Ahoy! Chiang Mai!

"Disco kung! Disco kung! Very aroi! Very aroi! Eat! Eat! "...Inspector Doy of A. Sam Ngao area was quite a persuasive man. He had roared past us in his Isuzu pickup, pulled into the dusty unfenced yard of a house along the road all the while yelling "me hom, me hom, come! come!". It was so far the strangest invitation we'd had and one hard to ignore. A rather conspicuous motor with a propeller strapped to the back of his pick up rather intrigued Ced, who recognized it as a rather old fashioned paragliding motor. Our curiosity piqued along with the heat of the afternoon sun beating down on us we decided to accept the invitation. It clearly wasn't a bad idea as he had just returned with two friends from what seemed to have been an excellent shrimping (fishing...shrimping?) session. But by the stale beer they reeked of it and the slightly suspect all too jolly mood they seemed to be in I wasn't too sure how long we could stay. But for the moment we couldn't refuse the cold ice and water they served us and the plate of rice that was plonked down in front of us. I suspected something amiss when one of the guys shoved some live still twitching shrimps into his mouth and invited us to do the same with encouragements of aroi! aroi! (Thai for delicious...also mostly pronounced aloi as thais don't seem to produce the rrr sound too well). I had so far evaded trying fried insects but there was no escaping this. I watched on slightly horrified as one of the guys proceeded to dress some the the very alive shrimp with chilli powder, fresh coriander, onions, salt and fresh lemon juice. I'm sure it would have smarted the shrimp like mad as it intensified their squirming while some even managed to jump out the bowl only to be picked and dumped back right in. I have to confess my mouth watered abit as I love anything dressed in lemon juice and chilli powder. I also love shrimp but I prefer them asphyxiated and clearly dead. I was served my portion in a bowl and I ate them as quick as I could hoping to shorten their suffering. At least that was what played on my mind. A couple escaped my bowl and that's when the man who introduced himself as Inspector Doy made his disco kung joke. (Kung being prawn/ shrimp in Thai) It was hard to laugh with my mouth full of squirming shrimps. The last time I'd eaten anything still alive was the quivering oysters in France. Somehow back then served with the typical French gastronomique finesse I didn't ponder the plight of the oysters too much while I squeezed my citron into their gelatinous mass. I guess the champagne had help steel some nerves and numb sympathy.

Inspector Doy as it turned out was a policeman on holiday which was why he was a little drunk, as he explained and also a paragliding instructor; which explained the motor in his pick up. Being an amateur paraglider himself, Ced soon had the willing inspector pull out the sail to check out it's span. So there we were on the 3rd day of cycling towards Chiang Mai after our little train ride to Naknon Sawon; trying to catch the wind with a rather unsteady inspector on holiday. "When drink, I no fly. No good", he conscientiously declared before wrapping up the sail and returning to his drink and disco shrimp salad. The shrimps had mercifully succumbed to air and citrus by then and lay quietly in the bowls.

We goofed up on the train to Nakhon Pathom by getting up on the wrong train. We knew there was a problem when we boarded after first loading our bicycles in the luggage van. We could find neither coach nor seats. Somehow coach no.5 had mysteriously disappeared and after no. 4 we were in no.6 which packed with young army recruits strewn all over in all possible shapes and gaps. They were on the seats, over the seats, under the seat, out in the aisles and even strung from hammocks tied to the luggage racks. Most were passed out from what seemed to have been a rather rough training camp. Luckily for us, the ones awake were extremely courteous and polite and they soon realised we had boarded the wrong train as trains had been delayed and the one we were on was the one that was supposed to have arrived at Chumphon 2 hours earlier while the train we had tickets for was delayed as well. No wonder we were surprised when we saw the train pull in exactly at the time printed on our tickets. The luggage van staff had assumed we knew what we were doing so they didn't bother to check our tickets either. So it was a rough night spent by the loo which mercifully unlike Indian train loos do not stink. We strung our hammocks and made the best of the long night.

Next day early morning we arrived in Nakhon Pathom only to find out the train we wanted to catch to Nakhon Sawan was available only from Bangkok. The next train to Bangkok was the one we had missed the previous night, Train No. 172. It was hard to not miss the irony as we waited for the train to ferry us to Bangkok. The unwelcome diversion to Bangkok wasn't so bad as we managed to catch up for a quick drink with friends who had just landed in town and we also met some dutch cyclists; a couple well into their 70's who were cycling around in their almost vintage dutch bicycles. They took their time to get around but had covered some pretty impressive distances. It was quite inspiring to meet and swap stories. We finally boarded our train at 2pm, the correct one this time and slept almost throughout the 6 hour ride to Nakhon Sawan. Ced had only a week left on his visa and we hoped to save time by skipping the busy suburban towns near Bangkok.

