Touring Cyclists are Tempting Treat for Thailand's Dogs

Best Christmas Wishes Everybody!

 

TANDOIDS

Current Location: Khanom, near Koh Samui, Thailand

Dead snake count: 13

Odometer: 6,482 km

From Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia: 1,253 km

"With the stick I almost feel brave and fearless," Judy the Stoker on dealing with dogs.

At the end of a long driveway a black dog stood watching us. As we drew closer on the tandem, it became clear there was something wrong with the animal. It was unsteady on its feet, and closer still, we could see the drool, the bubbles of spittle running down its jaws. It never took its eyes off us, but as we came within three or four metres it backed away, slinking to the edge of the driveway where it joined the road. Suddenly the dog’s hindquarters gave way and it collapsed, slewed on its side but with its front paws still on the ground. Its look never wavered, its eyes always on us. With an effort, the dog regained its feet and moved towards us, then away, then towards us again as if testing us. It began to collapse again, but this time managed to stay upright. We slipped past and suddenly the road ahead was clear and we accelerated away, Judy still clutching the walking pole we use as a bicycle stand but now doubles as a weapon.

Alright, so it looks harmless enough,
but just wait till it gets 3 or 4 of its
mates along and they launch an all-out
attack.
 

Did the dog have rabies? We don’t know and never will, but plenty of dogs in Thailand do carry the virus despite efforts to reduce the rabies risk.  

The dogs have put the wind up us. In Malaysia and the far south of Thailand -  Muslim areas - the dogs weren’t a problem. Now in Buddhist territory further north, destruction of stray dogs is often opposed on religious grounds and so they roam and keep on breeding.

At times, the dogs seem to be around every corner, and give chase one or two or three and four at a time. On every occasion, we’ve managed to out pedal them, but with two sets of legs on the tandem we feel a bit like a double Mac nicely packaged and just waiting to be eaten.



"Let's go walkies with the bull."

We’re trying to outwit them with psychology – sometimes slowing down as we approach to allow them an opportunity to move away (occasionally they do). Then there’s the more aggressive attitude where a dog stands firm waiting for us. I try to make myself look as big and domineering as possible - sitting up on the bike, pushing my elbows outwards and yelling in my deepest, most threatening manner. I steer straight for the dog. It’s an approach which doesn’t seem to work, but makes us feel better as our hearts race and we bend forward and pedal as hard and as fast as we can.

The best approach seems to be that walking pole/bike stand. Judy’s taken to carrying it in one hand,  usually on the side that has the most dogs. She waves it about and tries to look menacing. I don’t think the sight of Judy with a stick looks very threatening it all, but it’s working better than anything else we’ve tried so far. The trouble is, it’s hard for her to carry the pole long distances as we cycle so we are trying to devise a way of securing it to the bike so it’s instantly available when needed.



The open road and there's not a dog in sight. We've found the
worst problems are on the smaller roads - the ones we cyclists
enjoy. The dogs are less familiar with bikes and enjoy the thrill
of the chase.

Before we left New Zealand, we both had rabies vaccine shots. It means that if the worst happens and we do get bitten, we only need two more jabs and don’t have to be turned into pincushions. But who wants to get bitten – rabies or not. The only touring cyclist we’ve met in S.E. Asia told us he’s been bitten twice, both times here in Thailand.

Both of us have always been anxious around stray dogs, and before we set out on our travels we knew that at some stage we would have to face up to them. Now it’s happening and neither of us like it. For the first time we have had our confidence shaken.

Judy the Stoker says … 

The only way I could go to sleep last night was to be realistic about ‘the problem’.  The situation was either going to remain the same, get worse or improve - the same number of dogs, more dogs and more risk of being eaten or fewer dogs and less risk. Meanwhile, I’m reading a racy novel and watching the sea roll in at a resort hotel where we have retreated in the hope of avoiding becoming dog tucker. We could be anywhere - there are coconut palms and frangipani and a warm breeze.  I can pretend I’m in Samoa or Aitutaki, until tomorrow when we are back on the road.

