Pedalling the Plains of Siam
169 Thailand (22)
Pedalling the Plains of Siam
9
January – 20 January 2024
1,377 Kilometres – 22 Days
PHOTOS
MAP
FLIP-BOOK
VOICEOVER
Prelude
Before the
map is folded open, before the first turn of the pedals, there is a quiet
knowing that the road will offer more than passage, more than miles marked and
completed.
It begins
in stillness, in the space between intention and departure, where the horizon
is not yet reached, only imagined.
To travel
by bicycle is to surrender to the elements, to the slow unfolding of land and
light, to the unhurried language of rivers. Each kilometre is earned, each
breath a measure of presence, each encounter a thread in something larger than
journey alone.
What
follows is not simply a crossing of Thailand’s plains, but a wandering through
time and texture—a drifting between ancient ruins, quiet villages, and endless
sky, where movement becomes meditation, and distance dissolves into something
softer, more infinite.
Setting Out Beneath a
Heavy Sky - Jomtien to Bang Saen Beach (83 km)
It was already well past
midday when I finally rolled out of Jomtien. The heat hung heavily in the air,
and with it came my determination to avoid the chaotic traffic that clogs the
corridor between Pattaya and Bangkok. I threaded my way onto quieter rural
roads, where progress was slower but infinitely more pleasant. Eventually,
after a testing ride, the calm of Bang Saen Beach came into view. Relief washed
over me as I checked into a modest ten‑dollar
room. It felt like luxury. I was, as the saying goes, as happy as a pig in mud.
As the sun sank towards
the horizon, I wandered the short distance—less than two hundred metres—to the
beach. I sat barefoot on the sand, warm grains slipping between my toes, a
gentle sea breeze brushing my skin. The sky transformed minute by minute,
colours deepening and shifting in a spectacle that felt almost theatrical.
Sitting there, I felt immensely fortunate—grateful to be back on the road, back
in motion, back where I belonged.
Following the Water’s
Edge - Bang Saen Beach to Chachoengsao (65 km)
The day began beautifully,
with the first thirty kilometres tracing the edge of the Gulf of Thailand,
partly along a road built directly over the sea. The northern gulf is shallow
and alive with birdlife, fishing boats scattered across the water like
punctuation marks. Further inland, I followed the Bang Pakong River, though
true country lanes proved elusive—a rarity in Thailand.
Efforts to protect the
endangered Irrawaddy dolphins have transformed local livelihoods here, with
former shrimp boats repurposed for dolphin‑watching
tours. I hoped for a quiet riverside track and perhaps a glimpse of the
dolphins themselves, but neither materialised. Heavy traffic eventually soured
the ride, and I called it a day in Chachoengsao.
My early arrival gave me
time to explore the atmospheric Banmai Market, more than a hundred years old
and now open only on weekends. Traders still live within its weathered wooden
buildings, perched above the river. The afternoon light was exquisite. Back in
my room, reality intruded in the form of laundry—the least romantic but most
necessary ritual of life on the road.
Through Fields and
Quiet Villages - Chachoengsao to Amphoe Nong Khae, Saraburi (110 km)
Leaving Chachoengsao, I
was rewarded with a far better day of cycling. A maze of rural roads unfolded
before me, threading through rice paddies and tiny hamlets. The rhythm of
pedalling through such landscapes is deeply soothing.
At one point, I picked up
a bright red cloth, intending to fashion it into a safety flag. It proved far
too large, so I tied it to my rear rack instead, hoping it would make me more
visible. Much of the day unfolded beside a canal, its quiet presence guiding me
kilometre after kilometre. After 110 kilometres, the tranquillity ended
abruptly at a busy intersection, where I decided to stop. I was delighted to
find a surprisingly fancy room for just fourteen dollars—“fancy” being, of
course, a relative term.
Among Ruins and
Restless Monkeys - Nong Khae to Lopburi (80 km)
I took far too many
photographs on the way to Lopburi, unable to resist the beauty of the route.
The ride followed railway lines and canals, an effortless glide through a
landscape steeped in history. Lopburi itself is an ancient town, its ruins
woven seamlessly into everyday Thai life.
The city is also home to
its infamous monkey population, complete with a temple of their own. I arrived
early, grateful, as the temperature climbed to a sweltering 35°C. My ten‑dollar room was basic but equipped
with a fan, which was all I needed. Food became my primary occupation—Lopburi
offers an endless parade of tempting dishes.
