Where the Plan Was Optimistic, the Noodle Soup Infinite and the Beer Cold
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Thailand (13.1) & Malaysia (5)
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1,234 Km – 31 Days
3 December 2017 – 2 January 2018
MAP
PHOTOS
Thailand (13.1)
Prelude
(Thailand)
Thailand
was never meant to be a challenge; it was meant to be an introduction. It
offered reassurance in the form of familiar chaos, easy food, forgiving roads,
and an unspoken agreement that things would probably work out—even if no one
bothered to explain how.
Thailand
was exactly that—generous with lessons, forgiving of mistakes, and always ready
with a cold beer at the end of the day.
Linda's Arrival
Linda
arrived in Thailand on 3 December for our grand plan to cycle all the way to
Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia—because obviously that seemed like a perfectly sensible
idea at the time. After a 36‑hour flight from Fort Lauderdale, followed by a
two‑hour bus ride from the airport, she must have been utterly exhausted,
although she was remarkably good at hiding it. The evening was spent sitting on
the balcony, drinking a few beers, and I had the unmistakable feeling that we
were going to get along like a house on fire—fuelled largely by hops.
Acclimatisation in and Around Jomtien
Up
early, a short jog along the beachfront followed by a quick dip in the pool
woke us up and convinced us we were still young, fit, and enthusiastic—if only
briefly. The bicycle looked as if it had been custom‑made for Linda, which was
reassuring at this early stage. A short cycle took us to some outlying temples
and up to Big Buddha Hill. On the way back, we popped in at the floating
market, thereby concluding a rather lovely day. By evening, we packed our
panniers and prepared for our ride to Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia—roughly 2,000
kilometres away. No pressure.
And so it begins - Pattaya to Samut Songkram – by taxi
As
arranged the previous night, a taxi picked us up at 10:00 sharp and whisked us
200 kilometres north to Samut Songkram. This manoeuvre neatly avoided a long,
congested and soul‑sapping cycle through the urban sprawl of Bangkok, which
felt like a tactical masterstroke, especially given our limited time and desire
to still like cycling.
Samut
Songkram is home to the famous Maeklong Railway Market, where stallholders have
entered into a long‑term agreement with passing trains to politely move out of
the way. As the train approached, produce, awnings and nerves were swiftly
shifted just far enough to avoid catastrophe. The train crawled through at
snail’s pace, and once it had passed, the entire market snapped back into
position with impressive efficiency—as if nothing unusual had happened. This
process, we were told, repeats multiple times a day without anyone batting an
eyelid.
The
town is also famous for its street food. As soon as the sun dipped, mobile food
carts appeared along the main road, offering an endless variety of dishes and
testing one’s willpower. Coincidentally, it was the King’s birthday, so it was
a public holiday, and the local temple was packed with worshippers. Incense
smoke hung thick in the air as devotees shook cups of Chi Sticks (Kau Cim),
asking questions of fate and waiting until one stick fell out to deliver its verdict—rather
like a spiritual lottery, only smokier.
6
December – Samut Songkram to Hua Hin – 130 km
After
a quick breakfast at Hometown Hostel, we said goodbye to the lovely owners and
fellow cyclists. Sebastian from Switzerland was unwell and decided to stay put
for another day, while Dave from Borneo was heading south toward Kuala Lumpur.
As often happens during the wet season, parts of town were flooded due to high
tide on the Chao Phraya River, meaning we added a casual ten kilometres to an
already long day by cycling around submerged streets. Still, it was a pleasant
amble through rural areas once clear of town.
Not
long after leaving, we came across Romeo from Germany, another cyclist bound
for Kuala Lumpur. He wasn’t in any particular hurry, so we rode together until
he turned off toward Phetchaburi. The coastal road rolled past salt farms, rice
paddies, Buddha statues and rivers packed with fishing boats. Friendly locals
waved and called greetings from houses perched on stilts. Less cheerfully, signs
of heavy rain from earlier in the week were apparent—houses without stilts were
clearly having a rough time of it.
The
day turned out to be a very long one for a first proper ride. Nevertheless,
Linda performed magnificently, and we eventually crawled into Hua Hin in the
late afternoon. Bird Guesthouse—an old, rickety wooden structure perched on
stilts over the water—became home for the night. We wasted no time grabbing a
beer and sat on the deck watching the tide roll in. Dave soon popped by, and
beers were consumed as stories, plans and the general optimism of bicycle
touring were exchanged.
