Bamboo Odyssey | Bamboo Odyssey

Benalla Ensign

Jules — Sat, 16 Aug 2014 20:42:41 +0000

Australian greetings

Jules — Mon, 11 Aug 2014 02:18:04 +0000

Twenty one countries by bicycle, twenty one nationalities where all people seem happy to greet us. On a loaded touring bike the vast majority of people lose their road rage and antagonism towards the bicycle. We receive waves, gentle toots of horns, ( though they don’t sound so gentle, the toot toot of a truck horn in a kilometre long tunnel!) smiles, shouts of hello, hallo, bravo, squeals of delight, children running, high fives, the occasional hand clap…..and waving. Each country in turn had its own style of hand waving, perhaps differing slightly from country to country but each wave each hand greeting remains homogeneous amongst the residents. Yes, the hand waves remained the same unless a thumbs up was thrown into the equation.
Not so in Australia.
We have received, thumbs up, and then, like a lazy drawl….the pointing finger raised slowly off the steering wheel… also twinkle fingers where five fingers wave reminiscent of a wiggling spider. Thumbs up again, with pointed finger, sometimes thumb following pointed finger in a sideways arch like pointing a gun harmlessly to the side.
Many of the truckies like to use their entire arm, outstretched clenched fist, there is the outstretched arm, splayed fingers, and then there is the military salute.
There is the frantic wave, arms and hands flying widely in case we do not see them, waves common from backpackers, in combi vans close to bursting or from kids gazing at us as cars overtake. The queens wave, stiff arm, fingers, hand moving, rotating side to side.
There is the “rock on” thumb and little finger….the shoulder and hand lift like WTF?,… and you are definitely loopy with finger doing circles close to the temple….and the singular head nod.
Australians greetings are as diverse and sweet as the fruit handed out of car windows to travelling cyclists. Happiness, sharing, recognition, strangers, a wave hello or goodbye keeps our morale strong.

