10mm is all it takes.

The HUBB meeting in Chiang Mai was a good event to make a few contacts with fellow overlanders as well as some of the local ExPats who ride out here. I met Jeff who runs a bike shop and we agreed to go on a trail ride out together a few days later. Morgan came along too to make up a gang of two KTM's and one Suzuki DRZ 400.

The HUBB meet

Jeff had a puncture on the ride there so we popped along to the X-Centre, where hungover backpackers like to throw themselves off a crane with an elastic band strapped to their ankles or down a hill in a big inflatable ball.
There were a couple of Pirelli tyres there which would have been suitable for the KTM at £80 for the pair, despite being 10mm undersize on the width. I decided that I would pop back the next day to get them fitted. We all though that 10mm would not make a huge difference.

Back on the dirt at last and despite describing himself as a 'Gentleman Trail Rider', that DRZ can shift. I had fun skidding round corners due to the lack of tread on my existing tyres but succeeded in riding off-road quite quickly without falling off. I was rather pleased with myself.

The next day I popped back to the X-Centre's workshop to change my rubber and stick some heavier fork oil in. The tyres seemed ok despite feeling a little twitchy but I put that down to needing to wear them in a bit.

Sending the lads off to change the tyres, balls to using my tyre levers!

On the ride back into town as I was riding in the outside lane of a dual carriageway in case some bugger pulled out from a side road without looking and some bugger on a scooter pulled out from a side road without looking. I had no warning. The scooter just rode straight across the main road without even looking. If I had been a Thai 4x4 they would have been killed. Luckilly I was a Fallang on a big bike but still T-Boned them and down we all went in a screech of tyres and scraping plastic. I picked myself up off the floor, rather angry, and mouthed off a bit. The scooter was being ridden by a Thai woman who was wearing a helmet. The man, who I think was her husband, on the back had managed to do a complete somersault over my bike but was completely un-injured thanks to the baseball cap that was protecting his skull. He immediately jumped up, shook my hand, then started directing traffic around the scene.

I moved my bike out the road and went back to tend to the woman. She had a sore hip so an ambulance was rung and she was carted off. A policeman also arrived at the scene and indicated that we had to wait for the traffic police. I waited with 'the husband' who seemed unconcered about his missus. His breath stunk of alcohol and he kept shaking my hand. Having heard stories of Westerners involved in accidents where the blame is placed entirely on them despite the circumstances I was wary. 'If you weren't here the accident wouldn't have happened' is apparently the post event report. The policeman wanted to see my driving license so I showed it to him but kept a firm grip so he couldn't confiscate it. I also made sure my keys were safely hidden away.

Eventually the traffic police arrived, took some photos, wrote something in their big book of accidents, asked for my mobile number, told me they would call in a few days, then buggered off. I think they could see that the guy who had been on the back was a bit worse for wear and maybe thought he was the rider. He also hopped on his scooter and wobbled off, leaving me on my own with my damaged bike. Thanks guys! You are a credit to the Thai police force! I counted myself lucky that I had not been carted off to jail though.

The forks were slightly twisted so I got out my tools to re-align them. I had also lost my right wing mirror at last. It has taken some previous abuse before deciding to give up. Whilst tinkering I met a guy who had flown his small plane from Germany to Thailand. That sounded like a paperwork nightmare, especially since he had also brought his dog.

On the way back to the hostel I could hear some rattling from the front and discovered that my headlight had been smashed. I had wondered where the glass in the road had come from and was dissapointed that my Touratech headlight protector was seemingly unable to provide protection from people's heads.

At least I had learnt a new lesson. Despite all my problems on the trip and no matter how stressed I get I always learn something.

The next day Jeff had organised a big bike ride out, eventually getting to the Burmese border to do a visa run. In no particular order there was a Triumph Bonneville, Triumph Tiger, Africa Twin, Harley and Honda Hornet. On the highways I was left behind on the KTM, not having the same top speed, but I could just about keep up with some of the other bikes in the corners. The new tyres felt ok, if a little twitchy. We stopped after a hundred km or so and I discovered my bash plate had lost 4 bolts and was thus only secured by one. The first time that had ever happened.