Lonely Planet's Thailand guide describes Khanom
as a “pristine region". This is the beach beside
the swimming pool at Talkoo Beach Resort
- one of the book's recommendations.
 



Banana pancake cook (right) in Trang - a nice little town
with a business heart overlain with a few tourist trappings.

This couple (Kee on the left and Aud) have returned home
recently from five years in Sydney. They have a new baby
and have just opened this restaurant. We were among the
first customers.
 

"I like you," this woman told Judy and insisted they have
their picture taken.









Day in the Life of Touring Cyclists

TANDOIDS
Day's ride: 108.9 km
Average speed: 18.3 kph
Snakes spotted so far (road kill) 10; live 1

"Talk about taking one day at a time. One thing cyling teaches you is that you never quite know what's going to happen next," Judy the Stoker.
6.30 am: The alarm wakens us in "The Happy House", Pak Bara, southern Thailand. It's been daylight for half an hour. Pack up gear, drink a bottle of water each and purify some more for the day ahead. Trudge downstairs with baggage and unlock tandem from its resting place in the entranceway.

Our water purifier is a Steripen and it
lights up like Darth Vader's light saber.

Loading up the Beast of Bridgwater outside the Happy House.
The camera has been in an aircon room overnight and
condensation has built up on the lens to soften this picture.

8.00 am: On the road. A quick ride for 11 kilometres to La-Ngu.
8.35 am: Breakfast stop for Roti Canai (pancakes with curry), our order taken by the manager who fusses over us after spotting the bike. Throughout breakfast, Mike keeps an eye on the unlocked bike which is only just in sight through the throng of other diners. We shake hands with the manager as we leave, and Judy raises a laugh from the Roti maker as she tries to thank him in Thai.
9.15: Judy buys a pre-pay topup for her phone and we're on the road, which is heavy with traffic but eases after a few kilometres.
11.00 am: Stop in a street market in Thung Wa for coconut juice. Mike buys six bananas "for playlunch".

11.00 am: Drink stop

11.20 am: Resume cycling through flat, pleasant country. Lots of people wave and call hello from the roadside. We wave and/or call back sometimes answering the most common question put to us here in Thailand,"where are you going". We answer Trang, or Ko Samui, Bangkok or even Cambodia or Laos depending on our mood. They are all right, all on the grand plan if things go well.
11.50 am: Traffic police in very military looking uniforms have a road block in place. They wave us through smiling as they do, and two of them salute us.


Rubber trees, sthn Thailand

12.45 pm: Light rain starts to fall and looks as though it may get heavier. We seek cover in a bus shelter. Mike takes pictures of rubber trees.
1.10 pm: Resume cycling through large scale plantations of rubber trees.


Holed - left rear pannier after it fell from the bike.

1:40 pm: Rain resumes and we take cover outside a small, rural grocery where we have green honey tea and icecreams.
2.00 pm: Resume cycling. We debate whether we should try to reach Trang this afternoon, a day's ride of about 110 km. We push on, uncertain whether we can make it but not sure where we can stay on the way.
2.30 pm: In some roadworks we hit a bad bump and the left rear pannier falls off and somersaults along the road. We push the bike out of the traffic, Judy fetches the pannier and we repack the back of the bike, using a bungee to try to stop the pannier coming off a second time.
2.40 pm: Resume cycling.


