Der Strasse entlang nach Klang

Wo zum Teufel ist Klang??!! Genau!!!

Petronas Tower

Wir sind immer noch in Malaysia. Und der Titel klingt ein vielleicht langweilig aber das Radfahren bis Klang war auch ein bisschen langweilig.

Nachdem wir im Eiltempo Thailand per Faehre von Satun nach Langkawi/ Malaysia verlassen haben, verbrachten wir 3 Tage auf Langkawi, zur Einstimmung sozusagen auf ein neues Land. Und da auf Langkawi das Bier noch billig ist (im Gegensatz zum restlichen Land) bot sich dieser Platz zum An- und Abgewoehnen an.

Die Insel ist sauber, schoen, gruen, zivilisiert, gut bestrandet und dank Ramadan relativ leer. Aber irgendwie haben wir in den letzten 2 Monaten genug gebadet und so zieht es uns schnell wieder auf die Strasse.

Naja,  erst mal auf die Faehre zurueck aufs Festland, nach Georgetown (Penang). Die Stadt gefaellt uns auf Anhieb. Ein bunter, kultureller Mix. Und da wir gleich neben “Little India” wohnen, gibt es endlich mal wieder ein koestliches “Masala Dosa”zum Fruehstueck. Dank Regen und eben

Little India KL

erwaehntem “Masala Dosa”, bleiben wir vier Tage. In unserem Guesthouse wohnt auch ein anderes Radlerpaar aus der Schweitz. So gibt es regen Gedanken- und Erfahrungsaustausch. Und wir machen einen Plan, denn Australien ist nicht mehr so weit und Indonesien so gross und steil.

Tom Buys a New Bike

Plan fuer die naechsten Wochen bzw. Monate:

-          an der Westkueste Malaysias bis Klang radeln, von dort mit der Faehre bis Dumai/ Sumatra/ Indonesia (1monatiges Visa on arrival)

-          einen Monat Sumatra, den Norden erkunden

-          mit der Faehre zurueck nach Melaka/ Malaysia

-          radeln bis Singapur

-          in Singapur 2monatiges Visum machen fuer Indonesien

-          mit der Faehre von Singapur nach Java

-          nach 2 Monaten Java, Bali, Lombok (mal sehen wie’s so laeuft) nach Australien (fliegen??!!)

Also radeln wir bis Klang. Die Strasse ist breit, voll mit neuen Autos und schnellen Mopeds und kein Vergnuegen, aber wir kommen relativ schnell voran.

Ich bin, seit wir in Malaysia sind, ein bisschen reisemuede. Das ist meistens so, wenn ich ein Land oder eine Strecke nicht besonders mag. Es gibt bestimmt wunderbare Orte hier und die Leute sind ganz freundlich, aber unsere Strecke ist nicht so spannend (ausgenommen den Staedten, wie zb. Georgetown). Alles ist ziemlich

Chinatown KL

westlich hier, zu viele Strassen, viel zu viele Autos, zu viele Ampeln. Ich vermisse Indien, ich vermisse China, ich vermisse  auch Thailand.

3 Tage in Klang

Da wir doch nicht so organisiert sind wie es anhand des og. Planes scheinen mag, muessen wir 3 Tage in Klang bleiben, da die Faehre nach Sumatra erst am Montag geht. So repariert Tom unserer Raeder, ich wasche und repariere Klamotten und kaufe ein bisschen in “Little India”ein, welches es Wohlgenaehrte Inder, Masala Dosa, laute Bollywoodmusik, Saris, Stoffe, Blumen, Raecherstaebchen machen das Warten auf die Faehre sehr angenehm.

Gestern sind wir mit dem Zug nach KL (Kuala Lumpur) gefahren (welches nur 30km von hier entfernt ist) um ein bisschen Touristenarbeit zu leisten. KL empfaengt uns mit einem wunderschoenen Bahnhof. Allerdings wird es schwierig in die Stadt zu laufen. Strassen, Strassen, Strassen, oben, unten, vorne, hinten machen es einem Touristen schwer, die Stadt zu Fuss zu erkunden. Irgendwie finden wir unseren Weg durch die Stadt und haben einen schoenen Tag. Abends sind wir jedoch froh wieder in unserem Klang zu sein. Schnell gehen wir Rotis und Curry essen und fallen muede vom Touristendienst ins Bett.

