an extension. We were planning to be in Chiang Mai by the 6th and could get an extension at the Immigration there on the 5th, but that would be cutting it very fine. The penalty fines for overstay are not within our tight budget, which had now gone out the window with the bike purchase. On Thursday, when B and Linda were in the city at the Land Transport Department a long conversation ensued in Thai, the outcome of which was that all Government departments were closing until January 4th. It was December 29th. That added to the negative of the potential visa extension plan in Chiang Mai. I was aroused out of my slumber by a shrill from the phone and B explained that I would need to catch the taxi bus on my own into town with all the papers, to join him and Linda, to go to the Khon Kaen Immigration office immediately to apply for our extension visas. Carefully avoiding all monks, I got them to within the hour. It took another hour to find the offices and another hour to fill in forms, and have passport photos taken. In my dash to catch the taxi bus and still being a bit washed out, alert thinking cap definitely off, I had forgotten to bring all the spare passport photos that we carry around. Never mind, we just stand in front of a white wall, get snapped with a smart phone and 2 minutes later have a fully computer generated and processed sort of passport picture in our hands, totalling 3 euros. No need for fancy booths. Its getting near 4pm and the long weekend party mood is increasing as various people in fancy dress saunter in and out of the office bearing huge baskets of cake, cooldrink and sweets for the staff. Group poses and photos take place. We sit and wait, clutching ticket number 426. At last, smile, nod, and the forms are checked, stamped, 4000baht (100euros) handed over and more stamps and more entering on the computer and more writing in a big book and with a big smile we have an extension to our extension, because of the holidays. The new visa runs out on February 5th. Only one extension is allowed so we MUST aim to cross a border out of Thailand by at least the 3rd of February just in case anything goes wrong. I write the date in Red in my diary and hope like hell the magic GLB arrives before then.
To ensure that all the welded metal bits of modification blend in with the bike, they are all coated first in a zinc primer, then sprayed gloss black. The final bits of drilling and polishing are done to the modifications, the new bike is re-assembled. Feeling better, we go for a test ride and find a KFC.
B loves it, but has reservations about the low bars as it is a very different riding style, and also the shock absorbers; would they be man enough for the dirt roads in the Golden Triangle? An early night for New Year’s Eve, the bike got loaded and a week after we had arrived, dirty, exhausted and sick, we had bought a bike, done modifications, got our visa extended, modified the panniers. We wave goodbye to our lovely family and head off early in the morning exactly due West along Highway 12.
The aim was to take 4 days going in a big loop West to the Burma border, then North along the border, then back East to get to Chiang Mai by 5th January and celebrate B’s birthday with fellow Adventure Motorcycle Travellers at the Horizons Unlimited mini-meeting ( see story : a week in Chiang Mai) .
And that was one week in Ban Ton, Khon Kaen Province, ISAN country, Thailand.
Thursday 12 January 2017
Wednesday 11 January 2017
To Burma or Not To Burma
We are standing on the 2nd floor of an unfinished house build looking through a not-yet-glazed window opening with views across a 5 hole golf course to the sun setting on the mountains dividing Thailand from Myanmar. It’s a beautiful view in a soon-to-be beautiful house; and the people who are building this palatial space are just as lovely.
The beginning of this adventure that bought us to this view across the valley to Burma starts in Bangkok 10 days prior. We had arrived at the hotel block, chilli house, at 7 am, to be told “room ready 2pm”. With 7 hours to kill we had a breakfast of rice and soup and using Google maps rode to the Consulate getting there as it opened at 9am. There are hoards of people milling around, sitting on the pavement and blocking the entrance to a rather grimy waiting room. I leave B outside guarding the bike as we have been warned about tow-aways for illegal parking and squeeze past the doorman to make enquiries about documents and visa forms. Oh, there’s a man outside in a yellow pick-up who provides forms, pens, photocopy service and advice. So that’s why all the people are sitting on the pavement; they are filling out forms. I get the required documents and head back to B, where a group of 5 other westerners have gathered to chat and exchange information. I fill in the complicated forms that want to know what your work is (retired) and your previous work, how long for , etc, etc. Is this a CV? No just a visa request for Burma. The spare passport photos which we have been carry for moments like these need cutting, so squeeze back passed the doorman to the man selling cooldrinks who keeps the scissors. The doorman has a handy miniature stapler as a key ring and politely obliges by stapling the photos in the correct square. We now realize that there is a separate entrance for Westerners and as the door opens, all 5 of us go inside. I am given ticket no 11.
