126 - 127 CYCLE TOURING - LAOS (8) & THAILAND (16) - VIENTIANE TO PATTAYA WITH EMIEL

 A Visa Quest that Turned into a
 1,635-Kilometre, 29-Day,
 Unintentional Bicycle Adventure 

LAOS (8) & THAILAND (16) - Emiel
1,635 Kilometres - 30 Days
10 May – 8 June 2018

MAP

 PHOTOS - THAILAND (15.3)

PHOTOS - LAOS (8)

PHOTOS - THAILAND (16)

 PDF

VOICEOVER

FLIP-BOOK

 

THAILAND (15.3), LAOS (8), THAILAND (16)

 

Prelude

It began innocently enough: a short ride, a sensible idea, the sort of plan that sounds entirely reasonable when discussed over beer. From there, things progressed in the usual manner: trains were boarded with bicycles that clearly objected, rules were encountered and quietly ignored, and a visa process unfolded that suggested bureaucracy is less a system and more a personality trait.

What followed was a steady sequence of heat, rain, villages, rivers, minor logistical misjudgements, and an impressive ability to turn “a short ride” into something considerably longer. There were good decisions, questionable ones, and several that only made sense at the time.

There were also beers. These played a central role in morale, recovery, and, occasionally, planning—though not always in that order.

 

 

 THAILAND (15.3)
 Settling Down Briefly (and Failing at It)

 

Bangkok – Maps, Memories and a Farewell

On Janice’s last day in Bangkok, we embarked on what can only be described as a slightly doomed mission to find the perfect precision tool for her art. After combing through shops, stalls, and what I suspect was someone’s living room, we found absolutely nothing.

But the universe, clearly feeling guilty, handed me a prize: a beautifully detailed map of Thailand and Southeast Asia. I had been searching for one for ages, so naturally, I was unreasonably excited over a piece of paper.

Then Janice casually upped the emotional stakes by gifting me a camera backpack. A good one. The kind that says, “You matter, and also please take better photos.” I felt equal parts touched and awkward—like when someone sings happy birthday to you in public. I wore it proudly all day, because if you don’t parade your gifts around, did they even happen?

That evening, Janice and Chris hopped into a taxi to the airport, marking the end of their epic cycling journey. Meanwhile, I stayed behind, already plotting my next questionable ride.

Bangkok is dangerously addictive. You think you’ll stay a few days, and suddenly it’s been a week, and you’re seriously considering opening a street food stall.

After farewelling my friends, I cycled to Bok-Bok Bike, the holy temple of touring bikes. I may have spent more time there than necessary, pretending to “inspect” things I had no intention of buying. I do things like that in bike shops.

Eventually, I retreated to my “emergency bunker” in Jomtien—essentially my personal recovery zone after too much adventure and not enough rest.

 

Jomtien - When ‘Let’s Cycle to the Border’ Sounds Like a Reasonable Plan

After ten years on the road, having a condo without a checkout date felt unsettling… like I’d forgotten to leave. I kept expecting someone to knock and say, “Ma'am, it's check-out time.”

But as always, the itch returned. During a casual conversation with Emiel—who coincidentally needed a visa run—I suggested we cycle to the border. He agreed far too quickly, which in hindsight should have been a warning sign (he later admitted he was under the impression we would only cycle part of the route).

Plans shifted (as they always do), and instead of cycling to Laos, we decided to take a train there and cycle back as Emiel was out of visa time. Genius. Flawless logic.

 

Pattaya to Nong Khai - Beer, Bunks, and Breaking the Rules Like Nervous Teenagers

When D-day arrived, we cycled a heroic six kilometres to Pattaya station—enough to justify how many snacks we brought.

Loading our bikes onto the train was… an experience. Imagine two people trying to fit oversized metal contraptions through a doorway clearly designed for normal-sized humans. We blocked entire carriages, and the conductor basically had to perform an Olympic vault just to get past us.

At Bangkok station, things got even better. Emiel’s bike was halfway out the door. At one point, I considered giving it a gentle push and claiming insurance.

Then we discovered the next train didn’t allow bicycles. Of course it didn’t. Why would it?

Eventually, we found another train on which our bikes would arrive two hours after we did. Not ideal, but by then, we had given up expecting logic.

We settled into sleeper bunks, opened our beers, and promptly learned that alcohol was forbidden. Naturally, we dealt with this like mature adults: by hiding behind curtains and drinking like teenagers, avoiding a teacher.

 

Delayed Bikes, Buddha Park and Crossing Borders

We arrived in Nong Khai (the border town) to discover our bikes were late. Great start.

Not wanting to waste time, we explored the town and visited Buddha Park—a surreal collection of statues that look like someone dreamt them after eating too much spicy food.

Returning to the station, I found my bike with a broken gear cable. The odometer suggested it had gone for a solo adventure while we were out.

After sorting the mess, we crossed into Laos and cycled into Vientiane under what can only be described as a personal relationship with the sun. Thankfully, the guesthouse had air-conditioning, which felt like stepping into heaven.

 

Vientiane – Food, Heat, and Mild Confusion

Evenings became our salvation. Riverside strolls, massive portions of food, and the kind of relaxed atmosphere that makes you forget you’ve spent the day melting.

We later visited the COPE visitor centre—informative, sobering, and deeply moving. The organisation supports people with mobility disabilities, mostly injured by unexploded ordnance. Laos remains the most bombed country per capita in history, yet COPE’s work has helped countless survivors reclaim their lives. To balance the emotional weight, we searched for SIM cards—always an adventure in itself.

At one point, I got a flat tyre with no tools. Emiel brilliantly suggested a tuk-tuk, clearly fearing I might suggest pushing the bike for several kilometres.

 

Visa Adventures (AKA Bureaucracy: The Sequel)

At the Thai Consulate, I was informed my photo was “too sexy” and needed replacing. I still don’t know whether to be offended or proud.

Between holidays, queues, and general bureaucracy, getting that visa felt like completing a side quest in a video game.

 

CYCLE TOURING LAOS (8)
 -Mythical Serpents and Questionable Markets

 

 

Vientiane to Thabok (98 kilometres) Escaping the Capital, Entering the Heat, and Overshooting the Plan

At long last, the moment arrived to escape Vientiane and actually start cycling—because up until now, we’d mainly been practising the highly technical sport of eating and waiting for visas.

Surprisingly, the day turned out rather pleasant. A gentle tailwind made the predicted 35°C feel less like a punishment and more like a mild inconvenience. Before long, we cleared the city and entered rural Laos, where kids enthusiastically shouted “Sabaidee falang!”—which, I suspect, loosely translates to “Look! Foreigners on bicycles again!”

Although this stretch wasn’t exactly postcard material, it had its charm. We passed temples, rice fields, and markets selling woven goods, as well as the occasional broken-down truck that looked like it had given up on life several years ago.

It was rice-planting season, so farmers in straw hats carefully sowed seeds in tiny fields by their homes, while kids pedalled to school and vendors sold fish—either in plastic bags or, for reasons unknown, in individual bottles. (Decorative? Portable pets? Emergency snacks? The mystery remains.)

At one point, we encountered a Buddhist funeral procession marching through the blazing heat. What started as a modest group steadily grew as villagers casually joined in, giving it the feel of a very solemn—but suspiciously expandable—parade.

Meanwhile, Emiel absolutely flew on his first day. In fact, he was so enthusiastic that he completely overshot our planned stop and only decided to stop 20 km later. Apparently, “let’s go a bit further” is a dangerous phrase.

We eventually ended up in Thabok, where accommodation was simple, clean, and—most importantly—right across from a restaurant serving food and beer. Priorities: perfectly aligned.

 

Thabok to Pakkading (100 kilometres) Rivers, Buffalo Philosophers, and the Three-Step Evening Routine

We left Thabok accompanied by what I can only describe as “two-wheeled tractors with ambitions.” These contraptions pulled wooden carts full of cheerful ladies in conical hats, looking far more relaxed about transport than we were.

