The Gentle Rhythms of Riding are Forgotten

Our last set of instructions

Riding long distance requires a degree of discipline, albeit little responsibility. Up at 5am, bags down by 6.15, breakfast at 6.30 and off on the road by 7 at the latest to follow the route for the day. No time for lying in, shillyshallying around or preening in front of the mirror. After the ride there's laundry to be done, a shower to wash off the day's sweat and grime, maybe a read and a nap, or a beer and a chat, perhaps some emails or Skypeing before rider meeting at 6.15pm and dinner at 6.30.

But now the ride is over we can throw discipline to the wind, wake at 9am and still have time for breakfast, wander about as the oddly tanned accidental tourists that we are, loll about in bars and laze by shady swimming pools. Oh what a life it is.

Peanuts served at the Long Bar at Raffles

And so Day One of the Return to Normal Living has proved incredibly successful. A long breakfast after an unfortunate early rise, but I guess we have been conditioned, a bit of bike boxing, then off to Raffles to enjoy one - or more - of its famed Singapore Slings. I can tell you the ingredients if you want to mix up one at home and have it sneak up on you on a Saturday afternoon.

Take a cocktail shaker and pour in 30ml of gin. Add 15ml of cherry brandy and 120ml of pineapple juice. Top this with 15ml of lime juice and 7.5ml each of Cointreau and DOM Benedictine. Add 10ml of Grenadine and some ice then shake. Pour into a tall glass and garnish with a sweltered maraschino cherry and a chunk of pineapple side by side. Mind, one will make you feel pleasantly relaxed, two a trifle tipsy and three, positively drunk.

Janice, Jim and Walli

Ah, Singapore. I never thought I would ever relish your orderly cleanliness, predictable customer service and quiet comforts as I now do after this whirlwind tour of motorbikes and trucks, potholes and poor shoulders, palm oil and rubber plantations, fried rice and noodles, and skinny dogs and underfed chooks. But I will miss the warm smiles and greetings. These people know what it is to be part of the larger human community in ways that we in the west may only occasionally glimpse.

 

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Last Days

Dining in Little India

The Straits of Malacca have always sounded intriguing to me, stories of pirates and trade, links with Europe and Asia. So it was wonderful to at last look out to sea from the city of Meleka, or Malacca if you prefer, and wander the narrow streets and lane ways imagining how things were 150 years ago.

An Islamic outfitter

Life today in Meleka is busy and commercial, but the highlight in the trading department are the decorated rickshaw cyclists, gaudily decorated sidecars for tourists to sit in and be pedaled around town. Some of the riders looked none too young or fit, but pedal they did.

 

Small bars supplying rose scented liqueurs and Chinese spirits could be found, as well as Chinese apothecaries. Little India boasted clothing and incense and busy restaurants where the food came promptly and plentifully.

 

The river walk was inspired by Austin, Texas, and was a picture of flowers, pleasure boats and cafés. It was fun spotting the water monitors and the slippery agile mud skippers, too.

A car full of drying biscuits

Ricks haws

Water monitors in the Meleka River

Port Dickson, on the other hand, is a busy and bustling seaside resort town where the locals flock in summer. Riding in we experienced peak traffic conditions. The hotel we stayed in was something like a Billy Butlin's holiday camp, according to Matthew, with its pool full of kids and blaring music.

 

One of the elements I have enjoyed most is the beaming smiles directed my way by Muslim women. They call hello, grin and wave and if we're stopped, make a little small talk. I think the way their open brown faces are framed by their scarves is very beautiful. Today construction workers called out, "Welcome to Malaysia!" A peloton of serious cyclists on a training ride all threw their hands I tot the air and clapped as they passed us. Drivers toot and wave sometimes, and at traffic lights people regard us curiously.

River dwellings, Meleka

Some of my fellow riders find Muslim dress for women rather confronting. This has been especially so when we are at swimming pools, seeing the girls and women in the head-to-toe outfits. I guess it is commonplace in Melbourne and I barely give the issue a thought, but it has certainly provoked some lively discussions around the dinner table in recent times.

