A Change of Plans and a Quick Visa
Run to Laos
Thailand
(11)635
Km – 11 Days21
August – 26 August 2017
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.
