Saturday 5 March 2022

159 CYCLE TOURING SOUTH AFRICA (3) - A LAST RESORT

Shenanigans on a Bike - By Leana Niemand




 SOUTH AFRICA (3)

717 Kilometres - 15 Days

18 February - 4 March 2022


PHOTOS

 


8 – 17 February - Bangkok, Thailand – Cape Town, South Africa

Finally, I was Africa bound. It was indeed a last resort as, after nearly two years, Thailand still hadn’t opened its borders. I was cautiously excited to return to my home soil and see what Africa had in store for me. However, travelling wasn’t as easy as before, and I wasn’t sure if I would even take off. 

Eventually, I was airborne and landed in Cape Town, South Africa, after a dreadfully long flight. As can be expected, there was a great deal of eating and drinking before getting to the bike shop to do the necessary.

 

18 February – Melkbosstrand – Yzerfontein – 60 km

The time was late in the day before finally cycling out of my sister’s place. I popped into Caron’s along the way and cycled to the main road together. She returned home but promised to join my sister and me in Yzerfontein by car after work. My sister, Amanda was keen to drive along for a few days, which meant I, at least, would’ve been company during the evenings.

The road along the West Coast is utterly dull, and not a considerable amount was happening. I wasn’t too fond of the traffic flying past at high speed, but most seemed friendly enough, always giving a toot and wave. En route, I popped into Route 27, a small farm stall and restaurant selling homemade treats. Again, the people were immensely friendly. After a chat, I hopped on the bike to cycle the short distance to Yzerfontein. The short day made early arrival and allowed a visit to the supermarket to stock up on everything needed. 

Late afternoon, Caron arrived, and we drove to the shop to buy wood and stuff to braai. I also bought a chair to make camping more comfortable and planned on throwing it into Amanda’s car as it isn’t something I would lug around on the bike. Unfortunately, the weather turned icy, and I realised I didn’t pack while keeping cold weather in mind.

 

19 February – Yzerfontein – Langebaan – 50km

We woke to freezing weather and a reasonable possibility of rain. If I had known the weather would be this dreary, I never would’ve ventured so far south. Still, I crawled out of the tent, made coffee and tried reorganising my panniers as things were thrown in randomly. Around 10 a.m. I cycled out of Yzerfontein in the direction of Langebaan.

A windy 20 kilometres further was the turnoff to the West Coast National Park, where Caron had already paid my entrance fee and was waiting to cycle to Langebaan. The ride was beautiful, and we chatted endlessly, stopping at a little restaurant to have coffee and milk tart, where Caron again picked up the tab. Thanks, my friend; your kindness is much appreciated. The Langebaan lagoon was a Caribbean blue as we headed into town, where Amanda was waiting to give Caron a ride to her car. 

Again, shopping was done at the supermarket, and a fire was made for our nightly braai. 

20 /21 February - Langebaan – Laaiplek – 40 km

Packing up was a leisurely affair as we waited until the tents were dry. The time was thus around 10 a.m. before we got underway. Caron drove home, and Amanda took the scenic route to Laaiplek. I flew along, aided by a strong tailwind, and arrived at camp nearly simultaneously with my sister. The short distance was due to me needing off-road tyres to cope with the anticipated bad roads ahead. Langebaan had a bike shop but it was closed on a Sunday, and so was the one in nearby Vredenburg. 

Things are relatively quiet in these small coastal communities. But, after driving around, we eventually managed to find something to eat. 

We emerged to an uncharacteristic wind-free but misty morning and stayed in our tents until the sun warmed the air. Fortunately, the camp had a laundry, and we made good use of it before driving to Vredenburg in search of off-road tyres. 

It was a pleasant surprise to find a well-stocked bike shop where I bought two tyres. We further invested in a camping table and bowl to do dishes—luxuries I’d never experienced. 

Pat, a friend from my running days living in St Helena Bay, invited us around. A lovely afternoon was spent catching up while eating and drinking. Pat spoiled us rotten and dished up all kinds of delicious snacks. The wind was still howling, and we crawled in early.

 

22 February – Laaiplek – Elands Bay – 71 km

The West Coast can be an unforgiving place. The sun-baked, sandy soil looked forlorn in the ferocious wind plaguing the region. The plastic bags flapping on fence poles and tortoise skeletons added to the desolate vibe. 

An unexpected farm revealed kids waving enthusiastically. Stopping to take a few pics made them even more excited. Finally, the mum, baby on hip, quietly asked, “Mevrou, waar gaan mevrou heen?”

I replied, “Ek gaan Namibia toe.”

With sympathy in her voice, she said, “Oh, gaan mevrou daar werk soek?” (For what other reason would a person cycle to Namibia?)

I nearly burst out laughing but answered feebly, “Nee, ek ry sommer net.”

“Oh, ry sommer net,” she repeated, sounding tired but most likely thought her life was all bad afterall. 

And right there, I fell in love with the West Coast.

My route zig-zagged across the Sishen–Saldanha railway line, an 861-kilometre-long heavy-haul railway line. I intended to follow the service road, which cuts out a long detour. The line connects the Sishen iron ore mines to the port at Saldanha Bay. Trains transport iron ore (100 million tonnes per year!) and don’t carry passenger traffic.

Wagons carry 100 tonnes, and trains pull 375 wagons at a time! These trains (pulled by ten locomotives) and 375 wagons are more than 4,000 metres long, the longest production trains in the world.