7
December – Hua Hin to Sam Roi Yot National Park – 57 km
Dave
joined us in the morning as we set off toward Sam Roi Yot National Park.
Finding a dedicated bicycle path leading out of Hua Hin came as a most welcome
surprise. Our first stop was Rajabhakti Park, a historical theme park honouring
past Thai kings. After that, we sauntered along the coast, crossing rivers
filled with brightly coloured fishing boats. A helpful tailwind made cycling
easy, and we stopped regularly for coconut juice and to explore various
intriguing caves.
Climbing
a small hill revealed even more caves and a splendid view over the surrounding
countryside.
With
plans to visit Phraya Nakhon Cave the following morning, we tracked down a
guesthouse in Ban Bang Pu. It was somewhat pricey at 900 baht, but considerably
more reasonable when divided between the three of us. Quite content with this
arrangement, we spent the evening on the deck watching fishing boats bob in the
river while sampling a few Chang beers.
8
December – Sam Roi Yot National Park to Prachuap Khiri Khan – 60 km
A
short ride brought us to boats ferrying people around the headland to Laem Sala
Beach. Thanks to our early start, we were the first to arrive. From there, a
short but steep hike led up to Phraya Nakhon Cave. Peering through the cave’s
opening to see the temple inside was nothing short of spectacular. A hole in
the ceiling let in a shaft of sunlight, illuminating the structure and creating
a scene that felt almost deliberately cinematic—and providing an excellent
photo opportunity.
Back
on the bikes, we followed a pleasant route close to the sea, eventually
reaching Prachuap Khiri Khan, where we settled into the popular Maggie’s
Homestay.
9
December – Prachuap Khiri Khan to Bang Saphan Beach – 95 km
The
following day proved challenging. Something I’d eaten the night before clearly
disagreed with me, and I spent much of the night enthusiastically alternating
between diarrhoea and vomiting. Without a helpful tailwind, the day would have
been truly miserable.
Low
on energy, we rolled into Bang Saphan Beach around 17:00 and waited for my
friend Peter Yoong to arrive. Unfortunately for him, Peter was cycling in the
opposite direction—straight into a headwind—which had made his day long and
arduous. Still, it was great to see him, and we shared dinner while comparing
tales of hardship.
10
December – Bang Saphan to Hat Thung Wua Laen – 90 km
A
beautiful sunrise greeted us, and after breakfast with Peter, we all went our
separate ways. Linda and I felt considerably better, though still not at full
strength. The ride to Hat Thung Wua Laen was an easy one, following the coast
past oil palm, rubber and pineapple plantations. Frequent coconut and
watermelon vendors only added to an already enjoyable day, and the road rolled
past fishing hamlets and beachside eateries that made stopping frequently very
tempting.
Hat
Thung Wua Laen appeared in good time, offering seaside bungalows just across
the road from the ocean. Dinner was taken at a beachside restaurant, where the
food was excellent and the setting even better.
11
December – Hat Thung Wua Laen to Kraburi – 82 km
Watching
the sun rise over the beach is hard to beat as a start to the day. Our first
stop was in Chumphon to locate a replacement screw for Linda’s phone
holder—essential modern expedition equipment. From there, we waved goodbye to
the Gulf of Thailand and crossed over the hills toward the Andaman Sea,
stopping along the way for steamed dumplings from a roadside stall.
After
passing over the central cordillera—now reduced to something more hill‑like—we
stopped at the Kra Isthmus, the narrowest part of the Malay Peninsula at just
44 kilometres wide. Being a relatively short day, we rolled into Kraburi early,
where a delightful little A‑frame bungalow promptly reeled us in.
12
December – Kraburi to Ranong – 58 km
We
chatted at length with the chalet owner before cycling off in search of
breakfast. Fortunately, in Thailand, one is never far from a good bowl of
noodle soup, and this proved no exception. Our route passed through Kra Buri
National Park, which was scenic if a little hilly. Sugarcane purchased from a
roadside vendor fuelled us over climbs and thrilling downhill stretches.