A long time coming

Jules — Sun, 10 Aug 2014 00:25:28 +0000

“Nullarbor”…”you must be careful”….”crazy”….”how will you carry water?” “Isolation”, “Road trains” references to Wolf Creek and our worst nightmares. 1215km, a distance similar as that of John O’groats to Lands End, ( the length of the UK) the Eyre Highway, across the Nullarbor Plain is an iconic route crossing the largest limestone karst formation in the world with 10 roadhouses breaking the gaps of perceived isolation. Depending upon who you talk to it is flat, never ending, tiresome and boring…..dangerous…..or it is a place of unmarked beauty…perhaps it is a place to find yourself? Well….I wasn’t lost….but perhaps stripped bare, incredibly happy, serene, entertained, entertaining, challenged and we both have come out the other end wanting more. Anyway it is hard to get lost when there is only one sealed road for the entire 1200 plus kilometres.
We left the western gateway town, Norseman as the sun shone through a light fog and we wobbled with as much food provisions as we could carry…just carry! We had added at least an additional 10 kilograms to our usual 30 kilograms of kit, food and water. It would be almost 200km to Balladonia, the first roadhouse yet we knew we would get water from a station a short distance off the highway after 100km. Fraser Range is a working station and caravan park with amazing hospitality, the cheapest….but very limited food supplies…in the next 1100km. Limited, but we were able to purchase some baked beans and frozen bread. We rolled into the station early morning and were very keen to stay for the beauty and friendliness and curious but wary glances of the wild emus. We were welcome to make ourselves a cuppa, use the kitchen, despite only passing through. Fortunately we carried so much food as the roadhouses had bugger all, with us sometimes begging fresh food from their kitchens rather than subsist on dry goods alone. And of course the Grey Nomads frequently gifted us with fresh fruit, and even cooked meals and beer and wine.
Initially our desire was to make haste…time ticking and a vast distance for this section of our journey, let alone final destination, Sydney. It is not easy for us to make haste on the Nullarbor. It is mesmerising, ever changing, perfect camping, discreet and safe. Moody skies, ablaze at sunrise, sunset, 360 degree views changing by the second, clouds forming, disbanding, chasing shadows. Most nights, sometimes the morning too, we relaxed and found warmth around a camp fire. The first 2 nights the mercury dropped to below zero and our sleeping breath froze to morph our tent into solid panels rather than flowing folding fabric, as we packed up camp. The day temperatures were between 16 and 28 degrees however being plagued by wind day in day out, when off the bikes we were chilly. Head winds were mild and we plodded along. Tail winds…..ferocious, huddled behind any shelter we could find when requiring breaks, yet mammoth 30-40km/hr intervals on a fully loaded tour bike felt epic.
Cross winds, much of the time they did not hinder or assist our progress, yet one day as Li was blown into the gravel verge, followed by witnessing a monster road train blown into the verge, we continued on a rutted side track to Nundroo roadhouse where we took refuge, alternating between the restaurant and tent as rain and wind pounded sideways. We waited a day and a half for the weather to become safe enough to ride.
Before Nundroo, there was a day when the clouds miraculously disappeared, the sun in all it’s glory, a tail wind directed us 12km off the Highway to the Head of Bight. Southern Right whales….about 30 incredible creatures with calves frolicking in the shelter of a bay, we spent the day captivated at their breaching, tail lollops, spy hopping (google it) and gentle surfacing. Several times we tried to leave before being spell bound once again. All this in view of the Bunda cliffs to the west and post card white sand dunes and beaches to the east.
The Bunda cliffs stretch for 200km, as if a monster has taking a whopping bite to create a fantastic coastline that left us constantly in awe.
One day we deviated from the highway in search of a cyclists’ log book. Take an unmarked track between kilometre marking x and y until you reach the end of the world, the cliffs and absolute isolation, flat and treeless, howling winds, mist and spray from the crashing waves 90 meters below. Turn left and after 3 kilometres dig up fence post number 3. We dug….no log book, but fulfilled of our wildest fantasies. The salt bush and wild flowers highlighted in all their magnificent as the sun started to dip. We hastily made camp as nature raged about us and the tent our only shelter.
I spotted 2 red eyes with my flashlight. Still dark when we rose, the wind was still fierce but a visit by a dingo kept our spirits high….and wary, so that it would not steal our shoes or other possessions as it circled us for around an hour before disappearing at first light.
There are tablelands, drastic drops to flat costal plain, old ruins of the first settlers, vandalised emergency telephones, no telephone signal, no internet, dog proof fences, rabbit proof fences, rabbits and road killed dogs. Mostly there are no fences.
We cycled Australia’s longest straight stretch of road without a bend for 146 kilometres. I was sad as we finally came to our first turn after 2 days of riding. We had hoped to cycle this stretch in a day but did not bother to push as the morning brought a headwind upon us. Everything happens so quickly, the mind wanders for an instance and when you take a look out at the world again, minuscule trees, grass, the lighting, something has again changed momentously, everything is growing larger as the plain becomes more barren for a time.
I absolutely love the open roads, long distances and isolation. On the Nullabour I felt absolute peace, no fear, no longing, no missing, I felt exhilarated and alive…and I felt I was on a dance floor, intoxicated, whole, on this open road I found a euphoria that fills me the more frequently I live and continue to ride.

