111-113 VIETNAM (3.1), CAMBODIA (5) & THAILAND (12) - WITH TANIA – PART 2

 

VIETNAM (3.1), CAMBODIA (5) & THAILAND (12) 
3 October – 17 October 2017
14 Days – 1099 Km

MAP

PHOTOS - VIETNAM (3.1)

PHOTOS - CAMBODIA (5)

PHOTOS - THAILAND (12)

VIETNAM (3.1)

5 Days – 258 Km

 

3–4 October – Hanoi – Saigon - By Train – 34 Hours

Tania thoroughly enjoyed her time in Southeast Asia and chose to linger an additional month. Nevertheless, I’d arranged to meet my sister Amanda in Bangkok and thus had less than two weeks to accompany her. Come hell or high water, I’d to be in Bangkok on 18 October. Therefore, the best plan of action was to catch a train to Saigon and cycle South via the Mekong Delta and Coastal Cambodia to Thailand. However, one crucial task remained: getting our Thailand visas in Phnom Penh. As the process took three days, the last thing we wanted was to arrive in Phenom Penh on a Friday!

Before departing Hanoi, enough time remained to meet with friends Bret and Hayley. They always picked the best restaurants for our rendezvous, and the evening was thoroughly enjoyable.

The following day, Tania and I made our way to the station and once there, staff advised us to pack the panniers in one large bag, sold at a nearby shop. Once all was done and the necessary forms completed, barely enough time remained to board the train.

The cabin was a four-bed one ensuring a comfortable journey. Each berth sported a reading light and electrical point, handy to charge electronic devices as there wasn’t much more to do but play on the internet. A food cart came by, offering breakfast, lunch, and dinner. A snack trolley further delivered nibbles throw-out the day. The assumption the ride took 24 hours was clearly incorrect as following 24 hours, the train was nowhere near Saigon. Instead, we learned it was a 34-hour trip, resulting in arriving in Saigon after dark and the baggage collection office closed. However, a nearby hotel allowed collecting the bikes the next morning.

 

5 October – Saigon

On collecting the bicycles, the professionalism of the Vietnamese railway surprised us as the bikes and panniers arrived intact and on time.

Though Saigon offered surprisingly few attractions, the day was spent sightseeing. Nevertheless, it remained pleasant enough to wander and sample typical Vietnamese street food. We started by eating a Vietnamese pancake or bánh xèo (pronounced BAN-sew), a crispy crepe-like layer made of a mix of turmeric powder and rice flour, stuffed with various ingredients. Still, most common are veggies, mung beans and meat, sometimes seafood or pork. Lunch was Vietnamese spring rolls, something different from the ever-present deep-fried food. Instead, the translucent parcels are filled with salad greens, a sliver of meat or seafood and a layer of coriander, before being neatly rolled and dunked in Vietnam’s favourite condiment -- fish sauce. As if this wasn’t enough, we nibbled on Vietnamese Savory Mini Pancakes (Banh Khot).

The traffic alone was something to witness, as it’s said the city is home to 7.3 million motorbikes. It must be mentioned here that practically everyone referred to the city by its old name, “Saigon” instead of TP Ho Chi Ming City (quite a mouthful). The only one’s referring to it by its proper name seemed the officialdom. Still, it remains a bustling city offering a lively touristy trade.

 

6 October - Saigon – Vinh Long – 123 km

We were well rested and fed and excited to get underway and set out to face the notorious Saigon traffic. Unfortunately, the only way to get out of Saigon was to join the sea of motorbikes and scooters. The city is massive, and we were in the thick of it the best part of the morning. Eventually, our path cleared the city limits, and I was relieved and proud we managed to make it out of Saigon unscathed.

Only once at My Tho were there opportunities to find smaller paths. Our way led past a never-ending string of interesting stuff. Small birds and rats were on offer at eateries, making us want to give it a try. Tania is an adventurous eater and ordered grilled rats right off the rotisserie, surprisingly tasty.

The narrow paths which ran next to the river led through communities that made and sold coconut sweets, famous in the region. The delta is a watery world and no less than three times ferries were required before arriving in Vinh Long. Virtually all boats had eyes painted on their bows. Fishermen and seafarers of all countries are known for their superstitions, and the Vietnamese are no exception. Some say that the eyes are intended to help the boats at sea find their way to land. Others say the eyes are meant to scare off sharks or water monsters or are intended to bring good luck and fortune. Some fishermen believe their boats are like fish – beings with souls that must also have eyes to steer clear of danger. Whatever their purpose, eyes adorn boats, both big and small. We further understood that painting eyes on boats are a vital ritual often associated with a ceremony to “open the eyes” of the vessel and bring it to life.