B goes off to find a secure park. I recognise a rather confident chap who was also at the yellow pick up and we start chatting; he looks like he knows what’s going on; He’s from Canada and this is his 9th visit to Burma in the last year. B returns and we sit down to await our turn, and then the mosquitos attack. We stand up and they back off. Strange? We stay standing. Our number flashes on the electronic screen and we approach the desk. Our first question throws the lady a bit off balance, she was expecting to stamp the form take our money and next, please; We ask her “Can we take our motorbike into Myanmar?” and hand over the Green Log Book. Much shaking of her heada nd she calls another lady, who discharges us from the desk to another lady at another desk. We decide that there is no point in us going to Burma if the bike is not allowed in. The nice Canadian has informed us that most travel in Burma is by tour, bus, train and a paid driver, or your own bicycle/tandem. So now we stand and wait while the boss lady makes a phone call. No answer, but then gives us the number to ring ourselves. We dial and dial and then a lovely Burmese accented English speaking voice says “Hello, may I help you?”
We explain our predicament about applying for visas, but if we cannot take the motorbike, then we will withdraw the application. Apparently I am speaking to the Chief of the Myanmar Tourist Board on her personal mobile number; she charmingly explains that the application for the motorbike to cross borders will take 3 months. I politely explain that we want to go next week. “not possible, but please phone me on your next visit 3 months before you want to go and she will arrange the necessary papers.” How sweet, I save the number. We go back inside the office, jump the queue, retrieve our application forms, wish the Canadian bon voyage and a bit disappointed realize that this year Burma is not to be.
Yet here we are in a building site looking across to the Burmese hills, how did that happen?
After an eventful recovery week in Ban Ton, Khon Kaen, and with a new bike (see story: a week in Ban Ton), we had pointed the compass due west and decided to drive until we got to the renowned ‘friendship bridge’ that spans the natural border of the Moei river at Mae sot. The total distance from Ban Ton, Khon Kaen to Mae Sot is 546kms. With the new bike a mere 2 day ride. We aimed to do 320 kms on day 1 stopping at Phitsanulok. The fuel tank on the new bike is 12 litres giving a range of 350kms before filling up. It’s highway 12 and with the sun behind us we have a glorious day’s ride. We wear long sleeves and long trousers to stop skin burn and get our riding positions comfortable. The clip-on bars are a bit low for B who is used to Enduro bikes with high bars. My riding position seat is super comfortable as we are sitting on the Tiger seat so bum shape and seat are well moulded and acquainted. As b is leaning further forward than usual i cannot really tuck in behind him and feel a bit exposed and vulnerable. I’ve stopped taking paracetomol but am still coughing and gurgling. The ride was good and the warmth was great, a good way to go for complete recovery. Wemade amazing time and progress along the highway, passing bright green rice paddy fields, seeing herons and white egret type birds. A good day to get to Phitsanulok by mid afternoon. We treated ourselves to a spacious room in the tropical Rain Forest Resort, where the room overlooked the tops of the trees way down to the Khek river below. A change of clothes and walking stick at the ready we set out to explore the area, heading down to the river where we found a waterfall spilling into a natural pool filled with happy Thai people enjoying the waters. A little shallow narrow gorge was the perfect place for children as young as 5years old to sit in innertubes, lock hands to feet and zoom through the fast sluit and collapse in a heap of laughter and splashes on the other side. Sort of wild white water rafting in miniature. We found a lovely balcony overlooking the river for a supper of rice and soup, washed down with iced water and watched in fascination as a teenager tied some 5 litre plastic bottles together. He then proceeded to slowly get in the river and balance himself on these bouyancy tanks. He either couldn’t swim or needed swimming aids in the fast flowing water; struggling against the bouyancy tanks he kept diving under the water and then proudly came up with the ends of a long string of netting. Holding on he pulled himself along the net and disentangled a large pink fish; by now he had spotted that we were intrigued. He gave us a friendly wave with the fish in his hand. We waved back and he posed in the water for a photograph. I had purchased the most wonderful sony super zoom (30 x optical plus digital zoom) and can capture remarkable scenes that are very far away. He was at least 75 metres away but the images are great.
We sauntered back to the Tropical Rain forest, feeling at peace, if only I would stop coughing! Next day up early to ride the remaining couple of hundred kms to Mae Sot. Again wonderful road, wonderful scenery, wonderful bike. In fact so wonderful we missed the all important roundabout directing us to Mae Sot. By late afternoon we agree “this is taking a bit long”. B pulls up at a shabby garage under a big spreading acacia tree, “where on earth are we?”. Before we can get out the Map app I spot a sign reading BAAN Mont INN . “It doesn’t matter where we are, we stop right here, right now and worry about it in the morning”.
The price for the room was larger than our budget so we asked the receptionist if there was any chance of a discount, us being on a bike and a tight budget. She handed me the owner’s number, who spoke excellent English; We agreed on a discount and set about unpacking and freshening up.