Bonker's delight - bbq pork

3.00 pm: Judy "bonks" - cyclists' word for "hitting the wall". She needs food but nothing immediately available.
3.30 pm: We spot a very average looking foodstall and pull over. A man comes out and puts traffic cones around our bike so that motorists won't hem us in. Judy orders a bbq pork dish with rice and vegetables. She declares it's delicious. Mike insists he's not hungry and orders two Cokes. Mike unpacks bike to get Kindle to check out accommodation options and scoffs three bananas from his handlebar bag.
4.15 pm: Resume cycling, rain threatening. Have decided to make Trang our destination.
4.50 pm: We pull over to check the GPS but it doesn't seem to have heard of Trang (pop 65,000) and it says the nearest accommodation is over 50 km away. We have the name of one hotel however and set off for the town centre.
5.10 pm: Somehow we manage to cycle straight into the city centre and quickly find the hotel. Its full. The receptionist phones another hotel 150 metres away. They have a room. We go there. It's getting dark. Both hotels are near the railway station - the cheap hotels usually are.
6.00 pm: We are checked in, the bike's securely locked in a passageway, the room's nice and Judy has the first shower. Mike turns on the computer. It's working despite the somersault down the road in the pannier.
7.20 pm: Leave the hotel on foot to have dinner. Find a street market instead and wander through it until hunger drives us to a nearby restaurant.
8.40 pm: Return to market and buy five small cakes for dessert. Scoff them sitting under the verandah entrance to our hotel. The temperature is pleasant, but the chilli in our meals has us both sweating.
9.00 pm:Mike uses wifi in room to check out routes for the coming days, Bike Route Toaster. Googles,"how do I stop my Ortlieb panniers falling off?" There's quite a bit of discussion on various forums, it's not just us. Judy is reading a Thai phrase book. Decision is made to stay in Trang the following day to sort out pannier problem. We need to buy some tubing and some more bungees.
9.40 pm: Judy does emails while Mike surfs news channels - for once there is a selection. Settles on excellent documentary about Al Qaeda in Yemen.
10.30 pm: Retire to bed. Judy announces that the Thai phrase for "no chilli" is "mai prik".

Ghost Island

View South East Asia in a larger map

TANDOIDS
Distance Cycled: 5,936 km
Snakes as Road Kill: 8. Live: 1.
Backsides when 10 equals bliss: Judy 5.5, Mike 7.0



According to one of these fishermen,
 "ghosts" were the reason no-one
 lived on the island.

Ping went the spoke, the sound of stainless steel wire giving up was new to us but unmistakeable.We pulled up and sure enough a spoke on the front wheel was broken. I wasn’t sure what to do, but already an audience was gathering and we didn’t feel like being the entertainment. We twisted the spoke around its neighbour, climbed back on the Beast of Bridgwater and pedalled off along a stunningly designed bridge that we were about to learn led to nowhere.



Replacing our first broken spoke.

As we pedalled we passed a number of fishermen, dangling their lines off the bridge which stretched into the distance – all 2.3 km of it. At the end, the bridge and road stopped abruptly on the edge of a jungle-clad tropical island. There was no sign of life, but four motorbikes were parked in the dust. An empty drink stall lay abandoned.



Chye came to our rescue on Langkiwi
getting the wheel trued for us, so it
spins perfectly in a vertical plane.

We pushed the tandem into the shade of the drink stall and unloaded some of the bike’s luggage so we could retrieve one of our Kindles. I opened up “The Bike Touring Guide” by Friedel and Andrew Grant and looked up “Fixing a Broken Spoke”. It looked simple enough, so while Judy checked out the surroundings, I untwisted the broken spoke and replaced it – tightening the new one but not too much.

 

When I looked up, Judy was talking to two men – owners of two of the motorbikes. Why she asked, doesn’t anyone live on the island? “Ghosts,” said one of the men simply. You mean myths, old stories? “Yes,” he said but didn’t seem in a hurry to elaborate. He did tell her the bridge was part of a failed business venture by an oil company, something which appeared to be only partly correct when we checked later. Completed at a reported cost of RM7b in 2005, the Pulau Bunting bridge was going to enable the island to be developed as a tourist resort and stopping off point for yachts sailing between Penang Island to the south and Langkawi Island to the north. For some reason the plan never went ahead and now the bridge is used only for fishing. It is regarded as a complete waste of taxpayers’ money, but little is said publicly in this country where the media is cautious of criticising politicians.

