Saturday, 20 January 2018

119 - 120 CYCLE TOURING - MALAYSIA & THAILAND

Solitude, Freedom, and the Quiet Rhythm of the Road

 

Malaysia (5.1) & Thailand (14)
3 January – 19 January 2018
1,296 Km – 17 Days

FLIP-BOOK

VOICEOVER

PDF



Prelude 

I boxed up the bicycle Linda had ridden and sent it ahead to Pattaya. A simple shipment, on paper. I left cash with the bike shop owner, trusted his promise that Malaysia Post would come, and walked away with that peculiar traveller’s faith: the faith that what you can’t control will still, somehow, work out. Then I did what I always do when life becomes too loud inside me—I rode. Kuala Lumpur let me go more easily than expected, as if the city itself understood. Ahead was the north, the border, the ticking awareness of plans already reshuffled. And yet, with every kilometre, the road offered its oldest promise: keep moving, and the world will keep opening.


 

Malaysia
Riding North Through Memory and Change
644 Km – 7 Days

 

Kuala Lumpur to Selangor (87 km)

After bidding Linda farewell, I found myself in Kuala Lumpur with little reason to linger. I had to box up the bicycle she used and send it off to Pattaya, a task that felt oddly symbolic of moving on. The bike shop owner assured me he would call Malaysia Post to arrange a pickup, and I left the necessary cash with him, fingers crossed that everything would go smoothly.

Leaving Kuala Lumpur turned out to be surprisingly easy. I stumbled upon a dedicated bicycle path that whisked me away from the bustling city centre. These paths, complete with helpful road signs and hideaways for shelter during downpours, made my escape comfortable—well, nearly. A lane closure due to roadworks threw a wrench in my plans, but a wrong turn on my adventure led me onto a busy freeway. Heart racing, I was swept along in a torrent of speeding vehicles, and it took some time before I found an exit. The detour, however, led me past three tranquil golf courses, each one more serene than the last, before winding over hills and through oil palm plantations that offered breathtaking views.

Finally, my intended route reemerged, and I rolled into lovely Kuala Selangor, nestled on the banks of the Selangor River, famous for its mesmerising firefly displays. Once settled in, I ventured out in search of a new water heater and a new mug for my morning coffee. But as fate would have it, while sorting through my panniers, I found that my beloved cup was just hiding beneath the chaos. It seems organisation was not a skill I had mastered in more than ten years on the road.

 

Kuala Selangor to Teluk Intan – 105 km

This day was a delightful mix of backroads, vibrant butterflies, stunning blooms, and lovely encounters with locals, yet it was also riddled with bike troubles. Just after I set off, I noticed my crank arm needed tightening—a rather tricky job without the proper tools. Luckily, a local man came to my rescue. Though he didn’t have the right toolkit either, he ingeniously used a spoon handle! I adore people who can think on their feet!

Once the bike was back in working order, I veered onto an even narrower track, where the world opened up into quaint plantations and tiny settlements. At each stop, I saw a mosque and a few colourful Chinese and Hindu temples. Butterflies and dragonflies danced around me as I cycled on, and playful monkeys scampered across the path. When midday rolled around, I stumbled upon a small stall selling “Kari kambing” (curried goat), which instantly transported me back to my cycling days in Jamaica.

As I followed the winding banks of the Perak River—a stretch I had yet to explore—I had my first glimpse of Teluk Intan. Just as I rolled into town, my bicycle's rear hub chose that moment to surrender completely. Fortune smiled on me as I found myself right outside a hotel. After checking in, I hit the pavement again in search of a bike shop. Expecting little, I was pleasantly surprised when a friendly restaurant owner pointed me to a local motorbike repairman. Despite his best efforts, the hub was beyond repair, and I realised I needed a new wheel. In this small town, finding the right one would be a challenge, particularly since many places had already closed for the day. It was a bit of a wake-up call for me—I had let this issue linger far too long while I idly wandered through Kuala Lumpur for four days.