Whilst unloading the bike a very pretty Thai lady appeared, followed shortly by her Western husband . They introduced themselves as the owners and were intrigued as to how non-Thai people had landed up at their off-the-main-route inn. We were invited to their main resort a few kms away and followed their pick-up to this incredible West-meets-East complex. 14 years ago it had been an unusable piece of agricultural land, nobody could grow the local maize crop on it as it was constantly under water from the drainage of the surrounding mountains. It was now transformed into a 5hole golf course with swimming pool and lush exotic vegetation. The homestead is re-conditioned teak built in the style of the great English barns belonging to the era od Henry 8th, with huge beams and hand crafted carving by local Burmese. More land had been purchased and the new project was a contemporary ultra modern piece of architecture erupting out of the exotic plants. That’s where we were entertained with coffee and cooldrink and the grand tour and sunset views; by the way the westerner was nearing 80, fit and full of energy. His wife holds a senior nursing position at the Mae Sot hospital. We were 25kms off course and couldn’t have had a nicer diversion. I was driven home in the pick-up and B followed on the bike through the maize fields back to the inn. What a lovely end to a perfect day. Well get to ‘friendship bridge’ tomorrow.
Mr. Homchenjai and his team at Pharlap Transport
The sleeping staff at chilli house tell us that the room will only be ready at 2pm. It is 7am; We are quite desperate for a shower and sleep, but never mind, we have things to do to keep us occupied until 2pm. After freshening up in the left luggage room, we type Burma consulate into Google maps. It opens at 9 so we have a few hours for breakfast. We had come to Bangkok, en route north for two reasons. One to get visas for Myanmar, and for B to visit the audiology specialist, an appointment already made from their clinic in Phuket for tomorrow. A two day stop over in Bangkok would be enough time to complete these tasks. Another breakfast of rice and soup, before arriving at the Consulate ( see story : To Burma or Not to Burma). 2pm eventually arrives and we eagerly fetch our luggage out of the locker room to go to our appointed ‘apartment’. This time for 450 baht we get a room on the 4th floor. It measures 3 x 2 metres. The sleeping section is a wall-to-wall mattress on the floor, the shower has barely luke warm water and the toilet flush is broken, but is operated by the tap. The luggage just fits into the passage way to the bathroom so every visit is an obstacle course. The AC works. It is stiflingly hot and we lug the baggage up the 4 flights of the concrete block. I wash some clothes, underfoot as we shower, then hang them on the communal balcony overlooking more concrete blocks. They are dry within the hour. We sleep and sleep with the alarm set for an 8am start, ready for the specialist at 10am. We know the 5kms ride to the clinic will take a full hour in Bangkok’s all day rush hour.
The phone alarm gently sings us awake, B leaps up, gets dressed and heads off down the stairs with half the luggage. Tiger bike has been loaded with 2 sets of panniers, 2 day packs and & beach mat. We have developed a system now of how to carry half each to make carrying easier. I slowly stir and get dressed with my eyes still half shut. When I open them I am a bit surprised to see that it is still dark. When we had arrived in Bangkok yesterday morning at 7 am it was already light. If it’s 8 am now, why is it still dark? I switch on my tablet and check the time; What! It’s only 5am. I flop back on the floorbed, turn over and wait for B to work it out for himself. Sure enough a few minutes later I hear him clomping up the 4 flights of stairs wondering why I haven’t come down to help. “ get back into bed”, I say. “Its only 5am.” The alarm had rung on yesterday’s setting. So we catch another 3 hours sleep. At least we are already dressed.
Dejavu. The phone alarm sings us awake at 8 am, we finish loading the bike and head off to the audiology centre. Sure enough it takes exactly one hour to ride the 5kms. I hang on to the phone with one hand , tapping Left or right turns with other and shouting in ’B’s good ear. He has woken up with a throbbing swollen eardrum. I have a sore throat and am feeling a bit shivery.
Another breakfast of rice and vegetable soup with chillis then we get to see the lovely specialist, who can of course not test B’s hearing because he has an ear infection. We arrange to catch up with her at another centre in Chonburi on our later travels down South. Medicine for B, paracetomol for me. Photos of the Tiger, the Hearing centre and the charming Specialist. We type Khon kaen into Maps and start the 470 kms ride out of Bangkok. Google maps has car, bus and walk options, but not motorbikes. In Thailand motorbikes are not allowed on the Toll highways so its a constant re-routing as we ride under the Tollroads, trying to find our way out of Bangkok. After a few hours the cityscape disappears, giving way to a more rural landscape. Its getting hot again so we stop at a roadside stall to strip some layers off and buy a coca cola. B’s ear is painful and I am coughing and gurgling. We wash the painkillers and medicine down with coca cola, take some photos, rest in the shade of their awning, then start again.
Google maps took us thru some delightful traditional villages, over bridges, past golden Buddha temples, but after 4 hours I called for a stop in the bustling down of Khoksamrong. The young man at the Yamaha showroom drew a wonderful map to get us the nearest hotel, which was shut. More enquiries and more riding around eventually found us at a brand new motel complex. This time for 450 baht we had secure undercover parking, a luxury room, grand superkingsize bed and fabulous bathroom, hot shower and a wardrobe, with a bright pink leather couch to complement the silky curtains. I collapsed in a paracetomol induced heap, and stayed there for 2 days. B went off on various foraging expeditions to eating places and market stalls, enticing me to eat with fresh papaya and mango. The sweet fresh fruit slid down my throat effortlessly. I’m not sure what happened to the days, apparently we stayed there until the 24th December, but now it was time to move on. Feeling a bit better we awoke at 6am, left by 7am and rode on through charming countryside, eager to complete the last 320 kms asap. It would still be a 2 day ride and we might make Khon Kaen by Christmas Day Night.