Once in Elands Bay, Amanda had already found a spot to camp, and we set off to the nearby caves. Elands Bay Cave had been used at different times for various purposes; evidence found at the cave suggests a series of overlapping times. Research concludes people lived there around 4,400 to 3,000 years ago. Hunting and gathering activities persisted until the 17th century AD.

 

23 February – Elands Bay – Strandfontein - 91 km

We woke to a beautiful wind-free morning and felt reluctant to pack up. Instead, the way took me inland over hills sporting views over vast stretches of nothingness featuring only a lone farmhouse in the valley. This is indeed a sparsely populated area. The road stretched miles ahead, which added to the desolate feel.

Eventually, my path veered back to the ocean and Lambert’s Bay, from where I opted to cycle along the service road along the railway line. In hindsight, this wasn’t such a great idea. The road slowly deteriorated and became rutted, corrugated and sandy. It took all my concentration to keep going. The poor bicycle took a hammering, not to mention my electronics. In the process, I lost the bike lock, the mirror and the phone holder, and the odometer gave up the ghost. These items weren’t designed with rough roads in mind. Neither am I, for that matter!

The path eventually reached the tiny community of Doringbaai, from where a paved road ran six kilometres to pretty Strandfontein. Fortunately, my sister had already found a campsite and beer, an arrangement I could get used to. 

After sunset, the wind subsided, and the sky turned a beautiful deep red colour. The pretty scene masked the icy waters in the bay. The cold water along the West Coast of South Africa is due to the cold Benguela current that flows northwards from Cape Town to Angola. The prevailing southerly winds produce upwellings of water from a very deep part of the ocean (200-300m), moving in line with the rotation of the Earth. Hence the icy but nutrient-rich water. Thus, it is no surprise the primary income of villages along the coast is from fishing.

 

24 February – Strandfontein – Bitterfontein - 100 km

The day dawned wind-free but misty. Wanting to use the favourable conditions, I hurriedly packed and got underway, leaving Amanda to pack the car and clean up the mess at the campsite. 

I was in no mood to take the service road and repeat the bumpy ride the day before and, therefore, opted for the route to the dreaded N7.

I saw Amanda heading to Lutzville to shop at the little supermarket during the day. She later passed me but not before handing me a cold drink and a packet of jelly sweets. All luxuries I’m not accustomed to but very much enjoyed. My path followed the Olifant’s River as it meanders through the valley bringing life to the surrounding area, allowing for the cultivation of wine grapes, export table grapes, sundried raisins, watermelon, beans, potatoes, beetroot and pumpkin.

The rough road caused a flat tyre, but the Gu/sealant did the job, and after inflating the tyre, the Gu held, and I could be on my way without replacing the tube.

Not a great deal further, the paved road gave way to a dirt and hilly road, which eventually spat me out on the highway. Fortunately, it was only a 16-kilometre (but windy) bike ride to the hamlet of Bitterfontein, where Amanda found a gorgeous and intriguing cottage at the Art House. Unfortunately, the only shop and petrol station closed early in this tiny settlement. However, the lady offered to prepare a large bowl of French fries accompanied by a lovely fresh salad mostly from her garden. 

 

25 February – Bitterfontein – Garies – 63 km

Leaving Bitterfontein, the surrounding landscape reminded me of the Australian outback. Fortunately, not as harsh and widespread. En route, I met another cyclist en route to Cape Town. Henk Horstink hailed from the Netherlands and started riding in Windhoek. I met Tania and her husband on their way home to Strandfontein from the Kgalagadi. We chatted a while before moving on. 

Not a considerable amount happened along the lonely and hilly road, and my path soon reached the small settlement of Garies. Here Amanda had located a lovely cottage as the campsite was closed. 

 

26 February - Garies – Kamieskroon – 52 km

My unhurried departure was due to the short distance, and the sun was already high in the sky, cycling out of Garies. The way to Kamieskroon was hilly, and at the top of each rise, one could see the vastness of the surrounding area and the road far in the distance. It was dead quiet except for the occasional dassie scurrying to the safety of its den or a truck roaring past. I grinned from ear to ear on the downhill, but the grin faded on the slow slogs up the hills. Fortunately, the gradient was easy, and I pedalled into Kamieskroon, situated amongst stony hills, in good time. 

Kroon Lodge provided camping, a beautiful, well-equipped campsite where we were the only campers. By evening we lit a fire, Amanda braaied and I stuck to my bread and cheese sandwich. 

Laying in the tent one could look up at the sky and see a bright Milky Way. It was good the see the Southern Cross again.

 

27/29 February – Kamieskroon – Springbok – 70 km

It’s an immense pleasure to emerge from your tent in this barren landscape at sunrise. But, unfortunately, the nights can be cold and with a chill in the air I drank my coffee, enjoying the peace of this unique area.

The scenery was unchanged from the previous day, and the road stretched far into the distance over stony hills. Place names screamed adversity and hope. One couldn’t help but feel sorry for the people trying to make a living in this desolate and unforgiving area. Still, a strange air of calmness prevailed, and I enjoyed the ride up and over stony hills with their views over desolate valleys.

By the time I rolled into Springbok, Amanda had sent a message stating she was at the Springbok campsite, where she had booked a lovely chalet. Good thing, too, as we’d a few things to sort out before crossing the border into Namibia. 

The following day we did laundry and shopped for items we may need later; I found a new bike lock, chain tube, two spare tyres, and sealant. In addition, we stocked up on beer and crisps, as those are two things I don’t want to run out of. Hahaha. The main reason for stopping in Springbok was to get a PCR test before crossing into Namibia. The lady at PathCare informed a test takes up to two days and it will be easier and quicker to do the test at the border. We were delighted with this news and returned to the campsite.