Augusta and Grey Nomads

Jules — Thu, 29 May 2014 14:04:22 +0000

We sped towards the most south western point of Australia. National Park Rangers had warned us of approaching adverse weather and rather than bulk and tie down in another perfect wilderness campground we wanted to watch the approaching storm from where the 2 oceans meet.
The wind howled….primarily from behind. Sun came and went behind grey forlorn clouds that moved swiftly above us. Eucalypts debris littered the roads and was caught in swirling eddies that lapped at our tyres, chased our tyres and then died into silence….before another onslaught from yet another direction.
As usual I was behind but I was bubbling with energy and excitement as the weather fuelled me and my imagination…..so yes….I sped on.
Cycle touring for as long as we have, it is far easier to brace whatever Mother Nature throws at us, rejoice in it…..or rather we could complain about the weather and go home.
We didn’t complain…but we did appreciate the undercover bbq’s and steaming hot showers upon arrival at Augusta…..then we waited. I rode 3km mostly uphill for a goon bag……snuggled inside a cosy tent, red wine and listening, feeling, while remaining dry…a raging downpour. Perfect thoughts….but as I left the bottle shop the heavens opened….someone up there with a multitude of buckets….thrown sideways with the gusts of wind that left me struggling to take a straight return route to our sweet home for the night. But no worries….until the last speed hump….goon bag launches up and over my basket, upon the ground like a burst dam trailing rivers of red…and the torrent running into the guzzling gutter that has no right to my hard earned imaginings of the indulgent night ahead.
One of the pleasures of traveling in Australia is meetings with The Gray Nomads….if you are not sure of these travellers the bumper sticker “adventure before dementia” sums them up nicely . When not towing a caravan these nomads will happily take their robust 4wd back up the 3km hill ignoring the onslaught of argameddon to collect another bag of red wine….if asked nicely…or assuming a look of soggy desperation.
So the storm came and went overnight….and it came and went again during the daylight. We strolled the rugged coast, then inland for 18km after a peaceful
nights sleep…. Perhaps I am use to the tent in all weather….perhaps it was the wine….and the coast, the forests, the giants, beloved karri….I would cycle 15000 km again for the love of it.

Goon bags and glamping

Jules — Tue, 20 May 2014 01:35:44 +0000

Another day setting off from Walpole towards a cyclist only hut 55km further east along the Munda Biddi
trail. We had slept the night by the inlet in the shelter of a gas BBQ picnic spot, happily dry packing up as the rain set in. The Munda Biddi is a mountain bike track crisscrossing through beautiful karri forests of giants, and scrubby sandy plains and mysterious grass trees …..on a fully loaded touring bike this is slow hard work. The rain became heavier in sync with the heaviness in our legs. When not slipping the track sucks at our tyres depleting us of energy. Downhill the rear tyres fish tailed and slid….on steep inclines the tyres slipped in pea gravel and sand. Maybe pea gravel is a mountain bikers delight…..it makes me quiver. There was a lot of determination, pushing….and yet incredible reward for every movement forward. South Western Australia is a cycle tourists’ dream….beautiful beyond imaginings.
After 10 km we decided to change course and head for the highway. We have to make Albany in time for Nick who has joined us for a stint, to catch a bus back to Perth and his return flight to the UK. So we will take the highway and head for a much recommended camp site on the rugged coast. We are drenched but increase our speed dramatically. It’s warm enough and our spirits are high as we leave a trail of spray lost into oblivion by overtaking vehicles.
Nick suggests we ask a campground if we can use their kitchen for shelter. Li and I are not that keen as it’s early and we want to make a few more kilometres towards our next home for the night. We reluctantly agree to our friend’s request….and quickly become soft. A wee bit of luxury quickly consumes. We meet Gareth the caretaker and share our meals. He whips out some wine and we are easily persuaded to join him. But we decline his wine in preference to depleting our own supply and to shed some weight….maybe 6 litres of wine is what slowed us down on the Munda Biddi? Yes we still carry the equivalent in water. Our route avoids towns for many days at a time and we like the luxury of a tipple at the end of a day. Aussie prices have proved expensive so we have found a taste for cheap sweet red in a “goon bag”….my sister says I have morphed into a bogan…..4 plus litres of cheap wine in a box and plastic bladder….we are fond of our goon bags. Less glass, more liquid. Anyway I am blissfully happy to go slow and merry amidst mother nature’s finest.
So we drink wine, share bread and are offered Gareth’s luxurious carpeted tent…..what the heck….let’s stay…..the rain will hide our pristine coast until another day and time is less precious having gained 2 days via the highway.
Merino sheep stare, we stare…. Sip wine, use a washing machine, shower and put on blissful clean clothes warmed in the dryer.
No need to pitch the tent we enjoy glamping with electric lights under thick watertight canvas and with carpet under our warmed feet.