I stayed an extra day to
explore. The monkeys were notorious enough that my windows remained permanently
shut; even barred windows offer little deterrent to determined primates. The
day passed wandering among ruins, history unfolding quietly around me.
Along the Green
Arteries of the Plains - Lopburi to Khok Mai Den (110 km)
The ride to Khok Mai Den
was uneventful in the best possible way. I followed water again—a canal or
perhaps a river—flanked by luminous green rice paddies and fishermen casting
their lines. Villages were few and far between, and I felt delightfully off the
beaten track. Energy and contentment carried me forward. What a privilege it
is, I thought, to experience the world at this pace.
Bright yellow Dharma flags
fluttered outside ever‑present
Buddhist temples, offering shade and quiet places to rest. After another 110
kilometres, I turned towards the highway in search of food and accommodation.
That evening, I noticed
once again that beds in Asia rarely face the door. According to feng shui, this
is the “dead man’s position,” resembling the way bodies are carried out. I
embraced the Thai way of life completely and ordered takeaway from 7‑Eleven—free delivery, even with a
generous tip, and no need to venture back into the dark.
A Gift by the Roadside
- Khok Mai Den to Nakhon Sawan (53 km)
I lingered over the
morning and didn’t leave my comfortable bungalow until after nine. Just two
kilometres away lay the ruins of Khok Mai Den Ancient City, dating back to the
Thawarawadi period. After exploring the hilltop remains, I returned to find a bag
hanging from my handlebars—rice and soup, left by a monk, along with a Buddhist
talisman. I was deeply touched, though the watery soup, complete with bird‑like chunks, proved a challenge to
swallow.
I followed the Chao Phraya
River upstream to its birthplace at the confluence of the Ping and Nan rivers
in Nakhon Sawan. The surrounding farmland felt timeless: fried bananas sold
roadside, petrol dispensed from Coca‑Cola
bottles, farmers tending rice fields—some manually, others deploying drones
whose purpose I could only guess.
Northward with the
River’s Rhythm - Nakhon Savan to Tha Makhuea (92 km)
Leaving Nakhon Sawan meant
navigating heavy traffic and Chinese New Year preparations. Soon, however, a
peaceful riverside path led me north past sleeping cats, dogs, and chickens.
Women pedalled by with goods for sale, monks chanted at colourful temples, and
kilometres slipped by effortlessly.
At water stops, shy
conversations unfolded. “Where are you from?” “Africa Thai,” I’d reply,
prompting delighted laughter. The inevitable follow‑up—“By bicycle?”—always ended with
disbelief when I confirmed I was travelling alone.
Echoes of Kingdoms Past
- Tha Makhuea to Kamphaeng Phet (56 km)
The road to Kamphaeng Phet
was busy, sugarcane trucks rumbling past, stalks littering the tarmac. My
reward was the UNESCO World Heritage Site—ruins dating to the 14th century,
quieter and more contemplative than Sukhothai.
I stayed at Three J
Guesthouse, a charming jumble of wooden bungalows and artistic corners. Laundry
delayed my visit to the Heritage Park, and I arrived just before closing,
snapping a few hurried photos. The following morning, cycling through the vast
ruins beneath towering trees was an absolute joy.
Loss, Kindness, and
Ancient Light - Kamphaeng Phet to Sukhothai (85 km)
Rural roads once again
guided me past rice, banana, corn, and sugarcane fields. The weather was
perfect, and I rode almost without stopping. Central Thailand’s fertile plains
make for gloriously easy cycling.
Sukhothai, birthplace of
Siam, was predictably touristy. After booking in, disaster struck—my wallet was
gone. Panic surged. Without access to money, nothing else mattered. Calls were
made, stress levels soared, and eventually relief arrived. The kindness of
Vitoonguesthouse2Fanroom, who allowed me to stay without payment, will not be
forgotten.
I spent an extra day
exploring Sukhothai’s magnificent ruins. Cycling the park at sunset, rather
than in the midday heat, revealed its true magic.
Riding the Tailwind of
Fortune - Sukhothai to Phitsanulok (78 km)
A straightforward ride
delivered me to Phitsanulok, aided by a rare bike lane and a tailwind. The town
surprised me, its old quarter and famous Buddha giving off an unexpected Indian
vibe.
My accommodation sat
improbably between a highway, railway line, and mosque. Anticipating a
sleepless night, I bought earplugs—but slept surprisingly well.