Hubbock's 1909 Train Station. Kuala Lumpar

Phuket to Panang

Funny little Chap

Phi Phi Longtails

Skin-Diving Treasure Haul

Jetsom

Low tide Sundown

Phi Phi Ley

Typical Thailand Tourist

THAILAND TO MALAYSIA

We rode out of the rain shortly before crossing the bridge to Phuket, the largest of Thailand’s islands. While cooking breakfast in a National Park campground behind a beach where fairly large waves broke on the shore, a lycra-clad middle-aged Thai couple pulled up on mountain bikes for a chat. It turned out they ran a bicycle shop a few miles away and had all the tools and parts to repair Anja’s  bike. After a pit stop at Thalang Bikes we pedalled round this beautiful if over-touristed island stopping here and there and visiting the aquarium.

This place is a real ex-pat enclave complete with its own ‘Falang’ newspaper. This publication made quite interested reading. It seemed the undertow and short sharp waves on which we had warily body-boarded (we found one washed up on the beach) had drowned 3 tourists over the weekend to the frustration of the local lifeguards who post signs, plant flags and do their best to stop all us dumb grockels from being seduced by the warm, aquamarine waters and forgetting that the rollers, tides and currents are the grasping fingers of a hungry and unforgiving ocean. Mixed with the articles on property and investment trends were those that indicated other undercurrents; stand-over men, corruption and land-wars culminating in temple gunfights and being dragged along the bottom were the Burmese migrant workers who die in large numbers in the foundation trenches of the new luxury hotels.

We were glad to get on the ferry to Koh Phi Phi, which, although slowly sinking under the weight of the young party crowd and their back-packs, remains, due to the mountainous terrain and absence of roads, an island paradise. From a cheap guesthouse in the town which is wall to wall dive-shops and German bakeries we would walk each morning a half hour to Long-beach cook breakfast on the white sands and snorkel round Shark Point. I was thrilled to see a couple of Black Tip reef Sharks and came back to the beach to tell Anja where they were. I warned her there was a strong current that ran between two rocks but being the adventurous type she decided to go with the flow and let herself be carried through the gap. She returned in a bit of a state as she was dumped in what she called the “Shark Pool”, a group of about 20 sharks. These fine looking, 1.5m creatures are supposedly harmless but such a first sighting could make anyone panic a little. We procured another snorkel set and thereafter swam out together.

Anja had some designing work to do so we stayed a week on Phi Phi and I spent my days scrambling over the hills and exploring the island, returning to town in the evening to pick the odd drunken, injured Australian up off the pavement and help them back to their hotel.

From Phi Phi we took the ferry to Koh Lanta and cycled down to the South and the beach where we met over 3 years ago. Everything there was closed up for the low season so we had the beach to ourselves but just behind the beach I noticed a German Toyota pick-up with a camper back and as I was taking a Photo for future reference bearded Mark appeared and invited us in for an iced Tea. He and his wife Kristina had driven here 3 years ago from Germany passing through Russia and Korea on the way and had some good stories to tell. Great folks, though the complications involved in driving round the world made me glad we were on bicycles. No paperwork or customs impounding, back shish and weeks of waiting.