 

7 October - Vinh Long – Chau Doc – 135 km

The Mekong River originates high in the Tibetan plateau. It then passes through six countries: China, Myanmar, Thailand, Laos and Cambodia before ending its 5 000 km long journey in Vietnam, where it drains into the South China Sea. Southern Vietnam is mainly low lying, and this mighty river empties into the ocean through a network of streams, rivers and canals. The delta is thus a fertile place. Our route led past coconut plantations, banana trees, mangos and rambutan plantations, only to mention a few. Our chosen path was a tiny one running next to one of the innumerable branches of the Mekong. These waterways were busy where boats of all shapes and sizes jostled for position. We pedalled past markets and farmers working in the fields, past traders selling wares from mobiles shops and across numerous rivers where houses precariously balanced on stilts.

All day dark clouds loomed, but we luckily never got caught in the weather. Coconut and sugar cane juice vendors abounded and countless cups of Vietnamese coffee later, we realised there remained 75 kilometres to go. It required stepping on it a tad to reach Chau Doc before dark.

In the dying moments of the day, we slinked into Chau Doc, where a decision was made to use the Mekong River ferry to get to Phnom Penh in Cambodia. The ticket was $15 plus $7 for the bike, which we considered a bargain.

 

 

CAMBODIA (5)

7 Days – 483 Km

 

 

8 October - Chau Doc, Vietnam – Phnom Penh, Cambodia - by boat and minivan

The boat trip wasn’t expected as it only went as far as the Cambodian border and not Phnom Penh. On second thought, the price was far too low for a trip to Phnom Penh but included a minibus ride to Phnom Penh. Still, it remained an exciting boat ride, past houses on stilts and fishing vessels both big and small.

In Phnom Penh, we set to work straight away and got copies of flight tickets and made copies of bank statements all things needed to apply for a Thai visa.

Once all the formalities were done, it was good to shoot the breeze with friends, Mat, Chop and Teresa, while having a few beers.

 

9 October – Phnom Penh

First thing in the morning, we were off to the embassy armed with all the necessary documents, only to discover the embassy closed. Not a word was mentioned on their website, but little one could do. However, it could’ve been a blessing in disguise as Tania discovered the “Lucky Motorbike Shop” (who also acted as visa agents) could apply for a Thai visa on her behalf. As the visa processing took three days, they offered to forward it to wherever we found ourselves at the time. Having limited time, this was fantastic news. I opted for the 14-day border visa as I planned to visit Cambodia with my sister within two weeks. That way, I would save a page in the passport, which was filling up way too fast.

 

10 October – Phnom Penh – Prey Lovea – 86 km

We first drank coffee with Mat and then departed busy Phnom Penh searching for small paths along the Mekong River. It turned out quite an adventurous day as a ferry took us across the river and landed us in a highly rural area.

The first part of the route was stunning, tranquil, and clearly, not a path foreigners took. We got plenty of stares and our actions were observed with great interest. It didn’t take long to learn why, as the way became one potholed, muddy mess. The bikes slipped and slid as the track weaved, and snaked around potholes until eventually spitting us out at a ferry across the river. Still, the area remained rural, and people were drying and dying grasses used for weaving mats. Others were drying rice, men herded cattle or fished while bare-foot monks in bright orange robes collected food. This was truly an interesting part of the country. Still, the road didn’t improve, and mud clogged our wheels, making riding near impossible.

A second ferry took us across the Bassac River and in the direction of Kampot. Our attempt to escape the traffic worked but it came at a price as the route remained potholed and muddy, at times more clay than mud, making slow and exhausting riding. It, nevertheless, remained a fascinating day in an immensely rural part of Cambodia.

Around 17h00, the small settlement of Prey Lovea came into view and though plans were on camping at the temple, a guesthouse sporting a shower and fan lured us in. But, of course, the first thing on our minds was food. Thankfully food is always in abundance in Cambodia.

 

11 October - Prey Lovea – Kampot – 127 km

“This is Cambodia, baby,” Tania uttered (her, by then, trademark saying) as we biked off in the early morning light past green rice fields and wooden carts loaded to the hilt with all kinds of gear. First, our route ran past typical Cambodian eateries selling steamed pork buns, tiny grilled birds, barbecued duck heads and other unknown grilled animals. It wasn’t long before weakening and bagging a few steamed buns. Next, the way led through hamlets where tiny kids on small bicycles were off to school. A few even gave friends a ride. Their excellent balance on a bike was clearly learned at a young age.