We
crossed rivers lined with wooden houses clinging precariously to the banks,
passed waterfalls offering sweeping views, and finally stopped at a temple
guarded by fierce‑looking yakshas—traditional protectors against evil spirits
and a common sight at Thai temples.
We
arrived early in Ranong and checked into the Kiwi Orchid Guesthouse, located
conveniently beside the bus station and main road, ensuring a lively
soundtrack. A bonus was the availability of a washing machine and the option of
cheap visa runs to Myanmar—useful, as I had only four days left on my Thai
visa.
13
December – Ranong
We
spent a well-deserved rest day in Ranong, tackling the adulting grind head-on.
Initially, I had planned a visa run, full of anticipation, only to have it fall
through like a house of cards. Not to be deterred, I pivoted to a visa
extension—let me tell you, it felt like choosing between a fancy dinner out or a
home-cooked meal; the main difference was just the price tag.
The
rest of the day settled into the comforting rhythm of a classic rest day: I
tackled a mountain of laundry that seemed to multiply overnight, rearranged my
panniers like a game of Tetris to ensure I was road-ready, and did a little
mental gymnastics to convince myself that all these chores counted as part of
my recovery. It may not have been the adventurous day I envisioned, but there’s
something satisfying about caring for the little things that keep the journey
going strong.
14
December – Ranong to Bang Ben Beach – 57 km
Shortly
after breakfast, we cycled out of Ranong, passing what felt like hundreds of
temples in quick succession. It’s often said that around 95% of Thailand’s
population is Buddhist, and judging by the number of Buddha statues lining the
route, this statistic felt entirely believable. The area was so densely
forested that the only hill with a grassy top had become a tourist
attraction—naturally complete with a temple.
Not far
along, a turn‑off led us into Laem Son National Park and onward to Bang Ben
Beach. The beach lay ten kilometres off the main road, reached by a track
winding through mangrove swamps where water buffalo casually soaked in muddy
ponds. Of particular interest were Sanskrit swastikas painted on fishing boxes.
In this context, the symbol means “good fortune” and is sacred in Hinduism and
Buddhism—sadly, forever misunderstood elsewhere thanks to one extremely poor
rebrand.
At
the Bang Ben Beach pier, fishing boats lay awkwardly stranded, waiting
patiently for the tide to return. A chalet at Wasana Resort became our home for
the night, and with our early arrival, the remainder of the afternoon was spent
exactly as it should be: sitting back with a beer and doing very little indeed.
15
December – Bang Ben Beach to Kura Buri – 91 km
Breakfast
was taken at Wasana Resort while chatting with Bo, a friendly Dutchman who had
married his Thai wife nearly thirty years earlier. Together, they ran the
resort, and it would be remiss not to mention that her cooking was genuinely
excellent. The road south from Bang Ben remained lined with thick jungle. As we progressed, mosques and women wearing hijabs became more frequent—a
visible reminder that southern Thailand has a distinctly different cultural
mix.
A
sign advertising a waterfall prompted an investigation, which proved
worthwhile, revealing a peaceful, shaded oasis. Back on our iron horses, we
continued to Lang Thung Nang Pier, home to countless colourful fishing boats.
The villagers here have always lived from the sea, and clearly still do. Before
the final push to Kura Buri, we demolished bowls of namkhaeng sai—a Thai
dessert of shaved ice with chewy, jelly‑like toppings lurking at the bottom.
On
the road again, Linda suddenly disappeared ahead. Like a horse that had smelt
the stable, she flew over the hills, leaving me largely to admire her rear
wheel from afar.
16
December – Kura Buri to Khaolak – 95 km
As
touring often reminds you, no two days are alike. We began by crossing hills
draped in never‑ending rubber plantations and passed through at least three
national parks. One provided an excuse to poke around mangrove swamps at low
tide, always good for stirring the imagination regarding what exactly might be
lurking beneath the mud.
We
also passed communities drying betel nut—widely chewed throughout Southeast
Asia in a manner loosely comparable to tobacco. The ride took us past the
Chaomae Kuan‑Im Shrine, a place with a long and fascinating history, followed
by noodle soup stops and a visit to an elephant farm. Nearing Khaolak, the
skies opened dramatically. We pulled on plastic raincoats, yanked our caps low,
and pressed on through the downpour, arriving thoroughly damp but still
upright.
