"You need to go to the hill faster."
She seemed slightly concerned about giving us bigger bikes, which we appreciated because she was so friendly and matriarchal. We convinced her, however, that we needed to move up to the 125 semi-automatics, so we could drop back the gear and motor up the steep hills quicker (consequently, the road into our resort was one of the steepest on the whole island). Further, the bike I had been riding had blown out two tires, which involves puttering along very slowly on a gimpy tire for several kilometers, until you can find someone to change it (usually not too difficult). This quest (done in consecutive days) was a pain. I would have to leave Rebecca and limp along, absorbing glares from the many people who would ride by, irritated by my crawling pace. Then, inevitably, they would look down and start pointing at the tire.
"Tire, tire!"
Thanks pal. You can't deduce that the "tire" is why I'm driving so slow that the elephant trekkers are passing me? I would smile and nod, and continue plugging along. The first day I blew out a tire, a seven year old boy changed the tube. The experience proved slightly emasculating, or would have, except for how fascinating it was. He was very proud, lugging the big tools to the bike and giving it his all as he pried the outer tire off and disassembled the exhaust and gear box. I watched, applauded and gave the widely grinning boy a hearty high-five before heading back out.
So we got bigger bikes for the bigger hills. I had been eyeing a road for a couple of days that connected the northeast and northwest corners of the island, and I assumed with some bigger bikes we could handle it. Most of the roads on our map were represented by a solid line. A dotted line, however, ran along the north coast, connecting the other roads on either end. Must be a gravel road, right? We sped up to the northern end of the island, and skirted the coastline until we came to the "gravel road" on the map. Quite suddenly, the pavement ended, revealing a bed of rocks and then a rough, washed out dirt road. Now, the normal reaction would be to turn around and drive back down to the south and around the southern road to get to the northeast beaches. Considering, that, you know, it was pretty obvious that the "dotted line" on the map was not a road.
We stopped the bikes, and I proceeded to stack rocks to form a small ramp down the 2 feet or so separating the end of the top of the asphalt and the dirt "road" below. I mean, the cones and abrupt end of tarmac were more of a yield sign rather than a stop sign, right?
Wrong. But with a little ingenuity and work, we did manage to get the bikes down from the road, gently rolling them down the makeshift rock incline. We even managed to get the bikes across a bed of very large rocks, slowly maneuvering past the larger boulders and trying to keep the bikes upright. Feeling good, we pointed ourselves onto the dirt road, and traversed the 100 meters or so until the "road" took a sharp left turn and shot straight down the side of the mountain. I stopped, turned around, and looked back at Rebecca, who was waiting in the rock field, feeling pretty confident I would be coming straight back. She was right. I slowly turned the bike around (making a good old 9 point turn) and puttered back to where my wife had waited, vindicated again. She didn't say anything, nor did she need to. Back across the rock field, and back to the "ramp" I had made, which was well suited to get bikes OFF the road, but maybe slightly less suited to getting them back ON the road. Right then, an Australian couple rode up and got off their bikes.
"What the hell are you doing down there" he asked, grinning.
"I, uh, thought that this might be a gravel road that would take us over to Bottle Beach."
"That's not a road, it's a hiking trail. And a pretty dodgy one by the looks of it."
No shit pal. "Yeah, I think you're right. Road drops off and narrows pretty good around the bend."
Thankfully, the couple came and helped us, and we pulled/carried/pushed/motored the two bikes back up onto the road. It didn't prove too difficult with four, but we were glad to have the extra help. True to my word the day before, I dared not even ask if Rebecca wanted to hike the trail. We caved and bought sunscreen (surprisingly expensive) for our arms (burned from the bikes) and backs (burned from the marathon snorkeling session) and, at Reba's insistence, went back to see Li about getting some helmets. And, in our longstanding tradition, we happened to go through a roadblock 2 blocks before we got back to Thai Coffee and fitted for our helmets. We have had: a speeding ticket in Italy, expired license in Argentina, and damage to a scooter in Greece and Italy; not to mention flat tires in Italy and Ko Phangan, and now I add a Thai "riding without helmet" ticket to the mix. And, just before I hear the chorus of mothers and sisters, NOBODY wears a helmet on Ko Phangan. The police will set up a roadblock every week or so,
give out 200 baht ($6) tickets to every driver not wearing a helmet (passengers on bikes don't have to wear one, nor do the children) and send them on their way. The best part: if you get a ticket, you can go the rest of the day without a helmet no problem. While Rebecca tried to explain that we were going to get helmets right now, the police officer tried to talk us out of it. "Oh no, you no wear helmet today. The ticket is good for today. Tomorrow you wear helmet or pay again."
Protect and serve, making the streets safe. We got helmets, thinking the ticket would do little to protect us if we crashed. We encircled the island on proper roads, and began the long and steep ascent out of Hat Rim and up into the jungle where the famous waterfalls were. We found ourselves quite excited, as Thai Royalty had visited the set of waterfalls for hundreds of years. Convinced some fantastic lush and green version of Niagara awaited, we entered the jungle for the first time. A sign on the side of the road even told us: "last stop before the jungle." It was nothing like we would see on our next stop, but the landscape was very impressive. Green as green can be, every type of plant and flower imaginable, the sound of hordes of insects/monkeys/birds and whatever else calls the jungle home. After parking the bikes, we made our way down the steep trail towards the waterfall.
As we cleared the forest, we found ourselves standing on a large rock. In front of us, a tiny
trickle of water snaking through the rocks and dropping down to the brook 50 feet below us. We looked up, convinced we had been had. Nope, another small trickle of water descending from the trees. Confused, we climbed down the rocks, circling the area and looking for a waterfall. We found none. It looked like someone had turned on a large faucet above us, seeing a collection of rocks that would make a nice waterfall."Is this the waterfall?" I asked.