Perth Western Australia

Jules — Thu, 17 Apr 2014 09:44:51 +0000

We are in Perth, Western Australia….an Australian, after 11 years absence I am in culture shock. As we slowly cycled border to border, country to country from London, more or less South East, the differences were gradual or when not gradual they were somewhat expected.
To arrive at Perth International Airport, and be greeted “g’day….ow ya goin?”. I was amused…..and very much delighted. I am certainly not the Aussie I once was. I hear the Aussie twang everywhere and it is as exciting as listening to the multiple languages of our past year of travel. I’ve forgotten how to use my bank card in stores, forgotten how to order a beer….midi, schooner, pot…..pint? I speak the same tongue, but I feel foreign, I feel as visible as times when kids chased us screaming ‘tourist tourist’ in Turkey, Azerbaijan, Uzbekistan, Kazakhstan! Well, no matter…you don’t cycle half way across the world and be bothered by feeling different. Perth is a place I have only visited, I have never lived in the most isolated city in the world.
Being back in Oz is like being a child again, learning, listening, new, new, new, everything is new and alluring and I love it. We’ve seen kangaroos, cockatoos, galahas, magpies and funny sounding crows, the bush, sunsets and magnificent white beaches….for me it’s all pleasant deja-vu.
We are taking 3 weeks off cycling, reuniting with long missed friends and family, reuniting with our camping gear, reuniting with the hum drum of sorting visas, banking and replacing very worn clothes. I am behind in my blogging and may find time to recap on Thailand and the amazing welcomes we received cycling the west coast of Malaysia. And next..we head south…..1000km off road on a path through the forest…the Munda Biddi bike trail.

Off to great places

Jules — Sat, 29 Mar 2014 00:44:58 +0000

While I have been tardy and behind in updating the blog….Thanks to The Star newspaper in Malaysia….href=”http://www.thestar.com.my/Lifestyle/Features/2014/03/28/Wheely-good-fun-Two-women-cycle-across-the-world-on-bamboo-bikes/”>an update on Bamboo Odyssey

Merino wool clothing review….the essential cycle tourists’ yarn.

Jules — Thu, 13 Mar 2014 09:27:30 +0000

From conception we had about 3 1/2 years to plan for our bamboo cycle ride from London to Sydney. The UK was a perfect climate to try out clothing options that are light weight, warm and or cool with dramatically changing temperatures.

Early on in my 10 years residency in the UK, I realised synthetic or cotton base layers, thermal wear, was unsatisfactory, it retained the smell of sweat or was unable to wick or else it deteriorated too quickly.

Firstly, I tried Icebreakers merino base layers and despite the high cost I was hooked…..and my first items of clothing lasted for years…. The initial cost became much less as I did not need to replace items at regular intervals. With the properties of merino wool I was also able to wear my merino winter layers as outer layers during the summer…..ok….I am not that big on keeping up with the latest fashion trends.
Over the past few years there have been many more brands of merino wool garments hitting the market, including those that are cycle specific.. I’ve tried my fair share……Icebreaker, Howies, Sherpa, On One, Rapha, Smart Wool, Finisterre, Kathmandu, Ibex and Endura.

I’ll start with the cycle specific.
Rapha does a few items of clothing that are more suited to full on road racing, commuting, cafe culture and even the office, rather than an extended tour. My short sleeve jersey is incredibly durable due to the combo of polyester. It looks great and I’ve taken it on the trip as a smarter outfit for cities, socialising, border crossings, etc. It’s a great piece of kit but I wouldn’t go out and purchase it for a tour if I didn’t already own it. I’ve left my other quality Rapha merino jersey in London as these items are really too expensive for the trials of camping. Rapha’s sportwool merino/polyester combo fabric wear is quality, it lasts unlike some of their supposedly cycle specific trousers and shorts which acquire pills in the saddle area within a few weeks of wear.
The pros are it can be durable when fabric is a merino mix while all items look great. The cons…..really, really expensive and Rapha does not produce a large range of women specific items. Sizing can be strange and I recommend try before you buy.

On One, is a brand that produces a small range of everything from bicycles to cycle clothing.I purchased a male specific singlet as I liked the full length and round high neck that was not available for women in other brands. This is very thin and quickly began to look too thin…..but was always designed as a merino base layer. I also have On One merino socks. Great for the price, thinner than icebreaker, cool in summer without becoming stinky for days of wear. In 6 months of daily wear I did wear holes in both pairs. Fair do…..and the cheapest merino socks on the market by miles!

