Sunday (7 May) I collect the camera from the shop in Had Yai on Sunday: lens and winder are doing fine. I celebrate with another roll of film. Last on the reel is my old teacher. As a present I have the picture enlarged and framed.
Before I gave it to him I show it to an Irish lady who has lived here for years and who runs a pharmacy with her Thai doctor husband: "Ah, my dear, you've caught that smirk perfectly." She asked me to take some photographs of her shop for a brochure, so I decided to stay one more day. Not a hard decision.
Monday (8 May)
For the next few days I am going to be wandering about relaxing and taking photographs. The game plan is the same every day: breakfast, wander, lunch, wander, shower, tea, wander, bed.
This day I wandered up to a favourite area, called Khao Noi (Little Mountain), which is a small hill with a view of the sea and the lake. Many years ago there was a house up here and the gardens have been maintained to an extent as a public park.
I was sitting in the shade when a group of kids came up. Common practice in Thailand is that you are asked to take photographs. No problem:
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Tuesday (19 May) Same place, but different. Instead of kids a-playing, today there are monkeys. The pool has become a play area for monkeys that come up the hill in the mornings when it is cool. Later they move down the hill where there is more shade. Make no mistake, these are wild animlas and dangerous. Best to keep your distance. I managed to catch them when the water had been turned on.
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Wednesday
This was my last day and I always feel a bit down. I lived in Songkhla when I first came to Thailand some 13 years ago and would like to live here again. There are not many tourists and the place does not have a night life in the same was as Pattaya or Bangkok. There are oil industry workers, but they are not roisterous.
Songkhla is also a major fishing port, and the activities there are always interesting. Both the industrial operation . . .
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. . . and the more traditional
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This time there were also hundreds of US military in the town as part of the regular Thai-US exercises known as Cobra Gold. Off duty soldiers and sailors have a bad reputation but it was noticeable how well behaved and polite these young men (and women) were. I am not usually pro-military but here we had an excellent example of good behaviour.
After my usual run up to Khao Noi and to the beach for lunch, as the afternoon passed I went into town for the morning newspaper (things work slowly here) and then wandered the old town taking photographs. I think Songkhla is so photogenic.
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As with the kids on the hill, children in the town also love having their pictures taken.
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These kids came back for a second look; and the guys below (right image) were enthusiastic too:
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Thursday (11 May)
An early breakfast got me on the road just after 0800 and, after taking on a full tank of Mrs. Caltex's best, I made my way to the ferry across the mouth of the lake. Normally, a bike rider goes to the head of the line, but the ferry was already being loaded so I slipped in among the cars, along with a couple small bikes. To get one more car on, I was asked to move down a bit further, and, to do so, the two bikes ahead were moved sideways and I slipped the K in between.
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Leaving the ferry is a bit slow as the ramp has a camber and everyone wants to be first. As soon as I reached terra firma, I was off and had soon passed those who had been on the ferry.
Traffic as far as Nakhon Sri Thammarat was a bit heavy in places: a lot of it early morning work buses and the like. But many cars were on their way to (or from) weddings--cloth draped across the hood showed this.
Nakhon Sri Thammarat is normally difficult to negotiate: the "bypass" that I remember as being in the middle of fields some 13 years ago is now totally built up. This morning, however, I must have timed it perfectly as even the sets of traffic lights turned to green as I approached.
On the other side of the city, the road follow the coast closely in several places until Tha Sala, and curves beautifully. It then cuts across the headland by the beautiful fishing village of Sichon and continues across the mountains towards Surat Thani. As far as Tha Sala there were several convoys of cars and pickup trucks, all draped with cloth: they cannot all have been going to the same wedding.
Once past Tha Sala, traffic was better and I could pick up the pace, past the turnoff for the Koh Samui ferry, past the signpost that indicates 666 kilometers for Bangkok (I am sure whoever created that has NO idea of the significance in the West), and into Surat Thani where I saw the clouds beginning to gather.
The fuel lights had come on fully by now so I took the opportunity, when I stopped for gas, to put on the waterproof jacket. I checked the time and found that it was just before 1100 and I had done 300 kms on that first tank of fuel: a refill of Esso showed 17.5 litres.
While putting on the jacket and drinking a bottle of water, I had a chat with a family in a grey pickup who were also Bangkok-bound. They asked me if I had been wearing a yellow jacket before (I bought a reflective jacket some months ago), and I opened up the pannier to show them. "You passed us on the road" they said; but I obviously had not disgraced myself as they were quite happy and somewhat amazed by my intention to ride to Bangkok by late afternoon: Thais have a mental picture that motorcycles are only small, only two-stroke (that is changing) and only for towns.
Between Surat Thani and Chumphon, as if to order, down came the rains. There must be something about this part of the country--its narrowest, the Isthmus of Kra--that makes it the most likely place to get wet. 60kms north the dual carriageway began.
But now it was boring, if hot. The plastic coat was superheating me and I began to get short of breath, even opening the helmet visor. I felt a bit better after opening the collar of the jacket, obviously allowing some more evaporation.
Near Prachuab Kirikhan I pulled into another Esso station after a spirited series of bends where I filled the tank again and had another cool drink. There was a distinct smell of hot rubber. The Michelin/Koni setup I am running makes the bike feel very solid, although on a long, bumpy bend, the front starts to shake a bit: more throttle helps.
