There is a gap, I know. The days in Mae Ramat are missing. I’m waiting for some information I’m fact checking. But I still want to move forward on the blog. So here you go.
August 23, 2013, Friday, Mae Ramat-Mae Salit Luang 80km total 8930km
Couldn’t help but to continue chatting until Mike left for work. I checked my route over wifi and headed north through the foothills. The route is renouned to be the most beautiful tsongtao(truck/ taxi) ride in all of Thailand, however, most of the surrounding hills were obscured by the mist and clouds. I did glimpse a few good views, though.
It didn’t pour, but it still rained today. I lulled through the hills, wary of the wet roads. My efforts to stay dry were futile. I put my jacket on, the rain would stop, it’d warm up, I’d start sweating, I’d take off my jacket, it’d start raining, put the jacket back on, rain stopped, take it off, it’d start. I gave up, and rode through the rain, with my jacket strapped to the top of my rear pack
I got to Mae Salit Luang, considered pushing out another 25k, but small lulling hills and wet roads wore my wits down. So, I stayed. Eating some noodles and then finding accommodation at the local temple. Yet my wits still did not recharge; I’ll be honest, the head monk was irritating. He harassed me with continual half jokes of giving him money. As I set my things down, he would point to a bag still on my bike asking “Nii arai”(what’s that) “clothing.” but he’d insist it was money, I’d repeat “clothing” and he’d still say “money” pointing. Later, he gave me some instant noodles and then requested ten dollars; I handed the noodles back “Mai ao”(don’t want) He didn’t take them back. But his implications that I was smuggling hoards of cash continued. Later asking the same questions about the same bags, prompting the same answers, and same repeated answers. He also barraged me with questions of what things were called, without a visible intention of learning what I was saying. Pointing to random objects haphazardly. He insisted to know where my camera was. For the first time, I felt truly distrustful at a Thai temple. I slept with my valuables in my tent..
August 24, 2013, Saturday, Mae Salit Luang-Sop Moei 90km total 9020km
I woke up as the head monk shuffled around the room, tidying up, flipping on lights and gathering his items to head out to collect food. Before leaving, he pointed to me, suggesting to come collect food and take photos. Though he had gotten under my skin earlier, I was not going to refuse witnessing and documenting this aspect of monk-life. He gave me a sarong to wear, and two bags to hold collected food.
The monk’s personality continuing to wear away my patience. He would make conflicting hand motions, gesturing me forward, then away and motioning that it wasn’t okay. Though I did not at all know what was or was not okay. A clear language barrier, one not resolved by miming. At one point, the monk pointed to the bags slung on my left shoulder, I held the outer bag up, he shook his head No, I held up the inner bag, he shook his head No, again. I held out both bags, No, again!. I could not figure out what this guy wanted. I held up my hands, what? The monk resolved the situation by grabbing the strap of the inner bag and yanked. But it was still caught on my arm. Like a child getting a kite out of a tree, he yanked again. Still not off my arm as the outer bag blocked it; meanwhile, I’m shocked at his impatience and aggression. His third yank got the bag off my arm. I wanted so so so badly to yank the bag back, swing it around like an Olympic hammer ball and throw it as far as I could into the adjacent field. But using the restraint that this monk clearly did not have, I didn’t.
I continued the walk, taking a few photos, while my shock and frustration brewed inside. Further along, I was shooting boats on the river bank and the monk called me to take a shot of him with the river in the background. I don’t need a director. And later, I was set back, videoing an offering, the monk pauses and waited for me, and continued his ambiguous hand motions, motioning me closer, motioning me away, motioning to himself and then gesturing no. I stayed back, he motioned more and I approached; then he hit me and pushed me forward. Really, I was shocked at this monks attitude, personality and actions. I couldn’t wait to get back to temple, pack up and leave. Like really, I was shocked.