We stopped that night in Nan and proceeded the next day to Chiang Rai along some quiet country roads. Whilst coming round one corner Jeff decided to stop to take a photo. The Harley in front of me slowed and went round him momentarily blocking my view of Jeff. I braked, not too hard and the front skidded and tucked under on some gravel. I almost ploughed straight into the back of Jeff but he heard me coming and moved forwards a bit more. Apart from a bit of road rash everything was ok. I noticed that I had even captured the event on camera. At least I had learnt another lesson, don't try to keep up and ride too close to your limit. It's very easy when riding with the pack to want to keep the rear brake lights of the guy in front in your sights, especially since I usually ride alone.

Jeff demonstrates which side is supposed to be up when cornering.

We proceeded further on along the roads, this time I was taking it easy. As I rounded one corner coming down a hill I saw the rest of the guys pulled over. I guessed that someone else had had an off so started to slow down. Before I knew it the front had once again tucked under and I was on my arse on the floor. More gravel but I also had another idea as to what was causing it now...

The other biker who had wiped out was One-Armed West. A very good rider on his Honda Hornet despite having only his right arm for control. He had come round the corner and slid on some gravel. His bike had shot 15 foot down the hill after taking out a concrete bollard and he had come to rest 5 feet further down the hill, just missing a crop of freshly cut bamboo.

Mr West plays hide and seek.

He was dragged back up the hill and managed to scare the local populus who had turned up to help when his fake arm popped off. His bike was pulled back up the hill too and loaded into the back of a local pickup truck. He also jumped in the front and was whisked back home to Chiang Mai. Seemingly all he had was a busted hand and some bruising.

A bloody lucky escape!

When we arrived in Chiang Mai we drank and danced the night away then tried to get up early the next morning so that those that had to could nip across the Burmese border on their visa run.

I managed to convince the border guards to let me take my bike across for an hour since I also needed new paperwork for the bike as well as myself. I was waved out of Thailand and let into Burma. A not very official looking offical in an office made me pay 50p for insurance for my bike. At another office some more people made me pay 50p again for what they seemed to describe as a permit for my bike. They then wanted about 40p for a scrap of paper with my registration number written on it. I got bored with the 'paying for paper' game so took it and just rode off. A policeman told me I was only allowed about 5km into Burma so off I went expecting to find a checkpoint down the road. 10km later and there was no checkpoint so I stopped in a field to take a photo of a confused looking man with some cows. I then rode back to the border.

Although I didn't venture very far, Burma seemed like a cross between Cambodia and India. Road rules were out the window and the horn is man's greatest invention. At least I had earned a sticker for the bike. I've now ridden in every adjacent country between here and the UK.

New sticker covering up the road rash.

I rode back to Chiang Mai and straight to a guesthouse. I was shattered so pretty much went straight to bed. The next day I went to treat my bike to a good clean at the local Shell petrol station. I also wanted to change my tyres back to my well work Metzlers which had lasted since Iran. Despite being only 10mm smaller and looking fine, the Pirrelli's just weren't grippy enough, also possibly since they were a slightly harder compound. I also repaired my headlight and various other bits. I'm becoming a master of bodgery. Thankyou to Ian for letting me use his workshop!

I'm going to set off South tomorrow. I think I've overstayed my welcome in Northern Thailand. It's too easy to travel here. I need some stress and adventure again.

Bordering Insanity

I got up early the next day. I had been given directions to a farm where there were lots of cow bones. My plan was to get a set of horns to attach to my bike to neutralise the effect of the tigers and squeaky horn. Upon arrival I was greeted by rather a apprehensive herd of cows standing next to a cage of their brethren's bones and carcasses. I decided against getting a set of horns since they looked a bit too maggoty.

Before

After

I then rode North along the same racetrack road that I had ridden last time with Carlos. It was still fantastic.

