Famo Adventure Motorcycling Guide

From the number one Big Cat himself. 24 days to go!!!

296

New post time I think it must be. I’e had a few humbling experiences in the last couple of weeks and my time in Cambodia ended pretty abruptly, sad to say it.

A Petrol Station

Although the roads in Cambodia are horrible, the people are wonderful, except of course the people who continually try to sell me stuff I don’t need. On a bad morning I can get pretty annoyed at being offered lift after lift when all I want to do is walk, and by about the 100th offer I could scream my head off at these people. The best defense is to completely ignore them, because there is no possible way to respond to every single one with a “no thank you”. I have to keep reminding myself that this is the only way they know how to make a living, so every one of my greenbacks they can get a hold of is precious. It also makes genuine interaction very dubious, because you can always see that glint of ‘I just want your money’ in the eyes. You can be walking down the street and 100m ahead of you a tuk-tuk driver will put up his hand, then the other drivers in the area will all raise their hands, and you still have 80m to walk with 5 people waving at you calling out “me sir, me sir”. I’m proud to say that my mum (I met up with my parents in Pnom Penh) has discovered a way to adapt her years of primary school teaching to the task of ‘tuk-tuk driver control’. Goes a little something like this:

Mum and Dad get out of the bus, immediately surrounded by 10 tuk-tuk drivers:

All Tuk-tuk drivers (hands in air): Pick me, pick me, I was here first!
Mum: Okay, I’m NOT going to choose ANYONE until there is silence
(tuk-tuk drivers immediately shut-up, all looking at mum and bobbing up and down on their toes. Some have their hands over their mouths)
Mum: Right, who was here FIRST?
(hands go up, grunting noises)
Tuk-tuk driver: Me, I was here fi-
Mum: Silence!
(hands pumping the air, more grunting noises)
Mum: Okay, now who was here LAST?
(everyone is silent, look around at each other, one tuk-tuk driver puts his hand up)
Tuk-tuk driver: me
Mum: You can be our driver then
(entire crowd groans)

I thought that was a pretty interesting way of dealing with the situation. I know I’ve fallen for that one before a few times.

So, first day I arrived I did a stupid westerner thing and decided to sort out some of my money in front of the national museum. I was immediately surrounded by about 15 beggars with their hands out, jostling me. I pretty much had to run away and think about what I may have done wrong: my genius genes hadn’t kicked in that day I don’t think. To tell you the truth, I’m becoming less and less willing to give money to people who hold their hand out at me, as horrible as that may seem. I’m a reasonably generous person, but the whole idea of Small Child with Sad Eyes looks suspiciously like exploitation and the Mother with Baby seems even worse. There is generally a third party who gets most of the money, something like a beggar’s pimp. I think because of that, it is always better to give money to foundations and charities that have boxes set up around the place. They at least try to encourage people away from living on the streets.

Mum and Daughter

Some kids, I gave them a juicebox and a toblerone, kid on far right has a coconut!

Pnom Penh is a big, rough, bustling place with garbage strewn everywhere and drains spewing foul-smells at the unwary person who happens to walk over one. It isn’t the prettiest town in South-East Asia by far, however it has got some charm about it and you can find some nice places amidst the jumble.

Old Victorian?? Architecture

Compared to Thailand, the country is very poor and the sense of national pride very weak. Back in the early seventies, Cambodia was cruising along a path to westernization, with popular music and fashion playing a big role in everyday Pnom Penh life. In 1975, thanks to the Khmer Rouge party, this was all destroyed. The communist Khmer Rouge believed that the only way to put Cambodia on the map was to create a purely agrarian society, in which every man, woman and child worked on the land. The crops produced would be used to better the economy and help fight the terrible Youn, or Vietnamese, who were raping and murdering the Cambodian people. This was all propaganda, and the money from the workers in the fields was used to buy guns that were mainly used to kill Cambodian people. The Khmer Rouge soldiers were often very young, and sometimes were even brainwashed so much by the purveyors of propaganda that they informed on their own family as dissidents, sending parents, brothers and sisters to certain death. The party leader, Pol Pot, had first learnt Marxist theories in Paris and thought that they could be adapted to Cambodia to better the country. Unfortunately, he also believed that all professionals, intellectuals, artists, and people who worked for the previous Lon Nol government should be murdered. Over 4 years, almost 2 million Cambodians were killed by their own government and since the overthrow of the Khmer Rouge, there have been no formal trials of the party leaders.