Just short of Pranburi, everything was being stopped by the police, so I did what any self-respecting Thai would do and jumped the queue only to be waved over. The officer thought I was from Malaysia (I think some riders were heading fro Hua Hin) until he saw the Bangkok registration. A quick check of what I did in Thailand and we were on our way again after asking him the time: it was just short of 1500, so my 1700 eta in Bangkok was a bit ambitious. At Pranburi, I stopped, had another drink and removed the jacket as there was no more cloud. Both cloth jacket and shirt beneath were soaked.
Traffic was already getting a bit heavy, but once past the turnoff for Cha-Am, we have the Bangkok suburbanites all hogging the outside lane until the turnoff for south and south-east Bangkok between Petchburi and Ratchaburi. I guess I should be used to this, and to the number who speed up *only* after I pass, but it is still something to moan about.
I filled up one more time and then the last few kilometres past Nakhon Pathom, Nakhon Chaisri, Sam Pran (Three Hunters, also known as the Rose Garden), and then the back road home by just after 1730. I sat on the veranda drinking water for about 15 minutes while the dog tried to wag herself to death. I was exhausted.
Friday (12 May) Chris phoned late Thursday and with Erin and Benka in the background, we arranged to meet at Yut's shop at 1330 the next day. I took the K into the Old Man's shop as the left indicator had packed up while I was in the south--the switch was broken too--the rear brake needed some work, and the K Death Rattle had returned. When I came back to the shop at about 1300, he was working on an old Honda belonging to some kids, and it took a few minutes to get to me. The brakes had already been fixed, and the Death Rattle took a couple of minutes--re-tightening those nuts--although one bracket on the exhaust had now broken off and will need some fixing when we have more time.
The indicator was not done. I just have to keep my wits about me and wave my left arm. Pretty effective, actually. Thais are so unused to seeing hand signals (which I give anyway to confirm light signals when needed), except as a last minute panic indicator, that they react positively.
Off I went to Dynamic Motors, Yut's place, only to find Chris's bike there, but no Chris. He was off with Yut trying to find tyres and, he told me later, mixing it with a Thai policeman. Chris and Yut arrived about 45 minutes later: Chris on Erin's F650 and Yut on a smoky R100GS (I think it was an oil leak, somewhere at the front). Can I help? Of course. Will I ride Erin's bike to the tyre shop?
Here we are in congested Bangkok, on a Friday afternoon preceding a public holiday, the tyre shop, in 22 July Circle, is in a part of Bangkok I rarely visit, and I am riding a bike I have never been on before. I must reserve judgement, but if you think an oilhead is clunky in comparison to a K, then wait till you try a single-cylinder F650. I like the indicators, though. At least they worked.
Chris and I pulled into the traffic and chased down the outside of the two lanes to the head of the line at a set of traffic lights, in among about 20 other motorcycles. He leaned over and said, "I will never be able to ride normally in traffic again." It took a moment for this to sink in, and then I began to laugh. This *is* normal. The lights changed and we cut from the outside to the inside and crawled along the gutter edging past the stationary cars, then swung across between the cars, back to the outside again.
Chris suddenly pointed to a side turning and said, "Down here." Not that I really knew where we were, but using the GPS, he had found a short-cut. At the other end, we threaded our way through more cars and dived down a short road. At the other end I asked directions: 50 metres, turn left. We were there.
After much discussion, several options, a wait for fitting, and a rainstorm, we headed back with three new tyres and a couple of spare tubes. The fourth tyre, for Chris's R was to be bought the next morning.
Again, on the way back, that GPS worked and Chris announced we were almost there and had to turn right. My normal method of navigation in Bangkok, if I do not know where I am, is to travel in ever-widening circles until I recognise something. The GPS memorised Chris's earlier ride down these streets. On my wish list.
We dropped off the F650 at the hotel and then returned to collect my K. At the shop were two more RTW riders, Hamish and David(?) and a very worn R80G/S. We chatted for almost an hour--they were off to Kathmandu in a day or so, while Chris, Erin and Benka were heading for Cambodia and Vietnam.
Back at the hotel we parked our bikes. While we were doing this, a western lady came out and said hello to Chris. It was Benka. When he introduced me, she threw her arms around me. These Slovenians. . . . I had agreed to look after Benka's bike while she goes to the US for a couple of months, so I guess he was pleased to finally meet me.
Monday (15 May) It was another public holiday and traffic was going to be light, but it was raining. Nonetheless, it was my intention to collect the R80g/s and finally have them both on my driveway. I cut across country to bring me to the outer ring road and then took the flyover for central Bangkok. Traffic was almost stopped and was backed up a long way, suggesting a problem ahead. Halfway round the curve, I could see that two riders were down but that nothing else was aparently amiss.
The thought, "diesel", went through my mind and I was ready, slowing down to a walking pace, way before the problem area. It sure was diesel and the air smelled strongly: I could see it laying there on the road. Nothing I could do. As I got there, with the camber, the front wheel went, and then I sort of high-sided--all at less than 10kph of course, the bike coming to rest against the parapet. I expected that the mirror would be damaged, but was a bit miffed when I saw that the plastic to the right of the screen was cracked too. The right bag was half open but not cracked. Great end to a holiday, eh?
Instead of changing bikes, I had to leave the K there for another repair: out and back in less than a month
Graham K. Rogers
Bangkok, May 2000
Part 1: From the city to the South
Back to Part 2: Songkhla and Malaysia
For further information, e-mail to Graham K. Rogers.