 

12 October – Kampot – Sri Amble Temple – 127 km

Leaving Kampot was across scenic rivers where fishing boats lay four-deep. Past oyster farms where child labour wasn’t an uncommon sight, and we waved at monks and their helpers collecting food. At Vinh Real, the weather came in, but a conveniently located restaurant made a good hiding place. The weather soon subsided, allowing us to continue our ride towards the Cambodian/Thai border, still a two-day ride away.

Reaching Sri Amble, ominous-looking weather made us turn down a dirt track to a small community where camping was at a temple. The temple was busy with predominantly kids, around 8 to 13 years of age. We were undoubtedly the centre of attraction and had little privacy as the eating hall doubled as sleeping quarters for us and the kids.

 

13 October – Sri Amble – Trapeang Rung – 80 km

The next morning breakfast was noodle soup from a typical eatery of corrugated iron and a dirt floor. As can be imagined, these were always fascinating stops, as not only were we alien to them, they were equally foreign to us. It appeared a rarity seeing women on bikes and uncomfortable smiles were exchanged slurping our noodle soup.

The remainder of the day was a short but hot and hilly ride as the road headed over the Cardamom Mountains. The hills weren’t steep, but still made slow going. We didn’t mind, as it remained a beautiful part of Cambodia. Kids were fishing in ponds, using ingenious methods and others were herding buffalo or tending cattle.

Lunch was at Trapeang Rung, a small community-based tourism village. It offered plenty of restaurants, and the food was delicious. However, the weather came in. As Trapeang Rung sported a brand-new homestay, we succumbed to temptation and stayed put. Good thing, too, as it pelted down the remainder of the evening.

 

14 October - Trapeang Rung – Koh Kong – 63 km

The next day was the last part of the hilly section and we felt amazingly strong following a noodle soup breakfast. However, hills aren’t something one can fight on a laden bike and “easy does it” remained the best cause of action.

Halfway to Koh Kong, the weather came in. There wasn’t much one could do but don rain jackets and push on. The Cardamom Mountains are picturesque, and although the rain clouded our view it remained a beautiful ride. Once over the high point and even with rain gushing down, we reached speeds of 53 kilometres per hour. The ride was a tad risky as water streamed across the road, making it impossible to spot potholes or other hazards. Still, we rolled into Koh Kong early and after locating accommodation, collecting Tania’s passport was a priority. She was delighted to learn the passport had arrived. Phew, what a relief.

Once all was done, we were ready to cross the border into Thailand. However, there remained 340 kilometres to Pattaya, and I needed to be there in three days to meet my sister.

 

THAILAND (12)

3 Days – 358 Km

 

15 October - Koh Kong, Cambodia – Trat, Thailand – 108 km

In the wake of a bowl of noodle soup, we waved goodbye to Cambodia, crossed the river and cycled to the immigration point at the Cambodian/Thai border. After being stamped out of Cambodia and into Thailand the road continued along the Gulf of Thailand. Both Tania and I still had Thai Baht and Thai SIM cards from our previous visit and thus, no need to draw money or buy new cards.

After lunch a smaller path took us through villages, always a pleasure. The route ran close to the coast and offered lovely vistas and several coffee stops. Then, back on the bikes the threatening weather caught us but donning our plastic raincoats, we pedalled on to Trat. Mercifully, the weather looked worse than what it turned out and we slinked into Trat shortly before sunset.

 

16 October - Trat – Klaeng – 135 km

Following discussions, Tania wanted to give cycle touring a try on her own. Trat to Pattaya was a pleasant bike ride along the coast and we planned on meeting again in Pattaya. I hopped on the bike and gunned it out of Trat before she could change her mind as I knew she could do this. I felt strong and pushed on.

My sister Amanda was arriving in two day’s and I’d to be there to meet her. I thus wasted no time and pedalled onto Klaeng.

 

17 October - Klaeng – Pattaya – 115 km

I was up early, had a quick breakfast and was keen to get underway. Luckily, cycling was effortless and I was happy to ride into Jomtien where I could offload my stuff, do laundry and most of all have a long and hot shower. Afterwards, I popped downstairs to the pub where I’d a few beers with friends and where I could relax before my sister’s arrival the following day.