The early morning ride is always the best, before the heat and traffic. The traffic in the countryside this morning was big trucks with trailers overloaded with sugar cane, travelling at 90km/hour, making it difficult for overtaking. The road condition was quite smooth tarmac just an occasional pothole, but our steel wheel rose to the challenge. The paracetomol was working and the day was almost perfect except for the very slight exhaust blow noise as that was the one thing that was still original. “I think we might have to replace the exhaust in KK”, said B.
“Oh, look, there’s an oil rig pumping oil. That’s strange. In the middle of a sugar cane field?” Its big rocker arm was slowly moving up and down. At about the same time as we slowed to watch and wonder B mentioned that the possible problem with the exhaust. B is riding along listening to this noise thinking it was the exhaust flange gasket that was blowing. Shortly after the engine started to slow, B rolled back the throttle realizing that the engine was seizing and then slowed down and stopped. No starter motor, neither did the kick start move the internals. The engine has seized 100 kms into our 320kms journey. On a previous trip to Laos when this had happened before, we had the engine re-bored to maximum oversize ( see story: It’s all about the Bike, the Bike, the Bike ).
B now knew that this was the final end of Tiger. Its 10h30, we are in the middle of vast fields of sugar cane with huge trucks trundling past. We are on the edge of the Si Thep National park surrounded by sugar cane fields and an oil rig, and lots of blue sky; not much else. We dismount and stand gazing blankly into space hoping for a miracle.
A bent old lady with red teeth from chewing tabac shuffles by, leaning heavily on her stick. We smile and greet her in the traditional manner of hands together and nodding . “Sawadde kaa,(from me), Sawade Kap ( from B).”
Shrugging our shoulders we point to the bike to indicate it is broken. We stand and smile, a bit stuck for anything else to do. She waves us up the road with her stick, nodding keenly. With little other choice but to do as she demonstrated we push the bike 100 metres, turn left into a side road and through a gate, where the Pharlap Transport company services the tankers taking crude oil to the refineries.
The overalled service men stroll over and congregate around the bike. Again we indicate it is broken, with no common language other than B standing on the kickstarter to show it is seized. We made train noises to try and ask about the nearest railway line, and then the headman came across and understood our English. There was a lot of discussion and suddenly the bags were off the bike and 8 blokes lifted it onto the back of the pick-up. It dawned on us we were being given a lift the station. How amazing, how wonderful, so thankful, smiles and nods and deep gratitude. We sit in the double cab pick up and are driven with great care and safety through lots more sugarcane fields for miles and miles. The whole journey took more than an hour; we have since checked on google maps that they drove around trip of 100 kms to help us. And would not receive any payment. How amazing, how wonderful. We were deposited at the Lamnarai Railway station 50 kms away from their depot, bike offloaded and a long story to the station master.
The station master in very good English explains that this station is a small one and the next train in which both us and the bike can get to Bangkok will be at 1 o’clock. That’s good, we timed it well, about an hour from now then; “No , 1 o’clock in the morning.” “Oh, 13 hours from now.”
You know what, we are happy to be here, what’s 13 hours wait anyway?
OK, what shall we do for the next 6 hours until nightfall? We leave all the luggage in the signal room and head off in to town, walking stick at the ready to poke at any misbehaving dogs. Its Saturday morning market and the whole town is swamped with stalls, roads closed and great swathes of canvas stretch across pavements and alleys to protect the goods from the intense hear. I buy a hat with a large brim, a Tilley copy, for 2euros.We buy cooked corn-on-the-cob for lunch and I fall asleep on a bench; B goes off to buy a spanner. I have definitely got some bug and find a pharmacy for immodium and more paracetomol. The Honda dealer has a lovely clean toilet which I visit a few times, while B hovers over the bikes. We know we have to buy a new motorbike, but which one.
Whilst we were in Phuket, we had browsed a bit and even sat on a few bike. The same company that built the Tiger 10 years ago is now building the LEGEND. We had promised each other that if the Tiger broke then buying another bike was the only option. So here we are in Lamnarai looking at bikes.
It’s so hot we ask where there is a hotel with a pool and walk a few more kms out of town to a rather posh place. We enter into a cool lobby decorated with beautiful carved furniture and sit down thankfully. We asked if we could have a beer by the pool and go for a swim, yes if you buy a daily membership of 2000 baht. The lady receptionist felt a bit sorry for us, all hot and me not looking too well, so she called a tuk-tuk to take us to the municipal pools. By some stroke of luck these were back next to the station, so that saved us a walk, but they were closed. The afternoon dragged on and on, we found a place to eat supper and need to get back to the station before dark at about 6pm. We watch some kids play a kind of foot volleyball and as night falls get back to the station. Only another 7 hours till the train arrives. We were told to buy the tickets at 10pm, so that is the target time to aim for. I spread the beach mat on the platform, cover myself in mosquito spray, pull my sarong over my head and go to sleep; B is next to me on the station bench and the alarm is set for 10pm.
