Thailand to Singapore, via East Coast of Malaysia, Ride: Day 3

Instead of the usual quote, here's "Don't Fence Me In" by David Byrne.





Started off at 10:03 AM.
Temperature in the shade  83° F (28.3° C)





Red tracks denote my route for the day. Route continues on map of Terengannu further down.


Journal entry

'Woke up feeling much better today, the combination of lack of sleep, food, and water really got to me yesterday. 'Had a large plate of nasi lemak with fried breaded chicken and eggs as part of the hotel's complementary breakfast. I would certainly need it, seeing that the Muslim eateries won't be open until dusk (or early evening). I guess I can call this a Ramadan Ride too, since I'm practically fasting along with them.





FAIL.










Taking Highways D21 / D8 toward the coastal town of Bachok.










Hello!










The bustling city of Kota Bharu slowly faded in the distance, mile by mile, as I rode east: tall concrete and marble-clad edifices replaced by pitted, weathered — and occasionally, torn — galvanized tin roofs, which, in turn, gave way to attap (thatched roof) huts, wandering cows, and verdant padi (rice) fields.





Cycling lanes appear and vanish at random; at times, a generous 10 feet (3.28 m), and others, none at all. On average though, I get 2 feet.





All along, children would shout the archetypal Malaysian greeting, "Hello!" and wave excitedly. I don't know if it's my (slightly) buck teeth, my crew cut (they can see under my helmet from a distance ???), or my glasses, but every Malay I've encountered so far assumes that I'm Japanese. So, Banzai Ben, it shall be. (I just hope none of these guys have World War II memories.)















Pantai Irama (Beach of Melody) was a disappointment. It made me glad that I did not commit to an additional 20+ km detour from Kota Bharu to check out the Beach of Passionate Love (which is just as well, considering the archaic definition of "passion.")





There's accommodation right at the beach, but the day is too young to bunk in.





Calvin, of Campers' Corner was right: the people of Kota Bharu speak excellent English. Better, in fact, IMHO, than the gibberish grunts that sadly pass for English in Singapore. I.e. Singlish. E.g. "May I hell you?" "Chill-ren." "Can or not?" What the heck is that? You suffered head trauma recently or your tongue piercing went awry? Anyways, whenever I am lost, or require route clarification, I had only to ask.





Creative vandalism.










Before.





         After.










Seeking another route clarification from a roadside drink vendor before Kampung Tok Bali, the gentleman expressed his surprise that I rode from the Tak Bai, Thailand; and, then again at my destination. He asked, "You are doing this alone? Your girlfriend / wife allowed this?" I smiled, and replied, "Maybe that's why I don't have one." Fyodor Dostoevsky's Grand Inquisitor is right: humanity just can't bear the responsibility of their freedom, they need someone to come and take it away, and shoulder the burden — failing at which, they recklessly give it away.










Okay, Elmo. Enough freeloading. Get down and push!










Looking east, towards the South China Sea. The tiny isle on the right is Pulau Ru, which boasts a peak of 105.2 m (345 ft).





Looking east. The ranges in the distance comprise of 514 m (1686 ft) Bukit Batu Meninjau (right) and 568 m (1863 ft) Bukit Tualang Chepa (left).





Freeride, anyone?










'Finally got the hang of the diminutive (but excellent) Zéfal Spin mirror. Despite its small size, it is actually very useful, giving me 2 to 3 seconds notice of a vehicle approaching from the rear. Of course, a round convex mirror is better, but it is bulkier and more susceptible to breakage.

It is not unremarkable how things can come together with such serendipity. Since December 27, 2007, I've been doing what a friend or two dubbed, "Death Rides." I.e. 104 to 115 km rides in Singapore, with one bottle of water, no food, and non-stop. Sometimes, I throw in a brownie or a slice of fruit cake, but that's it. People would tell me that I'm crazy. "You're mad," they would say. I never understood it either. Bonking and pushing yourself to go on is no fun; the body aches so much, a haze of pain descends upon the mind. But I kept doing it. Solo.