Endura…..cycle specific merino socks……great for summer, not much different to On One socks but twice the price. If you cant get On One I would go for these.

We have both worn a few items of Ibex clothing. I loved the arm warmers and they come with reflective detail. I decided arm warmers were surplus to requirements for our tour, opting for full layers for the colder months. Ibex clothing has proved incredibly durable and Li has been wearing a jersey more days than not, especially in countries where the bare shoulders of a singlet has been culturally inappropriate despite the heat. 12 months riding in London, almost 12 on this trip, it’s looking shabby for bike grease and ingrained dirt but free from holes and incredibly soft. For cycle specific and durable clothing I will continue to look out for Ibex. At the time of purchase we could only buy Ibex on line in the UK. It is an American brand and consequently their sizing I on the generous side.

Icebreaker….my favourite merino clothing producers. Not cheap but fair priced considering the years of wear you will get out of them if not getting the yarn snared up in the bike, cat claws, twigs, or your luggage. In recent years Icebreaker has begun to bring out a range of cycle specific clothing.
I have been wearing this brand for close to 10 years. Apart from a wee blip one year, where the wool appeared to lose its colour in strange patches after several washes…..the sizing and quality continues to be consistent. (I wash all of my merino in the washing machine on the same programme……hot because I am filthy….or hand wash, because there is nothing else). The wool does not fade, remains soft and the choices and styles change annually.
My liner gloves sadly only lasted 1 month of hardship about the camp site. But they were so warm and gave me dexterity that I would not find in any other glove. I abused them when they were not designed for this purpose. I am also wearing….and now slowly patching and sewing a base layer and jumper I have worn consistently in the UK for 7 years. They are warm and why purchase something new when it will be grotty within hours of cycling, dust or snow or whatever Mother Nature throws at you.
I also purchased a merino fleece outer layer for this trip. Their socks are also fairing well…..as I hole my other brands I gain Li’s hand me downs…thicker Icebreakers, as she generally wears sandals. Some of the lighter grade wool garments do gather holes quickly…. Not so much of a problem on the road but trying to look smart for embassy visits? Even Rapha gear looks pitiful when you ride, eat, sleep in your gear without flowing water for days on end.

Non cycle specific, Howies….I have only ever bothered with one singlet…..too thin and fragile for my liking but Li will purchase the occasional singlets for the bright colours or design. Still preferable to cotton or non organic. Neither of us bought along Howies for the trip as they didn’t last the test rides.

Finisterre, a small UK cold water surf company. Great……when it fits or does not shrink. I find the products too unreliable. The wool is not consistent from one year to the next. A small company and will hopefully sort this issue out as the designs are simple but colourful. Li continues to purchase singlets and underwear but I prefer to lean towards icebreaker…..products I can trust.

Kathmandu makes their own small range of merino clothing that changes style from season to season. I have bought t-shirts, underwear and long sleeve tops during their annual sales. My long sleeve top and a pair of underwear are still going strong with zero holes. Kathmandu merino has for me been the most forgiving yarn without being mixed with cotton, polyester or lycra. My only slight criticism of their merino is it does not stay quite as soft in our battleground of our changing laundry routine and the styling is not always to my taste. I am not a pink or pastel kind of girl. Thankfully they always include some black items of merino travel gear.

I have only owned one item of Sherpa merino clothing. These leggings are 260gsm grade merino and perfect for cold nights in the tent or when I want to run around looking like a jul tomte (Swedish Christmas Elf)…. Look it up…. with very bright red, red legs. I believe it’s a good way to embarrass Li when I chose to wear them on their own. This is the only item of merino that has ever made me itch. It’s also incredibly durable and warm . It appears to have shrunk in a strange way but as I have increasing lost weight apart from a beer belly, this has proved to my advantage. I may not go with Sherpa merino again but I would never go without merino leggings on an extended tour. They aren’t worn every day, but when you have exhausted all other clothing, are wet and cold….or simply all other clothing is in the wash, leggings are a luxury. This item is durable enough that I will have it for years to come.

Before I forget….do not leave home without a merino “Buff”. This multifunctional item remains a most treasured possession. A hat, come scarf, dust and grit mask, balaclava, head scarf for mosques and even a pillow cover.