Together once again, we attempted to visit a long necked tribe village. We followed signs along some dirt tracks and came to an army border post. The soldier on duty was reading a paper but explained to us that the Burmese border was a couple of hundred meters further on.

A lady in a shack wanted 500Baht for us to see the long necked tribes people. We decided against paying for the privilege of taking photos of people.

There was a bridge, it was just more fun to ride through the river.

We set off then to the 'fish caves'. It turned out to be a hollow in a rock with some big fish in it. Pretty much any slightly out of the ordinary feature of the landscape is a big tourist attraction around here.

We camped that night in Pai and set off the next day to follow the Burmese border North. We explored many small mountain roads and camped down a dirt track about 200 metres from the Burmese border according to my GPS. George attempted to set a hammock up between mine and his bike and just ended up pulling mine over.

Whilst creeping through the jungle clutching my roll of toilet paper the next morning on my way to perform my daily ablutions I was wary of any border patrols who might literally catch me with my pants down.

Before we descended from the mountains we took a gander at a big golden buddha and a small fat white one.

Once again we followed a border road and ended up in a very small village with paved roads. An irritated dog with too many pups was the only thing that greeted us.

Shortly after lunch we discovered a burmese military outpost. This was literally the border with Burma. The Burmese had craftily erected sharpened bamboo poles together with tin cans to deter any invasion attempts. The Thai's countered this threat by reversing their giant Humvees with with 50 cal machineguns into covertly into bushes where they could monitor their foes.

George popped over the ditch next to said base to have a look down the hill. Someone shouted out from the Burmese side so we quickly hotfooted away before being arrested as British spies.

A covertly dressed British spy creeping into Burma.

We headed up for a gander at the golden triangle, the cornerstone of Myanmar, Thailand and Laos and what was once the hubb of the Opium trade.

A man from a small shop selling cold drinks demonstrated that it is actually possible to milk a cat. I had always wondered. Strangely the proprietor and the cat looked rather pleased with themselves.

We then followed the Mekong in an attempt to find a beach to camp on. Annoyingly all the good ones seemed to be on the Laos side. We slept in small raised hut used by farmers for their lunch breaks. George reversed over a plastic irrigation pipe so we had to fix it with gaffa tape and rubber gloves. For some reason none of us got a very good nights sleep on the wooden decking.

'Don't worry Morgan, I'm a plumber!'

We headed on down to Chiang Mai stopping at petrol stations to look cool.


At one scenic stop we observed some Thai army scouts being drilled whilst standing in a river whilst confused picnickers looked on. Must be another attempt to fool the Burmese.

Just short of Chiang Mai my bike turned 80,000km old. Thats a lot for a single cylinder thumper. A rebuild will be required in Oz.

In Chiang Mai we met Adam, an Israeli going round the world on a BMW HP2, one cool looking bike. A BMW boxer twin engine in an enduro chassis with a dry weight of only 170kg. Pure offroad power. Me likes!

We went for a Traditional Thai massage. It was more like a beating. I never knew my feet could touch the back of my head.


Tonight is a Horizons Unlimited meeting, there are a few overlanders in town so it will be good to share stories and photos.

 
And despite the horrendous amount of time it takes me, I'm trying to add photos with my entries from now on. Here's are a few artsy shots I did on a beach.

 

 

Breakfast In Burma

The parts I had been waiting for arrived just in time, a new chain and sprocket set and some new front brake pads, thanks to Darren at Redline in the UK for sending stuff once again.

Once everything was sorted, together with yet more crazy modifications, a new chain oiling device - the mechanic must be fed up of creating crazy contraptions for me, I set off back to the the tourist area. Whilst sat having a beer with Marc who should happen to wander past but John and Bev, a couple from the UK on their way to New Zealand. It's funny how we overlanders keep bumping into one another unexpectedly.

I set off early the next morning with just enough time to get to the Burmese border before my visa expired. Although I could have extended it in Bangkok it would have cost me about 30 Euros, plus I couldn't be bothered with the hassle.

I arrived in Mae Sot after about 600km on the road and found a cheap guesthouse, a room with a bed and a fan. The next morning I left my luggage in the room to pop over the border for an hour and get a new visa.