Anja’s friend Tatiana was on holiday on Koh Samui off the other coast of Thailand so Anja rushed up with a bus and ferry to see her for a couple of days and I was left on my lonesome. The first time in over 15 months. In the hut next to us was a Canadian called Douglas, a travelling musician who could play any instrument he was handed. I asked if he could play the harmonica (hoping to learn to play my neglected present from Bruno the Hobo we met

Last miles in Thailand

back in France), he laughed and opened with a flourish a case with an array of mouth-organs in every key. “what do you want to play, cross harp, slide harp, straight harp,folk, blues blues, bluegrass or what? I can download all the books and cd’s onto your computer if you like”. I had been looking for a book for over a year. We sat on the porch drinking beers, tapping our feet, puffing and sucking our harps and bringing a bit of Hillbilly to the beach. (well, Doug did. I added some cat with a foot on its tail harmonics to his accomplished playing). “hey shall I download some movies aswell, you don’t have anything on your new computer”. And so we joined the modern traveller fraternity, the plugged in, tuned out generation with 200 films ready to watch on rainy nights in our tent. 21^st Century adventurers!!

We left Lanta with three days left on our visa and over 300kms to Malaysia so we trod on the pedals a bit and decided to take a ferry from Satun to Lankawi, an island on the Malaysian side, thereby avoiding some steep looking mountains which could have slowed us down too much.

Lankawi, Malaysia. As Peninsular Malaysias premier beach resort destination or however it was described in a pamphlet we found, I was expecting an over-developed nightmare. On the contrary, it was pretty wild for the most-part with national parks, marine-reserves etc, and a quiet little harbour town. Cheap it was not. We arrived on Patai Tenga, a most beautiful beach looking out to some unpopulated islands and were immediately greeted by a smooth talking Californian and asked if we would like to rent one of his new “cabanas” for the day. I pointed to our bikes and said that paying to spent the daylight hours somewhere was not really included in our budget. Ah, he said I see, well come and sit in the shade anyway, you don’t have to pay.

Dave and his Sarawaki wife Susan were a great couple with a new business ‘Bookakabana”. We set up our inner tent under one of their kabana’s, watched the most colourful sunset I have ever seen and cooked up dinner on a driftwood table.

Langkawi Sunset

The next day we cycled round the island in the most torrential rain and limped, bedraggled back into Kuah, the port, to dry out in a friendly Motel.

There was a ferry to Georgetown on the historic island of Penang and as the rain seemed set to continue, we took it, and here we are. This has a varied mix of Malays, Indians, Chinese and Caucasians living in ramshackle colonial style streets. There are Hindu temples sandwiched between Chinese temples and Mosques. Little India fades into Chinatown and most people seem to speak four different languages. The Tamil Indians can speak Chinese, the Chinese Tamil and everyone seems proficient in both Malay and English. An interesting town.

We are sitting out yet more rain and are trying to work out the complications that Indonesia poses. We can only get a 60 day visa but it is 5000 km from the top of Sumatra to Papua. The ferries, in places, (the ones we want of course) seem no longer to run, replaced by cheap flights. I hate flying so a route is not easy. The latest plan is to ride south to Malacca, take a boat to Dumai on Sumatra, tour round a bit on a 30 day ‘visa on arrival’, return to Malacca, ride south to Singapore, get a 60 day visa, take a ferry to the Kijang then a ship to somewhere on Java. Then see how far we can ride in the time.

Yachtclub Gatecrash, Langkawi

Maybe we can reach Timor L’est and return on another 30 day visa and figure out how to get to Australia. The only boat option is to find a friendly sailor and the only flights these days are from Bali which means missing out a whole lot of islands or back-tracking a long way. If anyone reading this has any bright ideas we would be glad to hear them.

Captain Lights Boots

Today is Anja’s birthday and tomorrow my Dads big 80^th. Have a good party on Sunday everyone. We are off for a big Indian dinner!

Georgetown

The Sweet Lipped Harlequin and The Isthmus of Kra

SOUTHERN THAILAND

Tanote Bay

The list went along the lines of: Three Spot dascyllus, Polkadot Nudibranch, Longface Emperor, Yellowstripe Scad, Redbelly Yellowtail Fusilier, Indo-Pacific sergeant, Titan Trigger,  Bluespine Unicorn, Blacktip Grouper, Slingjaw Wrasse. It went on with other inspired names and included my favourite; The Harlequin Sweetlip. The guy who named all these fish and sea creatures  was obviously awed by their multicoloured beauty and figured he had better come up with some titles to do them justice. This is just a few names of fish encountered, read out from my new scuba-diving logbook which I proudly received after taking a short course in the skills of the underwater art on the Island of Koh Tao (Turtle Island) which lies some 70kms off the east coast of Thailand.