17
December – Khaolak to Phuket – 105 km
The
day quickly became dominated by bicycle issues. A mysterious creaking noise
emanated from my bike, prompting an enthusiastic application of WD‑40 to
anything remotely mechanical. Sadly, this achieved absolutely nothing. Unsure
of the cause, we prudently stuck to the main road rather than our usual
preference for quieter side tracks.
Midway
through the day, we crossed the Sarasin Bridge—the original 660‑metre span
connecting Phuket to the mainland. Built in 1951, it also carries a tragic history
involving two young lovers in 1973. Though Phuket is technically an island,
it’s not exactly small, and from the bridge there were still 50
kilometres to Patong.
Late
in the day, we discovered “U Can Bicycle Shop,” which immediately inspired
hope. The staff replaced the bottom bracket. The noise remained. Pedals were
changed. Still creaking. Finally, the verdict was delivered: the rear rack. I
secretly suspected the rear hub, but wisely refrained from arguing with a
bicycle mechanic. The owner was deeply sceptical of our chances of reaching
Patong, predicting steep hills and likely defeat. The hills were indeed
steep—but none quite steep enough to force us off the bikes. Despite the shop’s
doubts, we rolled quietly smug into Patong just as the sun set.
18
December – Patong, Phuket
Linda
and I split duties for the day. I headed into Phuket town in search of a Canon
repair centre, only to be informed that camera repairs required a two‑week
wait. I returned to Patong somewhat crestfallen, where Linda had enjoyed a far
more successful outing.
Patong
is a world‑class party beach, offering a bottomless supply of food, alcohol, go‑go
bars, and ping‑pong shows. We exercised restraint, had a beer, grabbed food,
and retreated to the safety of our room. Truth be told, we simply couldn’t
summon enthusiasm for overpriced meals and tacky souvenirs. Cycle touring
rather spoils you—once you’ve experienced the quieter, real side of Thailand,
places like Patong lose some of their charm. Still, it’s undeniably remarkable.
As Lonely Planet enthusiastically observes, Patong is a sensory overload of
rotisserie sunburns, wild nightlife, and unmistakable chaos.
19
December – Patong to Phi Phi Island – by ferry
From
Phuket, the plan was to continue to Krabi via Phi Phi Island and onward toward
Malaysia. Any ferry journey that distributes seasickness tablets at
boarding—and includes signs politely requesting that passengers not vomit—is
unlikely to be smooth. An unusually strong wind churned the sea, and the ferry
rolled violently. Tablets failed for some passengers, but mercifully, we
arrived on Phi Phi Island intact, bicycles included.
Accommodation
was plentiful on the tiny island, though not especially cheap. A room was
secured, after which we adjusted priorities: we rented a kayak and paddled to
Monkey Beach, then later climbed to the viewpoint to watch the sunset alongside
a sizeable crowd of fellow travellers. The evening ended with buckets of booze,
easy conversation, and all the cheerful excess typical of holiday islands.
20
December – Phi Phi Island
Linda
went scuba diving while I opted for the equally heroic task of updating my
journal and photos. Another thoroughly excellent day in paradise.
21
December – Phi Phi Island to Krabi – by ferry
Eventually,
it was time to leave Phi Phi Island. We caught the 10:30 ferry back to the
mainland and cycled a short distance to Mr Clean Guesthouse in Krabi, where
prices returned to something resembling sanity.
Later,
we wandered to the riverfront to negotiate a boat trip into the mangroves. A
two‑hour tour, including a cave visit, was agreed upon for a modest fee. In the
evening, I tracked down a bike shop to make the necessary adjustments and was
pleased to find one that was both friendly and competent.
22
December – Krabi
After
discussing our plans, Linda chose to spend another day in Krabi to go climbing.
I filled the day with practicalities: gear adjustments, photo sorting, and
logging notes. Later, I tackled the 1,200 steps up to Tiger Cave Temple. Sadly,
the hazy weather limited the view, and the monkeys were as aggressive as they
were opportunistic.
23
December – Krabi to Trang – 130 km
A
strong tailwind turned the ride into something approaching flight. Combined
with overcast skies and light drizzle, conditions were near‑perfect. We barely
stopped—aside from a temple visit, waterfall break, and rapid noodle stop.
Whatever was in the soup, Linda absorbed it rapidly and vanished down the road
like a bat out of hell.