At the border I was told that I wasn't allowed to take my bike over by the Thai immigration, I think I was, but they couldn't be bothered with the paperwork. I set off on foot over yet another 'friendship bridge' and was immediately joined by a Burmese man who started telling me things about Burma.

He pointed out the people crossing the river below on their daily commute to work from Burma to Thailand in giant tractor tyre inner tubes. They Thai's had conveniently built some concrete steps to facilitate their illegal commute. Apparently it costs 30 Baht to get across. I might try it sometime.

The other way from Burma into Thailand

About halfway over the bridge and I was beginning to wonder whether he would want money for being my guide, so I asked him. He said he did not and we walked the rest of the way to the checkpost in awkward silence where he promptly disappeared.

At the immigration office I had to pay 500 Baht (10Euros) for my visa. The officer proudly handed me a scrap of paper with my passport number scribbled on it. They would keep my passport until I returned.

I trudged off in full motorcycle gear to explore the dusty, noisy border town. Once again the locals wondered who the oddly dressed idiot was. I just smiled like the idiot I was.

I found a coffee shop so sat people watching for half an hour. A lot of the Burmese had ochre coloured face paint on. Others seemed to have half wiped it off so they looked unwashed.

I exchanged 100 Thai Baht for an unknown exchange rate and was given a few notes in exchange. This was plenty to pay for some cigar type things they were selling and a fried samosa. I still don't know what's in the cigars, they looked similar to Cuban ones but have rolled leaves inside. It wasn't until after I had crossed back into Thailand that I realised I may have smuggled some sort of drug across. It turns out that after trying them with Morgan and George that they are just very bad cigars akin to eating a piece of charcoal.

I quickly got bored of wondering round in the increasing heat and traffic chaos and set off back to the border. Burma is indeed the missing link between India and Thailand. I handed back my 'visa' in return for my passport and was armed with a fresh 15 day Thai visa on the other side of the bridge.

Back at the guesthouse I packed up my bike, went for a quick coffee and set off North along a road next to the Burmese border. I had originally planned to head to Sukkothai, some ancient ruins, but realising that there was a less travelled road decided to take that instead. Sukkothai can wait, once again, until I travel South again.

The road was almost perfect. Lots of twists and turns and a few potholes on the more remote stretches. For the first time ever I got travel sickness on a bike due to all the turns.

Tomorrow I will catch up with George and Morgan who are about 150km North of me and we will head up to the Golden Triangle, the corner of Laos, Thailand and Burma, for a gander. I shall also try to get deeper into Burma at some point, possibly from one of the border crossings further South.

Also at some point I intend to write a detailed description of why I hated India. I have had many arguments and conversations with people on the subject. It seems it's the country people either love or love to hate.

There Is No Snow Here!

We explored Ko Chang on our bikes. The other western tourists there attempted to do the same on rented scooters. A lot of them failed and fell off whilst wearing only shorts and sandals. We got some funny looks for wearing full bike gear, they bragged to each other over broken arms and sprained ankles.

Whilst Morgan and I were trying to circumnavigate the island using an old abandonned road we came across a completely isolated beach. It was polulated by a Thai man who lived in a hammock with a big stick to poke down the abundant coconuts from the palms and 3 germans who had only managed to get there in a boat.

There was a small tidal lagoon and Morgan and I frollicked in the current. Whilst Morgan attempted to dig a big hole, I set off on a mission to capture a hermit crab on a rock. I succeeded, but slipped and got a nasty gash on my toe. I stood on the rock for 10 minutes, bleeding profusely and pondering how to disembark without causing further injury. I failed and fell off anyway slicing my foot open even more. I was now able to blend in with the other tourists as I limped around.

New Years Eve saw a huge party on the beach to celebrate the blue moon. I'm sure the moon was impressed with all the drunken teenagers dancing to trance music until dawn.

George, Mena, Morgan and I set off back to Bangkok a few days later, we decided to pop down Koa San road, the major tourist district for a bit of attention and a beer.