View of the Bay

A more perfect place for diving and snorkelling it is hard to imagine though apparently they exist. The outcrop of Koh Tao is a and unruly pile of igneous boulders smothered by thick forest. The large rounded rock formations are visible where they rise above the trees to a lofty peak or where they are washed clean by the sea, being slowly ground into sand which, mixed with the crunched and ejected coral fragments, once the meals of parrot fish and the like, make up the many beaches.  There are tracks  that lead to some but not all of these beaches but they are incredibly steep, the hardest  we have yet encountered. Both of us would push one bike at a time and would still often slide backwards in the dust. We got a bit lost and ended up not where we wanted to go but where we were obviously supposed to be, Tanote bay, and stayed for a week.

Image from a cyclists nightmare!

Scuba-Diving here is like climbing into the tropical marine fish tank in the pet shop. One is surrounded by mostly indifferent but sometimes inquisitive  fish who don’t see us as a predator so will often peer into ones mask from just the other side of the glass. Some little black fellas are territorial and attack if you hang around their rock too long. In fact, to get amongst some of the most interesting creatures neither an air tank or a snorkel is needed, just stick your head beneath the surface in a foot of water and a whole new world is revealed. Anja spent about 10 hours a day snorkelling while I was in front of the blackboard learning theory or underwater trying not to breathe through my nose, panic when my mask filled up with seawater or make some buoyancy error which meant I would suddenly, unintentionally and dangerously shoot towards the surface.

Another rickety old night boat brought us back to Chumphon on the mainland and in the damp early grey we set off to cross the so called Isthmus of Kra. This is not some mythical land from a Conan the barbarian pulp fiction paperback or even a name given to a visible land formation on the planet Mars but the thin strip of land separating the Gulf of Thailand with the Andaman Sea. Where we crossed it is only 60km wide and hilly but not mountainous so we figured things would be pretty much the same on the other coast.

I like reading guidebooks when I arrive somewhere or even after I have left. I know this sounds strange but reading them beforehand kind of well.. guides one along in a way that often leaves me frustrated or annoyed. It takes a lot of the chance out of things. This time however a quick flip through the outdated German guidebook that Anja found somewhere might have saved us from our present situation. That is; sitting in a bungalow surrounded by smelly and mouldy clothes which refuse to dry and looking outside at the most constantly ferocious rain I have ever seen. When we finally opened the relevant page in the book (somehow the pages of places far out of our way make better reading) this is what it said “Ranong ist einer der regenreichsten provinzen in Thailand.  Von mitte April bis anfang Dezember ist regenzeit, von juni bis August giesst es in stroemen.” Now that sounds pretty wet even if you don’t speak German.

We rode for four days through constant and heavy monsoon rains and I swear I was dryer when diving. Our top of the range “waterproof” panniers turned out once again, as they did in India to be only showerproof so all of our stuff got wet. I tested the bags by filling them with water and seeing where it ran out. After 16 months of use there are small holes in the front bags and the screws and rivets were no longer tight. A bit of repair helped things quite a bit but the things, although being the best there is would never be fully waterproof.

Mangrove Hut

Tomorrow we head for Phuket and hopefully a good cycleshop whatever the weather. Anjas bottom bracket, ie. the pedal bearing has worn out and unfortunately, being a fancy pants XT part is hard to replace in Asia (bad planning on my part). Special tools are needed to even get the thing off. If we find no suitably equipped bikeshop I fear we will have to go old fashioned and bodge up some special tools in a blacksmiths shop and then hope to find some bearings the right size.

30 seconds before it rained

After 18000kms certain parts on the bikes are coming to the end of their natural lives and needing replacements. I reckon by the time we return the frame itself will be the only original part. Maybe not even that if we have to fly again.