 

1 March – Springbok – Vioolsdrif – 120km

Getting underway early was due to my fear of encountering a headwind or intense heat, but none materialised. Barely 10 kilometres outside Springbok was the turnoff to the mining towns of Okiep and Nababeep. Okiep is the oldest mining town in South Africa. By 1870, it was the richest copper mine in the world. Today, these two towns are only sad-looking settlements.

Midday, I met up with another cyclist from Italy and we chatted nonstop to Vioolsdrift.

Once at the border, we checked out of South Africa and on the Namibian side was escorted to the testing centre. To our shock and horror, we learned they stopped testing at that location that day! I felt sorry for the chap who accompanied us as it was his job and he was unaware of the new arrangements. No amount of explaining could change their minds, as the person doing the testing wasn’t there. We’d no option but to return to the South African side.

After much deliberation, Amanda and I opted for a night at the over-priced Vioolsdrift Lodge.

 

2/3 March – Vioolsdrift - Springbok – Vioolsdrift – By car

Amanda drove us to Springbok, where PCR tests were only done between 2-4 p.m. My word, what a performance! Eventually, we returned to PathCare, where we waited in line on plastic chairs. The process became a jovial affair and we learned the purpose of each one’s visit. The PCR results would be emailed and there was thus no reason to hang around. Finally, we returned to Vioolsdrift, where camping was at Kwelanga, a lovely spot on the river.

 

4 March – Vioolsdrift, South Africa – Aussenkehr, Namibia – 63 km

We chatted to Katy, the owner, forever before getting on the dirt road for the return trip to the border checkpoint. At least this time we’d our PCR tests and all went smoothly. The first stop was at a petrol station to buy a SIM card and have breakfast. Amanda continued to Aussenkehr and I enjoyed the last of the paved road for some time. It was a long and lonely stretch along the Orange River and the scenery desolate but spectacular.

Amanda located a lovely resort where camping was right on the river. The only problem was the lack of internet connection and thus no means of contacting me to tell me where to go, and she had to drive back to inform me.

The lodge sported a pool as well as a bar, and the sunset was spectacular as we lit a fire to braai.

 

Saturday 25 December 2021

CYCLE TOURING THAILAND (21.1) IS THE PANDEMIC OVER YET? 2021

Shenanigans on a Bike - By Leana Niemand



158 THAILAND (21.1) 
1 791 Kilometers - 30 Days
24 November – 5 January 2022


24 November - Pattaya – Rayong – 80 km

I was cautiously excited to return to life on a bike and see how the world changed over the past year and eight months. However, even though the pandemic was far from over, I couldn’t wait any longer. So I saddled my old iron horse for a ride around Thailand. If only for my sanity.

Loading the bike and closing the condo took forever, but I eventually got underway. My first stop was a short two kilometres further at Jomtien Beach to have coffee in the company of Dawn and Dan. I don’t know if I would’ve survived the pandemic if not for them. They kept me sane; if not for Dawn, I don’t know if I would’ve kept up our running regime. Thanks, Dawn - run like the wind, my friend!

It felt good cycling out of Pattaya. Our daily exercise kept me ticking over, making a comfortable 80-kilometre ride to Rayong. The day was a pleasant one. The sun was out the sky blue and the rice paddies green. I believe I sported an ear-to-ear grin pedalling along minor paths past a never-ending string of ornate temples, brightly adorned Bodhi trees, steaming mobile food carts and spirit houses. It was good to be in the saddle once more.

 

25 November - Rayong - Roadside accommodation - 91 km

Coffee was from the ever-present 7-Eleven, and the time therefore before 9 a.m. when I cycled out of Rayong. Barely 10 kilometres down the drag, I’d my first puncture. The new tube was soon in, but seeing I only had one spare, I assumed it best to stop at a bicycle/motorbike repair shop and let them do the fixing.

The coast beyond Rayong is a true paradise, and I ambled on to pretty Ban Phe. Ban Phe is the jumping-off point to nearby islands and thus has a lively touristy trade. As a result, locating a bike shop was pretty easy, and in no time, the tube was fixed, and I could be on my way. Tiny Ban Phe also has a large fishing fleet, primarily for fish sauce production.

Around lunchtime, I’d a bite to eat and sat watching the ocean. No sooner had I left, and my saddle, nuts and screws all landed on the road. Gosh, I could’ve ruined part of my anatomy I may still have a use for later. I picked up the pieces and popped in at a nearby guesthouse to enquire about a ride to a bike shop. The kind lady phoned and then suggested she take me and the saddle to the motorbike repairman as he could fix it. So, off we went and returned sporting a fixed saddle. Thank goodness for motorbike repair workshops.

It was late by the time I spotted roadside bungalows and considered it a good enough place to overnight. The lady was super friendly, and the tiny adjacent eatery conjured up a plate of fried rice even though they were officially closed for the day—how nice of them and just the thing needed in the wake of my eventful day.

 

26 November – Roadside cottage – Chao Lao – 17 km

Seeing I was well fed and rested, I departed early-ish. Gosh, there’s nothing better than an open road without a destination in mind. Fifteen kilometres later, I arrived at Chao Lao, a lovely small seaside resort. Guesthouses lined the main street, and I soon spotted one advertising bungalows at 350THB. I wrestled the bike, but it had a will of its own and turned in. Soon I was comfortably ensconced in a tiny wooden cabin.

My early arrival gave time to sort out my inability to access MS Word. Even though I only use the laptop when travelling, everything has stayed the same since I last used it. Eventually, I sorted it, did laundry, and thus 4 o’clock by the time all was done.