The landscape gradually became greener and more lush as we crossed river after river feeding into the mighty Mekong. Water buffalo lounged about like retired businessmen, and canoes lined the banks as if patiently waiting for something exciting to happen.

Every now and again, the road hugged the river, then wandered inland like it had changed its mind, only to reconnect again later. Along the way, roadside stalls offered dried fish, smoked fish, and possibly fish that had been through some kind of emotional journey—all neatly wrapped in banana leaves.

Children acted as early warning systems: one shout of “falang!” and the entire village would appear, waving enthusiastically. However, if you dared to stop for a photo, they’d scatter instantly, as if you’d just turned into a tax collector.

By the time we reached Pakkading, we had settled into our routine:

Find accommodation

Locate cold beer

Make the beer disappear at an alarming rate

 

Pakkading to Vieng Kham (45 kilometres) The Yuri Gagarin Bridge, Water Serpents, and a Mercifully Short Ride

A shorter day, which meant our legs got a break—and more importantly, Emiel’s backside received much-needed mercy.

We crossed the Pakkading River via a Russian-built bridge dedicated to Yuri Gagarin, the first human in space. A fitting tribute, really—cycling in this heat sometimes feels like entering another atmosphere altogether.

This bridge also came with a local tradition: truck drivers light a cigarette before crossing and toss it into the river to appease a mythical water serpent. We considered it, but decided our contribution to the serpent would be not falling into the river ourselves.

The road was lively, shared with everything from buses and trucks to goats, carts, and children riding motorbikes in configurations that defy physics.

Snack options were plentiful—watermelon was peeled and sliced roadside for pocket change, which frankly felt like the best deal of the entire trip.

Our accommodation for the night wasn’t exactly luxurious (let’s call it “authentically rustic”), but it worked. The beds were arranged in such a way that your feet didn’t face the door—because apparently, that’s unlucky. Comfort, clearly, takes second place to supernatural etiquette.

 

Vieng Kham to Hinboun (53 kilometres) Breakfast Confusion, River Crossings, and the Art of Not Melting

Breakfast brought one of the classic challenges of travel: ordering food without speaking the language.

We ended up with one shared plate of rice, pork, and eggs—perfectly logical in Southeast Asia, where meals are communal. However, we responded stubbornly and ordered a second plate, much to everyone’s confusion.

Well-fed, we pedalled on, crossing wide rivers and enjoying the rare sight of people actually cleaning the riverbanks—something you don’t often see.

As usual, kids treated us like a sporting event, cycling alongside at high speed until one inevitably lost a flip-flop or pedal, which somehow made the entire experience even more entertaining for everyone involved.

By midday, the sun became unbearable, and we wisely retreated to roadside lodging to avoid spontaneous combustion.

That evening, we tried “Seendat”—Laotian barbecue. This involved cooking your own food over a small dome grill with broth bubbling around it. It was part cooking class, part social event, and part survival test.

You grease the grill with pork fat, cook thin slices of meat, toss vegetables into the broth, and somehow end up with a delicious meal while sweating profusely. Highly recommended.

 

Hinboun to Thahek (53 kilometres) Markets of Questionable Protein and the Great Wall of Laos

We started the day at a market selling… everything.

Cockroaches, frogs, squirrels, and pieces of monitor lizard were all on display. Emiel did not cope well. In fact, his appetite resigned immediately.

It didn’t help that shortly afterward we encountered a soup stall where a buffalo carcass was being cleaned while food was prepared. This was apparently too much authenticity for breakfast.

Further along, we encountered the “Great Wall of Laos”—a geological formation surrounded by myths involving giants, traps, and ancient engineering projects. In reality, it’s natural—but far less fun to explain it that way.

Reaching Thahek, we celebrated with Beer Lao and dim sum. Emiel bravely tried a “100-year-old egg,” which looked terrifying but tasted… surprisingly normal. A triumph of courage over appearance.

The following day was a rest day—aka laundry, eating, coffee, eating again, and generally recovering from everything.

Thahek itself was charming, with old colonial buildings and riverside views. The only interruption to our peaceful evening was a storm that chased us indoors, reminding us that the weather here also enjoys surprises.

 

Thahek to Savannakhet (120 km) The Accidental Century Ride and the Mango-Strewn Road South

We set off expecting a relaxed two-day journey. Naturally, that plan collapsed.

The road was littered with mangoes blown down by a storm—a fruity obstacle course that kept things interesting.

Village life along the Mekong was simple and fascinating: stilt houses, animals underneath, and small plots of rice. People seemed both curious and delighted to see us, often encouraging photos—quite the contrast to big city anonymity.

However, accommodation proved elusive. None. Anywhere.

So we kept riding. And riding. And riding some more.

Eventually, slightly exhausted and very motivated by cold beverages, we reached Savannakhet. The first order of business? Beer.

The second? The night market—because clearly, cycling 120 km means you’ve earned the right to eat everything in sight.

 

Savannakhet - Colonial Streets, Tiny Chairs, and the Joy of Doing Very Little

A well-deserved rest day.

Savannakhet turned out to be a charming town with shady streets and colonial buildings. The day was spent doing very little (an underrated skill), while the evening brought lively riverside scenes—people eating, chatting, playing games, and enjoying the sunset.

Tiny chairs, massive portions of food, and a relaxed atmosphere—it’s safe to say we settled in quite comfortably.

 

 

THAILAND (16)
Rain, Ruins, and the Road Back to Pattaya

 

 

Savannakhet, Laos to Don Tan (67 km) Ignoring Instructions and Hunting for Breakfast

Our leisurely departure was justified by the gloriously short distance to the Laos–Thailand border. The plan—rather sensibly—was to cycle across the Friendship Bridge. Reality, however, had other ideas.

First came a five-kilometre detour to the immigration office, during which we heroically attempted breakfast. The result: coffee. Just coffee. Everything else—food, hope, and possibly dignity—was apparently lost in translation.

Stamped out of Laos, we were informed that cyclists must cross the bridge by bus. Naturally, I declared this outrageous nonsense. Emiel, who is normally the sensible one, briefly misplaced that trait, and we promptly ignored the rules like two fugitives from Bureaucracy Kingdom. Off we went, pedalling furiously across the bridge as if paperwork might catch us.

Having successfully smuggled ourselves into Thailand under the guise of “people on bicycles,” we made a beeline for civilisation: 7-Eleven. There, breakfast was finally secured, and our Thai SIM cards revived. Truly, modern miracles come in plastic packaging.

The route south began promisingly on a cycle path… which then vanished completely, dumping us back onto the main highway like an afterthought. By evening, we found a bungalow overlooking the Mekong, which drifted past with the unhurried confidence of a river that knows it will eventually reach the sea and is in absolutely no rush to do so.

 

Don Tan to Ban Kaeng Hi (75 km) Of Rain, Rice, and Being Thoroughly Soaked

Morning drizzle gifted us a blissfully cool ride—about as close to “cycling nirvana” as Southeast Asia gets without air-conditioning on wheels.

We passed water buffalo, temples, and rice paddies, with Emiel in excellent form and pulling us along like a human tailwind. A roadside noodle soup sighting triggered immediate emergency braking—always a sign of good priorities.

Further on, rubber plantations told a rather gloomy story: latex hanging uncollected because it now costs more to harvest than it’s worth. Meanwhile, farmers were busy planting rice—an operation involving mud, patience, and the kind of organisation that would shame most corporate meetings.

As the day progressed, the sky gathered itself into a threatening mood and promptly proved its point. We attempted to outrun the storm and were utterly defeated—arriving soaked to the bone with the dignified appearance of damp laundry.

Ban Kaeng Hi greeted us with accommodation—and a complete lack of electricity. The entire village had gone dark, presumably in solidarity with the rain.

Hunger led us to a small restaurant where our arrival caused immediate local fame. Within minutes, the entire village seemingly knew: two foreigners, arrived by bicycle, staying at the “resort” (a term used generously). Despite language barriers, food was communicated through the international dialect of enthusiastic pointing.