Mass graves at the Killing Fields

The effects of the Khmer Rouge genocide are still being felt today. Many prisoners and soldiers of the regime are still alive today, however very few of the people in charge of killing have come forward. When you walk around Pnom Penh and look into the eyes of the older people on the street, you could be looking into the eyes of someone who saw their entire family murdered, or you could be looking at someone who killed 50 people. The woman who took us on a tour of the Toul Sleng prison had trouble composing herself. She had escaped into Vietnam, but had lost most of her family. Walking around the prison and seeing the beds where people had been tortured and beaten was a very humbling experience, as was reading the responses of ex prison guards, who had been given the choice of becoming a murderer, or being tortured to death. The days spent exploring the prison and killing fields were dark, and overshadowed all other attempts at seeing national monuments in Pnom Penh.

Toul Sleng Prison

After Pnom Penh, my parents had planned to head up to Siam Reap and the temples of Angkor. I decided to follow them and rode my bike the 300km in a day. Unfortunately, the night I arrived I came down with a bad case of food poisoning and ended up spending the next four days in bed. We’d planned a day trip of the temples for the day after I arrived but I couldn’t join them. They left the day after that, so my meet-up with the olds wasn’t so good. I self-diagnosed and administered some drugs and spent the four days watching incredible amounts of Hollywood crap on the cable TV channel. On day four I tried to do a tour of the Angkor temples but ended up having to race home feeling awful. I did see sunrise and some pretty cool ruins, but felt too horrible to go on. Feeling ill in a country that doesn’t have wonderful medical facilities is another humbling experience and I decided that, as I still wasn’t feeling 100%, I’d race back to Bangkok in order to be near a proper hospital if all went wrong. I was also keen to find a mechanic for my bike, as I’d noticed a leak coming from the countershaft.

Angkor Wat on Sunrise

Tree Chewing Up the Temple

The final experience that made me all humbled out in Cambodia was my 40km/h stack on the dirt highway back to the border town of Poipet. I don’t know how it happened, maybe I used my front brake at the wrong time, I think I hit a rock that flicked my wheel sideways but in the end I found myself on the ground. The panniers are a good thing and I’m glad I had’t shipped them back to Australia. They provide me with a little cubby-hole to sit in if the bike falls on its side, so I got away with a bruised knee and dented pride from the 25 Cambodian farmers stood gaping at the stupid Westerner on his arse. The car behind me, thanks for stopping by the way, hooted its horn until I managed to get someone to help me lift the bike and push it off the side of the road. I took it easy after that and realized how close I’d come to experience the title of my last post. I’m a careful rider, but sometimes these things happen and make you think, maybe I could go 10km/h slower and take in a bit more scenery.

Some Traffic – Icecream Van

More Traffic – Dead Pig on a bike

So, back in Bangkok I took my bike to Dynamik Motors and had the guy there do some routine maintenance. He fixed my oil leak and sorted out my growing valve clearance. I asked him if I could stay and learn how it is done, but I had to leave when I saw his guys with their hands in my bike’s motor: It was worse than watching myself operated on.

I met some Canadians and went to the National Museum with a cool American girl called Greta. We found it amusing watching the superwoman prowess of the scantily-clad Thai girl in the Indy bar, who seemed to change costumes at the drop of a hat. First skirts, then shirts with stripes and skin-tight tights. Very classy! I also ran into a lovely couple from the states who were heading up to Laos for some motorbike touring. Hopefully I can meet up again with Steve and Wan in the next couple of weeks. Steve works as a HIV doctor and has been living in Southern China. He went to a conference on the spread of diseases across Myanmar borders in Bangkok yesterday, which sounded interesting. Wan showed me where to find the best Pad Thai in town, second-to-none!