The Long Curve of the
Nan River -Phitsanulok to Taphan Hin (100 km)
After breakfast, I
nervously crossed the main road, drawing enough attention that cars stopped to
let me cross. Riding south along the Nan River was pleasant, with temples,
river barges, and green paddies all around.
Taphan Hin bustled as
evening food stalls appeared. A shower, takeaway noodles, and early rest
rounded out the day perfectly.
A change of Plans - Taphan
Hin to Tha Tako (98 km)
The morning market was
already alive when I left. The river guided me again through familiar villages
and fields.
Around noon, I impulsively
changed my route to avoid Bangkok — only to realise I needed cash. But I had
cancelled my Bangkok Bank card, not realising it would also disable the
cardless withdrawal feature. No money. The air turned blue with my swearing.
I had just enough for a
room and food. The nearest bank was 55 kilometres away. Tomorrow’s problem.
The search for a Bank -
Tha Tako to Nakhon Sawan (48 km)
I flew the 50 kilometres
back to Nakhon Sawan and practically skidded to a halt in front of the bank.
Minutes later, I walked out with cash and a new card. Relief washed over me
like cool water.
I spent the afternoon
wandering the city park, watching preparations for the Year of the Dragon.
Lanterns and dragons everywhere — red, bright, celebratory.
The River Runs South - Nakhon
Sawan to Chai Nat (92 km)
The main road would have
been quicker, but the river tempted me again. It wound through old‑world
settlements where wooden shophouses leaned toward the water. The Chao Phraya
carries centuries in its current; you can feel it.
There was no need to stop
in Chai Nat, but it looked pleasant enough with inexpensive accommodation.
Temples, Honey, Flowers
and Bees - Chai Nat to Ang Thong (100 km)
I followed Organic Maps
for a few kilometres before slipping onto smaller paths. The hamlets were
sleepy, animals sprawled across the road like discarded rugs. Even the water
monitors barely twitched.
Near Ang Thong, I stopped
at Wat Sukkasem Thammikaram, home to the towering 38.9‑metre statue of Phra
Siwali Mahalap. Villagers brought honey and flowers, hoping for blessings and
good fortune. Bees nested beneath the statue’s arm — a living omen.
After biking 100 km, a
budget hotel was easy to find. The shower felt like salvation. I washed my
cycling clothes in the wastepaper bin and rewarded myself with a beer and a
plate of vegetarian fried rice from 7-Eleven.
A Ruined Capital - Ang
Thong to Ayutthaya (65 km)
I hadn’t planned on
Ayutthaya, but the road led me there anyway—canals, timber houses on stilts,
temples rising like ornate mirages.
At the train station, the
next train to Bangkok was two hours away. I abandoned the idea and returned to
my favourite Baan Lotus Guesthouse. The old schoolhouse welcomed me like an old
friend.
Into the City - Ayutthaya
to Bangkok (85 km)
Despite my reluctance, I
cycled the 85 kilometres to Bangkok. Sunday traffic was merciful, but entering
a city of eleven million still rattles the nerves. I arrived safely and decided
to take the train to Pattaya — I’d ridden that road too many times.
I slept deeply, missed the
train, and didn’t mind at all.
Returning, But Not the
Same - Bangkok to Pattaya by Train
The following morning, I
cycled to the station before dawn, anxious about being seen in the dark. Getting
the bike onto the train required awkward manoeuvring; getting off required the
same.
Back in Pattaya, I washed
everything — clothes, bags, the residue of the road. By evening, I was already
wondering where to go next.
There are so many
possibilities. But before I could do that, I had a few tasks to complete, as my
wallet held not only my Thai bank card but also my South African cards, ID, and
other documents.
Epilogue
And then,
almost without ceremony, it ends—or perhaps only changes shape.
The wheels
come to rest, but the journey lingers, echoing in the body and settling quietly
into memory. Roads once travelled do not disappear; they remain—etched in
sunlight, in dust, in the rhythm of breath remembered.
There are
fragments that endure: the hush of morning over still water, the gold of
temples flickering in late light. The kindness of strangers, offered without
question or weight.
In the end,
it is not the distance that stays, but the slowing—the gentle unravelling of
urgency, the rediscovery of enough.
And
somewhere, beyond the last page and the final mile, the road continues—unseen,
unending—calling not loudly, but patiently, as all true journeys do.