At the Filling Station

Bangkok to the beach

 THAILAND

So you are probably thinking that a bike-ride down the East coast of Thailand would be all smooth flat roads running under palm trees along lonely beaches with the odd pastel fishing boat yawing on the gentle lazuli swell while sheer faced islands float upon the horizon. That perfect camp spots are easy to find on grassy meadows by the sea where the sun can be watched rise and fall and shells as shiny as treasure can be found along with unknown creatures when the short tide reveals its rocky nooks and pools. That the natives wave and smile and welcome you to their country when you meet them collecting molluscs in the early light.  If something along these lines is what you imagine this stretch of our journey is like then congratulate yourself because you’re right.

Oh, of course we have encountered a lot of problems too like, um, like, hang on I wrote a list so I wouldn’t forget, where is it now.. ah, here it is : sand, big problem, I love beaches but they are often sandy, sand in the tent, sand in the food, sand grinding always on our chains and cogs; ants, yep, our friendly relationship with the busy little chaps has turned a bit sour in Thailand. Last night (after a few sundowners under a coconut tree, which I guess is a potential problem itself) we both needed a pee in the night. Having seen the amount of snakes squashed on the roads we decided at least to put our sandals on and both got about 3 yards before we started shrieking and scratching. I thought at first it was jelly fish (still a bit sleepy) then remembered there were no air jellyfish. It was red ants, thousands. They had for some reason decided our sandals; left in front of the tent would make ideal foundations for a few new high-rise condominiums in the Formosa style. Back in the small tent a serious ants in the pants dance was performed. These tough little fellas would not let go.  In the morning I found a dozen squashed little bodies still clinging with their clenched jaws to my more sensitive parts; Sun, it is hot and it burns and lastly, headwind, all the way from Laos it has been against us, not strong, not constant, but every day and always blowing the wrong way.

 I am sure some people manage to find some real thing they don’t like about Thailand, but it can’t be easy. There is the sex tourism angle I guess, can’t say I know enough about it to make a valid comment. We see sometimes in the bigger towns the odd grey haired white guy drinking a coca-cola with a Thai girlfriend half his age, a bit weird but there must be something in it for both of them. We imagine how hard it must be to keep such a relationship going, more with the cultural difference than the age one., I mean, we find it hard what with Anja being  foreign and all (and the Sauerkrauts are quite normal really once you get to know them)!!

Leaving Bangkok was relatively simple. The town planners tried to get us lost with a lot of one way systems  but they had not counted on us having a handlebar mounted compass (thanks Derek) that, through dead reckoning, brought us always back on course. We had to make a certain allowance for sideways drift in the strong, cross-town motorcycle currents and avoid a few uncharted hazards but soon we were making 12 knots 240 degrees east into a stiff headwind down highway 35, the major and at this point only road leading to the south of the country.

After 85kms of dull but safe cycling we turned south on route 2021 (nearly all roads in Thailand have numbers and milestones every kilometre (can’t yet bring myself to say kilometre stone)) and felt  pretty pleased with ourselves as we rode through salt, fish and shrimp farms where long legged birds waded and sifted and 5 foot lizards thrashed about in the mangroves.

We camped again in the grounds of a Buddhist temple where the unflustered monks brought us cold drinks and giant candles. Both the act and the wax lit up our evening.  We were shown a block with showers and toilets, a shower after a day in this sticky heat being well, not a godsend I suppose, but let’s say a welcome gift from Sidney Arthur. In the morning we received a visit from the school head teacher  as it seemed the shower block belonged to the school.  I tried to imagine a similar situation in England: two grubby, sun-faded travellers are found in a small village, sleeping in the school/churchyard and making free use of the facilities. Would the head teacher call the police or insist they come in for coffee and doughnuts? I am not sure what they would do but I don’t imagine the vagabonds would  be introduced to the kids and filled with cakes and hot beverages like we were.  We wonder if we get specially treated because we are foreign and our skin is a different colour!!