 

Teluk Intan

To sum things up (though I could write an epic), I woke up early, enjoyed a cup of coffee, and walked the 2.5 kilometres into town to locate the seemingly professional JTC Bike Centre. However, the shop was still shut, as staff only began to arrive around 10:00 AM. Upon closer inspection, it became clear that the shop was far too upscale for my ageing bicycle; they didn’t have the right hub or wheel for my needs.

As I made my way back to the motorbike shop, I found it still closed. The owner of the nearby mini-mart gestured to me, saying “1 jam,” leaving me puzzled—was that one hour or one o’clock?

While I waited, I treated myself to a delicious bowl of noodle soup and arranged for another night at the hotel, realising there was no way I’d be leaving town that day. Upon returning to the shop, I was thrilled to find that the motorbike shop owner had miraculously uncovered a new set of wheels—both front and rear—with rim, spokes, and hub included, since they only came as a pair. Without a need for words, we conducted our business, showing that sometimes, communication transcends language barriers. I paid the necessary expenses, feeling a rush of excitement as I prepared to hit the road again.

 

Teluk Intan to Taiping (130 km)

On a misty morning, I set off from Teluk Intan, feeling excited about the day ahead. As I crossed the Perak River, the playful monkeys caught my attention—some darted across my path while others snugly clutched their young in the treetops, clearly intrigued by my presence. The first stretch of my journey took me along the riverbanks, where beautiful lakes glistened and charming stilted homes painted a picturesque scene. Banana plantations and lush rice paddies flanked the road, their fields replenished from the previous night’s rain; I watched as dedicated farmers readied their rice crops, while flocks of graceful egrets lingered nearby, ever watchful for a meal.

Embracing a sense of adventure, I veered onto a shortcut that took me over rolling hills, past expansive oil palm plantations and into the Ulu Recreational Forest. The scenery was nothing short of breathtaking, with the swirling mist around the higher peaks adding a touch of mystery to the landscape. I felt a flutter of concern about a potential storm, but thankfully, it never arrived, and the daunting mountains I had initially feared were merely a striking backdrop to my delightful ride.

I arrived in Taiping well ahead of schedule and excitedly stumbled upon the most budget-friendly accommodation in town—the historic Peking Hotel, built in 1929. Although it showed signs of age, the building's intriguing past captivated me. It was once the residence of a prosperous Taiping businessman and later served as offices for the Taiping Rubber Association. During the turbulent years of the Japanese Occupation from 1941 to 1945, this very building became the headquarters for the infamous Kempeitai.

I was quite content with my quaint room on the ground floor, which conveniently allowed me to roll my bicycle right inside. After a refreshing shower and a quick wash of my clothes, I was off in search of culinary delights! Dim sum, heavenly little parcels of goodness, awaited me just around the corner. There’s truly nothing quite like sitting at a cosy sidewalk café, surrounded by steaming baskets of these delicious treats, ordering plate after plate of sheer delight! Once back in my room, I found myself engrossed in my laptop, and before I knew it, it was two in the morning before I finally turned in for the night.

 

Taiping to Sungai Petani (125 km)

As the sun began to peek over the highlands, I happily pedalled out of Taiping on what was shaping up to be a beautiful Sunday morning. Cyclists were out in droves enjoying their morning rides, which added to the uplifting energy around me. In my usual spirit of exploration, I tried taking shortcuts and alternative paths, enjoying the stunning vistas but occasionally encountering unexpected dead ends.

My journey led me through enchanting indigenous forests where monkeys playfully swung between branches and vibrant blue birds sang from above. While the terrain was slightly undulating, the scenery was absolutely magnificent, filled with the earthy aroma of damp soil and decaying leaves. The road wound along narrow pathways that crossed rickety bridges and passed by majestic mosques and colourful Hindu temples. Eventually, however, my adventurous spirit led me onto a dusty dirt track, prompting a brief backtrack to reconnect with the main road.

