Noble Steeds of Yonder Years

Some days you close your eyes so tight and wish that you were somewhere else - somewhere far far and even further away... I've done a lot of that of late.

It's been a manic couple of months and with my passport nearing expiration and a friends wedding on Koh Samoi fast approaching, there were two reasons for fast tracking and heading back to Bangkok (for the seventh time) via public transport*.

*'Public transport' of course being rickety buses and tuk tuks and sungtaws and trains and that sort of thing... the kinds of vehicles most people see only in museums....  Please note how the word 'VIP' doesn't appear in any of those modes - similar to the word "shocks" and sometimes the word 'brakes' too is a foreign concept...

Anyway, whilst public transporting along I've thought long and hard about noble steeds of the yester years and the joys of having your own 'wheels'....

[cloudy dejavu like fade into the past......]

Charlie... sporting three flat tyres (simultaneously)

First there was Charlie. A 933cc Suzuki Alto that carried  us the 17 000 plus kilometers across 30ish countries and deserts and rivers and mountains from London to Ulanbataar... with only 21 flat tyres on the way, he was a beaut!

After leaving Charlie in the capable hands of the Christina Noble Children's Foundation and being abandoned by my brother and every other person I knew in Mongolia, I found myself walking the streets and somehow ended up with Margret Thatcher. My little Monglian stud that raced through the hills and valleys and caused my buttocks more agony than it could bear. That said, Margret (who turned out to be a boy) was not a very long addition to my life.

Margret Thatcher [left] - world's most uncomfortably saddled horse 

A couple of years later after mastering the art of hitch hiking (you should try it - just not in inland Australia http://barefootedgypsy.blogspot.com/2011/04/when-hitching-turns-bad-and-then-gets.html )

I happened to be walking down the street and bumped into a good Swedish friend. A few days later I inherited Karla  - the Mercedes Benz Camper Van of awesomeness! Karla housed billions of people as she traveled Australia picking up hitchers and strange animals and friends and was great accommodation for random nights out in town. It was sad to say goodbye as I pulled up in the airport and signed her over to a mutual friend [Nathan] just before I boarded my one way flight to Indonesia. 

Licking Karla goodbye before heading to the airport

A couple of months of pottering around had me over public transport and with a good group of people about, we decided to build The Illegal Immigrant to sail from Malaysia to Thailand.

The Illegal Immigrant setting sail for Koh Lipe

 Sadly we misjudged the stretch in the rope, bought cheap wire and didn't take into account that there might actually be waves in the evening and our poor vessel shipwrecked and marooned us on a deserted island.

A fellow Immigrant survivor dragged me across Thailand and through Cambodia and after she returned to the icy lands of Europe I purchased Percy - a 97cc Sanda Boss (which is really just the fakest version of a Honda Dream)

Percy... ahhh.... Percy 

 On Percy I raced the length of Vietnam through villages and cow turd and mechanical faults and I'm still now trying to work out why exactly I sold my little bike... but I did... and that's how I ended up with Mao...

Mao, the Chinese tyrant bicyle

On Mao I crossed from Vietnam into Laos (a particularly hilly route) before speeding up a little to make Bangkok. He's still my little Chinese 'new design bike' but a random I met over dinner the other night is cycling him over to Thailand for me. Let's hope he makes it alive!

[Fancy fade back into modern time...........]

My passport application is in and my wedding is only 2 busses and a boat ride away [I think]. Two more days of hell... but hopefully that will be the end of public transportation for a long while... Apart from cycling to the Chinese border I'm not sure what's next... there's a world of endless opportunities, farm animals and vehicles out there for the taking... I guess i'll wait and see what life throws at me.

How to be a Sort-of-Proffessional-Long-Distance-Cycler-Person 101

So I've been pretending to be a cyclist for a whole week now and I have much advice for all aspiring future long distancesers. And while I know you think I might not be the best person to get advice from with me being 27, homeless, unmarried, and unemployed, and so on and so forth; but I am wise far beyond my ripe old age and my mother says she's proud of me anyway so I think you probably should listen up. Ok? Good. Now shut up and absorb wisdom.