Today's highlight was the roti maker, deftly slapping and shaping his dough and filling it with a spicy fish mixture. The roadsides are dotted with small home-run food stalls. I don't think there can be much domestic cooking taking place as everyone seems to crowd the cafés at breakfast and lunch times. We have been served a variety of food, some spicy and some mild, tending to bland. Eating out all the time is not for me though, and I can't wait to get back to my kitchen again to whip up some favourites.

 

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Crooning in Kuala Lumpur

Thank goodness we caught a bus into KL as the traffic is plentiful and fierce. A couple of hardy souls rode the 150kms in, but not for me. Then again, they're the ones who found riding into Phnom Penh "exhilarating" and Bangkok, "thrilling".

Walli, the complete athlete

A few more kms on the bike through pleasant Malaysian rolling hills and rural vistas. We have spent a night in Ipoh and another in Teluk Intan. Neither place was particularly interesting or pleasant, although there is a leaning tower in the latter city. Getting out of Ipoh involved a 20km plus conga line as we dodged and darted through the morning traffic.

Monks go shopping in Petaling St

We are staying close to Petaling Street in Chinatown in this city, so have been accosted by many handbag, t-shirt and watch sellers. Street food vendors are selling anything from satay, to roast chestnuts, to fruit. A walk through one of the nearby wet markets revealed caged chooks waiting their fate, cats cashing in on unattended fish for sale and rats galore, running hither and thither.

Lucky puss

Roast chestnuts

The poultry seller

The highlight for Kendy and me was meeting a former government worker on the monorail. It began as a Shakespeare quoting conversation rounded off over lunch in Little India - his shout - and a few rounds of his favourite Nat King Cole and Doris Day songs. What a serendipitous pleasure. He spends his days riding the trains, walking around and eating out. 'It keeps me fit,' he said.

Our friend, Rashid

Five more riding days and another rest day, this time in Meleka, before we ride into Singapore. My fellow riders are tired in the main and looking forward to the final destination. And I can't wait for my first mouthful of a cold Singapore Sling at Raffles.

 

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Smiling Malaysia

Almost halfway through Malaysia and the rain still falls. Apparently there was hardly a drop of rain until Bangkok, and now it seems to pour or thunder or drip, or all three, every other day.

 

An early lunch

Georgetown on Penang Island, a UNESCO heritage city, is calm and relaxed compared to many Asian cities. British buildings speak of a former era when a gin and tonic could be enjoyed high on the hill, sitting comfortably on a shady verandah awaiting the evening spread of delicious Chinese, Indian and Malay fusion dishes. Or roast beef and horseradish, depending on madam's instructions. This mannered era has gone but the vestiges of grandeur, master and servant deference and quiet commercialism can still be detected.

 

Jimmy Choo's original shop

Backpackers congregate in Love Lane, so called as this was the street Chinese well-to-do men kept their mistresses, according to one of the many iron pieces of street art placed on walls to inform the visitor about previous occupations. It is a narrow street with low colonial style housing, fronts now filled with motorbikes to hire and tables and chairs spilling out, cheap cold beer and modest snacks with mainly a western flavour - pasta, pizza, sandwiches, that sort of thing. We passed by the shop where Jimmy Choo began his shoe business, and another comical iron piece depicting the Japanese camera sellers that dominated the shopping strip as suspected spies, as cameras back then were considered dubious pieces of equipment.

 

Rural street market

Swallows are lucky birds in this country. We have passed many several storey cement constructions where they are housed so their nests may be harvested for the iconic bird's nest soup. Rice paddies in the north painted the countryside a verdant green but they have given over in the main to endless palm oil plantations. Near the coast there is fishing and aquaculture. Some rubber - Malaysia produces the highest quality surgical gloves in the world, we have been reliably informed.

 

Roads without shoulders that are busy with traffic are challenging but don't feel dangerous. Road rage does not seem to exist. Let's hope it never catches on. Our ugly roads are such a pain.