By evening, just as a storm rolled in, I spotted a cosy hotel—what a fortunate sight that was! The heavens soon opened up, and rain poured down, making my earlier sleep deprivation a perfect reason to embrace a restful night’s sleep ahead. With each day filled with new experiences, I couldn’t help but feel grateful for the journey I was on.

 

Sungai Petani to Changlun (100 km)

Today was a struggle. As I rolled out of Sungai Petani, my legs felt like lead, and an unsettling ache of hunger nagged at me. Last night’s neglect of my appetite was catching up. With the Thai/Malaysian border in my sights, I pushed through the thick fatigue weighing me down.

The bike shop in Kuala Lumpur was a frustrating thorn in my side. After eagerly reaching out to check on the status of my bike, I learned it hadn’t even been boxed yet! Who runs a shop like that? The last thing I wanted was to leave Malaysia without a tracking number. My two-month single-entry Thai visa loomed over me like a ticking clock, and I wasn't keen on wasting it or my precious passport pages. I’d carefully rescheduled my plans, and I wasn’t about to risk all that by crossing the border unprepared. The thought of a bus ride to KL crossed my mind as I grumbled about the lack of proper service. If I wanted something done right, I clearly had to do it myself.

Adding to my woes, the hotel I approached next refused me entry! Can you believe it? Their excuse? They couldn’t accommodate my bicycle—not that I thought that was the real reason. The place seemed to cater strictly to men and possibly to a specific demographic. Instead of bluntly stating their policies, they fed me some nonsense about the bicycle damaging their pipes. If only they understood how much I wanted to cheekily flash them and walk right back in!

 

Changlun, Malaysia to the Thailand Border

Awakening to the uncertainty of whether to forge ahead, I found myself growing restless. Still no word from the bike shop, but impatience won out. I packed my gear, loaded up, and made my way to the border, feeling a rush of adrenaline as I approached this major crossing.

The Hat Yai border proved to be a chaotic scene, bustling with activity. It wasn’t the easiest passage into Thailand, especially given their ridiculous requirement to show 20,000 baht in cash. Just my luck! However, with determination guiding me, I navigated through the commotion until I finally crossed into Thailand.

 
 
Thailand
Finding Solitude in the Unfolding Journey
652 Km – 10 Days

 

Thailand Border to Rattaphum (97 km)

After a protracted morning and a well-deserved late breakfast, I found myself slipping into a relaxed groove as I pedalled away from the bustling border town. No set plan; just the open road ahead and the allure of northern adventure pulling me forward.

As I cruised along, the weather was perfect—sunny but not too hot—and I felt freedom in every turn of the pedals. Eventually, I spotted what appeared to be a quaint little village up ahead. It seemed like the perfect spot to set up camp for the night, especially since I didn’t see any other potential accommodations on the map. With reasonable lodging options calling my name, I eagerly rolled in, embracing the charm and challenge of this spontaneous detour.

 

Rattaphum to Motel (116 km)

I was enjoying a leisurely pace, feeling no pressure to rush. With a meet-up with my friends Janice and Chris in Bangkok scheduled for 11 February, I had a month to soak in the journey. It's intriguing how unexpected encounters often line up in life! As I meandered along, I noticed someone trailing behind me, which gave me pause. Eventually, he pulled alongside and began chatting in a foreign language (not Thai). I smiled and attempted to connect, guessing he was likely asking the usual questions about where I was from, where I was headed, and maybe my age. After a while, he gestured for me to follow him to a place that rented rooms by the hour. Choosing to disengage politely, I waved goodbye and continued on my way.