         It's Ramadan, stupid!


In hindsight, had I not done what I did, and trained my body to operate on low levels of food and water, this tour during the month of Ramadan would not have been possible. On my non-stop rides in Singapore, riding past stores, coffee shops, and hawker centers, wafting of food and beverages, was a test of mental discipline, especially with a gnawing tummy; acidic, and burning with need. But the experience built up fortitude; it prepared me for hours of riding past signs promising local culinary delights — ikan bakar, nasi goreng pattaya, nasi padang, nasi daging merah, ayam goreng, mee soto, mee bandung, roti canai — but revealing only bare tables and shuttered stores.
















While Pantai Irima, the Beach of Melody, was a disappointment, 2 hours south, the Beach of Whispering Breeze was gorgeous. Here, I enjoyed a few salted biscuits, seated on a log under the shade of a tree, while clear, warm, and blue waves lazily lapped on sand, a few meters away.

























A new bridge over Sungai Semerak spared me a lengthy detour inland to the town of Pasir Putih, and a grind up the flanks of 188.4 meter (618 ft) Bukit Peteri.





Crossing into the state of Terengganu.





WARNING: SDS / SDU females ahead.





For NicIz2HardKore.










Temperature  38.3° C





'Was planning to spend the night at Kampung Raja, but the heat and lack of nourishment was getting to me, and after 60.29 km (37.7 miles), I decided to call it a day at Kampung Besut, the leap off point for Pulau Perhentian.










'Found a room for RM70. No hot water, nor kettle, complementary sachets of coffee, creamer, and sugar; or even soap and towels, but they did have a room on the ground floor and let me roll my bike to the room. That's more than a fair trade, IMHO.





This is the 2nd most expensive meal I had in the entire trip. RM22.50 for these. Still, expensive food is better than no food.





It even came with extras.





         Alas, poor Heimlich! I knew him, Horatio: a fellow
         of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy...





The words of an alumna, solbeam, kept resounding in my ears as I rode. A Buddhist parable asks,

When you cross a river with a boat, and finally reach the other shore, do you pick the boat up and continue to carry it with you?

That, together with the words of Norman Fischer — when you travel, you leave everything behind: all pre-conceived notions, your past, your contacts, your links to your old life. I enjoy traveling at the ground level; it allows you to engage the life of the locals. It makes you vulnerable. It shakes off pretense; it exposes you in your raw form, letting experience and encounters, whatever they may be, forge you. It keeps you meek. I like to believe on reciprocality: if you are — genuinely — nice and respectful to people, people will be respectful and nice to you. Of course, there exist nasties out there, and for that you will have to hone your intuition and judgment, but most of the time, things go on fine.





Bridge over Sungai Besut. I will cross this tomorrow.





Back in my room.






'Going to turn in now. It's been a good day. I hoped to hit 100 km (62.5 miles) today, but only did 60 km (37.5 miles). Still, I achieved my objective of crossing from the state of Kelantan into Terengganu. God grant me good weather tomorrow.
- 10:05 PM


DATA

Cateye AT-100
Elevation climbed  100 feet (30.5 m)
3 hours 7 minutes 22 seconds
Average speed  11.9 mph (19.4 km/h)
Maximum speed  21.1 mph (33.6 km/h)
Distance  37.4 miles (59.8 km)
Temperature  85° - 102° F (29.4° - 38.9° C)

Cateye Velo 5
Distance  60.29 km (37.68 miles)
Maximum speed  33.8 km/h
Cumulative distance  97.9 km (61.2 miles)





Grammar Nazi never sleeps!

Thailand to Singapore, via East Coast of Malaysia, Ride: Day 2

Remember, anything worth doing is worth doing well, and nothing gives satisfaction unless there is an element of technique and difficulty.

         (Hugh Dean)






Journal entry

'Nodded off (finally!) after Tanah Merah. I was the only passenger left on the train; the station master woke me up. I was lucky Tumpat is the last stop or else I would have missed it. Dang! It is cold in the train carriages at night. 'Was actually wearing my long johns and beanie to keep warm.