Tomorrow I ride to the Thai-Laos border and head into Laos for a couple of weeks. I’m looking forward to some scenic riding, something I haven’t seen on the trip since Australia. I’ll loop down the Thai-Burma border and then finish for a short stop in Chang Mai. I’ve decided the best way to get to India will be to fly the bike to Kathmandu. It seems easier than attempting to illegally ride through southern China. When I get back to Bangkok from Chang Mai, I’ll need to organise the bike shipping etc.

I hope everyone is well. Thank you to all those who are keeping in touch or are thinking of me. I go through patches of loneliness when I spend a while without “clicking” with people, but I know these times are passing. I’m reading The Power of One, which I’d always disregarded for being “The Power of One” damn my cinicism, the book is amazing and very inspirational. I’m looking forward to getting to Spain and meeting up with Steve and Tati and settling in for a bit, however I’m also mega-excited about everything that will happen along the way. Please also, if you feel adventurous, come and meet me along the way in India or wherever (I’m looking at you Rob H, Carly!!!)

Stay well all,
Love
Dameaux

Yesterday I had one of the most dangerous riding experiences of my short riding career. I don’t think I was very well prepared for the drastic change in road conditions between Thailand and Cambodia, but i suppose the sights at the border led me someway along the path to forseeing the madness, by then it was a bit too late to turn back.

The border experience was pretty laid back, usually the bike pushes its way through the lines, with moto-driving officials keen to raise their repoire (face) with the young guy on the big bike. This was the first border at which I was asked for all of the documentation I conscientiously collected before departing Australia. Drivers license, vehicle ownership document, registration certificate, carnet, passport etc.

Into the Cambodian section of the checkpoint and on past the 200 hand-drawn carts full of what looked like heshan. The visa/entrance was very easy and after 10 minutes I headed to the customs building. Everyone I looked at pointed to upstairs, and heading upstairs I found a door marked “Administration” with noone in it. Asking some young guy who was also looking for The Administrator, I was informed that he would be back at 2:00pm (in 3 hours time), which would severely affect my planned Poi Pet to Pnom Penh hell-run planned for the afternoon. Luckily we caught him just before his lunch break and he gave us audience for a few moments.

The young guy and his mate, plus two others who were joking and laughing, immediately ran into the office, took out large sheafs of paper and began a stamp-a-thon with some rubber stamps that The Administrator must horde in his office. My customs experience was to a background of thump, thump-thump, thump thump!! of the guys, branding whatever important forms they were in charge of with whatever important seal the government of Cambodia deemed necessary. I like to think these guys were primary school teachers and The Administrator, at the customs checkpoint in Poi Pet, holds the only smiley-face stamp left in the whole of Cambodia.

The first thing The Administrator asks is “Do you have a Carnet”. The next thing he did was to take my Carnet and efficiently stamp it and fill in the details correctly, not once threatening to tear off the wrong slip or sign the wrong dotted line. I liked that very much and felt a bit upset that a lot of stuff has bee written about the Cambodians not knowing what to do with the Carnet. He was a wily chap, with a sneaky look. I caught him looking up at me with the severity of someone trying to work out if a person should be trusted. He asked me “Do you speak Russian”, to which I answered “no”, he then said that my middle name (Michael) was the same as Mikhael Gorbachev, once president of Russia and the guy who started the fall of the Soviet Union. I’m unsure whether or not The Administrator had particular leftist leanings, however his collection of books on economics and business seemed to hint otherwise. Perhaps he was trying to determine whether or not I was a dissident, a sympathiser or just someone with Russian-loving parents. I assured him I was none of the above. With a word and a glance down his nose, he reduced the volume of the stampers and similarly dismissed me from his office. I would have preferred to stay there for a bit, he seemed like one of those guys with some interesting stories to tell. On my way out I let him know that between Australia and here, he was the only customs official who knew what to do with a Carnet, which made him smile very broadly.

My aim was to get from Poi Pet to Pnom Penh before dark and it was midday already. I estimated the distance to be 400km and a maximum time before sunset of about 6 hours. The first road proved to be a mental transportation back two or more months to the unsealed roads of outback Queensland. Mainly potholed to hell with stretches of unsealed, churned gravel / clay. I let my tyres down and rode down the verge. The problem being that the bullock carts tend to stay on the verge. So I cut to the inside, the problem being the oncoming trucks drive straight down the centre. My average speed was reduced from 120km/hr on Thai roads to about 40km/hr.