To my surprise, he kept pace behind me! It turns out he was on an electric scooter, and he followed me for over an hour. After a bit of time, feeling a mixture of concern and humour, I decided to stop. When he pulled up next to me again, I expressed myself loudly and clearly: “What do you want? Please go away!” While I knew he wouldn’t understand the words, my tone and my passionate demeanour definitely got the point across. Thankfully, from that moment on, I no longer had a shadow. I’ll admit, there was an odd satisfaction in expressing my feelings in a way he couldn't quite grasp!

 

Motel to Bali Boutique Hotel (142 km)

Waking to a gentle drizzle, I set off for the day. While I’ve been spoiled with beautiful weather lately, the rain added an interesting twist to my journey. It’s amazing how much we can adapt when faced with different circumstances! I found that, despite the drizzle, the rhythm of the road beckoned me. I stopped only briefly to refill my water bottle, choosing to stay on the highway for the day rather than diverting to a country lane.

As the kilometres rolled by, I began searching for a cosy camping spot or a guesthouse. However, nothing seemed suitable on my route. After biking 140 kilometres, I decided to seize whatever option came my way next—and that turned out to be the Bali Boutique Hotel. While the name might suggest a more opulent experience, it was a perfect place to cleanse away the remnants of the day’s drizzle.

 

Bali Boutique to Motel (113 km)

On a wonderfully overcast morning, I set off from Bali Boutique, excited for the day ahead, even as a brisk headwind greeted me. It's been a while since I tackled a ride like this, and I reminded myself that every journey has its challenges. While headwinds can be tough, I stayed focused on my goal. Along the way, I encountered a delightful lady selling steamed palm cakes, which gave me the perfect excuse to take a quick break. Sometimes, a little treat is just what you need to lift your spirits and keep your mind engaged, especially when cycling into the wind!

As I continued my ride through Thailand, I had the pleasure of passing by stunning shrines and temples that added a touch of charm to my journey. One standout location was the Suan Mokkh Garden of Liberation. Founded in 1932 by a visionary Buddhist monk, the garden is dedicated to teaching the essence of Buddhism. Buddhadāsa Bhikkhu, the founding monk, left the bustling monastic life in Bangkok, seeking a place of purity removed from the chaos. Located at the base of Phutta Thong Hill, the expansive 60-hectare complex invites visitors to embrace the tranquillity of nature—encouraging tree hugs and conversations with stones! It was a truly revitalising experience, allowing me to find some peace amid the challenges of the ride. I can already envision returning to this serene haven!

 

Motel to Chumphon (89 km)

After my inspiring visit, I faced another day of powering through a strong breeze, but that didn’t dampen my spirit! Arriving in Chumphon, I discovered the cozy Farang Bar, which offered some simple accommodations. Feeling a bit fatigued from several days of riding without a break, I decided to take a day off in Chumphon. It was a perfect opportunity to catch up on laundry and update my blog, allowing me to reflect on my adventures!

 

Chumphon to Bang Saphan Beach (105 km)

To my surprise, the headwind was still spirited as I set out toward Bang Saphan! Although the journey wasn't as effortless as I had hoped, I kept reminding myself that every pedal stroke was bringing me closer to my destination. Typically, this ride is captivating with its beautiful scenery, but today was a lesson in perseverance. Despite feeling tired from battling the elements, I made it to Bang Saphan—each km conquered just a little more rewarding!

 

Bang Saphan Beach to Prachuap Khiri Khan (87 km)

Eager to get some distance under my belt before the wind picked up, I started my day early! I even found a shortcut through a lovely residential area, accompanied by a few friendly village dogs joining in on the adventure. The route to Pratchap is one of my absolute favourites. It winds elegantly along the ocean, offering breathtaking views at every turn. As the wind picked up a bit, I only had 20 kilometres left, and soon I found myself slipping into Pratchap by midday, feeling accomplished and excited for what lay ahead!

Every day on this journey is a mix of challenges and joys, and I’m grateful for each experience that comes my way!

Every step of this journey, with its twists and turns, brings exciting stories and lessons, and I can’t wait to see what awaits me in the days to come!