109 CYCLE TOURING LAOS - TANIA

BANGKOK TO HANOI
2244 Km – 30 Days
1 September – 30 September 2017

MAP

PHOTOS - THAILAND

 PHOTOS - LAOS

 PHOTOS - VIETNAM

 

LAOS (5)

13 September – 18 September

 

13 September - Khemerat, Thailand – Savannakhet, Lao – 105 km

Sluggish following the previous day’s hills, a leisurely ride took us to the Thai/Laos border. En route, people, basket in hand, were collecting leaves and herbs. I thought Thai people were privileged as they still enjoyed the luxury of foraging. No wonder they can prepare the tastiest of meals simply using one or two ingredients. They’ve a knack for collecting tiny fish, crabs, and snails in ponds or rice paddies and conjuring up a meal you’ll think you’re in a 5-star restaurant.

Lunch consisted of noodle soup accompanied by a basket of fresh greens, giving it an extra unique taste. Afterwards, the way continued to the immigration to get an exit stamp. Biking across the Thai/Laos Friendship bridge spanning the Mekong River, wasn’t allowed. Instead, pedestrians and cyclists were required to use the bus, which carted people across the river to the Laos side. It didn’t take much to corrupt Tania, and we hopped on the bicycles and gunned it across the bridge, to great protest of border officials. We, nonetheless, kept going as fast as possible and laughed ourselves silly at how ridiculous it must’ve looked to bystanders.

Once in Laos, a $30 visa allowed entry into the country, and we made our way to Savannakhet and Savanpathana Guesthouse. The fun part was going to the ATM to draw local currency (Lao Kip). As the conversion rate was 8,280 Kip - US$1, one could draw 1,000,000 Kip without breaking the bank. I still had a SIM card from my previous visit, and it only needed topping up.

 

14 September – Savannakhet

Savannakhet sported a Vietnamese consulate made applying for a Vietnam visa easy. A 30-day visa was $45 and a 90-day one $55, and therefore best to apply for the latter, as it allowed exploring far more.

Savannakhet was a lovely place to wander about. We strolled the leafy streets of the old quarters and along the Mekong River, marvelling at all there was to eat at the eateries lining the riverbank. Although I must admit, pig’s brain in banana leaf didn’t sound all appetising.

 

15 September – Savannakhet

Rumours of a typhoon off the coast of Vietnam scared us, but I didn’t think Laos was in the path of the storm. Savannakhet was located 300 kilometres inland from where the typhoon was to make landfall. It, nevertheless, rained the entire day and the best part of the day was spent indoors. At around 15h00, we returned to the Vietnamese consulate to pick up our visas. As our abode lost power, it left little else to do but eat. Not an unpleasant way to spend a day. By evening, I managed to lock us out of the room. Luckily, those places generally had spare keys. It, nevertheless, took a surprisingly long time to locate it in the dark.

The following day, the rain came bucketing down. As the weather forecast predicted rain throughout the region, one more day was spent in Savannakhet.

 

17 September – Savannakhet – Muang Phalanxay - 119 km

Tania was up and packed by 5h50. Unfortunately, I wasn’t equally inspired and took considerably longer to get ready. The route to the Vietnamese border proceeded in an easterly direction. From Savannakhet, one could follow a rural path past Ban Bungva, a lake featuring restaurants on stilts, which looked inviting.

Our path eventually ended up at That Ing Hang, a stupa rumoured to house a relic of Buddha’s spine. We snapped a few pics and continued in the direction of the Vietnamese border, a lovely ride, through a rural area dotted by tiny settlements and markets. Late afternoon digs offering food nearby made an excellent place to overnight. The place was basic and barely worth 60,000 Kip, but what does a person expect when paying 60,000 Kip ($7)?

 

18 September - Muang Phalanxay – Ban Dong – 115 km

It rained throughout the night and in the morning, we departed our humble abode via a muddy, potholed road right through the morning market. By the stares and giggles, one could tell, not many “farangs” frequented their market.

Like the previous day, the day was spent biking through tiny settlements featuring simple houses on stilts and past people carrying their wares in woven baskets on their backs or shoulder poles. Women preparing food on open fires and children herding cattle reminded me of Africa. We overtook people going to the market in basic, wooden, homemade carts and others in equally minimalistic longboats motoring upriver. Bare-bottomed children played in the dirt next to the path as their parents sold bamboo slivers for tying up rice. Lunch was a bowl of noodle soup from a stall admiring the stunning landscape. We dodged chickens, goats, and black pigs on arrival in Ban Dong before finding a suitable guesthouse. The conveniently situated food vendor across the way made it a comfortable overnight stop.