 

27 November - Chao Lao – Trat - 90 km

I generally prefer to cycle 20 kilometres or so before having a bite to eat, and on this day I did precisely that.

Domestic tourists usually frequent the southeast coast of Thailand, but although weekend, the beaches were largely deserted. The ocean was usually crystal clear, but I never saw any dive boats. Likewise, the popular viewpoints were scarily quiet apart for a young girl selling homemade snacks. The area is one of the few places where one can still find bungalows on the water’s edge—total bliss.

I’m always surprised to see horseshoe crabs for sale. They are odd-looking, but interestingly, the earliest horseshoe crab fossils date to roughly 450 million years! One more fascinating fact is horseshoe crabs use hemocyanin to carry oxygen through their blood. Because of the copper present in hemocyanin, their blood is blue. Fascinating, hey?

The ride was predominantly into a slight breeze, but not strong enough to make me do a U-turn and head back the way I came. The entire route was blessed with a cycle lane, making it a pretty easy 90-kilometre ride to Trat. Once in town, Baan Jaidee guesthouse made the best place to overnight as they still offer comfortable and sparkling clean rooms at 250THB. November/December is a good time to cycle as the weather isn’t as hot and humid.

 

28 November – Trat – Klaeng – 127 km

I didn’t do my planned loop ride to Pattaya as I woke to a breezy north-easterly. The north-easterly wind brings cooler and less humid conditions and blows between November and March, and thus better to head south.

Once at the turn-off, I wisely thought better of it and proceeded in a westerly direction. The plan was to return to Pattaya to collect the tent ordered and do my 90-day registration prior to continuing my ride.

A great deal of the day was spent trying to uncover paths not taken before. Cycling through tiny half-forgotten villages where a well still forms the central attraction is such a pleasure.

I won’t say I’d the wind at my back, but still, better than facing it head-on. I don’t know if it was due to my chocolate cake breakfast, but I was full of beans and made my way to Klaeng. Towards the end of the day, I felt like a hamster on a treadmill and pulled into cute roadside cottages sporting beer and crisps! It was a no-brainer.

 

29 November – Klaeng – Pattaya – 123 km

Surprisingly, a light breakfast was included. Even though the ladies knew I was travelling solo, I still received two breakfasts. Of course, I ate both, hahaha!

I didn’t feel much like cycling to Pattaya, as I’ve cycled that stretch many times. Still, there wasn’t any other option and I stepped on the pedals.

 

30 November – 5 December – Jomtien

I stayed longer than anticipated as there were always more things to do.

 

6 December - Pattaya – Bangsaen Beach, Chon Buri - 60 km

At last, I closed the condo and cycled out of Sodom and Gomorrah. It’s never a scenic ride north, but I did it anyhow. My new saddle was a real pain in the ass, and I made it a short ride to Bangsaen.

The most interesting was the 300THB room, one block from the beach, where “fully tiled” took on a new meaning. Before settling in, I gave the room a generous Dettol disinfectant spray. Hahaha! Sunset was a perfect time to stroll along the promenade and grab a bite to eat.

 

7 December - Bangsaen Beach – Samut Prakan – 110 km

The Gulf of Thailand, also known as the Gulf of Siam, is relatively shallow: its mean depth is 58 metres, and the maximum depth only 85 metres. This makes water exchange slow, and the strong water inflow from the rivers reduces salinity but enriches the sediment. As a result, of Thailand’s total marine catch, 41 per cent is caught in the Gulf of Thailand. Here is the sad part: In February 2017, a ten-kilometre-long patch of plastic refuse floated off Chumphon. I don’t know what happened to it, but it’s said Thailand is among the world’s worst plastic polluters. Thailand’s Pollution Control Department (PCD) estimates plastic waste in the country is increasing at an annual rate of 12 per cent, or around two million tonnes annually!

Trying to avoid the hectic traffic, I stuck as close as possible to the Gulf. Still, I discovered nearly all routes flooded and impossible to get through at times. Flooding is due to a variety of factors. First, the geography of Bangkok and its surrounding areas make it prone to flooding. Situated on natural flood plains near the mouth of the Chao Phraya River delta. Therefore, the area around the Gulf is inclined to regular flooding during the wet season, especially during high tide.

Eventually, I came upon a rural path along one of the canals, which made riding through a rural part of Thailand.

 

8 December – Samut Sakon – Samut Songkhram – 40 km

Following the railway line, the ride to Samut Songkhram became pleasant biking. The area is dotted by hamlets consisting of only a few houses a mere metre or so from the tracks. But, gosh, they couldn’t get any closer if they wished!

The short distance made for an early arrival in Samut Songkhram. It must’ve been high tide as the river flooded its banks, and the entire town was underwater. What a mess. Still, I made my way to the hostel, but sadly they were closed. The famous train market was quiet, and only a few stalls remained. I never saw any trains and didn’t know if they were still running—the pandemic sure took the spark out of travelling. Finally, however, a room at 300THB lured me in, and it felt like I spent the rest of the day eating.

December is the cool season in Thailand and the best time to enjoy Pla Thu. Pla Thu, or short-bodied mackerel, is widely available in the Gulf of Thailand. I believe Pla Thu from Mae Klong or Samut Songkhram is the best. The area holds an annual festival, but I wonder if it will be held this year due to the virus.