There’s a sign over the ticket office paygap hole, all in Thai. We wait. It’s 10.30 now, we peep through the gap behind the sign. The 3 station men are spread out in various poses of slumber, legs dangling off the couch, draped over desks, all snoring. Like a movie from a hold-up scene where the guards have been drugged while the bank is robbed.
At 11pm we get brave and knock on the window, “hello, hello”. With a lot of effort they wake up, stretch and remove the sign from the paygap hole. We buy a ticket for 2 people for the midnight sleeper train at and a ticket for the bike to go on the 1am cargo train. Before we can hand our money over another man is called in. The Green Log Book is checked, passports checked and we are told that we must travel with the bike on the cargo train. We try to convince the man that in Bangkok we travelled ahead of the train, it will be fine, we need the sleeper train and the bike needs the cargo train. He was not having it. We must also travel cargo. The sleeper train comes and goes and we watch the lovely bunkbeds disappear down the tracks. It is a beautiful warm evening, the stars are out and the signalman is cavorting with his girlfriend in the back of the signalhouse.
The cargo train pulls in, the bike is loaded and we climb aboard. Shock, horror. A vile smell invades us and there are sleeping bodies strewn everywhere. On the floor, under chairs, in the passage, some standing holding on with eyes closed. Well, I’m obviously a bit drugged up and see a large lady under a blanket spread over 2 seats; I jiggle her foot. “Wake up, move over, give me a seat”. Bloodshot eyes and a fearsome growl emerge from under the blanket as she sits up and then flings herself back down again. I take it as a NO. Some folk are embarrassed and a very nice man gives up his seat, so B sits down and I sit on his lap. We nod off together until his leg goes numb. People have changed places and another seat becomes available. The tiny lady next to me has somehow folded herself up into a 18 inch cube, sitting cross legged with her toes jabbing my thigh. I turn sideway, drape myself over the arm rest and fall asleep, head dangling in the passageway, the paracetomols are in full swing. B is nodding away a few seat down and so this horrible, horrible day is drawing to an end.
It’s Christmas Day, 4am and the stinky cargo train arrives at Khon Kaen Railway station. We throw our luggage out of the train, get off as quickly as we can, grab the bike and push it out to the front parking area. We patiently wait for our extended family to collect us in their pick-up. The most welcome sight ever as the pick-up arrives at 8am. With skillfull instructions from B, we both lift the front wheel onto the pick-up then the back wheel, tie it Tiger down and enjoy the 40minute drive to their home.
Happy Christmas wishes all round. Please can we shower and sleep now.
Thank you Mr. Homchenjai and his team at Pharlap Transport for getting us here.
The Tiger who lost his Spots
The lights on Tiger bike are useless (see story: Guided by Orion’s belt). On a previous trip we had been had caught out so the search is on to give our Tiger some Spots. We found a super-accessory motor shop in Phuket town, about 32kms away from our lovely room near the beach in Naiyang. It was a steaming hot morning ride alongside cars, trucks, roadworks, delivery sidecars and motorbikes riding in both directions. We arrived and found exactly what we wanted: an LED spot bulb for high beam and a fan cooled LED bulb for the dip/bright function. There was also available LED Spotlights. However B wanted to compare the price at another shop down the road. This second shop is about as large as 10 rugby fields. The merchandise contains just about anything you can imagine. Rows and rows up to the ceiling, tidy, labelled, packaged and there are people everywhere with pallet type trolleys. It takes a long time wandering up and down to find the motor section. Communication is performed with lots of hand waving and drawing on scraps of paper, but the shop attendant produces what we want. He only has one and it is the same price as the super-accessory motor shop. Thanks, but no thanks. A long 30 minutes later we find the exit and now need to go back up the highway to the first shop. The midday sun is baking down.
The road system in Thailand is quite different in that U-turns are actively signposted along dual carriage highways. This entails cutting across the traffic from the left slower motorbike lane to the faster car lane then queueing with all the other traffic also waiting to U-turn. Inch by inch the traffic creeps and sneaks forward enough to do a slow gliding U-turn straight into the oncoming fast lane traffic. On a motorbike we overtake the queue, join the collection of bikes all revving to go, then dash around and head for the slow lane on the other side as quickly as possible. B operates the indicators and I assist with hand signals. We GO. It`s done. We are riding back to the super accessory shop which of course is on the other side of the road heading back towards the point from where we have just been. It is sticky hot and the density of traffic and noise makes everything seem hotter. Another U-turn and we are there. We buy the 2 LED bulbs and the 2 Spots. When we leave Thailand these LED’s will all be coming back to France to be fitted on the BMW’s. Back down the highway to our helpful neighbour mechanic. Having left at 9am after a bowl of muesli and fruit juice, it is now past 2pm. We are very hot and tummies are rumbling. B is on a mission to get the lights fixed and the Spots on and tested as we plan to leave in a few days to be up north 2280kms away in Khon Kaen by Christmas day. By the time we reach home we are too hungry, too hot and too lazy so we eat, swim and relax. Enough bike stuff for today (in Afrikaans: more is nog `n dag).