 

 

106-108 CYCLE TOURING THAILAND (11) - A Change of Plans and a Quick Visa Run to Laos

A Change of Plans and a Quick Visa

 Run to Laos

Thailand (11)

635 Km – 11 Days

21 August – 11 September 2017

1,636km - 22 Days

MAP

PHOTOS

 PDF

VOICE-OVER

FLIP-BOOK

Prologue

There are moments in long-distance cycling when life presents you with a fork in the road. One path leads to China, adventure, and the smug satisfaction of having a plan. The other leads to a sudden message from a friend saying, “Actually, I am coming to Thailand,” followed by the realisation that your visa is expiring and you now need to cycle to another country before lunch.

Naturally, I chose the second path.

This chapter begins with that familiar traveller’s cocktail: excitement, mild panic, and the dawning awareness that international borders are sometimes just glorified speed bumps for people on bicycles. What follows is a tale of baguettes, bureaucracy, rainstorms, headwinds, and the kind of rural hospitality that makes you question whether you’ve accidentally joined a travelling circus.

 

 

16 August – Nong Khai, Thailand to Vientiane, Laos (35 km)

Big news: Tania had changed her mind and was coming to Thailand after all! Suddenly, my grand plan to cycle into China evaporated like a puddle in the Bangkok sun. Instead, we were now meeting in Bangkok on September 1 for a one-month bicycle tour of Southeast Asia. A thrilling adventure for sure—though it did mean I had to abandon my China dreams and instead focus on the far more glamorous task of… renewing my Thailand visa.

Since my visa was about to expire, I did what any sensible traveller does: I pedalled to another country. The next morning, I packed at a leisurely pace (because nothing says “urgent immigration matter” like dawdling) and cycled the short distance to the Thai–Lao border. After acquiring a Laos visa with surprising ease, I rolled into Vientiane—the world’s most relaxed capital, where even the traffic seems to be on a tea break.

First order of business: money and a SIM card. I emerged from the money changer with a wallet so stuffed with Lao Kip (1 USD = 8300 LAK) that I felt like a cartoon villain about to buy a small island. Then came the SIM card—my shiny new lifeline to the world.

Hunger struck, and salvation appeared in the form of a Laotian baguette vendor. This glorious creation—lettuce, tomatoes, carrots, onions, egg, and chilli sauce—was basically a salad pretending to be a sandwich, and I loved it. Feeling fortified, I headed to the Thai consulate… which, naturally, was closed. But with two weeks to plan Tania’s visit and make my way to Bangkok, I wasn’t too bothered. Bureaucracy could wait; baguettes could not.

 

17–20 August – Vientiane, Laos (88 km)

Vientiane is one of those cities where wandering feels like a legitimate activity. I strolled past ancient temples, silk shops, and baguette vendors who seemed to be multiplying by the hour. The next morning, I submitted my Thailand visa application. Vientiane is famous for its easy visa runs—just an application form and two photos. I was handed a slip with the number 366, which suggested I might age significantly before being called. Instead of standing in line, I crossed the road to a restaurant, where I spent a blissful hour and a half doing absolutely nothing productive. When I returned, the queue had shrunk enough for me to collect my visa without drama.

That evening, I met up with Christian, a Warmshowers host I’ve stayed with twice before. He’s a German who has lived in Laos for six years and knows every good eatery within a 10 km radius. Staying at his cosy home felt like slipping into a warm bath—relaxing, familiar, and slightly addictive. Between the good company, good food, and good beer, I found myself happily plotting Tania’s September route with the enthusiasm of a cyclist who can’t wait to share their experiences.

 

21 August – Vientiane, Laos to Udon Tani, Thailand (87 km)

After saying goodbye to Christian and dropping off his key at work, I cycled to the immigration checkpoint. A quick stamp later, I was back in Thailand. Moments after crossing the border, the heavens opened. Not a gentle drizzle—no, this was biblical. I sheltered under an awning until the deluge eased, then continued toward Udon Tani, surprisingly cheerful despite being soaked like a sponge.

Weeks of heavy rain had turned rural roads into mud wrestling arenas, so I stuck mostly to the main roads. The few times I ventured off-road, I found myself on charming country lanes where villagers pedalled past on their fixies like a local cycling club with zero Lycra and infinite style. The landscape was lush—ponds and dams overflowing, farmers fishing, and lotus flowers swaying dramatically in the breeze like they were auditioning for a nature documentary.

I checked into the Kings Hotel—cheap, air-conditioned, and with hot water. Luxury! As I settled in, excitement bubbled up for the journey ahead with Tania.

 

22 August – Udon Tani to Namphongkao (105 km)

The day began with me desperately hunting for minor roads, only to be repeatedly spat back onto the main highway like a rejected suitor. After 105 km of uninspiring tarmac, I stumbled into Namphongkao—a tiny village that turned out to be unexpectedly delightful. Arriving early meant I could tackle chores, including laundry. The downside of stopping early? I ate everything in sight. Apparently, boredom and hunger are identical twins.

