Through Heat, Rain, and Kind Roads:
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73 THAILAND (5)
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Prelude
Thailand greeted me not as a clean slate, but as a
familiar chapter reopened—one written in steam‑heavy air, unpredictable skies,
and roads that demanded equal parts patience and resolve. This was my fifth
time crossing into the kingdom, yet familiarity did not lessen the challenge.
From dripping border crossings and rain‑soaked highways to frantic city traffic
and blissfully empty coastal lanes, Thailand unfolded as a land of contrasts.
25 May - Koh Kong, Cambodia to Trat, Thailand (108 km)
The Cambodian immigration office was just a stone's throw
away, a mere 10 kilometres across the stunning Mekong River. Before I knew it,
I was navigating through the bustling Thai border control. The sky poured as if
it were trying to quench the earth after a long dry spell, signalling the end
of the dry season. Despite the relentless rain, I pushed myself through 100
kilometres to Trat, a charming little town with a handful of basic guesthouses.
This day marked a significant milestone—my fifth entry into Thailand, leaving
behind the vibrant landscapes of Cambodia.
26 May - Trat to Klaeng – (136 km)
Emerging from my windowless room the next morning, I
found that the rain had not let up. With each drop, I could feel the humidity
creeping back into the air, making the ride to Klaeng a challenge. As I pedalled
along, I passed by intriguing spots that beckoned for exploration, but the
relentless downpour pushed me to keep moving. Every day has its tales, and on
this soggy adventure, I wished for restrooms more often! Let’s say, I was
immensely relieved to finally roll into Klaeng and find a place to crash—time
to wash those cycling pants! If you were ever considering envying my adventure,
believe me, today was not that day!
27 May - Klaeng to Chon Buri (108 km)
Thank heavens, the rain finally let up, and the typical
hot, humid weather returned, making the 100-odd kilometres to Chon Buri a bit
more pleasant. Just moments before I arrived in Chon Buri, I witnessed a truck
overturn right in front of me. It was a sobering reminder of how quickly things
can go wrong. Miraculously, the driver walked away unscathed. Yet, just down
the road, another accident unfolded between a scooter and a car. These
harrowing scenes made me acutely aware of how vulnerable we cyclists can be on
the road. I’d often naively assumed that traffic rules remained constant across
borders, but it turns out each country has its own interpretation. Even with a
well-defined shoulder, it wasn’t a designated bike lane, and I kept my bike as
close to the edge as possible. Staying safe truly felt like a team effort
today!
28 - 29 May - Chon Buri to Samut Prakan (85 km)
Soon enough, I found a welcome opportunity to veer off
the hectic highway onto a peaceful coastal road, breathing in the salt-scented
air. I planned to find a place to stay on the outskirts of Bangkok so that I
could pop into the city the next day. A new front pannier was desperately
needed—my old one was barely holding on with duct tape and prayers, slowly
costing me my belongings. With a two-week limit at land borders, making it to
Malaysia seemed nearly impossible, so I opted to take a taxi into Bangkok to
get my panniers and return swiftly.
However, finding a budget room on the city’s outskirts
turned into a real mission. While the streets were lined with hotels, most had
price tags that made my wallet wince. In the end, I settled for a quirky love
motel, complete with a convenient chair that made me chuckle. Reflecting on it
now, I think biking into Bangkok to snag those panniers would have been the
better call. But, hey, every misstep is a part of the grand adventure!
29 May - Samut Prakan to Oena Resort, Khet Bang Khun
Thian (40 Km)
The next morning, I hopped into a taxi, my excitement
bubbling over as I headed into the bustling heart of the city. My mission? To
hunt down some much-needed panniers—only available in pairs, of course. I also
picked up a new lens cap after tragically losing mine on an escapade during the
Cambodian boat trip (a story for another day). By the time I returned to the
motel, the midday sun was blazing, but I was unprepared for what lay ahead.
Navigating the northern tip of the Gulf of Thailand, I found myself trapped in
the maddening city traffic, inching along amidst honks and heat. Frustrated and
weary, I decided to call it a day, hoping that the morning would bring clearer
skies and clearer roads.
30 May - Oena Resort to Samut Songkhram (85 km)
Samut Songkhram wasn't in my original plans, but
sometimes detours lead to the best adventures. I headed straight for the famous
Railway Market, and what a spectacle it was! At first glance, it appeared to be
a typical market, alive with vibrant colours and cheerful vendors. But look
down, and you’re walking on the very train tracks themselves! Each time a train
was scheduled to pass, the stallholders sprang into action, quickly packing up
their goods to make way. Unfortunately, no train came that day—maintenance
issues kept it at bay.
But the day was far from dull! With it being the weekend,
I ventured to the Amphawa Floating market, where the atmosphere buzzed with
excitement. It felt like a well-kept secret among locals, with not a single
Westerner in sight. The food? Divine! Freshly cooked delicacies were served
straight from the boats, and at only 50 Baht, I couldn’t resist the tempting
canal tour. Fellow visitors graciously shared insights about the temples we
visited, bringing the Thai culture to life for me. By the time we returned, the
market was a lively hive of activity, the sun beginning to dip below the
horizon.