Trang
appeared sooner than expected. Every available bed in town was filled with
cyclists, as a major bike event was scheduled for the following day.
24
December – Trang to La Ngu – 98 km
Once
again, the weather cooperated beautifully: drizzle at first, sunshine later,
and a supportive tailwind all day. We passed tropical rivers, unusual shrines,
lively markets, and plenty of opportunities for Linda to stop for noodle soup
and fried bananas.
The
region was riddled with caves, one of which featured an alluring swimming hole.
Sadly, Stegodon Sea Cave—explorable only by kayak—required advance booking, so
we pressed on through the extraordinary landscapes of the Satun Geopark. In La
Ngu, Linda found a lovely room at Dahla Resort. After showers, we attempted to
find dinner.
La
Ngu isn’t touristy, English wasn’t commonly spoken, and menus were exclusively
in Thai. Eventually, fried rice emerged as the safest and most successful
option.
Epilogue
(Thailand)
By
the time we reached the southern edge of Thailand, something fundamental had
shifted. We no longer spoke about the journey in terms of distance remaining,
but in days lived. Thailand had quietly done its work: it had tested our legs,
softened our expectations, and replaced doubt with routine confidence.
The
mishaps—illness, flooded roads, mechanical mysteries—had become stories rather
than obstacles. Fellow cyclists drifted in and out of our lives. Towns blurred
gently together. And somewhere between Pattaya and the Malaysian border, the
act of cycling south stopped feeling like a plan and became simply what we did
now.
Malaysia (5) Islands, Cities, and the Beginning of
the End
86
km – 9 Days
Prelude
(Malaysia)
Malaysia
arrived without drama. There were no interrogations at immigration, no sudden
shifts in tone—only a stamp in the passport, a massive eagle statue, and an
island that felt relaxed, colourful, and faintly amused by our arrival. If
Thailand had taught us how to travel together, Malaysia invited us to notice
what we had become while doing it.
Here,
distances shortened and logistics took centre stage. Ferries replaced roads,
cities replaced villages, and the ticking clock of return flights hovered politely
in the background. The riding remained, but it no longer defined the days.
Instead, food, history, and conversation took larger roles, and the journey
began to feel less like forward motion and more like reflection in motion.
Malaysia: The Short
Way to a Sensible Finish
25–26
December – La Ngu, Thailand to Langkawi, Malaysia – 86 km
An
early start saw us pedalling toward the all‑important first stop of the day: 7‑Eleven,
for a breakfast that required no translation. From there, we headed to Satun to
catch the ferry to Langkawi. According to the internet, the ferry departed at
14:30. In reality, ferry times in this part of the world are more like friendly
suggestions. Our early start allowed plenty of time to dawdle and, once in
Satun, enjoy what would be our final bowl of Thai noodle soup for a while.
Immigration
at Satun pier was one of the most laid‑back operations we’d encountered—no
rushing, plenty of smiles, and ample time to change money, buy tickets, and
generally wonder why border crossings elsewhere ever felt stressful.
Eventually, the ferry departed for Langkawi, Malaysia, right on its own
schedule.
Arrival
in Langkawi was painless: a stamp in the passport granted a generous three‑month
stay, and we paused for the obligatory photo at the enormous eagle statue
before cycling over the hills to Cenang Beach—also known, in my head at least,
as Backpackerville.
Langkawi
The
following day was blissfully relaxed. I went for a short jog, replenished
myself with a substantial portion of roti canai, and marvelled at the abundance
of tourist trinkets on offer. Linda returned triumphantly with a bottle of
South African red wine—an unexpectedly sophisticated find—which we enjoyed on
the beach while watching the sun sink into the Strait of Malacca. A fine end to
Christmas Day, all things considered.
27
December – Langkawi to Penang – by ferry
After
some discussion, the ferry to Penang seemed the best option. We were in no
hurry, operating firmly in low‑gear holiday mode, with ample time to cycle the
23 kilometres to the ferry port. Penang’s position in the Strait of Malacca
made it a historic stopover on the old trade routes between Europe, the Middle
East, India and China. Sailing schedules depended entirely on monsoon winds,
which is probably why the island became such a cultural melting pot—ships had
no choice but to linger.