My abode of choice was Maggie’s homestay, where one could find an inexpensive bed. Maggie’s is a popular guesthouse and offers one or two air-conditioned rooms in the main house. Still, most of the accommodation is at the rear, consisting of extremely basic fan rooms with shared bathrooms. It isn’t a great deal different from a dorm – the only difference being you can’t see the others, but you can hear even the slightest sound. The biggest drawcard is the communal area where one can kick back on one of the sofas or the garden’s raised wooden deck.

Not feeling 100%, another day was spent at Maggie’s. I later walked to the shop to buy a remote keyboard and mouse. I was becoming immensely frustrated with my laptop keyboard, which often malfunctioned.

 

Prachuap Khiri Khan to Hua Hin (56 km)

As I said goodbye to Maggie’s, I was greeted by much brighter weather, which set the tone for an enjoyable ride ahead! The first half of my journey was a charming cycle through picturesque country lanes, while the latter half took me along the main road—sometimes you just have to make the best of it!

During my ride, I came across a fascinating shrine I’d seen before, and I couldn't help but let my imagination run wild with stories about it. Nestled by a tranquil creek, the shrine had a little wooden canoe sheltered to one side, while the other side showcased lovely silk clothing, a dressing table, and a few delicate pieces of jewellery. The shrine itself was beautifully adorned with vibrant flowers, graceful female figurines, and containers of colourful makeup. In my mind, I envisioned it as a tribute to a young girl who may have tragically drowned when her boat capsized—a heartfelt tale that made the shrine even more special to me.

 

Hua Hin to Pattaya (By Bus)

Excited about the journey from Hua Hin, I was thrilled to learn about the ferry crossing across the Gulf of Thailand to Pattaya. However, I learned that bicycles were not permitted, which was a bit of a bummer since it would have made my trip much easier around the bustling northern tip.

As I cycled out of Hua Hin, I passed by the airport bus station and decided to check if there were options available. Just as luck would have it, a bus was leaving that had space for my bicycle! I jumped on, and before I knew it, I arrived at Bangkok airport. From there, I hopped on another bus for a two-hour journey to Pattaya, and by the time we rolled in, it was already dark.

The good news was that it was only a short three-kilometre ride to my abode, where Ernest was taking a well-deserved break from his own travels. I was excited to have a few days to unwind and prepare for my planned two-month ride in Southeast Asia with Janice and Chris. There was so much to look forward to!

 

Epilogue

Crossings are strange: you don’t just step into a new country—you step into a slightly altered version of yourself. Thailand met me with sunlight, open stretches of road, and days that asked for little more than forward motion. I fell into the rhythm of it—the easy drift of pedalling, the small negotiations with wind and weather, the quiet recalibrations of trust after being followed too long by a stranger’s persistence. The road kept teaching the same lesson in different disguises: your voice is allowed to rise; your no can be loud; your solitude can be protected.

There were temples and shrines, and places that steadied the mind—like the Suan Mokkh Garden of Liberation, where the world seemed to invite stillness, even while I remained in motion. And there were practical endings, too—the ferry that wouldn’t take bicycles, the bus that finally would, the sudden leap forward to Pattaya, as if the journey decided to fold time for me at the last moment.

When I arrived, it was dark, and yet it didn’t feel like an ending. It felt like a pause—like exhaling- ahead of me waited another chapter: a longer ride, new company, a meeting with Janice and Chris planned in Bangkok. The road, as always, was already calling.

Thursday, 4 January 2018

117 - 118 CYCLE TOURING - THAILAND TO MALAYSIA

 Where the Plan Was Optimistic, the Noodle Soup Infinite and the Beer Cold



Thailand (13.1) & Malaysia (5)

1,234 Km – 31 Days
3 December 2017 – 2 January 2018

 


MAP

PHOTOS

PDF

FLIP-BOOK

VOICEOVER


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.