We have moved from Naiyang in the north of Phuket island to the more central suburb of Kathu. It will be easier for us to get to the dentist, the audiometry centre and motorbike shops without the long ride up the highway. We re-visit a guesthouse by a lakeside from a previous stay, but he is full. Nevertheless, he suggests we try the bungalows next door. We negotiate a 8day stay with the delightful Thai lady and settle in to our peaceful colourful bungalow by the lake. For a daily rate of 450 baht (11 euros) we get a whole bungalow, with full kitchen, bathroom with hot shower and a large bedroom plus lounge, secure bike parking, overlooking a lake and we are the only ones there.
We had handed over some 900 baht (30 euros) to an agent near Naiyang a few days before in order to get the bike updated with insurance, registration and compulsory MOT. Today was collection day and true to form, the documents were on time and all correct. Now we have the very important Green Log Book. Travelling anywhere without the GLB is impossible, it is the equivalent of the bike`s passport. GLB collected, we can now fit the lights and Spots , meet up on a lunch date with our gorgeous niece and beau who are flying in from Japan for a short vacation and be on our way. Carrying GLB, LED bulbs and Spots we rode back up the highway to the mechanic who had helped in getting Tiger bike up and running. The LED bulbs were fitted and Tiger was ablaze with brightly glowing headlamps.
While the LED bulbs are being fitted, I entertain the 6 year old Thai son of the mechanic. Out come the sketchbook and crayons. He brings me some sea shells and I show him how to trace the shape then colour it in. We practise numbers and colours, in English, and I am very impressed by his language skills. He brings me a leaf and we continue drawing and colouring in. I get so carried away with this bit of fun in the sun that its rather a let down when B tells me that one of the Spots was not working. While the mechanic was fitting the headlamp LED bulbs, B tested the Spots on a battery. One was not working. I pack away my drawing kit, come back to earth and off we ride back again up the 32kms to Phuket town in the midday heat to super-accessory motor shop. The shop brought out a motorbike battery and by connecting the spotlight wires came to the same conclusion: it`s not working. A quick replacement and another check confirmed that this one was working. On the way home to Kathu we rode passed the huge motor shop again, so pulled in to buy a soldering iron and solder, electric wire, push in terminals, a cigarette lighter plug and then another teak baton from the timber merchant. The idea was to solder the terminals onto the cigarette light lead which would supply the power to the Spots. By using the cigarette lighter as the power supply we could remove and insert the Spots when needed. During the day the cigarette lighter is used to charge various phones, cameras and other electronics as we ride. The soldering wasn’t up to scratch and the terminal push fittings proved to be too cumbersome to be easily used. The next plan was too use a domestic plug and socket arrangement. We went to a hardware store and bought 2 plugs and a twin socket, which B mounted on the teak baton, which was in turn attached to the front carrier basket. The Spots were fitted with domestic plugs. The electric socket box was wired onto an extension lead with the cigarette lighter on the other end. Easy to plug in and out and it worked. A few days sitting in the warmth by the lake tinkering with solder, plugs and bikes is just B’s idea of a relaxing holiday. I happily sketched, painted and photographed the vegetation and lakeside scenes. Bliss.
Eventually by nightfall all 4LED’s were on and working. Tiger bike had been lit by one pathetic halogen bulb and reflector, now she was going to be ablaze with 2 LED bulbs and 2 LED Spots. We found a ‘no streetlight’ mountain road and put the lights to the test. The 2 LED’s were more than sufficient and decided that the Spots could be packed away for France. Our Tiger has no Spots.
Even though we had a brand new battery fitted, the starter motor did not work. B did not fancy kick-starting for the next 4 months. In the Tiger fly wheel there are 3 sets of coils. One for the sparkplug. One to supply the LED headlamp with power and one provides power to recharge the battery through a rectifier which converts the AC to DC. We found that the battery charge was not enough to keep the battery full, so the rectifier coil was faulty. Replacement electric parts are not available as Tiger has been out of production for 9 years, and our great mechanic could be of no further use. We rode into Phuket town to chat with our Kawasaki man who had previously sorted out the Tiger over the last few years. Him and his crew burst out laughing in amazement as we drove up the ramp into the repair shop. They cannot believe that this little bike is still on the road (actually neither can we). They gathered around, admired the steel wheel, LED lights and cable ties. B explained to Mr. Kawasaki about the faulty battery charging and he promptly went to a Honda dealership and fitted a new Honda rectifier. OOOPS, smoke poured out of the flywheel, no more electrics, all coils burnt out. One choice was to fix it, ride it and enjoy our biking time in Asia. The other choice was to post it by truck and buy a new bike in Khon Kaen. We chose to fix it, and get us and the bike to KK by Christmas.