 

9 December – Samut Songkhram – Hua Hin – 118 km

Eager to get underway before the tide came in, departing Samut Songkhram was a rushed affair. Ten kilometres later, I was on the scenic route pedalling south along the Gulf of Thailand. The area is highly likely one of my favourite rides. The road runs close to the coast; I’d a slight breeze from behind, the sun was out, and so were a gazillion birds. The area is primarily known for salt production, and I pedalled past vast salt fields where the paddies were filled with water. These pans attract millions of birds from as far afield as Alaska and Siberia. I spent much of the day looking for the tiny spoon-billed sandpiper. No wonder I took the entire day to cycle the relatively short distance to Hua Hin.

Even though Hua Hin looked somewhat sad in the absence of the masses, I stayed an extra day, mainly as the digs were inexpensive at 300THB. At least the room was on the ground floor and had a door to a walled yard—my absolute favourite type of accommodation. This allowed doing laundry and sorting out a few things online. Actually, “did laundry” is misleading as all I did was rinse my cycling clothes. In the process, I devoured an entire bag of liquorice and a bag of popcorn. Once I start on liquorice……

My saunter around town only revealed previously bustling lanes, eerily quiet. Most premises were to let, and even the ladies at the massage shops looked defeated as they slumped outside their shops, appearing captivated by their phones without the familiar, “You want massaaaage?”

 

11 December – Hua Inn – Prachuap Khiri Khan- 113 km

Aided by a stiff breeze, I pedalled out of touristy Hua Inn. I know I’m harping on regarding the pleasures of cycling, but there’s nothing better than being on “the road to nowhere”. Without a destination in mind, a stiff breeze at my back, sublime vistas and a pleasant 30-odd degrees, I couldn’t help but giggle at my fortune.

So good was it I scarcely stopped and thus rolled into Prachuap reasonably early. I cycled straight to Maggie’s Homestay, my old favourite. Maggie’s consists of 200THB rooms, a pleasant outside social area, a kitchen area, and a large yard featuring a washing and water filter machine. It’s the kind of place which attracts long-term travellers, cyclists and backpackers. As a result, it wasn’t surprising to meet two other guests, one who has been at Maggie’s for more than a year, waiting out the pandemic. I couldn’t wait to get the kettle boiling for a cup of coffee which I drank, chatting to the others. Afterwards, and following a shower, I parked myself on one of the outdoor sofas, beer in hand.

 

12/13 December – Prachuap Kiri Khan

Two days were spent at Maggie’s as it’s an easy place to linger, run, do laundry, eat and socialise. Nick, the British chap, who has been at Maggie’s since the pandemic, is also a cyclist en route to Malaysia. He was quiet but easy to chat with, and the days flew by.

 

14 December - Prachuap – Ban Krut – 71 km

Powered by the wind, I flew south through coconut palm plantations and past snow-white beaches.

Today was highly likely the first time someone with questionable intentions (in Thailand) harassed me. Eventually, he sped off as he thought I was about to attack him, hahaha! However, I rolled into Ban Krut early due to a favourable wind. I’d word from Derick (who’d cycled this route previously) regarding a 250THB room. As I’ve never overnighted in Ban Krut previously, I pulled in.

 

15-16 December – Ban Krut – Chumphon - 123 km

Not only is December a perfect time for cycle touring in Thailand weather-wise, but this part of the country is particularly picturesque. Add easy cycling, and it’s cycle touring at its very best. So pleasant was it, I hardly stopped. What made it even better was finding a 350THB room in Chumphon where I could wheel the bike right in.

My phone was driving me crazy as it appeared near the end of its life. Frustrated, I bought a new one. It took the best part of the following day to set it up and pop into the bank to reinstall the bank app. Then, seeing my laptop was falling apart, I considered it an excellent time to take it in to be repaired. Luckily, the problem was only a missing screw. The chap wanted no money, and I bought two ice cream cones from the next-door shop and was amazed at the genuine surprise and gratefulness. Gosh, away from sleazy Pattaya, the Thai people are incredibly kind and helpful.

 

17 December – Chumphon – Paknam Lang Suan – 83 km

I was in no particular hurry and had a leisurely start. The south of Chonburi is more lush, green and hilly than further north. The change made a picturesque and varied ride through dense coconut palm plantations and tiny hamlets where chickens pecked in the road. The road hugged the coast; other times, it veered inland over the hills. I cycled this route nearly two years ago, shortly before the pandemic, and the memories came flooding back. Still, I was relieved I didn’t encounter a similar storm.

Reaching Paknam Lang Suan was relatively early, but I couldn’t cycle past Fisherman Bungalow without staying the night. These basic wooden huts on stilts are right on the water’s edge, and at 250THB, I thought it a massive bargain.

 

18 December – Paknam Lang Suan – Surat Tani – 126 km

It turned out a noisy night so close to the ocean, and I emerged early from my humble abode. Sadly, the overcast conditions prevented any sunrise shots. Still, I drank my coffee while watching kids row out to cast their nets in not much more than a plastic bucket.

Cycling south, I believed myself immensely lucky and wondered why the whole world wasn’t out riding their bikes. The reason, I guess, was made clear as the day progressed. Not long after leaving, a storm moved in, but mercifully, it lasted no more than five minutes. Not a great distance later, I had a flat tyre, and 10 kilometres from Surat Tani, the heavens opened once more, and rain came gushing down. It rained so hard I could barely see where I was going. Nevertheless, I pulled my cap low and kept going, wondering if I was on the right road.

Eventually, I pedalled into Surat Tani just as its 130 000 population was on their way home. Sopping wet and with water dripping, I pulled into My Place @ Surat, which offered budget rooms. Not wanting to cart my panniers to the 4th floor, I settled for a 360THB room on the 3rd floor. I needed food in a hurry and scurried to the nearby night market to grab a bite to eat even before showering.