I stayed back at Apple Guesthouse where Marc turned up the next day. After speaking to Carlos on New Years Eve he is racing down South to Australia since he only has 2 months left before he needs to be back home.

I showed Marc and Dirk (another German overlander) to Red Baron. We passed through a police roadblock where they tried to wave us over. Not being in the mood to have to pay money for we kept going. Bikes are supposed to keep to the left and ride in the gutter, a perfectly safe place to ride at 50 mph! There are no distinctions between scooters and big bikes that can actually out perform cars here. There is also no concept of advanced defensice riding from the police. We managed to ride through the same roadblock 3 times, each time riding around a policeman who jumped in front of the bikes.

We explored many of the shopping malls and once again spent much too much money. Elvis (a KTM rider who I met in Rishikesh in India) and I got stickers made for our bikes. I now have the flags of all the countries on the front of the bike like a decorated veteran soldier's ribbons.

I visited an overly expensive aquarium for something to do whilst I waited for my new chain and sprockets to arrive from the UK. I was particularly impressed with the golfish tank made from a microwave. I got a fish foot massage, where small fish will eat the dead skin from your feet. I caused a frenzy in the tank with an iritated mosquito bite which they loved, so much so that they caused it to bleed.

Myy old chain and sprockets are in serious need of replacing after being dragged down the road in Northern Thailand. The replacements have been delayed due to carrier incompetence and the weather in Europe, but I have just literally recieved word that they have arrived so I am off to battle the traffic and police and head on to Red Baron so that I can set off North.

Happy New Year!

Angkor What?

I set off at dawn from Prostituteville towards Siem Reap (Translation : Siamese Defeated), the city next to the Temples of Angkor. The roads were pretty hairy and very reminiscent of being in India again. The Cambodians drive big jeeps way too fast. I almost witnessed a young girl get killed when she ran out into the road. Luckily the oncoming car swerved towards me instead. Most Cambodians seem to be very young, which goes some way to explaining the road behaviour, but there aways seems to be a correlation between crap roads and crap driving. I guess the older 'dangerous' citizens were killed off by the Khmer Rouge. 

I arrived at about lunchtime and decided to have a drink in a cafe and decide what to do. I knew that the ancient city of Angkor was pretty big and thought it might be possible to camp somewhere. I set off to have a gander and rode down the main road where I was immediately flagged down by a guy with a walkie talkie. He told me to go back and buy a ticket for $20. Since Angkor covers a huge area there are numerous entrances, Cambodians who live in the area go in and out as they please. Us walking cash machines can't. I decided to nip down some dirt roads and avoid getting a ticket, for now. My GPS has every single dirt track and road in the area on, thus I was able to circumnavigate around him and emerge from the jungle to found some sort of ruins. Another guy with a walkie talkie immediately stopped me. I heard the word 'moto' mentioned by someone on the other side. Bugger, these guys were organised. 

I went back to get a ticket. I could easily afford it, I just enjoy playing KTM hide and seek in the jungle. They took my photo for said ticket. I looked like a crazy renegade who had just emerged from a jungle, exactly the look I had been going for. 

I was then approached by a policeman who told me no big motos in the park or no tourists on motos or something but the jist was that I wasn't allowed in. The locals on their bikes together with an obscene amount of Japanese tourists in huge air-conditioned buses and many many tuk tuks were. I turned on the charm, no success. I honked my squeaky horn - always good for a giggle and guaranteed to crack a smile on all but the most hardened of war vets, no success. I offered to 'buy' a ticket for my bike, no success. I told him my name was Indiana Jones - this held no sway. In the end I agreed to take my bike back to my hotel and go on a tour. 

I lied. 

Once again using the amazing maps on my GPS I rode 100 metres back down the rode, found a dirt track and went around the ticket office and the policeman. They should not underestimate the power of a KTM with a Garmin.