 

The food is pleasant, if the chili is assiduously avoided, and comes as Chinese, Indian or Malay. There are numerous western influences including coffee shops, patisseries and the whitest white bread I may have ever seen.

 

I am riding at a leisurely pace. If it rains, I try not to ride as my device gets very wet, slips a bit, but acts as a soaking bowl for the wound. We are approaching Kuala Lumpur the slow way, taking to the mountains for coolness and probably less traffic.

 

Many of my fellow riders are tired, and some are nursing injuries. There is a general desire to reach the next rest day and rest, the urge to engage in tourist activities having diminished somewhat. For me, still fresh so to speak, sights are new and the odd museum and old building worth a look. Taiping boasts Malaysia's oldest museum, crammed full as it is with faded and patched natural history specimens. The 23'9" long python skeleton gave pause for thought. I'm kind of glad they're fairly rare now, as to meet one coming out of the vegetation would come as a shock. Lots of kingfishers, a sighting of two hairy nosed otters, a few squirrels or similar, and some monitors are pretty much all we have to report in the live animal stakes. Of course there are the rats in the cities but I prefer not to count them. At least they don't turn up in our dinners.

 

Waiting to board the ferry to cross to Penang Island

 

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Some random pictures

The route is flagged each day to assist riders with navigation. Apparently 400 rolls were used from Shanghai to Bangkok. Flagging is a great visual for riders. On wet days it can stick to poles and become invisible.

A container full of flagging tape

     

We have local support vehicles that meet us at each border crossing. The Thai. Malaysia border was relatively easy compared to China Vietnam where each bag and bike had to be carried and wheeled individually across the border

Local staffand some of the support vehicles

Flat tyres are common enough and most riders can ably change a tube.

Geoff fixing Dianne's flat while Walli looks on.

Kendy, Claire and Henry take shelter from the storm

Riding occurs in all conditions. A number of riders have suffered heat stroke and some have nasty coughs and colds that may be attributed to riding In the warm rain. For torrential showers, it is wise to seek shelter. During regular rain, most pedal onwards.

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Selective Manners do not Maketh the Man

Young rubber plantations

We have cycled through hectares and hectares of palm oil and rubber plantations, while the sounds of chainsaws buzz in the background. I have no clear idea of what the terrain would have once been, the best indication being the elephant park we visited near Hua Hin.

 

Roadside beef

Domestic animals graze on the roadsides, lots of chooks but few ducks, and cattle. To date I have not seen any pigs but we are in a more Muslim area in the south of Thailand. Lots of dogs still, but most seem better behaved than those further north.

 

Schoolchildren emerge in the morning impeccably dressed in white shirts. However there still seems to be many kids who are not at school.

 

The king's birthday celebrated on December 5 has had a steady build up with flags along the side of the road, bunting and convoys of trucks blasting out the national anthem. Such is the daily life in rural Thailand.

 

However it is the range of approaches to civility and manners that I wish to explore in this post.

 

It is lovely to ride past a house and be greeted by smiling women and children yelling out "hello". There seems to. Be no end of sitting outside, no matter what the time of day, enjoying extended family time. Some households host a small store out front, or perhaps a small kitchen or juice stand.

 

Michael, Walli, Kendy and Marko

Drivers are courteous and I have not seen or heard one instance of aggression. A slight toot sometimes, to let us know they are behind.

 

And of course a considerable enjoyment on these long haul bike rides is interacting with people from across the globe who have come together to grunt, grind, glide or swoop up and down hills and along roads of dubious quality dodging all manner of obstacles. Of course we are part of the lunatic fringe. Not one of us can and should make a serious claim for normalcy. Bike riding and normalcy probably peter out round day 10. Professionals are in a different category altogether, but lunacy must rank high there too. Consider the personal risks of injecting substances, submitting to blood transfusions and so on and so forth.

It's a dog's life at the Thai Malaysia border

 

Some demographics. We are 36 riders, 5 TDA staff and 6 local staff and drivers. Of the riders, only 12 are women, 5 of whom are part of a couple. Canadians far outnumber the rest of the world at 16 strong. Four riders hail from Germany, 5 from the US, 4 from ANZ, 4 from the UK and a solitary Dane, Frenchman and South African.