 

19 December – Surat Thani – Tha Sala – 109 km

I stayed on the main road, as I didn’t see any rural road. As a result, I didn’t even take one picture. Although easy riding, main roads make for monotonous riding.

Once in Tha Sala, I assumed it best to call it a day and look for a secondary road in the morning. I further decided to try the new weekly ferry between Songkhla and Sattahip, which offers special fairs until the end of the year. I understood a ferry left Songkhla every Thursday, which gave me two days to cycle the 220/250 kilometres to Songkhla, depending on my route.

 

20 December – Tha Sala – Sam Bo – 143 km

I’d word the Sattahip ferry departed on Wednesday, 22 December and not Thursday as anticipated. Thank goodness a friend alerted me, and I said to myself, “Self, you better step on it as you’ve 220 kilometres to go before 1 o’clock tomorrow!” Luckily, cycling was effortless, albeit raining the entire way.

It rained so hard I could barely see where I was going at times, but I’d a boat to catch. Unfortunately, the visibility was so poor are could scarcely see the top of the wind turbines. Finally, a mere 60 kilometres remained and I thought I’d done enough to make the ferry—time for crisps and beer.

By evening, I booked and paid using Line; and hoped it would work out.

 

22 December – Sam Bo – Songkla – 67 km

Before seven, I pointed my mobile home in the direction of Songkla. Again, riding was effortless, and I slinked into Songkhla with more time than needed. Luckily the town offered a fair amount to see, and I cycled through the old city featuring old Chinese shophouses before returning to the port.

Being a new ferry, it seemed no one quite knew what to do and where to go. Still, the staff was super friendly. Exactly why one had to board at 14h00 while we only sailed well past 16h00 remained a mystery. More people were onboard than expected, but one hardly noticed as the boat was designed to take 950 people, and we were far from that number. Communication could’ve been better concerning what’s available on board. But then it’s highly likely the info was posted in Thai. This is, after all, Thailand. Food was only served between 17h00 – 19h00, but snacks were available throughout the trip. Surprisingly, no alcohol was sold, and the trip was thus relatively subdued. There was little to do beyond sunset as no Wi-Fi was on board.

 

23 December - Songkla – Pattaya – 40 km

I slept well, having an entire row of seats to myself. The boat anchored in Sattahip around 1 p.m. Getting the bike from its securely strapped location took a while.

It didn’t take long to cycle the 40 kilometres to Jomtien, where I first stopped for a few beers at Dawn and Dan’s place before cycling home.

 

24 December – 5 January 2022

Many social events kept me busy including Christmas Day. Although I’m not religious the day was spent in the company of good friends. We spent the day on the beach under umbrellas with Dan, Dawn, Sean, Mike, Graham and Lisa, drinking a few beers.

The days flew by. I ordered new reading glasses and was told they would only arrive on 5 January. I guessed it wasn’t the end of the world as I’d a few things to sort out.

The wait also allowed me to get back into jogging, something I’d neglected while travelling. I further needed to order a new sleeping mat. Unfortunately, I left the order too late and discovered the shop was closed until 6 January.

It was thus 8 February before I said Adios to the lovely people I befriended during Covid and was finally Africa-bound. Africa was indeed a last resort as, after nearly two years, Thailand still hadn’t opened its land borders.

I was cautiously excited to return to my home soil and see what Africa had in store. However, travelling wasn’t as easy as before, and I wasn’t sure if I would even take off.

Wednesday 25 March 2020

CYCLE TOURING INDIA (4) - 2020

 Shenanigans on a bike - By Leana Niemand



INDIA (4) - Part 2 

509 Kilometres - 9 Days 

 18 February – 24 March 2020


 


MAP


PHOTOS

PHOTOS - AMANDA


 

 

18 February – 10 March - Thailand and India

Amanda, my sister, arrived in Thailand later than expected. A few days were spent in Pattaya before catching a flight to Kochi, India. The main reason for going to Kochi was to enjoy a night on a houseboat. Once there, locating a boat was straightforward as there were innumerable ones to choose from.

Our boat of choice was a private one with a single bedroom; thus, we had the entire boat to ourselves. In no time at all, we were slowly put-putting along the famous backwaters of Kerala. The price included lunch, dinner and breakfast, and we immediately settled in upon the deck, beer in hand. The only disappointment was the boat anchored overnight at the same spot we boarded. We assumed the boat would anchor somewhere but not in the same place!

The following morning and after breakfast and a short cruise we disembarked and went to Goa on a beach holiday. We ate, drank, swam in the ocean and cried with laughter. Before we knew it, Amanda’s holiday was over, and it was time to return to South Africa.

With my sister gone, I returned to my friends in Alibag to collect my bicycle and ended up spending three nights instead of the one planned! My delayed departure was due to Holi celebrations; a festival considered one of the most celebrated in India. It’s a fun and colourful event which lasts a day and night. The festival starts on the evening of Purnima or the Full Moon Day in the month of Falgun. The vibrancy of colours brings positivity and joy to the event and the country as a whole. The ritual starts by lighting a bonfire the night before, symbolising the triumph of good over evil. The following day was spent playing with colours.

Anil and Janhavi fed me endlessly, and I was shown around town on the back of an iconic Royal Enfield. It’s true what is said about India, you come as a visitor but leave as part of a family. Following the festivities, I headed north in the direction of Delhi to meet Caron for a month-long cycling holiday in India.