At the Babylon bar on Langkawi, the drinkers clap as the
sun slips beneath the horizon.

With our wheel repaired for the time being, we retraced our tracks back to the main road, then to a ferry and Langkawi where we have joined the backpacker hordes in search of duty free beers and air conditioned rooms.

 

 

 

Saying Goodbye - Judy the Stoker says:

Leaving Penang was a wrench. Annabel and Suku’s hospitality was so inclusive of neighbours, friends, fellow business owners and us that if we hadn’t gone when we did we would have had no choice but to try to stay permanently under the Malaysia My Second Home visa scheme.

Penang Farewell: Steve, Suku, Akiyo with stray cat, Annabel and Judy. Missing from the picture are Jim, Jo and George the Dog.

The worst moment came as we cycled from their street and I glanced back - there were our new friends standing with their hands raised in farewell. It brought a lump to my throat. We were on our own again after enjoying weeks of stimulating conversation and lots of laughter.  

Notes from the Road

We split the ride from Georgetown to Langkawi into two days – staying at Yan, a quiet coastal resort where Malaysians seem to be the main visitors. From there, we could see the Pulau Bunting bridge in the distance and the next day couldn’t resist turning down a side road to check out the island. Our coastal route was flat, apart from a couple of short steep hills – one of which we walked up. It was just too hot. Traffic - even on the smaller kampung roads - was heavier than we would have liked but still quite manageable.



We hired a scooter so we could get our wheel repaired at the
other side of Langkawi Island.

Happiness is bringing a repaired wheel
back home.

The northern Malaysian states
of Kedah and Perlis are
the rice bowls of the country.
 

 



Traipsing Around Taiping

TANDOIDS

Total Distance: 5,705 km

Distance in SE Asia: 476 km

Backsides out of 10 (bliss): Mike 7.5, Judy 7.0

Snakes as Road Kill: 8, Live: 1

A wooden house on stilts - my memory is of a military
compound with rows of neat houses, geckos chasing insects
on the bedroom walls and a badminton court a short walk away.

The old 8mm home movie film chattered over the sprockets on the projector. On the lounge wall, the images flickered and settled down. There was a sweep of jungle, an aerial shot, and then a Malay village or kampung, came into view. The helicopter banked as though coming in to land, but suddenly the film ended and we were left wondering what it was all about. We do know the footage was shot by my father, in 1956/57 while he was serving with the New Zealand Army in what was then called Malaya – before independence and while the fight was still going on against the Communist Terrorists or CTs as they were known.

The film’s still around but our parents are not, so those pictures remain one of life’s little mysteries.

The museum was closed when we visited but the manager
ushered us into the grounds so we could take photos. He said it
was going to take a year and RM2m to repair the damage caused
 by termites which had attacked the all wooden structure.




Former Perak Sultan's home,
now the Royal Museum of
Perak.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Mum, Dad, Chris and I lived first in Taiping, I have memories of a wooden house on stilts, and then in Ipoh – both towns which owed their existence and their wealth to the nearby tin mines. Now the tin has gone, and the towns are slowly fading, as Judy and I discovered while visiting them both while en route to Penang.

Some of Taiping's old colonial buildings are holding up well
despite the passing of time. This one is used to house a
variety of local government offices.



Other buildings haven't withstood the ravages of time - mould
and decay and eventual collapse.

I recognised nothing – no streets, no buildings, not a thing. We made a few tentative inquiries of people we bumped into, but it was more than 50 years ago and a woman in a tourist office just looked blankly when we mentioned the emergency and the fight against the CTs. There’s still a big military presence in Taiping, but the Brits and Aussies and Kiwis went decades ago and the sentries on the gate looked far too young to ask.  We found the officers’ mess, a comfortable looking building, and hung around for a few minutes in the hope of talking to someone. The outdoor tables were beautifully set, but the place was deserted and we gave up.