Mr Kawasaki popped around the corner to a street mechanic who also owned a Tiger bike and had a scrapyard of Honda bikes. In all our 9 years of motor biking around Asia we have never come across another Tiger bike and today we meet Mr. Tiger expert ready to fix ours. He proceeded to convert the complete electrical charging system of the Tiger with second hand Honda parts for the grand sum 30 euros. He cut wires with scissors, wound the bare ends together with tape, sitting on the floor with a cigarette hanging from his lips. From there on the electrics worked perfectly, lights, starter, battery perfect. In fact Tiger bike has a new lease of life, just like the king of the jungle.
The total cost for re-assemble, paperwork, wheel, lights, coils, carrier, everything to make it perfect was about 150 euros. Still cheaper than daily rental and we can take it across borders. So 2 weeks into our winter break we are set to go.
We spend the weekend snorkelling, relaxing, and making friends with new arrivals from Germany. They are a professional trio of wake board hunks (look up ARIANO BLANIK, world championship contender). It is their first visit to the island and have chosen this resort as it is near to the wakeboard complex. We go to watch them perform their tricks on the water, being pulled by an overhead cable arrangement around a large water circuit with jumps and obstacles to leap up and over, twisting and spinning and sometimes splashing in; sort of water skiing at a constant speed, without the boat.
Our lunch date is over, swimming is done, Tiger bike is perfect even without the Spots and we are ready to pack and go.
Monday 9 January 2017
We laugh, just because we can
The phone alarm rings, it's 4h30, we quietly put the panniers on the motorbike, bungy up the beach mat but leave the beach chair behind. The pop-up tents make a good back rest. We eat the last of the cereal and one hour later are ready to ride.
There is no way to start the Tiger quietly,so with a blast on the now working starter motor she fires up. And out of the opposite bungalow leaps the hunky German in his jocks to wave us goodbye and good luck. Nice one.
It is fairly chilly and we have donned arm sleeves, like socks for your arms but without the hands, neck scarves and hi-vis stretch cotton hoodies. 6 metres from the front door we discover the huge metal sliding security gate is closed. Hop off, grind the gate back, hop on, by now we've woken everybody up. It's very dark, but we have super bright LEDlights as we ride along the not so empty streets, just one dog attempts to stop us, and the first stop is for fuel. Tiger's tank is 3 litres and we can do about 100 kms between refueling, which means routes are carefully planned using Google maps for petrol stops. We are riding a well travelled route up the West towards Ko Lak, cut east over the mountains miss out Krabi thru to Surathani. At the second stop near the Krabi junction we fill up and add more layers of clothing. By 9h30 we are starving and cold, the cloud never lifted, the sun never rose. A breakfast of pork curry soup, steam rice with green leaves that tasted like liquorice, followed by 3-in-1 sachet of coffee (coffeemate, coffee and sugar all in one bag, just add hot water) did the trick and we only had 17minutes to reach our destination so the phone got switched off and well hidden away from the damp cold environment. Wonderful thing, Google maps.
10 minutes later it began to rain. The waterproofs are buried in the panniers, oh well , we will just put on the handy ponchos. It's only a few more minutes to go. They are powder blue and flap bizarrely, I feel like a flying nun as I try to hold my poncho on and also pin down the one that B is wearing and obliterating his rear mirror viewing. We get soaked as the water forms rivulets and flows down our legs into our sandals and squirts out the side holes. We reach aT-junction and turn Right towards Surathani , after all we are going to the Surathani Railway station. Another 20 minutes no railway or sign to a railway in sight. Much thumping on shoulders in the slippery sliding congested road and we pull up under cover of a shop selling air conditioners.We are wet and cold and don't need one today thank you, but could you direct us to the railway station. We think he doesn't understand as he points us back along way we have just ridden, so I hop off, unpack the well protected dry phone, switch on, click on mobile data and go thro the Google map app. Sure enough, it's in the opposite direction . The Surathani railway station is in Phumping. Well who would have guessed that? Turn around, back to the T-junction, ah that's where we went wrong, should have turned Left. The traffic is normal for Asia, with scooter riders holding on to an umbrella with one hand while they weave and manoeuvre and hold onto accelerator bar with the other. 90 minutes after our '17 minutes to your destination' and we reach the station. It's 12h45, we buy the ticket for 2 people, sleeper with AC, ready to depart at 5pm. We have parked the bike in front of the cargo master who tells us to to come back at 3pm to buy the tickets for bike. The bike will be on the same train. We are wet and cold and by now hungry again. The rain is now very heavy and we shelter at a coffee bar that is called 'express love cafe'. We laugh, because we can, and try and work out what the express refers to: the coffee or the love.
There is a restaurant advertising free wi-fi which opens at 2pm . We shiver and wait. At last the owner of the restaurant sees us hanging around hopefully and he opens his doors early. We dash in with clean dry clothes and change in dining area before any more customers arrive. That's better, now for some hot steam rice and vegetables soup please.