I was now able to explore at my leisure, sort of. I decided to go to Angkor Wat first (the big famous one where I have been reliably informed that they filmed streetfighter or Mortal Combat or some sort of 90's movie based on a video game - thanks Roger!) At the checkpoint where they check your tickets I was shown somewhere to park. I would then have to walk about 1 km with lots of bike gear on, leaving my loaded bike there. I decided that I was too lazy to do such a thing and also wanted a photo of my bike in front of the temple so I sweet talked the gatekeeper into letting me go further - like the locals are allowed to do. After 20 minutes I was getting nowhere so ignored him and rode on anyway.

Angkor Wat loomed through the jungle. Words cannot do it justice. I parked my bike round the other side and took a few photos, all the while expecting police to turn up and drag me away. They didn't.

I spent the rest of the afternoon exploring small jungle tracks. Most of the gatekeepers didn't care that I was visiting and stood in awe of the bike. I was asked a million times where I came from and how much it cost but unlike India I managed to maintain a cheery face.

Japanese tourists asked if I was riding a Honda or a Yamaha. None had never heard of KTM. I think they were a bit dissapointed.

Exploring Angkor was possibly one of the best days ive had this trip. Even though I didn't really go into any of the ruins, just discovering them on the bike (and avoiding the police) was exciting enough. 

Shortly after sunset I gave up on the idea of camping and was in dire need of a cold shower so I headed back into town and found a nice guesthouse. Feeling hungry I went to the restaurant and after browsing the menu asked whether 'Crispy Ant Bruschetta's' were what I thought they were. They were. I just hoped that they were all dead as I munched them.

The next day I decided to explore the temples a bit more intimately, leaving all my luggage back at the hotel so nothing could get nicked. At the ticket office I met 'PC no big noisy KTM's'. I ignored him this time and rode around anyway. The day wasn't as exciting as the previous where things were brand new, but I did wonder around inside some of the temples. Sadly I didn't get to go into the big Angkor Wat since there were lots of policemen there who just kept telling me to go away, but after a few hours I got bored of looking at ancient piles of bricks so headed back to the guesthouse about lunchtime.

I took some small dirt tracks back where I encountered my first collision of the trip. Two cows were having a scrap at the side of the road and for some reason I just rode past intrigued, until one decided to bolt across the road in front of me. I clipped his arse and fell off, not going too fast though. Stupid bovine, stupid me.

My plan was to set off early the next day back into Thailand then down to Ko Chang where I could meet up with George and Morgan again for New Years.

It was a straight road to the border, about 160km. There were lots of policemen stood along the road which I thought was strange. Maybe they were trying to stop me from escaping. It was not long before I hit a road block. The king is visiting until 11am someone explained. Bugger, a 3 hour wait. Once again Garmin came to the rescue and showed a 40km detour along some back roads. I set off down some rubbish tracks through tiny villages. 1 1/2 hours later and I emerged back onto the main road, just behind the opposite road block where people were waiting looking rather frustrated. I waved at the policemen and set off again to the border.

I was successfully stamped out of Cambodia and didn't bother going to Cambdoian customs. I just rode straight into Thailand where I was stopped at a checkpoint. The guys here were ridiculously friendly, arranging the insurance that I was supposed to have for £5 for 3 months and sorting out the required import docs. I was there probably 2 hours and they gave me bottles of water and some food.

Once legally back in Thailand, this time only with a 15day visa I set off south to Ko Chang. I arrived at the ferry terminal as the sun was setting, thinking that I might have missed the last ferry, luckily I hadn't. I found the huts George and Morgan were staying in together with Elvis, another KTM rider who I met back in India and a couple from Europe who have driven their 4x4 here through Kazakhstan, Mongolia and China.

Anyway we got drunk that night and since there were no more rooms available I kipped in Morgan's hammock. Here there are the usual things to do, beaches to lie on, beer to drink, food to eat. I don't feel as restless as I did in Laos either, I could quite happily do nothing all day here.

Christmas in Cambodia

Don Det is a curious island. The locals have built some fantastic little wooden bungalows for the tourists, yet are still determined to live in half finished shacks with their entire family. They do all have satelite tv stolen from Thailand though!