He totally broke from my conception/experiences with polite, patient, open hearted monks. Once back at the temple, he made it clear that he had to eat first because he was a monk. Then he smiles and points to the temple aid who prepared the food bowing and praying to him. Who is this guy, really? Turns out he’s been there for over twenty years.. After seeing his actions, I honestly thought he was at the beginning of his spiritual journey. As I packed up, the half jokes about giving him money continued, and so did my simmering frustration. A family of four came: Mom, Dad, small daughter, and baby. They sat down in front of the monk and he proposes for me to take a picture saying “Thai culture” The monk said a chant for maybe up to five minutes, chatted with the family and then they left, leaving a large offering of food which the monk set aside and smiled as he pulled out a 1000 baht bill to show me. Doesn’t the village see through this guy?! Anyone?
I would put pictures up.. and most are authentic, but the batch feels spoiled. Sorry y’all.
I was glad to hit the road. It lulled a bit more, all be it a bit less; I could have made it to Ban Tha Song Yang the night prior. Oh well. I almost bypassed the town, but remember that life is no rush and cycled through to take a few pictures and peak around. I should note that in Mae Ramat, Mae Salit Luang and here I am literally a river bank away from Burma. Yet it is this elusive, “closed” country, a Thailand-once-was place is how some put it. It’s right there! Tempted to hire a fisherman to boat me to the other bank, but I restrained myself.
Looking at the topography on Google maps, I knew I had a ball-buster coming up: climbing from 150m to 900+m in 15km>. I filled up my water at the police box and immediately the road increased grade and I climbed up a bit, then lost all my height on a subsequent descent. Dammit and bottomed out a heinous 12km climb. Certainly of the steepest climbs I’ve done on this trip. I had to switch into my granny gear and never left. The road had no switch-backs, it simply charged straight up the steep slopes of the river valley.I powered through each steep section, gulped down water, rested my legs and then attacked the next bit. The clouds saw my vulnerability and struck with rain; I raised the white flag, my rain shell stayed strapped to my rear pack.
Luckily the rain dissipated after the rode topped out, but the hills were unrelenting. No rewarding descent, mud, gravel, construction, potholes, wet roads. I was offered a brief mental respite when I saw another cycle tourist, Dominique, an expat living in HK. We shared our respective road reports, he warned me that the rest of the road is a bit hilly, and I warned him the road is a bit wet. I booked some floor space at his house, got his contact info and we both set off. Within a few minutes I came across a small shop and took a brief lunch break.
My post lunch ride was grueling. Hilly doesn’t even begin to describe this section. If you’re a consistent reader, you may have remembered me complaining about the ride out of the Cameron Highlands.. that was a cake walk, comparatively. I can’t count how many twenty to thirty minute climbs I did that day. A cross section of the road would yield a series of ‘v’’s steep up and steep down. Wet roads, mud, gravel and scattered potholes made the process that much slower; downhill speed=uphill speed and uphill speed=slow. The bottom of each descent put you immediately at the bottom of the next climb, with zero inertia.
I’m strong. I can climb. But I’m going to shamelessly complain: I HATE CONSTANT-UP-AND-DOWN-HILLS.
30km in over 3+hours. Right around sunset I made it to the national park. Only 15km to Sop Moei. I rested at the Police box, and was graciously given dinner by the stationed officers. Rested and nourished I decided to knock off another 15 km. I asked the officer, “Is it hilly?” “Yes” “Big” “Nooo”. So I took off and immediately had reason to curse the answer as I started a climb: a medium grade 5km, 30 minutes long. I rested for a few on the descent only to end up at the base of another climb: 4km, another 20 minutes. By this time I was riding by headlight, swatting at the dinosaur mosquito-fly-things buzzing around me. Finally nailing it on my chest as it took one more irritating bite. HAHA.
Luckily the the last 4km were on a clean pavement descent into Sop Moei. I found the local Wat, the monks welcomed me in. I ate a bit more, showered off the day, chatted, pitched camp, and passed out. Phew.
I looked up the stats for today on Doogal. The grueling ride out of Cameron highlands was 130km, 1400m of climbing..
The section from the river to Sop Moei was 67 km with 3000m of climbing. The most annoying part is I didn’t get to the summit of a massive mountain! I topped out at 800-900m. Ay, what a day.