It 3pm, time to buy the tickets.We try to get away with paying for a125cc bike but Mr. Alert station master thumbs through the magical Green Log Book and discovers that the cobbled together bike in front of him is in fact 135cc, so the price is doubled up into the next category for big bikes. Hardly a big bike, but never mind.
Now we are excited, its getting close to being warm, cosy and lying snuggled up in a comfy train bunkbed for 12 hours for the train ride to Bangkok.
The bike is unloaded and 4 panniers, 2 tents and the beach mat are plonked on a bench. The train is scheduled to stop for 3minutes only. Not much time then to find the carriage and carry it all aboard. B finds a 4- wheeled trolley with only 3 wheels, the empty socket wobbling like a loose tooth, and no handles. They broke a long time ago, so it's rather like pushing a lowbed on bended knees.
The train arrives, there noise and pandemonium, and we are at the wrong end of the train. I grab the tickets, waving them frantically at anybody in a uniform and start running towards where the appointed carriage is, followed hotly on my heels by a charging senior citizen almost on the ground pushing a falling apart trolley, no handles and 3 wheels. I leapt on board and B threw the luggage in after me. The bike was still standing on the platform. As the whistle blew, the guard shouted "next train". "When, What time ?" I shouted back. "Tomorrow, 6am". And then we were gone out of the station and could only trust that we would see Tiger again.
We found our way to the train restaurant and ordered 2 hot chocolate drinks, in paper cups. Impossible to hold for the heat, flimsiness and extreme swaying, shuddering and bouncing and rattling. The train's suspension was working overtime to keep the train on the rails. By now we were laughing hysterically and slurped the hot drink in time to the swaying. En route back to our bed/chair nature called and I stopped at the toilets. The faster the train the cooler the breeze that blew up the toilet outlet, a 100mm open hole to the tracks below. There were bars across the window from which dangled a roll of pink loo paper. I pondered about who would want to break into the loo and where was I supposed to throw the paper? Down the hole onto the track, I guess.
At 7pm the railway attendant, a tall bedding man, made his way down the carriage converting seats into bunks, and making up beds from crisp clean folded sheets in sealed plastic bags. At last we could rest. We kissed goodnight and I hauled myself up the ladder to the top bunk, pulled the shiny silky curtain closed and the blanket over my head. Bright lights overhead shone thru the gaps in the thin curtain and the freezing AC blasted icy air over me. I pulled my neck scarf up over my head like a tea cosy and curled away into the furthest corner of the bunk. Bliss, peace and warmth and just as I dozed off a heart thumping shrieking broke all sound barriers. The curtain flew open and this voice shrieked "gillongothayblngecatglklaaaaaa...., " then moved on to the next unsuspecting sleeping beauty. I froze in terror. Did she really need to employ such a hard sell for her supper dish? As she moved down the carriage her voice faded into the distance, but I was now wide awake, adrenalin flowing in shock. I peeped into B's bunk beneath me, he hadn't heard a thing and was fast asleep. Oh well, try again. Then the train ground to a screeching halt at another station and the carriage door opened and stayed that way. The rickety-rackety noise intensified. Without disturbing anyone I stuck my foot out from under my curtain and with the ball of my foot pushed on the glass interleading door just managing to drive it closed. No noise, try again to sleep. And so it went on throughout the night. Stop, door open, noise, foot out trick, no noise, sleep , on and on. At about 2am we were both woken by the beep,beep,beep beep of somebody playing a games on his mobile phone, so B and I in unison started to echo the beeps everytime the phone beeped. The message got thru and the beeps stopped.Eventually I suppose we did sleep because at 4am Mr. Bedding man cluttered down the corridor slamming beds back into seats and creating piles of used linen in the way and woke us up. Our beep-beep chatty Chinese/Thai neighbour introduced himself and told us his life history, even offering some mouth fresheners to start the day.
It's 5am and the train pulls in to Bangkok exactly on time. The train has to arrive on time because the track is a single line carrying trains in both directions with regulated sidings controlled by a signal man pulling massive levers. We gather our luggage and are informed that trolleys are pre-booked and pre-paid so we lug the stuff into the waiting area hoping that Tiger will also be on time on the next train. There is a massive photo exhibition with plenty of monks strolling around all in memory of Thailand's recently departed King. Schools, hospitals, banners and posters throughout the country are in mourning and draped in black ribbons. We take it in turns to wander thru the displays and glance anxiously at the clock. To alleviate any chance of nodding off, we click on to hostel bookers.com and book and pay by card for a room near the station. So easy.
It's 6am, the train from Surathani pulls in, B goes off to investigate and true to form the Tiger is delivered on time in one piece as promised. We re-load the bike and head off in the direction of Chilli house, arriving sharply at 7am ready for a shower and sleep. "Room ready at 2pm". Oh no. We freshened up a bit in the locker room for left luggage at Chilli house and with a laugh set off luggage free to find somewhere for breakfast before passing the day away at the Burmese Consulate. Roll on 2pm.