Today,
that legacy translates into outstanding food. Food carts lined the streets,
offering Malay, Indian and Chinese cuisine in such abundance that decision‑making
became the hardest task of the day. One dish truly better than the last.
Once
accommodation was secured and panniers discarded, Linda and I wandered off in
search of Penang’s famous street art. I sorted out a new Thailand visa, ate
until movement slowed noticeably, and later met Linda at the Reggae Bar.
Afterwards, we squeezed onto tiny plastic stools in one of the back lanes, drinking
cheap beer alongside fellow travellers—an excellent environment for swapping
stories and quietly congratulating oneself for being exactly where one wanted
to be.
28–29
December – Penang
Exploration
filled the next two days. Linda took advantage of the hop‑on hop‑off bus, while
I investigated onward transport to Kuala Lumpur, where we planned to see in the
New Year. Trains did not welcome bicycles, and buses fell into the reassuringly
vague category of maybe. I purchased two bus tickets and decided optimism was
the correct strategy.
Penang’s
architectural heritage is genuinely impressive, and it’s easy to see why
Georgetown earned its UNESCO World Heritage status. My morning run took me past
wooden Chinese shophouses, ornate temples, Little India’s food stalls, Fort
Cornwallis, the Sri Mariamman Temple (built in 1883), and the Clan Jetties
dating back to 1882—all before breakfast.
Later,
a hotel move prompted a laundry session and a surprisingly difficult hunt for a
travel water heater. My old one had finally surrendered, and despite best
efforts, a replacement would have to wait until Thailand.
30
December – Penang to Kuala Lumpur – by bus
We
pedalled to the bus station in the morning, where the driver kindly allowed our
bikes aboard—for a small additional fee. A short ride later, we arrived in
Kuala Lumpur and immediately went in search of the hotel we’d booked online. It
turned out to be… aspirational. Fortunately, the owner allowed us to cancel,
and we soon found a far better place near Old Market Square, which made
exploring the city on foot pleasantly straightforward.
31
December – Kuala Lumpur
The
day began with a short run, followed by a walk with Linda to KL Tower and the
Petronas Towers—still my favourite tall buildings, if one is allowed favourites.
By nightfall, they were beautifully illuminated, as was Masjid Jamek mosque.
Entry required donning bright red cloaks, which added a festive—or possibly
ceremonial—touch.
Malaysia’s
multicultural makeup was on full display: stunning mosques, Hindu temples and
Chinese shrines all coexisting within walking distance. New Year’s Eve itself
was ushered in with beers at the historic Colosseum Café (established in 1921),
followed by a visit to the Reggae Bar for a more contemporary celebration.
1
January – Kuala Lumpur
While
Linda explored the city via a hop-on, hop-off bus, I devoted my day to figuring
out how to ship her bicycle back to Pattaya. Being New Year’s Day, essentially
every helpful establishment was closed. I located a bike shop—also closed—and
reluctantly accepted that this problem belonged to tomorrow.
2
January – Kuala Lumpur
Kuala
Lumpur marked the end of Linda’s cycling adventure. She took a taxi to the
airport for her return flight to Fort Lauderdale, while I fortified myself with
idli and roti canai. A trip to the post office delivered excellent news:
bicycles could indeed be sent by post. Box it, pay for it, and it will be
collected and sent to Thailand. Sometimes bureaucracy actually works.
3
January – Kuala Lumpur to Selangor – 87 km
With
Linda gone, there was little reason to linger. I delivered her bike to a shop
for boxing, left payment for transport and shipping, and hoped the arrangement
would unfold smoothly. It didn’t. Departing Kuala Lumpur, I was pleasantly
surprised to find myself on a dedicated cycle path that led me out of the
city—an unexpectedly graceful farewell.
Epilogue
(Malaysia)
It
felt appropriate that the journey wound down in Kuala Lumpur—a city that didn’t
ask much of us beyond curiosity. The bikes were boxed, plans turned practical,
and Linda’s departure arrived with calm acceptance rather than regret. There
were no dramatic endings, just the quiet understanding that this particular
road had reached its natural conclusion.
When
I eventually rolled out of Kuala Lumpur alone, guided unexpectedly by a cycle
path, it felt less like an ending and more like an acknowledgement. The road
would continue, as it always does. But this chapter—defined by companionship,
momentum, and laughter—was complete.
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