1)  Firstly to be a professional biker type you should probably be in a reasonably sound shape first. You know, maybe walk the dog once in a while or if you don't have one, race your grandma around the block.... even kicking the dog creates some muscle and let's be honest, in today's world every little helps. 

2)  Secondly, and this is a big one, don't start cycling in a mountain range. I know it might sound all romanticized and what not but it isn't. It just sucks. It sucks a lot. But at least there is pretty scenery to enjoy while you throw up from overexertion.

3)  Keep your luggage light. I know a 75 litre backpack might not look like much but it throws your bike a little off balance. I also strongly disadvise the carryance of oversized stuffed toys, while they may appear awesome (actually, let's be honest, they are awesome) when strapped to the back of your bike,  they tend to get stuck in wheels and local kids try and grab them and well, they just aren't quite ideal. 

4)  Don't buy a chinese bicycle. The wheels tend to solidify with the body of the bicycle making riding a lot harder than it should be if not impossible. Also on occasion the handlebars tend to follow there own minds and duck and dive making breaking and gear changing a nightmare and this will conveniently happen while you're racing downhill.

5)  Don't tell you cycle buddy that you'll meet up in the next town when they have all the local currency on them. It really does suck when you ride the last 30 km without a drop of water....

6)  Don't cycle at night. Even if it is only 21 km in the dark... You tend to not realise that you have a flat tyre, especially when you don't have any lights (or you forgot to bring batteries) and then a sporadic thunderstorm breaks out and you get drenched and miserable and end up sleeping under a fruit stand on the side of the street where mosquitoes molestorise you and frogs don't shut up. 

7)  Take some tools with you. Even when you have a puncture repair kit and a spare tube and pump you might just realise at that inopportune moment, 14 km from the next town, that your wheels don't have quick release and have to push.

8)  Buy gloves or grow a pair of man hands - blisters suck and you get to the point where you can't even change gears anymore. Gears are important. I know this now know.

9) Don't underestimate the ability to bruise... you won't know where they come from or why they hurt so much, but before you know it your whole body will be a bruise....

9)  Don't start your journey without realising there is no physical way to cycle over 2000 km in 3 weeks... because at some point you're going to have to start hitch hiking to your friends wedding with your bike!!!

Battered Buttocks

My bum is blue.

Let me rewind a little so that you don't mistake me for a wierdo...

It was a dark and stormy day down in Can Tou, Southern Vietnam and I was boarding a bus. A local bus. A little orange bus that had Teddy stuffed into the luggage department for the first time ever... I was headed for Saigon, a trip that should have taken 3 1/2 hours maximum. 4 hours in I had one man drooling on my left shoulder after he mistook it for a pillow whilst the woman sat in the aisle next to me had donated me one of her plethora of children - the one who I can almost assuredly say needed a nappy change - and placed her on my lap... 7 hours later when I finally arrived I found myself lost and confused in the biggest city I'd visited in a while, swarmed by motto drivers that both wanted my money and my bear. While lurking the streets in search of anything English, I swore I'd never take another Vietnamese bus.

... This is how I found myself the proud owner of Percy, my 97cc fake Honda Dream lovingly referred to as the "Family Vehicle" in Saigon. Little Percy raced over hills and rice paddys and carried me the 2254 km to Ha Noi, the capital (I think) where I handed him over to Australian Ian who I hope is treating him with all the love and compassion deserved by such a humble [slightly gay] steed!!

It was only after he was out of my life that I discovered that there is only a bus towards Laos - no trains or boats or ox wagons - only busses!! I began to panic. I mean it was unbelievable - how dare they limit their transportation options? Dangnabbit. I wasn't taking any of it!