From Bunchy Munchy (creative liberty with names), the road conditions improved and potholes seemed to be regularly repaired. My average speed increased to 100km/hr but the trouble didn’t end. In one day I have seen every single cliche seen by a Western tourist in regards to crazy Asian roads. I witnessed:

Trucks overloaded to bursting with rice, grain, people
A prison vehicle full of condemned Cambodians (heading god-knows where)
Toyota Hilux ute with at least 30 people in the back
Man on pushbike
Man on pushbike with wife
Man on pushbike with wife and child (weaving madly)
Child in pristine school uniform on pushbike 100 times too large (weaving madly)
Man on pushbike with bunch of sticks on head
Toothless granny on pushbike
Cows
Bullock carts
Strange directional tractor engine with articulated wagon
Chickens
Four schoolgirls on a scooter
One Lorry (the most rectangular vehicle on the road)
Hand-pulled cart
About 20 cars

The nature of these tranportation variants is usually very unpredictable, the larger objects moving faster and generally staying on track, the smaller object moving slowly but liable to change direction in an instant. This reverses a few things so riding flat-out at an oncoming truck is relatively safe compared to riding flat-out up to a cyclist in order to overtake. Once in a small town along the way I almost hit a man with his daughter on a scooter. My new front tyre was the difference between life and death when I broke hard. They had simply swerved two-metres to the right, directly into my path as I approached behind. The second near-death experience was to spare the life of a family of chicks that had strayed onto the road. I screeched to a halt and watched the guy sitting by the side of the road shake his head as if “why would you bother stopping”.

I arrived in Pnom Penh just on dusk and all my nightmares of city traffic I’d expected to see in Bangkok and Kuala Lumpur were realised. No streetlights, heavy smog, intense speed and a right-of-way awarded to size came down to a hair raising ride. Oh yeah, they ride on the opposite side of the road here too. I pretty much stuck to my now-ritual method of navigating a big city for the first time: drive directly into the centre, stop and then have a coffee, then find somewhere to stay. The longer you prolong it, the harder it seems to get.

So, the name Cambodian Highways Kill is appropriate as I’ve heard a couple of eye-witness accounts of serious accident on the road and from my experience yesterday, it doesn’t surprise me. Also, I saw a scooter rider (with girl side-saddle on back) very nearly die while riding into the guesthouse in Pnom Penh. I hope riding doesn’t ever get much harder than this. The funniest thing I experienced was a man coming up to me in the street and asking me if I wanted to shoot an AK47 at a bunch of chickens. I said no thanks. I wonder what he would have thought of me nearly dying trying not to hit the little chicks crossing the road.

Sa Wat Dii KRAB!!! Sing it, don’t say it. The Thai language is a difficult one to grasp as it has different intonations: low-pitch, medium-pitch, high-pitch, rising and falling. So, to say Sa Wat Dii Krab, you start off with the Sa (low-pitch) then the Wat (low-pitch) then the Dii (medium-pitch) then the KHRAB (high-pitch). You start off low and then let it rise to a big, loud KHRAB that means you really really want to say g’day. If you get any of these tones wrong, then the folk you’re speaking to will stare at you blankly, look at each other, laugh and then say something along the lines of “Hey, check out this crazy Farang trying to speak Thai”. Farang means foreigner and I hear it a million times a day when I do something stupid. It isn’t a curse (Thais don’t curse), it’s more of a joke at your expense but definitely light-hearted, good-humoured and not intended to insult (I don’t think..). When I first heard it flung at me I’d get ever so slightly perturbed (don’t you know who I am?! I’m a world motorcycle adventurer of great fame and fortune!), but it didn’t take long to realise that Thais don’t really care too much about who you were before you arrived in Thailand, or who you’ll be when you leave, they do things differently to us. As difficult as it was, I had to come to terms with the fact that I actually was an outsider, and that foreigner name-calling was generally carried out with the least of ill will.

I like Thai people very much, everything they do in life has to be interwoven with an element of fun, it is almost a law. If you approach any kind of situation with a bit of cheek, they love it and you’ll find yourself laughing along to whatever prank they’re pulling. When I was at university, a Thai guy who lived in a flat I used to visit, Ed, used to crack me up so much. I can see his smile in so many of the people I meet every day.