'Spent more than 1/2 an hour fitting the panniers, handlebar bag, and improvised clothes drying bag / trunk bag to Michelle. Fortunately, Tumpat is a sleepy village, and the train station, quiet. My only spectator was a curious kid. It would have been a spectacle at Kota Bharu station.










Odometer reads 0.0 km. I purchased the Cateye Velo 5 just for this trip :-P










Red tracks denote my route for the day.





After being lost for a while (I forgot where I packed my compass) I got on the right track northwest towards Kampung Pengkalan Kubur, the crossing point to Thailand on the east coast of West Malaysia. When a couple of immigration officials directed me toward a boat not unlike the bumboats to Pulau Ubin or Pengerang, my heart sank. I wasn't too keen on removing all 6 bags (7 if you count the ground sheet bag) from my bike, and keeping track of them while loading and unloading off a boat, all between border towns.

As I slowly wheeled my bike away, considering my options, an older immigration officer walked by. Taking a chance, I explained to him my predicament. He not only led me to a roll-on, roll-off vehicle ferry at a neighboring complex, but taught me how to navigate the customs clearing procedure as well. Michelle is going to Thailand!

As I wheeled the laden bike down the slippery, notched wooden ramp, a man in uniform ran after me, yelling that I must pay the ferry fare. Sure, dude.





Ferry fare? RM0.60





Michelle's next to the bridge, between 2 large pull-carts. Spot her?










Malaysia's Pengkalan Kubur immigration checkpoint in the background.

On the Thai immigration side, I kept getting sent back to the end of the line until I employed the services of their form fillers. Since I am illiterate in Thai, I supposed I had to pay up. But the friendly gentleman behind the counter would accept no payment. Instead, he inquired, "Can you write? In English?"
"A little," I lied. "Good," he continued, "You just write what I tell you in the correct boxes." Fair enough.





Cats and bird cages. Took this for Viki and Louis.

Tak Bai is a sleepy border town, a bazaar town; lots of sundry shops, fresh produce, and roadside stalls. However, I had no Thai baht on me.

On October 25, 2004, a massacre occurred in this town...





I rode around, and eventually came to a junction to the road leading to Narathiwat. Against advice, I foolhardily decided to give the 40 km northbound road a try. I quickly discovered that not a few of the people encountered along the way were at best, unfriendly, at worst, hostile; returning smiles and greetings with impassive faces, snarls, or spitting on the ground. Did I err?

Update 6 November 2009:  It has been over a year, and the violence in southern Thailand still hasn't quelled. In fact, according to some reports, it has gotten worse:

Thailand seems about as far from the Taliban as you can get, yet just a short distance from its golden tourist beaches and paradise islands, an insurgency has been raging for five years.

Someone is killed on average every day in the provinces on the country's southern border with Malaysia, where a shadowy group of Islamist extremists are stirring up a deepening sectarian divide.

In just five years 3,800 people have been killed and more than 6,000 injured.

[ . . . ]

The victims are often civilians, especially teachers, who in the most dangerous areas travel to school on motorbikes in groups with armed soldiers as outriders to protect them.

         (Leithead, Alastair.  "Thailand's shadowy southern insurgency."  BBC News.  6 Nov 2009.  Accessed 6 Nov 2009.  http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/asia-pacific/8344334.stm )





I realized that I was attracting too much attention — of the wrong kind. After a handful of seedy chaps came by checking out my bike, I decided that it would not be a wise decision to continue on this fool's quest, or spend the night in Tak Bai. So, back towards the ferry I went.





Some shots captured along the way.





An engine mounted on the boatman's end of a shaft, with the propeller at the other. Technically, where's the rudder? And is this an outboard or onboard engine? Pedants, wrack your brains.





In action. I look at them and dream of giant, ice-cold, milkshakes.





In terms of engine access, on one end of the spectrum you have mid-engine cars, and on the other...





Tak Bai's waterfront.





For those who dive.





Streets of Tak Bai.