Despite discovering nothing of relevance to that short period of my childhood, we enjoyed both towns. They seem quintessentially Malaysia, and after a few days on the road in SE Asia we felt comfortable poking around the markets, museums and eating at the hawkers’ stalls.

Notes from the Road – Ipoh to Penang

Street scene - Taiping
 

Once you get used to the heat, humidity and thunderstorms, this is easy cycling. We stuck to Highway 1 pretty much all the way, and it’s flat with just one exception. North of the Perak royal town of Kuala Kangsar, there is one stretch of stiff uphill which probably lasts 20 minutes. At that point it runs parallel to and right alongside the E1 motorway. Highway 1 varies in traffic density, with some quiet patches but mostly it’s reasonably constant. The only issue we had was with trucks coming up behind us on narrow bridges - a mirror might be handy.



Soft boiled eggs presented with a cup -
break them into the cup and drink.

Yum.. mantis shrimp

Soon after our arrival in Penang - enjoying a seafood lunch
with new friends.

The grave of an unidentified
Indian soldier in the
Commonealth War Cemetery, Taiping.

Taiping's undercover market - in a big, tin-roofed shed.

Why Go Cycle Touring

"I would rather endure a hundred thousand cold Russian winters than do what you are doing,” Gabi – new friend in Kuala Lumpur – on cycle touring.  

“If after 30 kilometres it is abhorrent, abort it,” Malaysian High Court judge and friend of our KL hosts comments on our plans to cycle in Malaysia.

Campsite, Peloponnese, Greece

“The more I ride the bike the more I enjoy it,” Judy the Stoker.


A bike is a great way to break down cultural and social barriers.
 The staff  in this Malaysian eatery could hardly believe their eyes
when we climbed off the bike, and we enjoyed chatting to them.

A quiet road, the faint hum of the tyres, the occasional chatter of monkeys or the screech of unseen birds - this is cycle touring in Malaysia. We’ve barely touched down in South East Asia, but already we’re finding it warm, exotic, friendly and certainly cheap after Europe.

It’s a bit more than six months since we set out from Bridgwater in England, we’ve ridden more than 5,000 km on the tandem and had plenty of time to reflect on whether we made the right decision to leave our careers, pack up our possessions and climb onto a bike with just four panniers and a tent.

Dancing on the streets of Corfu's old town.

Several people have questioned us recently – why, they’ve asked, would you want to give up the comforts and security of home to go traipsing around on a bike. It’s a good question, and deserves a good answer but as the round the world cyclist Anne Mustoe once said, every time she was asked the question she gave a different answer and they were all valid.

Here are some of our reasons:


Cloud formation, Italy

Cycle touring is cheap - cyclists travel slowly and the more slowly you travel the lower are the costs.

Cycle touring gives cyclists the opportunity to be part of the environment – instead of gazing at it from behind a vehicle’s windows.

Cycling keeps you fit.

 A bicycle is a social leveller - it is a humble form of transport and no-one feels threatened by your presence. A touring bike with its panniers is almost guaranteed to start a conversation that begins with the question, “where are you from?”

Cycling is a very practical form of transport – cyclists don’t carry bus timetables, they just ride when it suits them.

On a more personal level, the why question can be answered like this:

Along the way we have met and made
new friends - with Rosi and Klaus in Vienna on his birthday.

We are both in our 60s and have spent most of our adult lives working – it was time for a change.

It had been years since either of us had done any serious travelling – we had some catching up to do.We chose to leave our careers while we were still performing, rather than wait for the day when someone considered we were over the hill.

Cycling - as mentioned above – is a cheap(ish) form of travel and we felt we could afford it. 

Pausing on a French canal.  Approaching is an English couple who gave us a pair of pliers to add to our tool kit. We still have them.

Given our ages, we needed to start sooner rather than later if we were to have the energy and fitness we would need.