 

23 August – Namphongkao to Kaeng Khro (120 km)

The next day’s ride was a joy—one of those days where cycling feels like flying, minus the wings and plus the sweat. I glided through small settlements, soaking up the scenery, until I reached Kaeng Khro, where I camped at the local police station. Nothing says “adventure cyclist” like pitching a tent next to law enforcement.

 

24 August – Kaeng Khro to Chatturat (85 km)

Packing up my tent the next morning turned into a spectator sport. Villagers and police gathered to watch, as if I were performing a magic trick instead of wrestling with tent poles. I felt like a hermit on display. The ride felt sluggish—headwinds will do that—but I eventually reached Chatturat and treated myself to a night at Ratchanee Place Hotel. A shower, a bed, and the ability to recharge both my devices and my soul. I hated feeling pressured to reach Bangkok, but the calendar was not on my side.

 

25 August – Chatturat to Tha Luang (128 km)

I surprised myself by leaving early. Route 201 was dull enough to make paint drying seem thrilling, so I veered off onto rougher roads. The hills were refreshing, the headwind was not. I passed a wind farm where the turbines looked deceptively small from afar—up close, they were giants.

After a glorious downhill, I rolled into Tha Luang absolutely ravenous. I inhaled two meals—green curry and stir-fried rice—plus cake, crisps, a Pepsi, and a beer. My supplies dangled precariously from my handlebars like a travelling circus act. I found the first available accommodation and spent the night feasting like a queen who had survived a famine.

 

26 August – Tha Luang to Nong Khae (110 km)

The ride was uneventful but hilly enough to keep me awake. The flat sections were mind-numbing. I considered detouring to Lopburi or Ayutthaya but had visited both too many times to justify the effort. Bangkok beckoned, and I took the simplest route.

 

27–31 August – Nong Khae to Bangkok (93 km)

I woke to torrential rain, which eventually eased enough for me to set off. The ride became a soggy but entertaining journey along a canal, where everyday Thai life unfolded—temples, markets, vendors selling banana hearts, and the usual organised chaos.

With 30 km to go, I left the peaceful canal and followed the railway tracks, weaving through Skytrain construction zones. Despite the mess, it was an easy ride into the Big Mango. Arriving at my old haunt felt like coming home. Bangkok—with its chaos, tourists, alleys, and irresistible food stalls—always wraps me in a warm, spicy embrace.

I had errands to run before meeting Tania for her ride to Hanoi. My bike needed a service, and I needed a few essentials. After a quick trip to Pattaya to sort out my condo, I returned to Bangkok—just in time to find Tania ready to hit the road.

 

Epilogue

By the time I rolled into Bangkok—damp, gritty, and decorated with a fine layer of canal mist—I had crossed borders, dodged storms, camped at a police station, eaten my bodyweight in green curry, and been observed by more curious villagers than a zoo exhibit.

I had also, against all odds, successfully renewed my visa.

Bangkok welcomed me back like an old friend: noisy, chaotic, fragrant, and utterly irresistible. There were errands to run, bikes to service, and snacks to inhale. Anticipation settled in: Tania was on her way, and the next chapter of the journey was about to begin.

105 CYCLE TOURING THAILAND (10) - ATTEMPTING ADULTHOOOD

Attempting Adulthood

 (Briefly)

 

Thailand (10)
1,779 Km – 58 Days
20 June – 18 August 2017

MAP

FLIP-BOOK

 VOICE-OVER

PHOTOS

PDF

 

Prologue

There comes a moment in every long-term traveller’s life when they think, perhaps I should stop living like a snail with a passport. Mine arrived somewhere between Cambodia and Thailand, when I realised, I had bought a condo—an actual, stationary unit with walls, a door, and the theoretical possibility of a sock drawer.

This chapter chronicles the brief period in which I tried to be a responsible adult, failed spectacularly, and fled back to the open road—where at least the chaos makes sense.

 

Poi Pet, Cambodia to Sa Kaeo, Thailand (85 km)

Poi Pet greeted me with its usual charm: dust, noise, and traffic behaving like it had been raised by wolves. I threaded my way through carts, queues, and motorbikes until immigration waved me to the front, possibly out of pity.

Once in Thailand, I withdrew rent money using my Thai card and felt like a financial prodigy. Then, with no plan whatsoever, I chased a dramatic limestone pinnacle because it looked like the sort of place that might contain enlightenment—or at least a monk.