Upon entering Tak Bai again, I ducked into a shop's vinyl canopy, and on the pretext of browsing their wares, turned on the GPS unit. Part of Tak Bai, the ferry ride, and respective immigration checkpoints of both countries were thus recorded. Tumpat railway station and the (trial and error) journey towards Kampung Pengkalan Kubur were not marked as I wasn't sure if I would be able to find my way to Thailand this morning.





Leaving Tak Bai, Thailand.




Crossing southeast to Malaysia.





Automobiles and trucks get priority disembarking.










On the Malaysian side, I took a wrong turn and found myself in a maze of dead ends. Seeking help from a local lady, she pointed me in the right direction and revealed to me that I wandered into a duty-free town that's cordoned off from the rest of the country with walls and fences.





Generous, albeit sandy, road shoulder.





Wat Photivihan contains a Thai temple containing the largest reclining Buddha in Malaysia, but I was too tired to make the 28 km roundtrip detour.





An abandoned and dilapidated gas station.
No fuel, have legs, will travel.





A Buddhist temple along the way. Opposite this is a tiny hut that sold me a packet of salted biscuits that helped fend off hunger pangs for the rest of the trip.





Red tracks denote my passage on the city map.

Highway D134 was a long ride in the heat, along a hairy crossing over Sungai Kelantan; there was a lane for motorcyclists, and I had to ride it in a straight line, battling wind gusts, while motorbikes whizzed by on my right with inches to spare.










Tired from a lack of sleep; experiencing hunger pangs from a dinner of raisin buns; practically having had neither breakfast nor lunch; I limped into Kota Bharu. In no mood to haggle or price-shop, I made a bee-line for the nearest accommodation. But Destiny Inn was full. A little disappointed (fighting city traffic, hunting for accommodation, with a blood sugar crash is no fun.), I asked if they knew of the nearest hotel with vacancies. Crystal Lodge, 200 meters down the road, came the answer.





Their brochure left me in stitches.





More.





At Crystal Lodge, they did have vacancies but there was a catch: no bikes in the room. And they had neither security guard nor locked room somewhere for me to store Michelle for the night either. All I had was the basement parking lot stairwell.





I did a little scouting and discovered a metal structure under the stairs. Thus, I could not only lock the bike but hide her out of sight as well. No one on unofficial business would bother to squeeze into the rear of the dank stairwell. Security by obscurity!





A good shower and it's time for grub. When I left the building, it was time for the Muslims to break fast. Whoop! As all I had for dinner last night on the train were 4 diminutive raisin buns, with the remaining 2 for breakfast and lunch, I was ravenous. Dinner = curry chicken with fried garlic rice.





After a short walk round a couple of city blocks, came dinner #2: 2 roti canai with eggs. It came with 3 sauces. The owner, a friendly gentlemen, explained the contents to me: sambal chili, curry, and dal. Mmm. I have nasi briyani in my room too now, possibly for supper. It's from a roadside store though, so I'm a little leery; but, his dishes sold out (and it's not that cheap). So... I might just take that chance if I get hungry again.





'Came back to my room, washed some clothes, hung them across the room to dry (twine is so useful) and prepared to settle in for the night.

I hope it is the combination of a lack of sleep, dehydration, the stress leading to the departure, and lack of food, that contributed to today's dismal performance. Of course, lugging twice the load I am accustomed to carry around on the bike is definitely a factor too. I hope tomorrow and the rest of the journey will be better and I pray to the LORD for strength.

Time to get some shut eye now.
- 10:05 PM


DATA

Cateye AT-100
Elevation climbed  50 feet (15 m)
1 hour 56 minutes 23 seconds
Average speed  11.2 mph (17.92 km/h)
Maximum speed  17.8 mph (28.48 km/h)
Distance  21.8 miles [AT-100 was disconnected by a bump at some point.]
Temperature  90° F (32.2° C)

Cateye Velo 5
Distance  37.66 km (23.54 miles)
Maximum speed  28.6 km/h
Cumulative distance  37.66 km (23.54 miles)