After six months, the reasons for cycling are as valid as ever, and we can both say we are enjoying it even more than we had dared hope. It comes with a wonderful sense of freedom and there is the daily satisfaction of sweeping along a road and into a town where our only concerns are simple ones - what shall we eat, where shall we stay, are we too hot or too cold. As we put the bike on its stand, more often than not we are greeted with a smile or maybe that question,”where are you from?”

A Greek soldier wipes a guard's face
as he stands rigidly to attention at
 the tomb of the unknown soldier, Athens.

Regrets? Inevitably there are going to be a few. We both miss our families, friends and former colleagues but the internet enables us to keep in touch reasonably well and in a real emergency we can always fly home. We hope that when we do return, we will be more interesting company than when we left.

From a French cyclepath.

And finally on that big question, why are we doing it, perhaps part of the answer is to learn - about other people, their customs and lifestyles and yes (groan) a bit about ourselves. What have we learned about other people so far – that on the whole humankind is made up of decent, good people who want the best for themselves but more especially for their children. If you don’t believe us, just sit down at any food stall here in Malaysia and watch the parents with their kids – the adults attentive, patient and warm. The children boisterous, rowdy and delightful like kids anywhere.  And occasionally, in the midst of the mayhem, a parent will turn to us and ask, ”where are you from?”

How Many Times did you Pee?

Judy's hot coffee arrived with ice floating on top.

The question comes up in the evening, as we relax after our day’s riding.  The answer varies but after three days on the humid roads of Malaysia we know it won’t be many – once when we get up, perhaps once in the early afternoon and then maybe, just maybe, once more.

Another roadside stall and another cold drink.

An ABC - shaved ice, sweet
corn, red beans, fruit juice, colouring,
peanuts and lychees.

It’s astonishing when we add up the litres of fluid we put away – input is not matching output. We each begin with a 650 ml bottle of water before we set out, followed by two cups of tea each after an hour or two on the road.

 

 At lunchtime we often have fresh lime or lemon juice and we make several stops during the day at roadside stalls to guzzle on fresh coconut milk, soya, mango and watermelon juice and something called pingo. Add to that the three and a quarter litres of water (spiked with hydrating salts) that we carry on the bike, plus the three litres we tend to buy around mid-afternoon. It’s an awful lot of fluid.

This time it's a soya drink.

Sometimes after the first question comes another – what colour is it? We’ll spare you the details, but you can probably guess. The only solution seems to be to drink more.



Monsoon, Ipoh, Nov 2012

TANDOIDS

Current Location: Ipoh, Malaysia

Total Distance: 5,518 km

Longest day’s ride: 109.6 km (Malaysia)

State of Backsides: Raw and sore –

too long out of the saddle, and too much humid weather.

Road Kill Sightings (snakes): 8

 NORTH FROM KUALA LUMPUR



Sheltering from the rain on the outskirts of Kuala Lumpur. Judy's in the centre wearing the yellow high viz vest.

We set out from Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia’s largest city, in trepidation but as is so often the way the reality was better than we had dared hope. It was a public holiday so the roads were relatively quiet. We managed to avoid the motorways and found shelter under an overpass when the monsoon rains arrived mid-morning. The most difficult part was avoiding the traffic in the exit lanes on the six lane highway (with median strip) that took us north from the suburb of Ampang, past the Batu Caves and west to Kuala Selangor, where we stayed the night. Day One – 78 km.

The Beast of Burden gets pride of place
in the foyer of the Anson Hotel, Teluk Intan.

In Kuala Selangor, the Beast shared
our bedroom.

 

 

 

 

 

 

We covered more than a hundred kilometres on each of the next two days as we cycled on flat roads from Kuala Selangor to Teluk Intan (overnight stop) and on to Ipoh in Perak State. One stretch of road from Bota Kanan to Parit deserves special mention – it was particularly pretty as it ran alongside the Perak River.

Removed from its thick skin, the Durian looks even less
attractive but we had to give it a try. One man told us that
Durian is like eating apple pie in a public toilet. He was
overrating it.

Durian fruit - almost the size
of a soccer ball and difficult
to get into..