So, onto the diary…

The last post had me hanging out in Kuala Lumpur. Heading north from KL, my first stop was a massive internet cafe in Ipoh where nearly 100 Malays were playing online games. The best part about this place was its location: right beside an awesome veggie restaurant. I had a few bytes (sorry) and then left for an island called Penang. Penang was a let down but to tell you the truth I didn’t give it much of a chance, riding into the capital Georgetown was harrowing due to the spaghetti-like concoction of narrow, one-way streets. I was so exhausted after the massive week before, I slept for 12 hours solid, woke up in the morning and drove straight back out of Georgetown. I wanted to get to Thailand VERY badly.

At the border, I had to explain to the Malaysian customs how to exit-stamp my Carnet. This is starting to become a routine activity as I don’t believe many of the customs officials around this area have actually seen the document before. They let me into no mans land (the 500 or so metres between two countries) and I made my way gingerly to the Thai border. This was my first overland border crossing with the bike and I had no real idea what to expect. A generous group of Thai officials grouped together and had an argument about what to do with my carnet and eventually the most official looking, or the guy with the most badges anyway, decided I didn’t need an entry stamp if my plans were to continue on to Cambodia. I tried to protest but he would have nothing of it and made me line up in the vehicle importation line for a customs guarantee slip, that I would need to show at the border on my exit. Just as the slip was being finalised and I was about to leave, a (more) senior official came into the office, saw my carnet and decided it needed to be stamped. This made me happy, as I didn’t want to explain to the carnet issuers any indiscrepencies in the document. I wonder who trains these officials?? All of this took about an hour and then I was set free onto the beckoning streets of southern Thailand.

The first destination was Hat Yai, made famous in the news by a spate of bombs in September 2006, in which four people were killed and about 82 injured. It is suspected the six bombs were set off by the South Thailand Insurgency, an islamic seperatist movement in the Pattani province of southern Thailand. The Pattanis are basically a society detached from both Thailand and Malaysia, who for the last 70 years have been trying to gain independence in their provence. The only aftermath of the bombings I could see was a contingency of armed military throughout the town. One army guy I came across was standing in front of the shopping centre that was targeted and that I was planning to have a look in. I realised as I walked towards the guard that he was standing in front of the entrance to a dress shop and decided I had enough dresses to last me my trip to Spain (none). I spun on my heels and walked away but I heard him shout and beckon for me to come back, thinking he’d scared me off. I didn’t want to be rude so I went into the dress shop and browsed for a few minutes, much to the glee of the shopkeepers. I think the soldier winked at me as I left the shop.

Raining in Hat Yai

That night I met two English guys and we went out for a feed of traditional Thai, no wait, I had a hamburger. Oooooh western food so good after eating Malay food for weeks. Seeing as though Malaysia is a dry country, and by that I mean a country that taxes alcohol to the extreme, what do I do as soon as I’m confronted with the opportunity to purchase large amounts of cheap cheap Thai beer… buy a small outback property’s dam worth of it and lap it up like the dehydrated cow that I am!! Oooh, big mistake and a huge hangover the next day meant movement was kept to a minimum and shuffling my mode of transport. I tried haggling for a power converter but I didn’t have the energy hehe. After the trembling and sweats ceased, helped by an early-evening of drinking coke and watching the second Harry Potter film at the local Irish bar, I went to bed and had my first “disgusting” experience…

Bed bugs! I woke up at about 2am (after feeling a strange disturbance in the force) and could smell a very buggy smell, kind of like mild stinkbug smell. Then I discovered that my body was itchy. I immediately knew what was going on and launched out of bed, throwing on the light and scanning the mattress. No need to be quick, the sheet was swarming with the things, with maybe 50 ranging in size from a millimetre long to about the size of a ladybug. I shuddered, braced myself, picked up my sandal and went to work exterminating the little blood-suckers. I’m not a violent man, if a dog bites me on the arse I’ll turn the other cheek, but anything that feeds on me, then makes me itchy, while I’m asleep and defenseless, must be taken care of. The first one swatted exploded in a little ball of crimson as the blood, my blood, was liberated and drawn into the fabric of the sheet. By the end I could see about 50 little smears of blood all over the blanket. I crawled into the foetal position and rocked back and forward until the morning moaning “unclean, unclean”.