Dinner appeared: noodle soup, fried rice, and Beer Chang—because hydration matters. When rain resumed, the owner kindly offered us a lift for the 500-metre journey back. We declined (naturally), borrowed umbrellas instead, and returned them the next morning.

Conclusion: rural Thailand is absurdly lovely and dangerously charming.

 

Ban Kaeng Hi to Khong Chiam (95 km) Chillies, Climbing, and a Strategic Lack of Food

After a night cool enough to make air-conditioning unnecessary (a rare and noteworthy event worthy of certificates), we returned to our now-familiar restaurant—partly to return umbrellas, partly because they already knew how to feed us.

Emiel, mysteriously, claimed not to be hungry. I took this as an opportunity to order a fiery omelette with a quantity of chillies sufficient to alarm small mammals. Antacid was consumed preemptively.

The ride through Pha Taem National Park was glorious: forest, shade, hills, butterflies, dragonflies—and just enough incline to make us question our life choices.

Predictably, when Emiel finally got hungry, there was absolutely no food anywhere. This is a universal law of cycling.

We arrived in Khong Chiam starving and slightly offended by reality. After food and a shower, we visited the meeting point of the Mun and Mekong rivers, where the two streams flowed side by side without mixing—like relatives politely avoiding each other at a wedding.

 

Khong Chiam to Ubon (85 km) A Region Indecently Green

Welcome to Isan: flat, vast, agricultural, and extraordinarily green. The rice paddies glowed with such intensity that one suspects nature might be showing off.

Roadside stalls ranged from fruit-laden abundance to what could only be described as two pumpkins and quiet optimism.

There were also an astonishing number of shops selling temple items—gongs, drums, and everything one never realised was in such demand until encountering several dozen shops dedicated to them.

Bodhi trees were everywhere—sacred, spirit-filled, and not to be cut down without due warning. Frankly, this seems fair. If I lived in a tree, I’d appreciate a polite heads-up too.

Ubon welcomed us with cheap accommodation directly opposite a night market—effectively removing any remaining self-control over food consumption.

 

Ubon to Kantharalak (75 km) Traffic, Superstition, and Deeply Judgmental Cows

A straightforward ride—slightly too straightforward, in fact, and busier than anticipated. To compensate, we invested in flower garlands for good luck. At 10 baht each, they seemed like an absolute bargain for something that would (in theory) prevent disaster.

The day required closer attention—like diving in poor visibility. Highlights included scrawny cows with long ears who looked quietly judgmental, as though deeply unimpressed with our cycling technique.

Kantharalak provided air-conditioning, affordable rooms, and a Buddhist holiday, which meant no beer. Except in restaurants. A loophole so appreciated it nearly deserved a toast.

Dinner ordering became a game of “No have” until we landed on fried rice and spicy mango salad, which—fortunately—did have.

 

Kantharalak to Phu Sing (70 km) Temples Built from Beer and Other Good Decisions

Breakfast at 7-Eleven (as tradition demands) was followed by a visit to the Temple of a Million Bottles—a structure made entirely of empty beer bottles.

Whether this is a triumph of recycling, devotion, or sheer persistence is unclear—but it’s impressive either way.

The ride itself was suspiciously perfect: light traffic, easy access to food and water, and a gentle tailwind. Suspicious because perfection tends to make one nervous.

Phu Sing offered charming timber bungalows and the added bonus of being mildly fascinating to locals. Two cyclists = instant entertainment.

 

Phu Sing to Chong Chom (80 km) Ruins, Roads, and the Excellence of Not Planning

Leaving the bungalows required emotional strength. After one last 7-Eleven stop, we ventured onward through more idyllic countryside—temples, rice fields, and cows clearly convinced they owned the roads.

We visited Prasat Chumphon, an ancient Khmer sanctuary—completely free and blissfully empty, aside from cows.

By evening, we reached Chong Chom, a border market selling everything imaginable, including many things nobody needed but someone clearly decided to buy anyway.

 

Chong Chom to Prasat Muang Tum (94 km) Pineapple, Heat, and Sensible Avoidance of Culture

The road hugged the Cambodian border, passing mushroom vendors with displays worthy of art exhibitions.

A pineapple stop resulted in one of the sweetest pineapples imaginable—further proof that roadside fruit stalls outperform most global supply chains.

We slinked into Prasat Muang Tum, housing a 1000-year-old Khmer temple at around 14h00. Muang Tum is one of the temples built in Angkor style when the Khmer empire controlled large parts of Thailand. It’s situated along an ancient road between Angkor Thom (present-day Siem Reap in Cambodia) to Phimai in Nakhon Ratchasima province (further North West).

Already late but still blistering, we considered it best to visit the temples in the morning.

 

Prasat Muang Tum to Non Din Daeng (41 km) Ancient Empires and the Power of a Good Breakfast

Breakfast was served at our abode, consisting of rice porridge with added ginger, chillies and coriander. I absolutely loved it. The meal was served with a few side dishes, including steamed palm cake in banana leaves and fried dough or doughnuts.

The temple visit was equally impressive—ancient, mysterious, and full of historical intrigue about empires rising, shifting religions, and general instability (which, frankly, history seems quite fond of).

Marvelling at these magnificent ruins, took a while and after a few pics, we got underway. Tiny Non Din Daeng was reached after a mere 40 kilometres, but it offered comfortable-looking accommodation. Upon closer inspection, it turned out even better than envisaged, with ground-floor, motel-style rooms, a restaurant, and a substantial, beautiful garden.

 

Non Din Daeng to Aranyaprathet (87 km) Speed, Gravity, and Questionable Confidence

Armed with fresh garlands (safety first), we hurtled downhill at speeds that suggested we had temporarily abandoned wisdom.

Garlands flap magnificently at high velocity, by the way.

At the bottom, maturity returned, and we continued to Aranyaprathet, where the “Garden Hotel” had no garden, which felt bold but acceptable.

 

Aranyaprathet to Khao Chakan (76 km) Stairs, Storm Threats, and Sleeping in Buses

With a pannier full of clean clothes, well-rested legs, and a belly full of food, we set out in the direction of one more ruin known as Prasat Khao Noi. Prasat Khao Noi was inhabited around the 12th – 13th Buddhist century. Today, the ruins sit atop a small hill roughly 80 meters high and are accessible via a stairway with 254 steps. A lintel and inscription unearthed on-site date to 637 AD, but were most likely reused.

From the ruins, a beautiful ride led through the countryside toward Khao Chakan. The weather looked threatening, and even though a strong wind picked up and dark clouds gathered, we miraculously never got wet and arrived in Khao Chakan bone-dry. That night’s accommodation was a fascinating set-up known as the Bus Resort, where old buses were converted into overnight accommodation – an absolute novelty. At Khao Chakan, a near-vertical staircase led to a massive hole in the mountain, offering views of the countryside.

 

Khao Chakan to Sronlai (94 km) Plenty of Elephants, None Actually Visible

Through elephant territory we rode, seeing none—but plenty of evidence they’d recently been very, very present.

Sronlai Homestay was situated on a dam and offered camping and bungalows. I opted to camp while Emiel took a room, as he had no tent. I liked camping at the dam as the availability of canoes made pleasant rowing at sunset. Suggesting this to Emiel, he laughingly claimed he’d no intention of becoming sportsman of the year and preferred having a beer. My rubber arm was easily twisted.

 

Sronlai to Pluk Daeng (90 km) Rolling Hills and a Soup with Opinions

A drifting day through farmland, featuring cashews that look permanently confused about their own design.

Supper was from a nearby restaurant where (quite understandably) not a word of English was spoken. Thank goodness, the menu included pictures one could point to. When the food arrived, it appeared that we had ordered soup in which floated a strange-looking head, complete with eyes. We burst out laughing and ordered fried rice. On second thought, it could’ve been eel, as it didn’t “taste like chicken”.