 

11 March – Alibag – Kalyan – 101 km

After almost a month since my last ride, it felt good to be on the move. As Anil suggested, I slowly made my way to the Rewas ferry, which took me to Karanja, making an easy escape from Mumbai. The rest of the day was spent trying to stay off busy roads and, in the process, I hit a pothole with such force, it resulted in an immediate flat tyre.

Replacing the tube and 101 kilometres later, I slinked into Kalyan where accommodation turned out more difficult than expected to find. The majority of budget places didn’t cater to foreigners and tail between my legs I’d to cycle off searching for an alternative abode. Eventually, a reasonably pricey establishment took me in.

 

12 March – Kalyan – Kasa – 86 km

I was umming and ahhing about which route to take and eventually decided on cycling along the coast as it looked more interesting than the inland option.

The first 30 kilometres were a fascinating ride as that section was a shortcut through an immensely rural part of India. I hadn’t seen so many surprised faces in a long while, and it appeared a rarity to see a foreign woman on a bicycle in that area. Again, and with a jolt, I realised just how far apart our worlds were. Try as I might, I didn’t think a foreigner could fully grasp their rural culture.

It became evident my rear wheel had a severe wobble; it must’ve been from hitting the pothole the previous day. There was nothing one could do and all wobbling, I resumed my ride.

Around midday, Caron’s message stated all tourist visas to India had been cancelled due to the Coronavirus. This was devastating news as I was looking forward to her visit, but far more devastating to her as she had already purchased her ticket and was packed and ready to roll. I called it a day at the next best hotel to chat with her and discuss further plans. The map was scanned to find a bike shop. The next available one was 55 kilometres north, or one could continue to Daman 65 kilometres northwest along the coast, where surely one would find such a shop.

That night, my abode was a room above a bustling 24-hour roadside restaurant, resulting in a noisy affair. At least the food was superb, and the room came at half the price, paid the previous night. My short cycling day gave me plenty of time to do laundry and I hoped all would be dry by morning.

 

13 March – Kasa – Daman – 65 km

The dreaded highway ran the next 55 kilometres to Vapi which had a bicycle shop. They looked at the wheel, and the problem seemed the tyre, not the rim.

Daman, a former Portuguese enclave, was a mere 10 kilometres further and not much of a tourist destination, with a black beach that wasn’t incredibly scenic. Nonetheless, the town still hinted at old Portuguese colonial times in Fort Jerome, Monti Daman Fort, and the Dom Jesus Church. While walking the narrow lanes to the fishing harbour, one could almost imagine being in Portugal.

 

14 March – Daman

One more day was spent in Daman while trying to sort out my internet connection and, in the process, I warmed to scruffy Daman.

History had it Diogo de Melo was blown ashore in a violent storm in 1523. He then claimed the land for king and country, built a fort and the area remained in Portuguese hands for the next 400 years. Daman is by no means picturesque, but the inexpensive food and beer prices made up for the lack of scenery.

The violent storm’s story scared me and I considered changing my plans and heading in the opposite direction. I’d been cycling into the wind the past two days - no fun at all.

 

15 March - Daman - Renbasera guest house - 25 km

During the night, I woke with the infamous Delhi belly and felt tired and weak in the morning. Unfortunately, staying an additional day wasn’t possible. I was informed the hotel was being renovated, and all rooms had to be vacated.

First, the idea was to move to another place, but once on the bike, I proceeded along the coastal road. My lack of energy caused slow progress. Still, I made the short detour to the Parsi Fire Temple built in 1742, to see what the temple was about. The Zoroastrian religion appeared complex, and I didn’t even try to understand it. Only Parians were allowed, and I, thus, couldn’t enter the complex. Outside, vendors sold tiny pieces of wood (some not so small) as offerings to keep the flame going.

Cycling and vomiting under the scrutiny of villagers is no fun at all. What a picture I must’ve made and I wondered what they made of such a spectacle. Reaching the highway, a guesthouse along the road came just at the right time, and I couldn’t have been happier. On trying to eat, nothing stayed down, and by evening the friendly man at reception offered to find me fruit. How kind of him.

 

16 March - Renbasera guest house – Surat – 100 km

In the morning, I felt a whole lot better and was keen to get underway. Unfortunately, the dry, hot, dusty air and heavy traffic, didn’t make enjoyable cycling. The temperature climbed to 38°C, and it was barely the beginning of spring. Caron couldn’t come to India anymore due to the cancellation of tourist visas could’ve been a blessing in disguise. By April, the mercury rises to 40-45°C, not a pleasant time to be cycle touring.

Even drinking a considerable amount, it remained almost impossible to keep hydrated in such weather. En route, I invested in a face mask as people gave me a wide berth. One couldn’t blame them as travellers were primarily responsible for spreading the Coronavirus.

I pushed onward with a mask-covered face until reaching the outskirts of Surat where I bunked down at the roadside Swagat Inn with an adjacent restaurant.

 

17 March – Surat – Vadodara – 130 km

Strangely enough, I didn’t feel sleepy the previous night and only switched the lights off at around 3h00. Yet, surprisingly, I still woke early and felt remarkably good and proceeded in the direction of Vadodara.

The mask bought was a blessing in disguise, as my mouth and lips didn’t get as dry as earlier. Six kilometres down the drag, I stopped to get a bite to eat and then pushed onward. Apart from a few roadside stalls selling colourful truck decorations and ladies in colourful saris collecting water from wells, not a great deal of interest was happening.

In Vadodara, the best place to find accommodation was in the train station’s vicinity as it’s usually there one found budget rooms. However, some hotels claimed they were fully booked, which I doubted, and I suspected they weren’t keen on accommodating foreigners. The Coronavirus had become a royal pain in the ass.