Bored of Hat Yai, I decided to head up to the island of Koh Pahangan for Christmas / New Year. The ride up to Surat Thani, the mainland town that the ferries service, was a nice introduction to Thai motorways. The Thais seem to be a lot more relaxed on the road than the Malays (no Mat Rempit!) and the cars are all brand new Toyota Hilux utes and Nissan Pathfinders. From what I can grasp, this is due to them being built in Thailand, therefore incurring no import duty and making them cheap to afford. The same reason why everyone in Malaysia drives a Proton. The quirky thing about the Hilux situation is the number of people they can carry. A King-Cab ute will have five people in the front and an equal amount in the tray, allowing for some pretty awesome games to be played while riding behind them on the highway. Most won’t smile unless you wave, some will laugh and some will look the other way completely. My favourite is to ride past with head down behind the faring pretending I’m on a race bike, they love it because the bike looks so ludicrously heavy!

Anyway, into Surat Thani and I met a girl from Finland in the street. She took me to her hostel and I booked in for the night, literally just a place to rest your head with a matress on the floor and rudimentary ammenities. The owners let me store my bike in the kitchen, keeping my mind at ease for the evening. The next day I caught the ferry to Koh-Phangan. At each ticket office I asked repeatedly if they had a place that I could safely leave my bike during the ferry trip, as I didn’t want it falling over from the movement in the swell. The all assured me it would be okay and when I wheeled the bike on, I realised they had absolutely no provision for bikes and every surface, including the ground, was smooth. The ferry guys decided to chock the engine with the wedges of wood used to stop cars rolling and I used a ratchet tie-down to add some extra safety. My fears were groundless and the bike seemed to be rock-solid for the three hour duration of the trip. The roads in Koh Phangan were mostly okay, some were horrid, rutted, steep, dirt tracks and the path down to the hostel (Hua Laem resort) was a nightmare. The resort is run by a Norwegian guy called Tom, who lives there with his Thai girlfriend and has just taken out a 10 year lease on the place. I think he’s the most chilled out guy I’ve ever met. The Bungalows were “inspirationally situated” on the beach and the sound of the surf washed in throughout the day and night.

Ferry to Koh Phangan

Hat Rin is the party capital of Thailand, hosting the notorious Koh-Phangan full-moon parties. The drop-in bar is located directly on the main beach and tables, chairs and mats are provided for the revellers. Each night kicks off at about 10:30pm and begins with some slower music, quiet drinking and a warm-up fire-twirling show by a hanful of Thai guys. As the night progresses, the music gets faster, the crowd revel harder and the fire twirling more extreme. The papa-twirler stands on a chair and swings these 6-foot long burning ropes in arcs behind his head making him look like an angel. Then out comes the most dangerous device to a drunken farang ever invented… the burning ring of fire. The fire twirlers grab this big rope ring and set it on fire, hold it up by wires on either side and encourage the drunk tourists to dive through it. This became my undoing and I ended up spending Christmas eve lying in bed with an incredibly sore back taking painkillers and anti-inflammatories. Christmas eve in my room alone reading a book and not being able to move. Priceless!

Firetwirler, Haad Rin beach

Christmas day my back eased up a bit and I walked into town. By evening it was in pretty good shape and I went out for traditional christmas dinner with an awesome Canadian couple I met at the resort. We played pool for a couple of hours and then ventured (me very timidly) down to the drop-in bar for the party. Drinks seemed to cure my back and the night became morning before I knew it. A great night was had, although I lost my watch sometime during the night.

I spent the rest of my time on Koh Phangan under intense Thai massage therapy (becomes an addiction) and headed back to Surat Thani to try and reach Bangkok for New Years eve.