It dawned on me that hitch hiking was probably my best option but I was sternly warned not to do it alone so I began the hunt for company. I plastered posters around the city and on-line and became that annoying person that joins your table and disturbs your meal to pester you about things you couldn't possibly want.

I'd been in Ha Noi for almost ten days already and needed out. The only other person I knew who wasn't taking the bus was Rohan and he'd just purchased a bicycle...

It was over lunch on Tuesday that his friends led me to contemplate the cycle - no mention of course that he had actually done long distance cycling before or that he fitness levels resembled that of a Kenyan olympic sprinter. But the idea was there...

On Wednesday I awoke sold on the idea and roamed the streets in search of a worthy steed (I was hoping for pink or green or rusty), some luggage carriers and a bell (you can't have a bicycle without a bell). And then I was set - what more do you need??

Thursday (Yesterday I think) was departure day, and I woke up excited-to-the-point-that-you-almost-wet-yourself only to realise that there was no physical way to strap all my earthly belongings to my bike let alone pedal them over mountain ranges. Departure was delayed as I shipped 11.36 Kilograms of useless hogwash to mum in China and then delayed again as I discovered Teddy missing. Perhaps I shouldn't have put him in the shower... now everyone wants to cuddle him. Whore.

Post officing... enjoy mum!

About 34 km into yesterday's cycle Rohan taught me that bicycles have gears (I'm still a little perplexed by them though) - but after 80 something Km we pulled into Ho Bihn and celebrated life with a quality feast involving copious amounts of Com (rice) and tofu.

Today was a bit of a different story. It was about an hour into this mornings ride that I realized why most people invest in cushioned bicycle seats and why everyone obtains some level of fitness before attempting to cycle through mountain ranges and why you don't see anyone else with a giant Teddy bear strapped to their bicycle. I of course had acquired neither and of the latter I'm not too fond at present. I'm proud to say however that after today's 71 km cycle (At least 65 of those uphill), I've become a skilled walker of the bicycle and with my knees refusing to bend and my bum an unhealthy shade of whale skin blue, I've got to do it all again tomorrow. And the next day. And the and the one after that. Potentially for the next very very long time.

I said it before in the days of lonely motorbike breakdownages, but this is why most people take the bus... 

HANOI: It's always good to not be Dead.

Phong Nha... somewhere in Vietnam

It really is good to not be dead. I'm grateful for every minute of undeadliness and hope to maintain it for quite some time to come.Years even.

2254 km of epicness from Saigon, I've arrived in Hanoi. And despite the four flat tyres, the snapped swing arm, the dismantled chain guard, the destroyance of my shocks, the driving straight through a road block, the death of my battery and my spark plugs and my hooter, the getting pinned under my bike twice - once in the middle of the Ho Chi Minh highway - and the incessant rain, I've loved every second of it - every single second!!! I still can't actually believe it's over. I made it to Hanoi. Percy made it to Hanoi!

Driving with a gang has been amazing too. Coming down the Hai Van Pass brought saw the most spectacular sunset of my life and having people to share the incredibleness with was a must. As were the thousands of jaggered cliffs that littered the vast green grey terrain.  

Sunset at the bottom of the Hai Van pass

Every time we stopped to ask directions or recount near death experiences with cows and busses; school kids would flock to admire our dirty bikes, whiter skins, and Teddy

The final 15 km were the hardest of the trip. The roadworks had busses and trucks and bulldozers and livestock merged on a single lane pot-holed track where more motorbikes than there are cockroaches in Africa raced to random destinations carrying their families and fridges and goats. Only 5 km out of town I lost the gang and spent a couple of hours searching the old city for our preascertained finish line. But at 17-54 on a Sunday, with only 6 minutes to spare on happy hour beer, I pulled into Hanoi and parked my Percy alive - an accomplishment I still can't fathom!