Merino has properties that ensure your warmth, even when wet, and ensure you stay cool and dry comparable to other fabrics when the temperature soars. Merino is biodegradable and ties in well with sustainable, responsible travel, bamboo bikes and a love for the environment. On a tour….. most importantly, merino also repels the stink. Days of not washing…..no stink! Perhaps this is why people have, across the globe, remained hospitable to us. Unfortunately, I was recently forced to dispose of my very much loved, worn, sun bleached On One singlet which resembled…in looks, not smell, a very holey Swiss cheese. Well being world tourers it actually got repurposed as a chain rag. It was stop wearing the singlet or ride alone. Li very quickly learnt her mistake in suggesting I purchase a cotton replacement. Its hot, I am wet…I stink. Li’s birthday is coming up….on our travels, merino is scarce. If you feel like wishing her a safe and happy 30th birthday, you could send a merino singlet…..for me!

Kinpun, Kyaiktiyo Pagoda, The Golden Rock.

Jules — Thu, 06 Mar 2014 11:44:45 +0000

Theme park with a difference, cycling into Kinpun the gateway to the Kyaiktiyo Pagoda…. this was not the Myanmar we intimately sensed and experienced over the previous 5 days.
We were soon to join many tourists, mostly from SE Asia and Myanmar, and many, many more pilgrims that were making their way to the top of Mt Kyaikiyo. We were to witness a pagoda built upon a Golden Rock which is precariously held from tumbling into the precipice by a single strand of Buddha’s hair.
If not for the odd snake, yes snake, rats, mosquitoes and holes in the squat loos no bigger than a bath tub drain hole upon a concrete slab….Kinpun would be similar to a low key fairground. (As for the squat loo…. Fortunately there was a western loo in our guest house as I doubt anyone could aim a number 2 achieving a hole in 1).
The cacophony was overpowering, loudspeakers, music from a Burmese wedding and calls for the next truck up the mountain, intertwined and competing to outdo each other. Soon we were to learn that the sounds commence at 4am, repetitive and fast, frantic beats, spoken word, shouting, calling…insistent…. And so annoying.
No one sleeps in, in Kinpun.
As we were now a group of 5 cyclists, having enjoyed our beer, more sampling of Myanmar whisky and celebration of our new friendship and our arrival, we had decided to avoid the sun rise and sleep in! We would visit the mountain the following sun set, but it was impossible to sleep in. Do not got to Kinpun for relaxation.
Greg was mad enough to suggest cycling up the mountain, I was tempted to walk…. We were both tempted by the others suggestions of beer and an early evening trip to the top in a dump truck. Riding would have been impossible, the gradients averaging about 20% and more on the cambers, one lane, one direction and the trucks converted into an overstuffed people carrier were irresponsibly fast and hair raising.
Life insurance was included in the cost of a truck ticket….although the ticket never did materialise as we handed over our Kyat. The trucks are not dissimilar to tip trucks with rows of hard benches where they squeeze in as many people that it appears is possible…. Then they squeeze in a few more…ours held about 60!
Off the truck… more tourist tat, hawkers, food, people carting, carrying people as they cart luggage for the infirm and, more often, the downright lazy.
Large slabs of tiles and marble for the pilgrims to lay out their mats and sleep, signage prohibiting women to approach the pagoda,….while western men get close the women pilgrims hold their distance offering prayers and thanks. At first I am annoyed, my feminist self protests…. But quieter than a Western woman next to me who is vocally outraged…. I am here to look, listen and learn, hopefully understand…. I may not agree but this is not my place and I feel privileged to observe.
Slowly my feelings and emotions are transformed. This place begins to mesmerise me, men applying gold leaf to the Golden Rock, people quietly praying, monks taking photos with their latest smart phones. It does feel special here, as spiritual as any place of worship I have visited. The Kyaiktiyo Pagoda is nothing like what I had expected, yet sometimes this does not matter and I believe it was worth the experience.
And then we missed the last truck down the mountain, resulting in yet another adventure.