 

Pluk Daeng to Pattaya (46 km) Back to Civilisation, Ready or Not

A gentle drizzle carried us into Pattaya—a startling return to civilisation after weeks of rural calm.

We celebrated at Glenn’s bar, marking the completion of 1,635 kilometres of cycling.

Well done, Emiel. You survived, thrived, and provided excellent company—plus occasional questionable support for decision-making.

122 - 124 CYCLE TOURING SOUTHEAST ASIA - JANICE & CHRIS

Two Wheels, Three Countries, One Unforgettable Ride

Thailand (14.1), Laos (7) & Thailand (15)
2,422 Km – 51 Days
11 February - 2 April 2018 

MAP

PHOTOS - THAILAND (15)

PHOTOS - LAOS (7)

PHOTOS - THAILAND (14.1)

PDF

VOICEOVER

FLIP-BOOK

Two Wheels, Three Countries, One Unforgettable Ride

A 2,422 km Cycling Journey Through Thailand and Laos

 

 

Every journey begins with a plan.

After returning from Malaysia, I spent a few days in Jomtien doing what all sensible cycle tourers do before a big cycling trip: nervously checking my gear for the tenth time and wondering whether I’d forgotten something crucial… like common sense.

Janice and Chris were about to join me for a two-month cycling odyssey across Southeast Asia. They loved camping, which meant my tent and gear had to be in top form—no leaks, no excuses.

I was excited to meet them… but also slightly anxious. Had I planned the right route? Would they love it? Would they secretly wish they’d booked a beach holiday instead?

Of course, this is Southeast Asia—plans are more of a gentle suggestion than a rule. Out here, the road decides.

And that’s exactly the fun of it.

 

CHAPTER 1

THAILAND (14.1) - Tuk‑Tuks, Temples, Sugarcane, and One Very Determined Monkey Mafia

825 Km – 19 Days

 

Bangkok: Baptism by Fire (and Fried Insects)

Bangkok didn’t ease us in gently. It didn’t even pretend to. It simply grabbed us by the shoulders, shouted “WELCOME!”, and shoved us straight into the deep end.

When Janice and Chris finally emerged from their heroic 24‑hour journey from Cape Town—creased, dazed, and blinking like newborn owls—we did what any responsible adults would do: we marched directly to Khao San Road, the spiritual home of questionable decisions.

Jet lag? Ignored. Hydration? Beer counts. Obviously.

Within minutes, Chris and I were clutching ice‑cold drinks and sampling Bangkok’s more “character‑building” delicacies: crickets, frogs, silkworms, grasshoppers… basically the entire cast of A Bug’s Life, lightly seasoned with soy sauce and a sprinkle of regret. Janice wisely supervised from a safe distance, documenting our poor choices for future blackmail.

Chris, however, embraced Banglampu like a man auditioning for the Street Food Olympics. He raided passing carts with the enthusiasm of someone who had never met a digestive system.

It became clear very quickly: this trip was not going to be boring.

 

A “Sunset Cruise”… Sort Of

Our first morning together began with bicycle reassembly and mild panic. The guesthouse was closing, the bike boxes needed a home, and suddenly our relaxing start morphed into a logistical escape room.

Once we’d secured alternative accommodation (and our sanity), we sauntered to the river for your own budget version of a “sunset cruise”: the public ferry. We rode it all the way to the end of the line, then back again, letting the Chao Phraya breeze wash over us like a discount spa treatment.

Dusk painted the sky in colours that made us forget the chaos, the heat, and the fact that we’d eaten insects voluntarily. We ended the evening with street food and cold beer, congratulating ourselves on surviving Day One.

 

Bangkok at Dawn: The Peace Behind the Madness

At 6 a.m., Bangkok transforms from a neon fever dream into something almost holy. Barefoot monks glided through the streets collecting alms, the Royal Palace glowed in the early light, and for a brief moment, we felt like we had the city entirely to ourselves.

It was magical. It was serene. It was also the last peaceful moment we’d have before attempting to cycle in Bangkok traffic.

 

Test Ride: Survival Mode Activated

Cycling in Bangkok is like joining a live‑action video game where the tuk‑tuks are the bosses and you have no extra lives.

We dodged scooters, taxis, food carts, and at least one confused chicken. After ten minutes, we collectively decided that perhaps Bangkok was best explored by ferry and on foot. A wise and possibly life‑saving conclusion.

The ferry whisked us to Chinatown, and later we marvelled at the newly renovated Temple of Dawn—proof that Bangkok contains both chaos and breathtaking beauty in equal measure.

 

The Journey Begins: Escape from Bangkok

Our official “start” involved… a taxi. Because sometimes the greatest adventure is knowing when not to cycle.

Taxi4Bikes arrived with roof racks, wheel covers, and the kind of calm efficiency that made us suspicious. Were we still in Thailand?

Thirty kilometres later, we rolled out from Rangsit Station, waved goodbye to Bangkok, and pointed our wheels toward Ayutthaya.

Almost instantly, everything changed.

The city dissolved behind us, replaced by quiet canals, banana plantations, rice paddies, and locals cooking meals that smelled far too good for people who had eaten insects the day before.

 

Ayutthaya: Ruins, Rewards, and a Well‑Earned Beer

We settled into a charming wooden schoolhouse and immediately hunted down food. A pavement restaurant delivered a feast and an ice‑cold beer that tasted like victory.

The next morning, we explored Ayutthaya’s ancient ruins—once the capital of Siam, once the largest city in the world, now a hauntingly beautiful UNESCO site. History, tragedy, grandeur… and us, sweating profusely among the temples.

 

Heat, Elephants, and Unexpected Detours

We set off at 7 a.m., chasing the illusion of “cool morning air.” It lasted approximately 14 minutes.

An elephant kraal stirred complicated emotions—majestic creatures, ancient traditions, and the uncomfortable reality of chains.

As the heat intensified, we veered onto a dirt track lined with sun‑dried fish and enormous Buddha statues, because why not? Eventually, we reached Lopburi just in time for Chinese New Year celebrations—music, fireworks, traditional dress, and enough colour to make a peacock feel underdressed.

 

Lopburi: Monkeys Take Over (And Honestly, They Win)

The forecast said 38°C. We said: “Absolutely not.”

Instead, we explored Lopburi, a city where ancient ruins coexist with a monkey population that behaves like a furry mafia. They steal snacks, inspect bags, and run the town with unapologetic confidence.

At the Monkey Temple, I lost track of time watching their antics—chaotic, charming, and slightly terrifying. Leave anything unattended and it was theirs.

 

Toward the Dam: Heat 1, Cyclists 0

We set off early, but the heat still found us. An organic market offered exotic foods and herbal remedies, but mostly we just wanted water.

By evening, we reached Pasak Jolasit Dam and camped under shady trees. Ordering dinner without speaking Thai was a gamble, but the flavours were spectacular.

 

Sunrise, Sugarcane, and Suspicious Rustling

Morning at the dam was bliss—coffee, oats, and a sun fighting through haze from nearby sugarcane farms.

We cycled past cassava plantations and a giant White Buddha where we observed circumambulation rituals. Then came sugarcane workers, rustling fields, and my imagination inventing snakes, rats, and possibly dragons.

At the Wangkanlueang waterfall, we found a picnic spot where we enjoyed juicy watermelon while our feet dabbled in the cool stream.

Janice’s flat tyre took longer than expected, but eventually we reached Wat Nong Bong, where monks offered mats, and Janice took on the morning storytelling duties. Chris cooked noodles; monks chanted; stars twinkled. It was perfect.

 

Temple Life: Hospitality, Noodles, and Starry Skies

We started our morning with a breakfast of fried noodles courtesy of the monks—simple yet delicious! Janice took a moment to engage the local school kids about our planned ride for the day, sparking curiosity and excitement in their eyes. Inspired by their enthusiasm, we tackled a little bike maintenance, figuring out how to adjust the disc brakes on Janice’s bicycle. Although we were beginners in bike mechanics, a quick YouTube search helped us get the wheel moving smoothly again, and soon enough, we were back on the road!