"I guess. You think the Thai royalty actually came all the way down here for this?" Rebecca asked.
"Not for nothing, it was a nice hike, but I've seen more action in a bathtub. And this is the wet season."
We trudged back up to the bikes. Little did we know, we would see some of the most amazing waterfalls I've ever seen over the next several weeks, enabling us to quickly forget that first one. We wondered about the quality of advisers that bend the ear of Thai royalty.
Our evening routine was, likewise, pretty well adhered to daily. The first step was sunset and, as
the Australians call them, "a couple of sundowners" (drinks/cocktails). As everyone knows, I love my beer. I love all beer- light beer, dark beer, good beer, bad beer. Doesn't matter. I'm in. Rebecca is not so fond of yellow beer, and will usually choose wine when given those options. Wine, unfortunately, costs a great deal wherever you go here. We have heard it is taxed heavily. On one of our first nights I went to the mini-mart to buy wine and beer, and was floored by the wine prices. Jacob's Creek: $25 per bottle. Penfolds? $40. Needless to say, Rebecca has been drinking Pina Coladas throughout the South, which are delicious and full of real fruit juice. She misses her wine though. I drink my beer.
After a sunset drink at an inevitably picturesque location, we head back to the hotel for a swim and shower. Our last three nights in Ko Phangan, we finally splurged. We got a villa with jacuzzi on the balcony, three tiered pool overlooking the beach, incredible breakfast buffet. We even had two masseuses come up to our room and had our first Thai massage. Reba loved the massage. Me, not so much. I hate sitting still, and I don't care if you are giving me the best massage in the history of the universe, I'm not going to enjoy it if I have to lie still for an hour. After about 15 minutes I became very antsy and wondered why a stranger was sitting on top of me. I have not had a massage since (although the first 15 minutes were really nice). I think I need to learn how to relax more.
We so enjoyed our stay at the Salad Burii resort that we sat, speechless and down, at dinner our last night. Just sad. Me: "You don't want to leave tomorrow do you."
Reba: "No, not at all."
"Do you want to just stay one more night?"
She looked up at me with that Reba look. The one I have never and will never be able to say no to. The one where she gets that excited look in her eyes, and looks like she wants nothing else in the world. I saw it at the dog pound in Raleigh when we first met Rose. We stayed another night. To be honest, it was damn hard leaving the islands. I think both of us were down for a
couple of days after we left; it didn't last long, the north of Thailand is incredible, but it's hard leaving the sunny Andaman. We did stay another day, and soaked up as much of that sun as we could. It made leaving a little easier, but still difficult.The Andaman, apparently, didn't want us to leave either. We got up 2 days later to leave. To my dismay, the desk was not open yet. We were hoping to hop the 7:00 ferry for Surat Thani, where we would start the trek north. At 6:00, and facing a 30 minute bike ride, returning the bikes to Li, and purchasing a ferry ticket, I started getting nervous. At 6:05, I started knocking on the office door. A groggy resort employee opened the door and waved me inside. Now, I don't move fast at 6:00 a.m. either, especially just after waking up. But I have never seen anyone move as slow as the concierge that morning (though she was very friendly). To make matters worse, they had also mixed up our tab with another room's, so our laundry, drinks, and meals were all mixed in with theirs. The woman slowly went through the many handwritten tabs, sleepily sorting them out. I shifted from one foot to another, looking at the clock, trying to make it apparent that we were in a hurry.
"We have to catch the 7:00 ferry, and we must leave soon."
She was confused about the tab, and said she had to call her manager, which she did. I'm pretty much jumping up and down at this point (while remaining very friendly, of course). She talked to her manager, and I'm pretty sure they got through a philosophical discussion on the state of Thai politics and the intrusion of Buddhism into the current regime before she got off the phone. We finally got it sorted out, and we ran to our bikes and headed south.
When you rent bikes in Thailand, you receive them and drop them off with no gas in them, it's simply the way it's done. True to form, I always try my best to skate along on those last few fumes before returning the bikes we rent.
You can probably guess what happened next.
About halfway to the port town, I ran out of gas. I managed to coast into a gas station, which, unfortunately (but inevitably) was not open yet. Now, most everyone on the island sells gas out of their homes. One liter at a time. I jumped on Reba's bike, leaving her with the bags, and went after gas. The time was 6:40. I found a man who was awake and had gas, but had no bottle to put it in. Generally, the Thai use Sangsom whiskey bottles. I sped up and down the road, looking behind stores and houses before finally finding an empty liquor bottle, though the cap was gone. After filling the bottle, I squeezed the valuable petrol between my legs, and drove wide open back to Rebecca. At 6:55, we were off and running. I knew we couldn't make it, but we thought we would leave our bags with Li and figure out the next ferry. When I arrived at the pier, I found that the boat actually left at 7:15. Rebecca went and settled up with Li (apparently she loved us as much as we loved her. We had gotten to talk to her a bit since we exchanged the bikes several times, she had laughed at me when we couldn't find a helmet to fit on my head, and just generally hit it off). She charged us about half of what she normally charged, and sent us to the boat with a bag full of doughnuts that she wouldn't charge us for, and two piping hot cups of coffee. She hugged both of us and said goodbye.
We sprinted down the pier and, as always, were the last ones on the boat. As the ramp was raised behind us, we turned and gave a heartfelt goodbye to the islands of southern Thailand and the Andaman Sea.
But it was time to head north...
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