Temple at Prachuap Kirri Kahn, on the way to Bangkok

Monkeys!!! On the way up to the above temple

I had a strong desire to travel to Bangkok via a national park so stopped for a night at the Keang Krachan NP. What I thought would be a quiet little camp turned out to be 24 hours of complete and utter madness. As I rounded the bend onto the lakeside camping ground, about 5000 tents appeared and riding through the melee to find a suitable spot to pitch, I realised that everyone else in the ground was Thai. I pulled up and was immediately taken under the wing of a crazy Thai man who imposed too much hospitality on me, became upset when I suggested I wanted to go find my own dinner and proceeded to sit outside my tent all night and burn things… a bad night’s sleep needless to say.

Keang Krachan National Park campsite

I woke up at 5am and packed my gear up ready for the trip up to Phanoen Thung mountain. I rode the 30km to the park’s entrance and was told “No Entry for Motorcycles” by the guard. I think I may have snapped at them because the main guy refused to speak to me after a while (no-sleep and an early morning didn’t put me in the best mood). I went back to the small restaurant serving breakfast about 200m before the entrance and put on my best “dejected farang who’d come to Thailand specifically to see this mountain” face. I was quickly picked up by a group of 7 Thai girls and allowed to store my bike behind the local cooking-oil-merchant’s barrels. She said she’d take good care of it.

In the back of the ute, heading up the mountain

I jumped into the back of the ute with four of the girls and we headed into the park. What a crazy ride!! In the dark, five people in the back of the ute, 30km to drive and it took 2.5 hours. The rode was bumper to bumper with hundreds of cars trying to get up the mountain for sunrise. We ended up getting to the top at about 8 o’clock, with the sun already in the sky, to be greeted by about 500 Thai sightseers. This is the deal with Bangkok. The city is so congested and so busy, bumper to bumper traffic throughout the day and incredibly cramped living conditions, that when the Bangkok dwellers comes to take a holiday, they somehow, whether subconsiously or on purpose, recreate their daily living conditions. The trip back down was no better, as the road was one way and the rangers hadn’t cleared the cars heading up before allowing the return traffic through. By the end of the trip I was absolutely filthy, covered in dust and ready to get the hell out of the national park.

Mist in the valley (the sight everyone comes to see)

A dusty group at the top of the hill

Heading down the mountain

That afternoon I rode into Bangkok, found a hostel, had a shower, had a chat with the girl at the hostel and realised to my dismay that it was New Years Eve. We walked into Khao San road and heralded in the new year with an unenthusiastic (exhausted) wave of a beer bottle. Home to bed then to get over the day’s activities. I’ve realised now that the hostel I’m staying in is a bit “different”. Kind of on the cheap side, small rooms available for rent by the hour, many foreigners who’ve been there for years, allowed to bring girls home… You get the idea, it’s the Bangkok Hotel California. I’d considered leaving but the price is about $3 a night and the people are pretty friendly. I’d really like to be with some other backpackers though because I don’t really feel like I fit in with these folk, lovely as they are.

Bangkok lane.

A former backpacker hostel that someone accidentally burnt down

The Tuk Tuks in Bangkok are too expensive, catch a cab instead!!

Having a chat

Farang next door please!

Well, that brings me up to yesterday, when I bought myself a new front tire for my bike. I bought a brand new Dunlop Trailmax (same as the old tire) for about $60 AU, which is a bargain. My next step will be to travel into Cambodia and try to meet up with my parents after not having seen them for a few months. I’ll tour up into Laos and then back into Northern Thailand, Chang Mai and Chang Rai come highly recommended and I’d love to visit some hill tribes on my bike.

One last thing, I have a very big dilemma ahead of me that I’m trying to get my head around. I have absolutely no idea how I’ll get from Thailand to India. The road through Myanmar is definitely closed to overland travelers, which leaves only a couple of options. Very rarely does China allow unaccompanied overland travelers through its southern borders, however once into China, the trip through the southern provinces into Tibet, Nepal and then down into India would be a mini “trip of a lifetime”. If I can swing this I’d love to give it a go. The other option is to fly to Khatmandu or India and ride from there, however I’m not too keen on flying anywhere. The last option may be a boat across the Bay of Bengal into Bangladesh, but I haven’t read any stories of travelers pulling this off. If anyone has any suggestions, I’d love to hear them.

Thanks again for reading, its a bit of a long one but I hope you’re enjoying the tales. Will let you know how I go in Cambodia / Laos in a couple of weeks.

Love always
Damo