We rode through sugarcane country, paused at Si Chep Historical Park, and waited out the heat like lizards on a rock.

By late afternoon, Chris revived, and we pushed on to another temple. The monks welcomed us warmly; the temple dogs… less so.

Chris needed ice for his diabetic medication, so our evening revolved around Operation Ice Cube.

 

Dust, Mud, and Monks on the Move

We left at 5 a.m. under a smoky haze, navigating muddy tracks, two‑wheeled tractors, and monks collecting food.

The temple that night was basic—dusty shelter, dirt yard—but we swept, dusted the Buddha, lit incense, and made it home.

 

Climbs, Villages, and Culinary “Experiments”

The first 15 km were uphill. Relentlessly uphill. The kind of uphill that makes you question your life choices. After about 10 kilometres, a smaller path veered off, steering us away from a higher peak. Despite the challenge, the ride remained breathtaking as we meandered through stunning rural lanes. As our path descended into charming little villages, the locals observed us with wonder.

We rode through a typical Thai rural area, where families relaxed in hammocks under their stilted wooden homes while children played freely, and livestock grazed unbothered. Our muddy trail eventually led us to a paved road that showcased fascinating distant scenery, with majestic mountains rising to our right.

By around 3 PM, we arrived at the small village of Ban Non-Sa-at. Here, the local temple offered us another camping spot. Like the previous night, it required a bit of sweeping in the half-covered hall and a gentle dusting of the Buddha to prepare our sleeping quarters.

Dinner was a mix of noodle soup, sardines, and Chris’s sardine‑noodle fusion cuisine. Not gourmet, but edible.

 

Raincoats, Fruit Feasts, and Remote Adventures

We overslept, woke to torrential rain, and packed slowly under the downpour. Plastic raincoats: engaged.

A roadside cart gifted us watermelon; a shop owner gifted us bananas; we created a fruit salad that tasted like salvation.

Ban Huabua felt like a village that had never hosted foreigners. The temple was silent, the monk helpful, the sleeping quarters… rustic. Dinner: cup noodles. Again.

 

Speed, Sunrises, and Mystery Meat

A chilly morning revived us. Chris sped ahead like a man possessed; Janice and I admired lotus ponds, cows, smoky stalls, and butchers selling mystery cuts.

With regular rest stops for hydration, we sped through the kilometres. Lunchtime brought a brief nap for Chris, recharging his energy for the ride to Ban Thaen. A sip of refreshing coconut juice along the way invigorated us further. Upon reaching the temple in Ban Thaen, we sought permission to camp from a monk sweeping the grounds. His half-hearted gesture left us unsure about our fate.

A quick exploration led us to a local store, where I grabbed a bowl of soup, only to discover it contained some bony, but surprisingly tasty, mystery meat. In Thailand, flavours never disappoint: "Aroi mak-mak!" as they say.

 

Khon Kaen: Civilization (and Air Conditioning!)

We slept under the stars, mosquito coils burning, temple dogs behaving. Morning gongs and howling dogs woke us with enthusiasm.

The ride to Khon Kaen was beautiful—villages, buffalo, Sunday chores, charcoal making. A 7‑Eleven saved us from melting.

A bike shop fixed my wheel wobble for 20 baht (daylight robbery in reverse). We checked into a hotel and revelled in air‑conditioning like royalty.

Our rest day in Khon Kaen was a mix of light chores and exploration. Laundry piled up, and we set off to shop for headlamps, then returned to the bike shop for headset extensions for Janice and Chris. As evening fell, Chris surprised us with Cape Velvet Liqueur, a delightful end to a productive day.

 

Final Stretch: To the Mekong

We set off before sunrise, full of energy and questionable optimism. Main roads lacked charm but offered facilities—and bamboo crafts that tempted us at every turn.

From Ban Pa Kho Temple to Wat Pho Chum Pattanaram, we drew curious stares. Foreign cyclists were clearly a novelty.

The next day brought rolling hills, wildflowers, children’s laughter, and the kind of scenery that makes you forget your legs are screaming.

Reaching Nong Khai, we gravitated to the Mekong River. Our last Thai sunset was pure magic—golden light shimmering across the water, a perfect farewell before crossing into Laos.

What a day. What a country. What a ride.

 

The Mekong, a Sunset, and a Soft Goodbye

By the time we reached the Mekong, Thailand had thoroughly worked its way under our skin—partly through affection, partly through humidity.

We had pedalled through heat that felt personal, slept in temples that smelled faintly of incense and dog, eaten meals whose ingredients we chose not to investigate, and been welcomed by monks, farmers, shopkeepers, and one very confused man selling coconuts at 7 a.m.

We had been chased by weather, blessed by strangers, stared at by entire villages, and occasionally defeated by hills that looked innocent until we were halfway up them.

And then, suddenly, there was the Mekong—wide, calm, golden in the late afternoon light. A river that didn’t rush or roar, but simply existed with the confidence of something that has seen centuries of travellers come and go.

 

 

CHAPTER 2

123 LAOS (7) A Bicycle Adventure Across the Mekong

486 Km – 11 Days

 

 

Crossing into Laos: A Small Problem with a Big Bridge

We rolled out of Nong Khai full of excitement—new country, new roads, new adventures. Ten kilometres later… we were already in trouble. The Friendship Bridge stretched ahead of us like a grand gateway into Laos, and cycling across the Mekong felt like one of those “this is what travel is all about” moments. Right up until immigration. That’s when the officials calmly pointed out a tiny oversight:

No exit stamps.

In other words, we hadn’t technically left Thailand. Cue a very quick U-turn. We pedalled back across the bridge, slightly less triumphant than before, hastily filled in the forms, and returned once again—this time officially exported.

Second attempt? Success. Laos, we were finally in!

Once in laidback Vientiane, we had the perfect opportunity to stretch our legs and explore the city. The search for new SIM cards, an ATM, and food was an adventure in itself! Dinner awaited us at one of the many restaurants lining the riverfront. Even at 9 p.m., the heat was relentless, wrapping around us like a warm blanket. The weather forecast for the next few days wasn’t looking favourable for biking, with temperatures expected to soar to 36˚C-38˚C. Yet, watching Janice and Chris battle the heat like seasoned pros gave me confidence. As long as we kept our days manageable, I thought we’d be just fine.

 

Embracing the Heat - Monuments, Mysteries, and a “Vertical Runway”

We started early the next morning—because in Laos, your window of comfort is roughly sunrise to “why are we doing this again?”

Our first stop was the iconic Patuxay Monument, Vientiane’s very own Arc de Triomphe. The backstory fascinated me: this monument was constructed with cement donated by the USA, initially intended for a new airport. Now, it’s humorously dubbed the “vertical runway.” The history alone brought the structure to life.

Next on our journey was Pha That Luang, a stunning 16th-century Buddhist stupa steeped in history. Built atop the remains of previous temples, it served as a reminder of the region's rich cultural heritage. We stood in awe, gazing at the reclining Buddha sculpted to represent the historical Buddha at the moment of his parinirvana—truly a sight to behold.

We had plans to visit Buddha Park next, but the road conditions were so rough that biking became a chore, and we had to make the tough call to skip it in favour of the main road. Chris, however, was a trooper and managed to pedal his way to our destination without stopping for lunch or a nap—what a champ!

 

Unexpected Generosity (and Very Careful Beer Management)

We finally stopped at a roadside guesthouse, where a humble restaurant served up delightful noodle soup. A group of locals sat nearby, smiling, chatting… and then suddenly started buying us beers.

One turned into two… which could very quickly have turned into “we’re not cycling anywhere tomorrow.” So we thanked them enthusiastically, laughed a lot, and quietly activated what I call strategic restraint.

And so, our adventure continued, full of unexpected twists and stories waiting to be told. Each moment a colourful brushstroke in our travel tale, painting an unforgettable picture of life on the road.