Don Det is now home to the Australian Baker. He runs a bakery. The slogan is 'anything can happen at the bakery'. His banana and chocolate donuts and Foccacia bread have earnt him the status of 'the devil' from me. We tried to enquire how he ended up baking donuts on an island in the middle of the Mekong. He replied that it was a long story. I like to think that he was either abducted by aliens or woke up in the bakery after a stag party and decided to stay. Maybe we will never know.

I spent my time on Don Det dossing in a hammock and exploring the island with the Fairy girl from Brighton. Once Carlos left I had the largest vehicle there but it's healthier and a bit more fun to explore on one of the many bicycles for hire. I met a guy from the UK who had the idea of getting a canoe and powering up the Mekong. I was tempted to sell my bike and attempt it. Turns out its not possible due to the numerous waterfalls which cause obstructions.

Since there were quite a few Europeans on the island, Christmas was celerated on the 24th. The Australian had managed to get hold of a goat with the plan of a spit roast. The goat must have been privy to these plans and promtly escaped. The locals brought two more goats which were duly slaughtered and eaten.

Some Israelis decided to celebrate Christmas by roasting a Pig on a BBQ on the beach. The Irony was lost on a lot of people.

After 3 days of doing not very much and eating donuts at every opportunity I decided to leave. It happened to be Christmas day. My plan was to cross the border into Cambodia, get a ferry across the Mekong, then get lost in the Jungle on my way to Siem Reap.

The border was pretty straight forwards. Laos customs just stamped my carnet without looking at my bike then waved me over the border. On the Cambodian side I had to have a health-check under an umbrella at the side of the road before being allowed any further. The doctor instructed me to 'stabilise my temperature' before poking a thermometer in my ear. Despite my sweating in the sun it seemed to be stable enough and I was declared pig/swine/Sars flu free. He then demanded $1US for his efforts. I paid because I've never had a private health-check before and thought it would look good on my CV.

I then got to go and get my Cambodian visa. Whislt waiting I was sent to customs. I asked nicely if I could please bring my motorbike in. The official in a large armchair asked to see my Carnet, looked a bit confused, then handed it back and said yes. Best customs official in the world.

Once I had my visa I needed to get it stamped. I had to pay 1$US for this which I did not have since I had given all my short change to the doctor and the guys handing out visas. They didnt seem fussed and stamped anyway. This was corruption in its laziest form.

30 minutes after turning up and I was free to do a little wheelie and zip down into Cambodia.

At the first city I found petrol but no ferry as promised. I rode up and down the bank of the Mekong trying to find it with no joy. I then decided to head back to the main road so took a gravel path that eventually became a very small sand track. It went on for 10km back to the main road. There was lots of sand and I managed to perfect riding sideways whilst my legs flailed uselessly. The guy who was following me on his scooter with his 80 year old mother on the back must have been impressed.

Upon finding the highway I rode about 400km till I got here. Some small town next to the Mekong. It feels homely because there are lots of old Germans and Prostitutes. It seems to be a good combination in South East Asia.

Anyway I'm sat in a rather nice Cafe covered in moths and have just had a nice steak and numerous beers. Maybe it was a good thing I couldn't find the ferry and get lost in the Jungle, then again, maybe not.

Merry Christmas.

Lounging in Laos

The Thai side of the border was very easy considering how long it had taken us to get our bikes in. They just stamped us out and waved us across 'Friendship Bridge 2' across the Mekong. In Laos we had to buy visas for $35US then figure out how to get our bikes in. We had none of the paperwork they were expecting, so had to speak to the chief of customs who agreed that we should use our Carnet de Passages. His minions didn't seem to fully comprehend his instructions and had no idea what to do. We got pretty frustrated with them until one of them walked past with a huge bag of donuts. We quickly bought them all and sat scoffing whilst the customs guys looked confused. Once we were full of sugar and feeling better we managed to get them to do what they had to do and could ride off into Laos.

We set off to the capital, Vientiene, about 20km away, to decide whether we should stay there or keep going. The city was pretty relaxed and felt like a communist version of Paris spread out along the Mekong. We had a coffee in a quaint cafe and decided to push on. The road was calling.