 

18 March – Vadodara

With the Coronavirus spreading like wildfire, cycle touring became no fun at all. Attractions were closed, hotels unwilling to let foreigners in, and all festivals cancelled. Phew! Rumours of a complete lockdown scared me and time to rethink plans as the last thing I wanted was to get stuck in a non-descript place for an unforeseen period. I’d two good options: one, to return to Goa and hang there until the virus blew over (not a bad one) or, two, retreat to Thailand which made financial sense as my accommodation in Thailand is free, but not as lovely as Goa. Whatever the decision, I had to return to Mumbai to arrange onward transportation.

With my mind made up, a train ticket was purchased for the following morning. As the bike had to be booked in at the parcel office, I returned to my abode, collected the bike and rode the short distance to the station. There the bicycle was sent on its way at a meagre 100 rupees. Sadly, one couldn’t book in the panniers, leaving me with a dreadfully awkward handlebar bag and four panniers to lug around. I say again, I intensely dislike using public transport - it’s far easier to cycle.

 

19 March - Vadodara – Mumbai by train

The train to Mumbai was at 7.30 and required an early tuk-tuk ride to the station. Luckily, there’s always a porter in India to help carry bags. So, I strolled unencumbered to the platform where my train was to arrive. This gave plenty of time to have a steaming cup of chai from one of the iconic chai wallahs and chat with the kids living at the station. I watched a family pack up following their night of sleeping on the platform and was in awe at how organised they were.

It felt all gave me a wide berth as foreigners were suspected of spreading the Coronavirus. I was, thus, left in peace and could decide what to do next. While on the train, a flight to Bangkok was booked and I could only hope the flight wouldn’t be cancelled. My train’s destination was 12 kilometres from Colaba, the main touristy area. I, therefore, looked for a bike shop and accommodation close to the station. The plan was to collect the bicycle, cycle to the shop, find a box and then grab a taxi to a nearby hotel. With the hotel booked and paid, I could kick back until reaching Mumbai.

The train reached its destination at around 15h00, where I located a porter, collected the bicycle and cycled to the predetermined shop. The shop gave me one look, covered their faces, told me they were closing and shooed me away. I was shocked! Round the corner, a friendlier shop had a box and was prepared to pack the bicycle. I grabbed a taxi to the place booked, but the staff informed me they were closed! What the heck? I tried contacting Agoda but without any luck. The hotel manager wasn’t accommodating either and referred me to Agoda. Security (with covered faces) again shooed me away. They were adamant I’d leave immediately and couldn’t do my phoning from the foyer.

Eventually, a taxi took me to Colaba, 12 kilometres away. Coloba, which usually had a lively tourist trade, was like a graveyard, with not a person in sight. Those walking around did so with quick, urgent, masked-covered faces. The warren of stalls usually lining the road was packed up, and restaurants closed. Mercifully, my chosen hotel allowed me in, and I was sure I was the sole guest. How bizarre had this whole situation become? I biked through the N1H1 and SARS pandemics but have never experienced anything this crazy. Worldwide, flights were being cancelled and I could only pray my flight would take off.

 

20 March – Mumbai

The usually bustling Mumbai was deserted, and it was the eeriest feeling walking through this megacity without a soul in sight.

 

21 March – Mumbai, India – Bangkok, Thailand

My flight was at the ungodly hour of four o’clock in the morning, and it felt I was the sole person at this usually hectic airport. Once again, a considerable amount was charged for the 5 kg overweight, but one couldn’t do much about that. I simply wanted the flight to take off and not be cancelled. While waiting, I kept an anxious eye on the flight schedules. I nervously watched as flights were cancelled, wondering if mine would be next.

Relieved, the plane touched down at Bangkok airport as scheduled, and I caught the usual bus to Jomtien.

 

22 March - Jomtien, Thailand

Finding myself in my little bunker wasn’t all bad, even though it wasn’t by choice or the best of areas. A nice long walk along the ocean put me in a better frame of mind and, once back, I unpacked and cleaned the place, which was a tad dusty by then. After reassembling the bicycle, a short cycle led to the supermarket to stock up with needed essentials, as I surmised I would be in Thailand a while.

 

23 March - Jomtien

I took a walk in the morning but found it tedious and started jogging. Not much further, I tripped over one of the uneven drain covers and knew something was wrong with my wrist as it didn’t look quite normal. I continued walking but, upon returning to the apartment, realised something was indeed wrong. A baht bus took me to Pattaya Memorial hospital.

The baht bus (so-called because back in the day, it cost a baht) is a pickup style truck with a canopy roof and two bench seats in the back for passengers. At 10 baht per person, per ride, the baht bus (aka songthaew) is the most popular and convenient way of getting around to and from Jomtien and Pattaya.

At the hospital, I was impressed with the service. X-rays revealed a fractured radial and the very competent doctor on duty suggested an operation to fit a plate. I wasn’t keen on such an operation and insisted on a cast instead, a painful process, but survived.

 

24 March - Jomtien

I did my usual morning walk as by now, the knee was also painful; all I could do was walk as running was out thof e question, and with the cast, it wasn’t possible to cycle. At least upon my return, I could soak halfway in the pool.

I further discovered I barely made it to Thailand by the skin of my teeth. The day following my arrival, Thailand closed all airports to incoming flights. It seemed anyone in Thailand would be in the country for an unforeseen time. Phew! With the limited amount I could do with the arm in a cast, I started editing my photos.