Ian, new rider of Percy

Two days ago I sold my beloved scooter to Ian, the tallest Australian I've met in a while and he's just began the racing to Saigon to make a flight. I do hope Percy treats him nicely!

All I have left now are a few cuts, burns, scars and bruises as memories.

It's hard to believe that despite the stampedes of cows and cars and busses that have run at me I'm still alive  - I must have cheated death more times in Vietnam than any other country I've visited before. And it's not over yet either - I still need to flee the country - I'm not sure where to go from here - but it still won't be onto a bus... life's too short for busses!!!

Saying the final goodbye's in Hanoi...
please note how I hold two drinks in hand to try and cope
with the emotional torment

Diary of a Pretend-to-be-Biker : Wrong Turns

Sometimes it's worth doing the 20 km detour down the wrong dirt road full of overflowing sewerage pipes and angry police officers... sometimes it's those wrong turns that lead you to those exact people that you are meant to be meeting - the random strangers who are soon to become your own personalised biker gang...

The road to nowhere, somewhere, Central Vietnam

After a whole week of lonesome driving I'd resigned to believing I'd be finishing my motorbike escapades  alone - just me and Teddy and Percy and whatever Vietnam decided to throw at me... and I was okay with that. I'd broken down enough times to know I'd survive. But after leaving Hoi An, a place most people visit to suit up in tailored designer attire (I did my laundry, for me that was close enough) I happened to stumble across  the still unfathomable...

...It was all very surreal too. I was just breathing in the polluted ocean air [on the way back to the real road] when from nowhere,  below a ginormous buddha sat two bikers with a map stretched out. I slammed the brakes, meandered out of the way of a passing truck and the rest is history. We were three [and a Teddy bear].

Diary of a Pretend-to-be-Biker : Why most People Take the Bus

By the 7^th hour of my three hour bus ride to Saigon, Vietnam - covered in the drool of my fellow passengers who mistook my shoulders for pillows - I swore I’d never take the bus again and 10 days later, I’ve managed to keep that promise…

After a spontaneous Sunday stroll through motorbike dealers and a couple of hours of negotiating, haggling, and pretending I knew what I was talking about (not that it would have made any difference really seeing as nobody speaks English anyway) I headed to the safe confines of my hostel on Percy – Who I now know is a 93cc Chinese look alike bike (that says “Made in Korea” on the side). I do love him anyway.

Five minutes later I slammed on my breaks as a suicidal biker whacked the motorcycle in front of me straight into a car. Less than a minute later, another accident. It’s not surprising really, there’s about 100 motorbikes per Capita in Ho Chi Minh City. My first stop was the helmet shop – I didn’t really believe I’d want a $1.40 helmet being my only lifeline… I forked out $10 instead.

By my second day of proud ownership the indicators, hooter, and speedometer had all decided to take a vacation… but no worries… mechanics in these parts can fix anything – and by the end of it Percy was less Chinese already. I got the oil changed and tweaked the breaks too and was all set for the 1800ish km adventure that lay before me.

Proudly accomplishing the impossible - all my worldly belongings on one bike!

Day 1: Tuesday 14 Feb

I delayed departure as long as possible – the traffic freaked me out and I thought it impossible to fit all my worldly belongings onto one bike (even if the general population does it on a daily basis with grandparents and children aboard too). But it worked brilliantly and by 9 am I was winding in and out traffic, doing loops of the city trying to find the road out of town. I suppose I should have thought of maps.

 was loving life until some part of my back wheel dislodged itself and had the whole bike screaming at me. Mechanic visit the second was even free… and apart from the minor glitch, I survived the 227.7 km drive to Mui Ne effortlessly!

Day 2: Wednesday 15 Feb

After a morning spent racing kids on bum boards down sand dunes I set off for Da Lat only to discover a fuel leak which took a 9 year old only about two hours to fix (after I finally managed to act out the problem)…

The rolling hills and rural villages had me feeling like I was living in a movie and when dark descended 100 km out of town I didn’t mind finding a random village hotel to crash in.