 

The Case of the Missing Glasses (and the 100 km Surprise)

We set off early again, chasing cooler air and long shadows. About 15 kilometres in—perfect rhythm, good pace—Janice suddenly realised something crucial: Her reading glasses were gone. Backtracking began. Chris and I continued slowly ahead, assuming she’d catch up soon. She didn’t. After a while, the message came through:

She’d missed the regroup point entirely… and ended up all the way back at the start. At this point, there was nothing to do but stick to the plan—ride until 1 p.m., check in, and wait. Eventually, Janice rolled in, having conquered a whopping 100 kilometres on her own! Talk about determination! Major kudos to you, Janice, for your first solo ride and hitting the century mark—you absolutely crushed it!

 

Temple Hospitality: Cleaning Before Check-In

The next morning greeted us with an unexpected chill, prompting me to make a quick stop for a long-sleeved sweater. It’s always a bit of a gamble with the clothing racks outside restaurants—are they for sale or just laundry? After our leisurely half-day rides, we often arrived at our destinations too early, needing to ask if we could camp before the sun fully warmed the day.

Upon reaching the Pakkading Buddhist temple, the friendly monks showed us a clean room, but not before we rolled up our sleeves for a little scrubbing! The building looked fresh, but the bathroom? Not so much. Just as we settled in, the head monk arrived with a surprise: we were to move to the basement! Stepping into the substantial tiled room, we noticed it desperately needed some TLC. It felt like a place intended for those down on their luck or perhaps a monk dealing with his own demons.

 

River Spirits and the Smoking Ritual

Shortly after 6 AM, we had left the newly cleaned sanctity of our room at the temple, and surprisingly, not even the monks were up yet! As we crossed the impressive Pakkading Bridge over the Nam Kading River—a key tributary of the Mekong—something curious caught our attention—truck drivers stopping briefly to light cigarettes before crossing. Not for a break. For the river. It’s believed a serpent spirit lives below, and this small act is a gesture of respect. One of those quiet, fascinating cultural details you’d never find in a guidebook… but sticks with you long after.

As the day wore on, the heat cranked up, and a stubborn headwind challenged our resolve. Suddenly, every kilometre felt twice as long. We stumbled upon a roadside guesthouse by 1 PM, complete with a restaurant—our oasis in the baking sun. Sometimes that’s the real victory. The exhaustion faded as we looked forward to a night’s rest, rejuvenating for the ride yet to come.

 

Headwinds, Heatwaves, and Midday Survival

Packing began at the crack of dawn, around 5:00 AM, setting the stage for an early escape into the day. The road unfurled ahead, gently rolling like a soft wave, making each pedal stroke a delight as the sun stretched its rays across the landscape. A chorus of cheerful kids waved from the roadside, their voices ringing out with enthusiastic calls of “Sabaidi falang!” Some were unabashedly curious, their wide eyes following us, while others, a bit more reserved, kept a cautious distance, giggling behind their hands.

 

Markets of the Unexpected (and Slightly Questionable Snacks)

We pedalled past fascinating roadside shops, their tables laden with refreshing water, delectable snacks, and the sweet allure of freshly squeezed sugarcane juice. A particularly intriguing market caught our eye—an eclectic mix of sights and smells. There, vendors proudly showcased dung beetle balls, each one a tiny treasure trove of wriggling larvae, while grilled and raw rats and squirrels tempted the adventurous palate.

The market was an exotic wonderland, bustling with the usual crabs and eels, along with an array of fish that promised culinary adventures. Nearby, bags brimming with live lizards dangled from hooks, joining the ranks of other peculiar (and perhaps illegal) creatures offered for sale. It was a world that stood in sharp contrast to the tranquillity of the open road, inviting the curious traveller to immerse themselves in the vibrant tapestry of local life. We admired. We photographed. We did not buy anything.

 

The “Great Wall” of Laos (Sort Of)

The day turned into a delightful bike ride that truly embraced the beauty of an early start, allowing us to savour the cooler morning temperatures. Our path took us on an unexpected and fascinating detour to the Great Wall of Laos, known as the Kamphaeng Nyak Wall. This remarkable geological wonder, with its striking resemblance to man-made structures, inspires an array of captivating myths and stories throughout Laos. Some locals speculate that this wall served as a defence system, while others believe it was constructed to control floodwaters. No one seemed entirely sure. Which, honestly, only made it better. Such rich history adds a magical layer to our travels!

As we drew closer to Thakhek, we veered onto a scenic minor road that guided us through charming small communities along the Mekong River. One of the highlights was indulging in the famous Lao baguette, or Khao Jee. This street food is a true culinary gem, filled with a delicious mix of salad, pâté, chilli paste, and cold meats, all perfectly toasted over coals for that delightful crispiness. Enjoying this treasure while seated on the sidewalk made the experience even more enjoyable.

We reached Thakhek with plenty of time to settle in at the Souksomboun Hotel, conveniently located by the Mekong’s banks. This cyclist-friendly accommodation was a dream come true; we even had the luxury of wheeling our bikes right into our outdoor-style rooms.

 

Thakhek: Baguettes, Bikes, and a Proper Rest

The next day was dedicated to rest, and we took a fun tuk-tuk ride to explore the nearby caves. Our leisurely morning was spent discovering the wonders within these natural formations, and we made it back home by 2 PM, feeling fulfilled and content.

 

A Sobering Reminder: The Secret War

I’ve previously shared insights about the Secret War in Laos, and it continues to resonate deeply with me. Witnessing individuals living with visible scars from the conflict reminds us of the war's lasting impact. As noted by Legaciesofwar.org, from 1964 to 1973, over two million tons of bombs were dropped on Laos, making it the most heavily bombed country per capita. The fact that a third of those bombs never detonated highlights the ongoing challenges faced by the Laotian people. It’s a humbling reality—one that adds a deeper layer to everything you see and experience here.

 

Pushing Beyond the Plan: 100 km… Again

Our plan for the ride from Thakhek was to cover our usual distance of 60-65 kilometres. However, the enchanting river trail along the Mekong captivated us, leading us through picturesque fishing villages. Despite reaching our initial target distance, our enthusiasm was undiminished. By midday, I thought we’d made sufficient progress for the day; however, Janice and Chris were determined to continue. Encouraged by their eagerness, we pressed on a bit further until a sign pointed us toward an adventurous shortcut. The route was a little rough and potholed, but it added excitement to our day!

As we made our way to Savannakhet, we had to summon our energy to arrive before nightfall. Everyone pushed through with exceptional determination, and I couldn’t have been more grateful for our safe arrival.

Rolling into Savannakhet, legs tired but spirits high, we aimed straight for the Night Market…Which was closed. Of course. Plan B: dim sum. And honestly? No regrets.

 

Savannakhet: A Well-Earned Finish

A well-deserved rest day was spent in Savannakhét, with its tree-lined streets and an ensemble of old, crumbling French colonial buildings. We intended to cross the border into Thailand via the Friendship Bridge on the outskirts of Savannakhét. Still, I had to apply for a Thai visa first. Since it was Sunday, I could only do it the next morning.

I handed in my application, but couldn't collect it until the next day. The 12th was Chris’s birthday, and we visited the small museum with interesting artefacts collected in the vicinity of Savannakhét. Afterwards, a relaxed cycle ride ran to a nearby lake. The lake offered restaurants on wooden platforms over the water. Eating cross-legged on woven mats—a position our bodies protested, but my guests never complained. Finally, we returned along the potholed road, making it to our digs shortly before nightfall.

 

And just like that, Laos had worked its quiet magic on us. It wasn’t flashy. It didn’t rush. But it challenged us, surprised us, and welcomed us—sometimes with beer, sometimes with mystery meals, and sometimes with a broom and a dirty bathroom.

Which, when you think about it…

…is exactly what makes an adventure worth telling.