I climbed a staircase steep enough to qualify as a spiritual test and was rewarded with a blessing. Camping there was tempting, but the monkeys were eyeing my panniers as if planning a coordinated raid. I retreated to Sa Kaeo, where the main attractions were a Big C and a KFC. Accommodation signs were all in Thai script, so I relied on intuition and blind optimism.

 

Sa Kaeo to Plaeng Yao (110 km)

The next day’s ride was uneventful, which felt suspicious.  Hard out of Sa Kaeo I met two Chinese cyclists napping in a bus shelter; our conversation was a masterpiece of mutual confusion.

Eventually, I escaped to smaller roads where temples appeared like spiritual pop‑ups and fruit vendors offered mysterious produce that turned out to be delicious.

The Rich Inn in Ban Plaeng Yao looked nothing like an inn, but inside it was a tiny oasis with air‑con and hot water. I did laundry in the wastepaper bin and stared at the walls. A glamorous life.

 

Ban Plaeng Yao to Jomtien (123 km)

Rural Thailand delivered its usual magic: old men guarding single cows as if they were national treasures, women tending rice paddies with enviable grace, and temples gleaming in the sun.

I bought a 10‑baht flower garland “for good luck” and hung it proudly on my handlebar bag.

Rolling into Pattaya, I collected the key to my new condo—my first home in a decade. It needed work, but it was mine. A sanctuary! A nest! A place to leave things without locking them to a bicycle!

Jomtien

I plunged into cleaning and discovered that my previous tenant had left behind enough belongings to stock a small thrift shop. Seven garbage bags later, I had unearthed:

• six lip balm holders

• several lipstick tubes

• receipts dating back to the Ming Dynasty

• shoeboxes containing… more shoeboxes

My body ached more than after a 100‑km ride.

I bought new bedding, towels, and two of everything—except wine glasses, because one must have standards. I even organised my documents into a file, which made me feel like a functioning adult.

Pattaya, however, was… Pattaya. A city where 10 a.m. is considered a perfectly acceptable time for a drunk foreign man to cling to a bar counter while a Thai girl pretends to find him charming. Jogging made me look like an alien.

I cycled to a viewpoint for sunset, but the sky refused to cooperate. A storm rolled in, and I sprinted home like a Tour de France rider escaping paparazzi.

 

 Pattaya to Prok Fa (102 km)

Escaping Pattaya after a month and a half felt less like “leaving a city” and more like “fleeing the scene of a mildly questionable life choice.” I pedalled away without so much as a nostalgic glance, propelled by the looming deadline of crossing into China and the faint fear that if I stayed any longer, the neon lights might start addressing me by name.

The countryside welcomed me like a cool cloth on a fevered forehead. Temples appeared in serene clusters, coconut plantations swayed innocently, and pineapple fields stretched out like nature’s apology for everything Pattaya had just put me through. It was blissful, quiet, and—most importantly—devoid of nightlife that required a tetanus shot.

A temple on a hill lured me in. The monks handed me the key to the shrine—apparently trusting sweaty strangers with sacred spaces is normal here. I climbed, admired the view, locked up, and continued.

By late afternoon, I found a lively village with a market and a sign for accommodation. Down a dirt track was a modest room that felt like a palace after Pattaya.

 

Prok Fa to Khlong Hat (111 km)

The owner gave me coffee and bananas—breakfast of champions—and I set off along rural roads near the Cardamom Mountains. Rubber plantations, chilli fields, and pineapples lined the route.

I hoped to see elephants but only found their dung, which was impressive in its own right.

Locals insisted on feeding me at every water stop. I didn’t resist.

In Khlong Hat, the police let me camp at their station, fed me, and showed me the bucket‑and‑scoop shower system. I ended the day with a giant crispy crepe filled with sweet goodness. Bliss.

 

Khlong Hat to Aranyaprathet (85 km)

I chased a sign promising caves 4 km away. At 4 km, there were no caves. At 7 km, still no caves. Eventually, I found a sign pointing uphill. The path was so overgrown it felt like nature was trying to hide the viewpoint from me.

I climbed until my water ran low, then retreated. The caves were dark and spooky, so I skipped them as I had no flashlight.

Prasat Khao Noi, a 6th-century Khmer sanctuary, was a delight—until the sky dumped rain on me. I hid, waited, and continued to Aranyaprathet, where the Aran Garden Hotel had no garden but did have prison‑green floors.

Dinner was noodle soup from a mobile stall while my laundry spun somewhere in the background.

 

Aranyaprathet to Non Din Daeng (108 km)

I escaped town and immediately found tiny lanes leading to Prasat Sadok Kok Thom, an 11th‑century temple guarded only by an old man and his water buffalo. My kind of tourist attraction.