Day 3: Thursday 15 Feb

I’m proud to say I survived a whole day mechanic free which in retrospect is a massive accomplishment, even if it was only a 100 km drive… My randomly acquired roommate in Da Lat (Land of wine and flowers and the crazy house – definitely worth a visit) wasn’t so lucky though – she was blown off the road by a speeding truck and had just returned from the hospital…

 Day 4: Friday 16 Feb

Rain. Masses and masses of rain. Mixed with the fog and mountainous clouds it made visibility very poor which really isn’t ideal when you’re gliding through some of the most beautiful mountainous terrain on earth and it’s even less ideal when the roads come standard issue with pot holes and speeding busses… but mind-blowing none the less. I was happy to arrive In Nha Trang 258 km later though – mostly for a warm shower!

Day 5: Saturday 17 Feb

With the need to celebrate a friend’s birthday for a third day in a row and an urge to actually explore places, I let Percy rest and spent the entire day aboard a local boat exploring islands with half the world’s Irish population.

Day 6 : Sunday 18 Feb

I was wondering how exactly my ex-roommate had been blown off the road. But Sundays ocean breeze was more hurricane like than anything else, and when it wasn’t blowing you off the road it made headwind that would let you max out at 30 km an hour. The rain didn’t help either… but the coastal road made it all worthwhile – mountains and beaches strewn with sporadic luminous green rice paddys for kilometers on end! I only made it as far as Tuy Hoa (137 km) but I didn’t mind too much – it’s a fascinating little town!

Day 7: Monday 19 Feb

I was quite impressed at my wind resisting abilities and even the pouring rain didn’t get me down. I was making great progress and with my ipod blaring I was loving life!

I was ironically trying to find a mechanic (Percy’s battery’s dying fast) when I got my first ever motorbike flat – very different from a car really in that you have to balance yourself, the bike, and the 30 kilogram odd luggage strapped onboard. I somehow managed to dodge the passing truck and was lucky enough to be only meters away from a tyre repairsman (of which there are so so many). An hour later I was on the road again thinking back to the 21 flat tyres I got in Mongolia a few years previous when it happened again.

Wheel change take 1

Wheel change the second

 I pushed Percy to the closest repairsman and tried to explain that there must be some sort of actual problem to lose the same tyre twice and they assured me there wasn’t – but then again, I’m not entirely sure they understood either… This time it was only a 30 minute wait and 1/5 of the price. I drove off slowly stopping every couple of kilometers to check the tyre.

Wheel change the third

I was beginning to believe the problem was solved when the bike next to me waved me down and I felt the bike swerve below me. This time I used photographs and a diagram and charades to explain my predicament and I’m still not sure he understood – but he did double-line my tyre and there was literally nothing else I could do – I even checked the wheel’s inside myself…

10 km passed, 15… everything was going great until masses of sparks started flying and the loudest scratching filled the air just as school kids filed out for home time. I didn’t even want to look – the wheel had exploded for sure…

Fortunately enough it was only the chain guard that had come apart and wedged itself in the wheel and a quick visit to a welder had me sorted.

I’m still not sure whether my tyre problem’s have been solved – but I’ve decided to crash in Bong Son for the night in a hotel that also sells coffins (no jokes). There’s no English, no wifi, and I’m pretty sure there’s no house keeping either… but that’s okay, because if I don’t get eaten alive by the bed bugs and if my bikes alright in the morning (assuming it doesn’t get “borrowed” in the night) then I’ll actually get to post this and we can all have a good cup of coffee to celebrate aliveness!

Now this might all sound pretty pessimistic, but I’d do it all again if I had the option – this picturesque country was made for the motorbike!!! Tomorrow starts a new day and I’m hoping a good night’s sleep will mark the end of my worries!

Most people just take the bus… I can understand why.