Kawkareik to Kinpun

Jules — Thu, 06 Mar 2014 09:56:03 +0000

We were bemused and lost as we rolled into Kawkareik. Foreigners are not allowed to camp in Myanmar and instead must stay at foreigner licensed hotels or guest houses. As a cycle tourist this means ensuring there actually is legal accommodation within a day’s cycling distance. Unlike our previous months on the road, if we become tired or sore we can not choose to stop, relax and…..drink beer. Beer is plentiful in Myanmar, and well deserved at the end of each hot day, but we have to make our next guesthouse. We are aware of cyclists forced to take transport by the police when accommodation is not within reach. We also had to alter our route, due to restricted areas, lack of permits and red tape. We became resigned to the fact we would need to hop on buses to ensure we visit as much as possible in a country where the distances between sights can be very large.
So back to Kawkareik….It does not take us long to be rescued by a man on a motorbike who we are invited to follow to our destination, the “Honey Guest House”. A cold bucket shower (heaven) and no electricity for the entire town until 6pm….then our new friend Ko Htwe collects us, this time, in a car to give us a tour of the town, invites us into his house to meet his family followed by a meal at his favourite restaurant. In the morning we return for breakfast and advice on the road ahead before a fond farewell with even more food gifted for the journey. It is also Chinese New Year so we weave out of town amidst the small colourful procession of dragons, lions and drummers…..and exhausted nearing our destination, more drummers, beats spurring us on the final few kilometres. We fell lucky and filled with prosperity.
119km to Mawlamyine. No choice of shorter routes or to quietly amble. We have done days this long in Europe on good roads, but generally prefer sub 100km days to really enjoy the experience. The next licensed accommodation is here….or take the slightly, ever so slightly shorter road, at 70km a Y junction to Hpa-an. The road was fine….we wondered what all the fuss was about, having been warned of the poor condition of Myanmar roads…..until the final 40 kilometres, 42 degrees, sweaty bum….sore bum, the road again deteriorated and we bumped along painfully and exhausted. This was by far the worst “bitumen” stretch of road in 11 months of cycling…. in reference to comfort. Yet not many large vehicles were stupid enough to transverse this road and we felt quite safe avoiding collisions. We rode in the centre of the road as it was marginally smoother. We arrived in the dark, having crossed several long bridges where the boards were laid parallel to our direction of travel and just a wide enough gap to snag a tyre and come acropper. Li was extremely unimpressed but the sunset views over the Thalween river made up for it. We check into the first hotel we come across, hoping to move into cheaper digs in the daylight.
I am thankful for the offer of a motorcycle ride the next day when I go back to collect Li during a change of guest houses. The “Breeze Guest house” was far more basic and sparse than “Than Lwin Hotel” but we made the move due to cost and sincere hospitality including a wealth of freely given information.
Another day, another road side stall and I am enthralled by the simplicity of a handcrafted bottle opener made from a rusty bolt and scrap of timber. I ask to swap it for my fancy metal one. I am given the bottle opener as a gift while mine is only accepted after much pleading from myself.
The days begin to bleed into each other. One day feels like a week, there is so much to see, experience….and this just from the bicycle, small villages, farms and many days riding between the major tourist destinations.
We meet Ellen and Yann, 2 Belgian cycle tourists, find we have more in common than beer….lots of beer….ok…after beer….yes we all like the local whisky too….and of course cycling in common. Staying at the same guesthouse in Thaton, Greg another Belgian turned up.
Despite hangovers and a desire to stay in this vibrant town we agreed to cycle together the next morning. It was an enjoyable change to have company. So we loaded our 5 bikes, had breakfast together, watch the monks, the women road workers, the children…..too young to work, a child of 5 moving the bamboo road block barrier, to allow entry for a motorcycle. We watch, we contemplate our lives, the world at large, then pedal off into the unfamiliar…..and the roads remain remarkably good considering the laborious task undertaken by a predominately female work force. Stones are crushed by hand and carted on trays on top of their heads. Even the bitumen is mixed manually and potholes filled and smoothed, without the used of tools or machines.
From Thaton we ride 82km to Kinpun basecamp to visit the Golden Rock Pagoda. The 5 of us are shocked…..after relative solitude….we have hit one of Myanmar’s tourist hotspots..