Rice fields, buffalo, temples, and Friday markets filled the day. Locals whispered “farang, farang” as if spotting a rare bird.

I reached Non Din Daeng, found yet another temple ruin, and decided I was temporarily templed‑out.

 

Non Din Daeng to Khao Kradong Forest Park (111 km)

After a good night’s sleep, I felt energised, and I visited the ruins of Nong Hong Sanctuary (deserted except for cows), then Prasat Muang Tam, which was spectacular and deserved far more visitors than just me.

A truck driver gifted me water and cola—proof that angels sometimes drive pickup trucks.

After biking 110 km, Khao Kradong Forest Park surprised me with food carts, trails, and camping. I pitched my tent just before the rain arrived, feeling smug and accomplished.

 

Khao Kradong Forest Park to Surin (50 km)

Woken by roosters, I packed up and headed east. Central Thailand’s fertile plains and Khmer history made for a beautiful ride.

Surin appeared unexpectedly, and I checked into “My Hotel,” which was conveniently opposite the station. Rain kept me indoors the next day, which was perfect for catching up on work.

 

Surin to Uthumphon Phisai (125 km)

Just two kilometres out of Surin, I found a rural path that delivered a perfect day: green rice paddies, friendly people, and only one backtrack required.

I visited a silk village, then Prasat Chom Phra, a 12th-century Mahayana Buddhist medical station. Locals gifted me water, fruit, and a sweet bun—fuel for the final kilometres.

I chased signs to more ruins, but after 13 km of nothing, I gave up, as I had already cycled 125km. I searched for accommodation and went to Tesco Lotus. Food solves everything.

 

Uthumphon Phisai to Phibun (130 km)

The highway dominated the day—boring, hot, and uninspiring. I arrived in Phibun exhausted and ready for bed.

 

Phibun to Pha Taem National Park (65 km)

A short but eventful day. I followed the Mun River to the Pak Mun Dam, which was dramatically overflowing.

A cash mix-up forced me to detour to Khong Chiam, where I admired the Two‑Colour River Viewpoint—blue and brown waters swirling like a giant latte.

Later, a cable-pulled boat ferried me across the river, assisted by a helpful local who clearly doubted my ability to load a bicycle without drowning.

I found PK Riverside Resort and camped under trees beside the Mekong. For 100 baht, it was paradise.

 

Pha Taem National Park to Khemmarat (117 km)

I drank coffee by the river, watched boats glide past, and considered abandoning cycling to become a riverside hermit.

The day was full of rolling hills—fun in the morning, hateful by afternoon. The 3,000 Stones rock formations were surreal and worth every curse word uttered on the climbs.

Khemmarat welcomed me with food stalls and an air-conditioned room. Heaven.

 

Khemmarat to Mukdahan (85 km)

A day of mild inclines and maximum fatigue. I crawled into Mukdahan, ate everything in sight, and collapsed.

 

August 13 – Mukdahan to Sakhon Nakhon (122 km)

I tried to cross the Friendship Bridge into Laos, but bicycles were banned. I sighed dramatically and continued on the Thai side of the river.

A dirt track through rubber plantations restored my mood. Villagers fed me again—Thailand is basically one long buffet.

I reached Sakhon Nakhon, discovered a night market, bought two meals, and managed to eat only one. A personal tragedy.

 

Sakhon Nakhon to Sawang Daen Din (90 km)

Floods had turned parts of the region into lakes. Villagers fished in the streets. Rivers roared under bridges.

I sheltered at police stations, rode farm tracks, and eventually reached Sawang Daen Din, where I found a 250 baht room with air con. Luxury!

 

Sawang Daen Din to Nong Khai (125 km)

Flood damage made the roads unpredictable. Workers repaired them while farmers dried dyed grasses on the tarmac.

A flat tyre slowed me down, but the villages I passed were full of life—charcoal makers, fishermen, vendors, cattle herders.

I raced a storm to Nong Khai and reached Mut Mee Guesthouse just as the sky exploded. My 200‑baht room was basic but spotless. Perfect.

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Epilogue

My brief attempt at domesticity had ended exactly as expected: with me fleeing a condo full of newly purchased cutlery and running headlong back into the arms of the open road.

Some people settle down. Some people build homes. And some people—my people—buy a sleeper sofa, admire it for a week, and then abandon it for a tent pitched beside the Mekong.

Thailand had reminded me of who I was: a wanderer on a bicycle, with a sense of humour and a talent for arriving everywhere just after closing time.