Nakon Sawan on the eve of the Chinese New year was rather quiet for a Chinese dominated town. Apart from the bright coca-cola sponsored red banners lining the roads there didn't seem to be much in terms of celebration. We saw a couple of lantern kites from our hotel room but I guess we were too tired to notice much else. Another unavoidable late start thanks to the sleepless night before and we were more than eager to cover as much ground as possible. We started at 11.30 am and cycled almost wordlessly with few breaks to the next town Kamphaeng Phet. We stuck to the highway almost throughout the day intent on covering the 130 odd kms that led to the town. Though unseen from the road, the highway runs parallel to the Ping river which later meets the Nan river to form Thailand's major river system, the Chao Praya at Nakhon Sawan. I made up for the lack of scenery by focusing on my Cateye bike meter and trying to maintain our average speed of 22.8km/hr. After nearly a 100 km on the main way we finally decided to take a break and follow a dirt road next to the river. The few seconds of quiet and greenery was therapeutic for our tired limbs and eyes. It was also a reminder again of how stressful traveling on a major road can be even though the highway traffic here wasn't the worst we'd seen. But the dirt road didn't run long. There were several large factories built along the river and the way was soon blocked by huge cement walls. It was infuriating. We headed back to the highway and crossed the river at the next bridge. It was a bit of a detour but the road on the opposite bank led though lovely residential areas and was mercifully free of highway traffic. By the time we reached Khampaeng Phet and pulled into a roadside restaurant to eat we were at 140.7 kms and drained of energy. Maybe it was the tiredness but both of us were rather grumpy and it resulted in another small session of snapping at each other and bickering about the menu. Luckily we still laugh and check ourselves in time before things get unnecessarily heated. I guess it's going to take a lot more time for the cyclist's zen to build.

The next day was a long round about detour along rd no. 1109 to avoid the highway on our way to Tak. The rural road we took was the least inhabited we crossed so far and led through large patches of dry scrub forest. For a change the few houses we crossed seemed poorer than in the South and land less fertile. We saw less of people lounging around their varendas and munching food, which seems to be a national pastime. The temperature was 33c in the hot midday sun and the going was tough with the heat. By this time I had shed my shorts for my long cotton FabIndia pants which shielded my legs (burnt almost black) better from the hot burning sun. The scenery soon took a turn for the better as we got nearer to Tak. Tak turned out to be a really pleasant town built along the river with almost every kind of shop including a Trek bicycle outlet and a huge book store where we bought a pretty good road atlas. It also had an excellent night market by the riverside where we stuffed ourselves stall-hopping.

Next day's ride was the most pleasant so far as we stuck close to the river following the secondary road marked on our new atlas. Escaping the highway was a simple matter of crossing a bridge and following the western bank northwards. A short while after the bridge we came across a welding factory with a huge bicycle adorning the entrance. I'm sure many cyclists would have posed next to it and we couldn't help but stop for our first team picture.

cycle, cycle, big cycle

It was a scenic ride through paddy fields, banana and mango plantations, pepper farms and other farm lands till we reached Sam Ngao a little after which we had our encounter with Inspector Doy and disco kung. The road after A. Sam Ngao takes a beautiful inviting winding diversion westwards to the Bhumibhol Dam but we had to decline and continue North. We stopped for the night at Mae Phrik village were locals dissuaded us from trying to explore a road marked on our larger map but leading to a conspicuous dead end on the Atlas we had bought. The road reappears again at Ko waterfalls. It seemed the road led through a jungle and there was no way to cross by bicycle. It led to a small argument as Ced was even excited with this bit of news while till our little compromise, I was keen to taking the shortest route to Chiang Mai to save time as his visa was running short again. We finally decided to further extend the visa if need be but take time to explore all we could while we had the chance.

At first light we were off towards the dead end road. It led along a valley where a dam is being built. There were quite a few locals using the roads so we were confident it wouldn't be a dead end. The road did stop right at a village but there was an alternative small road that continued. The locals here knew of the road to Ko waterfalls and pointed us in the right direction. As it turned out the road passed through a small protected forest area and was not much more than a rough dirt track. We stopped to ask the ranger if it was possible to cross forest to join the road that connects Ko waterfalls with Pha Phueng village from where road continues. He was quite delighted to see cyclist and waved us on merrily assuring us it was possible and to just stick to the right at each fork. The road was a proper mountain biker's dream for downhill descents but more than a painful sore with our road bikes uphill. I mostly pushed, pulled and dragged my bike while riding in the few places the road permitted. But thanks to the novelty of the situation and the fact that we were in a forest completely alone, I barely noticed we were slowly ascending. After a couple of hours and more than a few wrongs turns, tosses and tumbles with a few bruises we finally did reach the end of the forest and the road. The rangers on the opposite side of what serves as the entrance of Mae Ping National Park seemed quite surprised to see us. At least we didn't have to pay an entrance fee this time using the gate only to exit.

It was during our blissful freewheeling downhill coast that I realised we had made at least a 600 m ascent through the forest. After a small break at Pha Pheung we continued on the road that seemed to continue to slope downhill through the beautiful valley of Mae Kong Wa.

Coasting through Mae Kong Wa Valley (picture doesn't do justice)

To our delight we found a merry market carrying on in full swing next a football field. Turns out it was an inter-school football event between villages and so another reason for the inhabitants around to party. We stuffed ourselves with different sausages, meatballs and different barbecue grills that seem to be an ubiquitous part of Thai street cuisine before continuing through the valley to break for the night at a bamboo shelter built by a chorten near a small stream.

Morning after night spent near Mae Kong Wa village

The night was chilly enough to wake us up several times and decide we'll have to look for a tent in Chiang Mai. At least we were off to an early start and before long we found ourselves back on an unavoidable highway with Chiang Mai less that 80 kms away. We decided to take it easy and stop early to break at Chom Thong town to complete the remaining 70 odd kms to Chiang Mai the next day. From Chom Thong we had several options that stuck us to country lanes till we pulled into the suburban residential layouts around Chiang Mai where we saw our first firangs after a week on a their rented shiny black Honda Phantom cruiser looking rather lost and ridiculous with helmets too big and gothic for their white shorts and matching sleeveless netted T-shirts. We had arrived. 1007 km on the odometer.