31 May - Samut Songkhram to Cha-Am (95 km)
Having cycled this route between Bangkok and Malaysia
twice before, I still relished every moment of this scenic coastal journey. The
road was as flat as a pancake, flanked by bustling salt farms and charming
fishing villages. Plus, I was thrilled to have a dedicated bike lane all to
myself. When I finally rolled into Cha-Am, the weather threw me a curveball,
clouds darkening the sky. It seemed like a perfect excuse to find a cosy room
and hunker down for a bit.
1 June - Cha-Am
Cha-Am was so delightful that I decided to linger an
extra day. I savoured a long stroll along the coast, followed by a short yet
invigorating jog. With time on my hands, I tackled some much-needed
housekeeping, and in a spontaneous moment of self-care, I treated myself to a mani-pedi
at the local hairdresser. Pure bliss!
2-3 June - Cha-Am to Prachuap Khiri Khan (125 km)
Leaving Cha-Am, I cruised on a flat and easy ride,
stopping to savour roadside stalls filled with tropical fruits and delicious
fishy snacks. Just before reaching Prachuap, the skies unleashed their fury,
drenching me despite my best efforts to speed through. Thankfully, once I
arrived in Prachuap, finding accommodation was a breeze—there were plenty of
options!
4 June - Prachuap Kiri Khan to Bang Saphan (Nipa Beach
Bungalows) (93 km)
I took my sweet time on the way to Bang Saphan, the route
winding through breathtaking scenery that felt like a painter’s canvas. After
months of solitary travel, I finally encountered another kindred spirit on two
wheels—an Italian cyclist on a remarkable journey to Italy from Cambodia, whom
I couldn’t help but think was going the wrong way! Thailand’s beautiful beaches
were a sight to behold; wide stretches of powdery white sand beckoned, all
blissfully empty. Quiet resorts nestled behind canopies of bougainvillaea and
frangipani flowers lined the coast, complete with hammocks lazily swaying
between palm trees. When I stumbled upon Nipa Beach Bungalows right across from
the beach, I knew I had found my oasis for the night. What a perfect way to end
the day!
5-6
June - Bang Saphan – Sea Beach Bungalows (99 Km)
The
ride from Bang Saphan was nothing short of breathtaking, weaving through hills
that seemed to dance under the golden sun. My destination was Chumphon, the
pressure of visa time looming overhead like a storm cloud, pushing me to leave
the country sooner rather than later.
Just
before I reached Chumphon, I discovered Wua Laen, a coastal village boasting a
beach that looked like a slice of paradise. The beachside bungalows immediately
caught my eye, and as fate would have it, another cyclist named Peter Yoong, a
cheerful guy from Malaysia, arrived just as I was considering a stay. Together,
we secured rooms at Sea Beach Bungalows.
While
we chatted on the charming little veranda, in walked an Italian cyclist I’d met
earlier in the day—though he initially didn’t recognise me in my
"civilian" clothes (we shared a good laugh over that!).
That
evening, the three of us set out for dinner, creating a delightful atmosphere
filled with laughter and the camaraderie of fellow cyclists. Peter, a
Warmshowers host, generously invited me to crash at his place once I reached
Malaysia. Little did I know that this meeting would spark a friendship that
would last for years.
The
next morning greeted me with glorious weather, and despite knowing it would put
my border timeline at risk, I decided to linger a bit longer in this slice of
bliss. After a stroll and a refreshing swim, I savoured the simple joys of
travel before digging into breakfast.
7-8
June - Hat Yai, Thailand to Alor Setar, Malaysia (105 Km)
With
a bit of reluctance, I accepted that cycling wasn’t an option to cross into
Malaysia this time. Instead, I hopped on a bus to the border, without a twinge
of guilt since I’d ridden this stretch before. A scenic 30-kilometre ride led
me to the bustling bus terminal in Chumphon, where the buses to Hat Yai
awaited.
Upon
reaching Hat Yai, an easy-going 55-kilometre bike ride took me right to the
border. Navigating immigration was a breeze, and I thought to myself, “If only
all borders could be this seamless!” I stepped into Malaysia with a grin,
eagerly welcomed by a generous 90-day visa—now that’s the kind of entry I could
get used to!
After
rolling another 60 kilometres, I found myself in Alor Setar, the gateway to
Langkawi. While I had no plans to visit the island, I certainly needed a
comfortable place to lay my head for the night.
No
place is without its quirks, but some countries sweep you off your feet, and
Malaysia was truly enchanting. The food scene, a vibrant tapestry of Malay,
Chinese, and Indian influences, had me swooning. I stumbled upon a room only steps
away from the night market—talk about lucky! With Roti Canai priced at just
RM1, I indulged in a few too many, leaving the table utterly satisfied. There’s
nothing like savouring delicious food while surrounded by the vibrancy of a
night market—it was an experience I wouldn't soon forget.
Epilogue
As Thailand slipped quietly behind me, I carried more
than tired legs and stamped pages. I carried small, lasting impressions:
markets that transformed at the sound of a train, roads flanked by salt fields
and fishing boats, beaches so empty they felt borrowed from a dream, and chance
encounters that turned strangers into companions.
This stretch reminded me that travel is rarely about
perfect timing or flawless plans. It’s about adapting when the rain refuses to
stop, laughing at inconvenient detours, lingering when a place feels right, and
knowing when it’s time to move on. Thailand once again proved to be a place
where the road tests you—but also looks after you, just enough.
With a final push toward the border and the promise of
new flavours, landscapes, and stories ahead, I rolled onward—grateful for the
miles behind me and quietly excited for what waited beyond the next line on the
map.
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