The main highway through Laos is in reasonably good condition, although chickens, goats, cows and dogs make it pretty interesting sometimes. We stopped at a small shop in a village for a drink. About 30 kids suddenly appeared and sat watching and giggling. If they had sung it would have been like the Sound of Music. An old drunk man kept pestering us about the bikes and giggling then taking photos with his cameraphone. A man with no hands turned up and I got Carlos to roll him a cigarette. The message was clear though, with all the unexploded bombs thanks to the American secret war of the 70's there would be no offroading, berry picking or sneaky wees in the bush here or in Cambodia. Thankyou America for ruining yet another country.

We stopped in a gueshouse a little further down the road and tried to get to the Mekong to take a photo of the beautiful sunset over the river. We failed and I ended up with a rather nice photo of the sunset down the road. We found an ATM where Carlos gave me some money back in repayment of what I had leant him. He gave me 150,000 Kip. I thought this was equivalent to about 180 Euros. It turned out to be about 18 Euros. Sneaky Spanish! 

The next day we rode 561km, crossing half of Laos. The road followed the Mekong, but from a distance so it was not always visible. The scenery was very reminiscent of when I was last in Northern Australia, I guess theyre at the same Lattitude. We stopped that night in Pakse, a small town next to the Thai border, and went out for some food. Laos is so laid back and relaxed compared to Thailand that we had to go and find the waiter, I think he was sleeping. I orderred a burger, when it came I ate it in 3 bites. It was tiny. Stupid French influence, although I quite like the baguettes everywhere and amazing pastries!

Since we had crossed Laos in 2 days straight, I decided to go to the 4000 Islands, essentially a cluster of islands in the middle of the Mekong on the Laos / Cambodian border. We went to the largest island, Don Khong (Donkey Kong) aboard a small ferry that we had to haggle for a decent price. The ferry was about 50 years old and powered by a smaller boat strapped to the side. It sat at a funny angle in the water.

Carlos is not impressed with the ferry.

The island was about 18km long and 5km wide. We found a guesthouse and a Fairy girl from Brighton who plays the Eucalaylie. We all rode across the island to watch the sunset on the opposite shore. Curious young kind surrounded our bikes. The next day I wanted to visit the next islands along which were smaller and more touristy with the view of possibly spending Christmas there. We got the ferry back to the mainland and set off to first find an ATM. That took several hours. My GPS claimed there was an ATM in the middle of a field. I need to stop following the bloody thing.

Eventually, after getting enough money, we tried to get across to the island, Don Det. There was no big ferry this time, and we had to ride up and down the shore trying to find a small boat suitable for our bikes. What we found was essentially two canoes strapped together with decking across the top and an outboard motor on a stick. Perfect. Again we haggled the price down a bit to about 10 Euros for 2 bikes and rode up a plank where we could perch on the deck.

Onboard, eventually.

The landing beach.

On the other side of the waterway we were deposited on a beach. It felt a bit like Saving Private Ryan, only confused tourist looked down from the overlooking cafes and wondered who the idiots were.  The sidestand on my bike almost gave way when we were getting Carlos' bike off. Luckily none of us ended up in the Mekong.

I'm currently staying in a small hut occupied by a bed, a mosquito net and a light bulb together with numerous insects, frogs and lizards. There is a hammock on the front porch and i'm paying about 2 Euros a night. I've decided to spend Christmas here rather than race across Cambodia. I'll try my hand at this relaxing lark, I'm not very good at it. There are a lot of gap year guys here looking to 'find themselves'. They spend the day drinking beer and lazing in tubes in the Mekong. I woke up early to see Carlos off as he races South then spent my day repairing a puncture.

After Christmas I want to ride through Cambodia to Siem Riep, or Angkor Wat, the massive abandoned ancient city. I've been told of a dirt track that goes practically all the way there through the jungle. It took 2 guys on a moto taxi 10 hours. Should be easy for a KTM.

Oh, and Merry Christmas.