 

 

CHAPTER 3

 

 

THAILAND (15)

THAILAND (15) - Where the Road Loops Back, the Temples Multiply, and the Journey Ends

1,111 Km – 21 Days

 

 

Thailand: Borders, Buses, and a Slight Sprint

A midday check-out from our guesthouse left just enough time to indulge in coffee and cake before picking up my visa at 14:00. Afterwards, I hopped on my bike and set off to the consulate, while Janice and Chris made their way to the border. As it turns out, cycling across the Friendship Bridge wasn’t allowed, and the bus tickets that ferried people across were limited. When two buses arrived without room for our bicycles, we were starting to feel a bit worried, but fortune smiled upon us when a third bus arrived with space for two bikes!

As the bus pulled away, with Janice and Chris safely inside, I jumped on my bicycle and raced across the bridge to the Thai border, much to the officials' dismay. I simply smiled and waved, crossing to the other side without any hassle, and I was soon reunited with my cycling buddies. Once checked in at Thai immigration, we continued with a short, pleasant ride to Mukdahan. There, we found a Buddhist temple that served as a perfect place to rest, surrounded by delicious food options.

 

Rain, Roofs, and “Luxury” Temple Living

After a refreshing night’s sleep, we were excited to set off along a scenic route next to the Mekong River. While the terrain was a bit hilly, the ride remained enjoyable as we journeyed towards Khemmarat. As was our habit, we took advantage of the temples along the way for convenient camping, and at Wat Pho the monks were incredibly welcoming, offering us a lovely room. To our surprise, the room had air conditioning and piles of mats and pillows!

We settled comfortably into our cosy quarters, but then it started to rain. I quickly understood why the mats were stacked in the corner—the roof was leaking, and water was pouring in! In a flurry of activity, we scrambled to protect our electronics and moved everything to the driest part of the room. Thankfully, rain in Southeast Asia tends to pass just as quickly as it arrives, and soon the storm subsided, leaving us safe and dry.

 

Strategic Bus Rides and the Joy of Good Showers

As we had come to love our early risings, we woke up at 5:00 and hit the road by 6:30, following a tranquil rural path dotted with charming little hamlets. I was once again struck by the peacefulness of these communities—cattle roamed backyards, kids pedalled to school on tiny bikes, women sold snacks, and men tended to their goats and cattle.

The map hinted at a hilly day ahead, and it didn’t disappoint! Upon reaching Ban Pakhachomson, we caught a bus to Ubon instead of continuing on our bikes, eager to save energy for the next leg of our journey. Upon arrival in Ubon, we enjoyed a quick six-kilometre cycle into the city centre, where we finally found our perfect overnight spot at the Ubon Hotel, conveniently located right across from the night market. Not only was the location ideal, but the hotel also boasted a remarkably good water pressure that almost propelled me out the door—such a refreshing way to end the day!

 

Routine, Rice Fields, and Sleeping Under the Stars

By now, we’d found our rhythm. Early starts. Quiet roads. Snack stops. Curious locals watch us roll through their daily lives. It became comforting—this simple cycling routine, where every day felt different but somehow familiar.

The sun shone brightly, making our ride along the minor roads a delightful experience. We pedalled through rural communities, soaking in the sights and sounds of daily life. When we finally reached Si Sa Khet, we discovered that sleeping at the city temple was not an option. However, we found solace at a secluded temple about six kilometres out of town, where we pitched our tents under the stars, surrounded by serenity.

Out there, life slows down.

And you realise… that’s kind of the point.

 

The Temple of a Million Bottles (Because Why Not?)

The next morning greeted us with overcast skies, a pleasant surprise that made our ride all the more enjoyable. The landscape transformed into dry rice fields where scrawny cows grazed lazily, their long ears twitching as we passed by. Columns of smoke rose from charcoal pits nearby, adding to the rural charm as we pedalled south toward Khun Han.

Upon our arrival, our first destination was none other than the incredible Wat Pa Maha Chedi Kaew, also known as The Temple of a Million Bottles. Structures were crafted from over 1.5 million Heineken and Chang beer bottles, a remarkable sight that left us in awe. Originally built in 1984, the temple has since expanded to feature over 20 unique buildings, including sleeping bungalows and ablutions. After soaking in the temple's unique beauty, we set off in search of a camping spot by a nearby lake, but it turned out to be unsuitable. Not to worry, we quickly made our way to the town temple, where we were graciously allowed to set up our tents in a sheltered area.

 

120 km Days and Cold Beer Rewards

The following day presented us with a challenge: a hefty 120-kilometre ride into Surin. But as we rolled into town just before 6 p.m., the effort was worth every sore backside. The collective mood was jubilant; we had conquered this long distance together! After a refreshing shower, we dashed out to indulge in our well-deserved reward—a couple of cold Chang beers paired with mouthwatering dim sum from a bustling stall right outside our hotel.

What a perfect way to wrap up the day! The next morning promised a well-earned rest day in Surin, allowing us time to recharge—both physically and mentally—while catching up on some much-needed housekeeping. Ready for whatever adventure lay ahead!

 

Volcanoes, Railway Tracks, and Smart Shortcuts (Sort Of)

As we set off toward Buri Ram, the air was filled with the scent of the countryside, and our chosen path unfolded along charming country lanes. The rural landscape was alive with everyday life—cattle roamed freely, often blocking our path as they leisurely lounged in front yards or beneath stilted homes. We pedalled past verdant rice fields, where weathered old ladies toiled under the sun while men gathered animal feed. Each small community we passed revolved around a central well, the heartbeat of their daily lives.

However, our smooth ride took an unexpected turn when the road abruptly met a railway line. Carrying our bikes over the tracks turned out to be quite the challenge, but it only added to the day's tales.

The next stretch took us through Buri Ram, where the landscape hid a surprise: An extinct volcano. Obviously, we climbed it. Up 297 Naga steps, legs protesting all the way, only to be rewarded with views that made it instantly worthwhile.

 

Strategic Climbing (and Selective Packing)

On a heavily overcast morning, we rolled out of Buri Ram, enjoying the gentle breeze that made cycling feel effortless. A last-minute decision led us to Phanom Rung Historical Park, perched atop a steep hill. Eager to lighten my load for the climb, I set down my panniers at a shop and shot ahead, leaving Janice and Chris to battle their way up—all while carrying their burdensome packs. Not impressed by my sneaky tactics, I could hear their unamused groans echo behind me.

What a sight it was! We strolled among ruins that have stood for a millennium, once a grand Hindu shrine to Shiva, constructed between the 10th and 13th centuries. Perched on that extinct volcano, 400 meters above sea level, the view was captivating, but the chilly breeze reminded me just how unprepared I was. I narrowly escaped the embarrassment of asking to borrow a sweater!

Once back on our original path, a delightful five-kilometre ride brought us to Ban Khok Mueang. Here at Wat Prasat Buraparam, we set up camp on a platform that could use a good cleaning. Janice and I seized the opportunity to explore the ancient Prasat Muang Tam, revelling in the ruins all to ourselves—no tourists, just the echo of centuries past. But hunger soon struck us, leading us back to the town in search of sustenance. Fortunately, we stumbled upon an open noodle soup restaurant, a perfect end to the day.

 

Temple Dogs, Jungle Paths, and Cleaning Duty Again

Our early-morning packing sent the temple dogs into a frenzy of barks, turning into howls as the monks rang the morning gong. What a cacophony to wake up to!

With the day still fresh, we embarked on our ride, our spirits high. Though we initially aimed to camp at Lam Nang Rong Dam, we arrived far too early. We pushed on to Ta Phraya National Park instead. Once we crested the mountain, the option to camp at the park beckoned—though we needed to travel a further three kilometres in search of food.

To our delight, we found not only a feast but also an unexpected camping spot at Wat Mai Thai Thavorn. Camping at temples had become second nature—along with a few predictable extras:

Barking dogs

Early morning gongs

And occasionally… unexpected cleaning projects

This temple was no different, looking a bit neglected, but the monks kindly directed us to a building at the far side of the property. It certainly needed some TLC! After hours of sweeping and dusting, we transformed the dusty hall into a usable space. The monks seemed impressed as they offered us water, extension cords, and even toilet paper!

Just before sunset, we hopped back on our bikes for a quick ride to the food market, where mouthwatering dishes awaited. The day was a perfect blend of adventure, camaraderie, and delicious local cuisine—what more could we ask for?

 

Broken Spokes and A Restday in Aranya Prathet

As dawn broke, the excitement of a new day beckoned us to rise with the sun. By six o'clock, we were already spinning our wheels toward Aranya Prathet, embraced by a gentle tailwind that made the ride feel effortless. The overcast skies draped a cool shade over us, perfect for cycling.

Upon arrival, we planned a well-deserved rest day, especially after one of our spokes decided to call it quits. We found ourselves at the Aran Garden Hotel 1, a gem for cyclists. With the convenience of cycling directly into a covered area, it felt like a welcoming hug for our weary bikes.

After sorting out laundry, we took a moment to catch up on a few lingering tasks, then ventured out to explore the local culinary scene. The evening streets buzzed with vendors and flavours, just what we needed.

 

Ancient Hindu Shrines and Sleeping in a Bus

Our tour kicked into high gear as we made our first stop at the ruins of Prasat Khao Noi. This ancient Hindu shrine, perched atop the limestone hill, whispered stories of the past. While only one prang stood tall, the remnants of history captivated us. Among the excavated treasures was a stone lintel inscribed in 637 AD—a tangible connection to a time long forgotten.

As we made our way through a vibrant Sunday market filled with the aroma of local delicacies, we couldn't resist picking up unique seeds from the surrounding trees. Each seed had its own personality—some were light and fluffy, while others had a sticky or thorny exterior. One particularly explosive seed even surprised us, bursting from its shell with a pop and scattering its contents like confetti!

Our journey continued into Khao Chakan Forest Park, a spectacular landscape of towering limestone mountains and deep caves. A steep flight of stairs led us to a massive opening in the rock, rewarding our effort with stunning views of the lush countryside below. This would have been an ideal camping spot, were it not for the playful army of monkeys keeping a watchful eye on us. In our exploration, we stumbled upon the Bus Resort, an extraordinary place where buses were transformed into cosy, air-conditioned accommodations, complete with fridges and bathrooms—definitely a quirky twist to the day.

 

Through an Elephant Sanctuary to a Sunset Paddle.

Once again, the open road called, promising another thrilling day of cycling. The winding paths meandered over the hills and through the Khao Ang Rue Nai Wildlife Sanctuary, where the fresh scent of elephant dung reminded us of the majestic creatures that roam these lands. Though we didn’t spot any elephants, mischievous monkeys entertained us with their antics.

After conquering the mountains, a thrilling descent led to the quaint village of Khlong Takao. Our plan was to camp by the dam, but a flooded road added an unexpected twist to our day and extended our ride longer than anticipated.

Despite the setback, Sronlai Homestay offered picturesque camping. As the sun dipped towards the horizon, we couldn’t resist the kayaks and paddled out for a serene evening. The gentle lapping of the water and the soft glow of the setting sun brought an enchanting end to another day on the road.

 

Breath-taking Views and Weaving Market

What a ride! The journey to Phanat Nikhom was absolutely exhilarating, with country roads winding through lush rubber tree plantations and farmers diligently preparing their paddy fields.

At a temple, a challenging hike that involved conquering a near-vertical flight of stairs led to a breathtaking viewpoint. There, amid the serene landscape, stood a dimly lit sanctuary, housing a collection of dusty Buddha statues that felt like secrets waiting to be discovered.

As we cycled into Phanat Nikhom, we spotted a sign directing us to a weaving market and factory. Intrigued, we spent time marvelling at their incredible craftsmanship, including the world’s largest hand-woven basket—a true testament to local artisanship. Afterwards, we ventured off to find accommodation at a nearby temple on the town’s outskirts. The temple vibrated with life, and we were greeted by an overwhelming presence of temple dogs darting around joyfully. We also encountered a few salesmen offering brooms and feather dusters, who appeared to be well-prepared for an overnight stay with their sleeping mats, fans, and cooking gear set up around the temple grounds.

 

Monkeys, Markets, and Surprise Navigation Help

Throughout the night, the temple buzzed with noise, partly from the dogs barking furiously at every little sound and partly from the incessant traffic on the nearby busy highway. Despite the chaos, we found ourselves laughing at the madness around us. By morning, we bravely saddled up, waved goodbye to the friendly feather duster salesmen and the monks, and set off with a couple of curious temple dogs in tow.

It wasn’t long before we stumbled upon a peaceful rural road that brought a sigh of relief. We pointed our bikes towards Chachoengsao, only to encounter unexpected roadworks. Thankfully, a kind farmer came to our rescue and led us along a hidden path not shown on our map.

Once in Chachoengsao, we navigated through the bustling city to reach the charming old market by the Bang Pakong River, believed to be over a century old. Although it was midweek and the market was closed, we roamed the area, admiring the beautiful wooden structures. In true Thai fashion, the shop owners, who lived above their shops, welcomed us with broad smiles and invitations to taste their delicious specialities. After enjoying a lovely coffee at a riverside café, we set off to find our next place to stay.

 

The Final Approach: Trains, Tyres, and One Last Mix-Up

We decided to hop on a train to Bangkok, skipping the chaotic traffic. With a variety of trains to choose from, we had all the time in the world to leisurely cycle to the station. However, I woke to a flat tyre. Janice and Chris zoomed ahead while I tackled the puncture. When I finally arrived at the station, they were nowhere to be found. It turned out they had accidentally cycled to the bus station a kilometre away! After a bit of back-and-forth, we reunited and boarded the train headed for the city.

 

Bangkok: Full Circle

Back in Bangkok, everything felt bigger, louder, faster. Bike repairs were overdue (very overdue), and the racks, held together by cable ties, were finally retired. Janice and Chris began packing up their bikes for the journey home.

But we weren’t done yet.

Not quite.

Thankfully, we still had a few days to explore more of Bangkok and its surroundings. That evening, we enjoyed a delightful reunion with Tania and Rodd, a friendly chap from New Zealand who instantly added warmth and laughter to our conversation.

 

Bangkok Adventures One Last Adventure (Of Course)

The night before, we teamed up with Rodd to explore the famous Samut Songkhram Railway Market and Amphawa Floating Market. We woke excited and jumped into a taxi to Wonwian Yai Station. There, we encountered the train parked in the middle of the road, making our ride feel like a game of Frogger.

For just 10 THB, we hopped on a train to Maha Chai Station, then took a charming 3 THB ferry across the river, and after a brisk sprint to Ban Laem Station, we boarded another train, convinced that 10 THB was our lucky number.

Arriving at the Railway Market, we were met with a chaotic symphony of vendors quickly clearing their stalls as a train approached. We enjoyed bowls of delicious noodle soup before cramming into a Songthaew, which felt a bit cramped.

At Amphawa Floating Market, the heat was intense, so we opted for a 50 THB canal tour that felt more like a floating sauna. After over two hours on the water, we returned to land, exhausted but happy, feeling as if we had just survived an adventure of a lifetime. What a day!

 

The Final Evenings: Markets, Memories, and a Surprise Gift

Back in Bangkok, we drifted through markets, drank cold beers on small plastic chairs, and watched the world go by one last time.

That’s when Janice surprised me with a gift—a camera backpack.

Completely unexpected.

Completely unnecessary.

And completely appreciated.

It’s funny how the smallest moments end up meaning the most.

 

The End

And then… just like that…

It was over.

Janice and Chris jumped into a taxi bound for the airport, heading back to Cape Town after 2,422 kilometres of cycling, countless meals, endless heat, and more memories than we could possibly count.

As they disappeared into Bangkok traffic, there was that familiar mix of emotions:

Pride. Gratitude. And just a little bit of “what now?”

Because after a journey like this…You don’t really finish it. You just start riding again