 

Unfortunately, a significant minority of male riders practice selective manners. This is something I have not experienced before. Of course there has been the odd rude person in the past, but several is a bit hard to take. This is in contrast to the TDA staff who are polite, helpful and friendly. What a pity. I have never liked rudeness and on a long haul bike ride where it is sometimes necessary to rely upon the kindness of others, it is discouraging to feel not quite up to scratch.

 

Ralph cooling down after the ride into Malaysia

 

 

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Coasting in Coastal Thailand

Perhaps the best way to ride from Shanghai to Singapore is to cut out the first 6000 or so kilometres. Of course by doing so, a few countries and their sights, smells and sounds are also cut out along with dirt, gravel, mud, roadworks and reams of chaotic traffic that my fellow riders have encountered and survived. Seems like this ride has mostly been about survival, and not everyone has. But enough of that, here I am on the road again. Nervous, true, but protected with my brand new leg protector kindly and patiently made by Mark Randall and Wade at a prosthetic and orthotics business in Port Melbourne. I even got to be a leg model, as Mark had never made one like this before and he took a snap in case he might ever need to again.

 

I arrived in Thailand a few days prior to meeting up with the group at Hat Chao Samran, a village on Thailand's east coast. I spent my time at a beachside resort, swimming laps and reading crime and thrillers in the company of mainly Germans and Brits enjoying their couple of weeks in the sun. The books have been most educative, and the Massamam curry very very good.

 

 

Loved meeting up with the group again and enjoyed the warm welcome. Only a day of riding then another rest day. With a modicum of nervousness I set out and am happy to say completed the ride with a minimum of fuss. A couple of troublesome dogs, some heavy traffic - we were riding along Highway 4 - and a lineup of school children that stretched for at least a kilometre come to stand and pay homage to some member or members of the royal family as they were driving by, most likely in a car with tinted windows - summed up the two and a bit hours it took.

 

In the afternoon we took a trip to a national park to see elephants. Much driving to get there, then a rickety drive in the back of a pickup truck along red dirt roads. Our reward was sighting four elephants grazing in the forest, one less than twenty metres away. This wildlife was augmented by innumerable dogs, roadside chooks and possibly a striped small cow. Another highlight was dinner in a cafe owned and run by a Calabrian, so the pizza tasted good apparently, and the pasta was excellent.

We have another rest day coming up in six days time when we cross from the east coast to the west then head down to Malaysia. I'm hoping to ride 60 or 70 kms for a few days until I pick up a bit of fitness, but I guess my riding will depend on traffic and confidence.

 

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Bike lanes, bruises and buses

Getting through Shanghai

Getting in or out of a major city as a group of 40+ bike riders is always slow, sometimes hair raising and often angst provoking. Given the optional nature of traffic light adherence for people in charge of the full range of vehicles in Shanghai, the ride out was slow, but it was neither hair raising nor anxiety inducing. Noisy, though. If a vehicle has a horn or a bell, and it seems they all do, then said horn or bell is sounded almost constantly. This can be very wearing.

We passed industrial parks aplenty, crossed many murky waterways and were privy to redolent smells. Redolent of what you might ask. Ummm, lots of things from the animal, vegetable and mineral kingdoms. On the agricultural front we watched three men sitting in what appeared to be elliptical wooden barrels paddle through dense weed - looked like strawberries - but we couldn't work out exactly what they were doing. Harvesting? Fishing? Boating for pleasure? It shall remain a mystery. It was much easier to understand the fenced-in floating duck farm. If not Gerard's morning tea choice...

Floating duck farm

Men in barrels

Gerard tries a chicken's foot for morning tea

Yiwu, a relatively small city of 1.2 million, is an exhibition centre for people wishing to buy Chinese commodities and export them globally. Around the hotel were many 'shops' specialising in colored braids, girdles and threads.

Braids

Since day 2 there have been many textile factories making socks, fabric, carpets and so on. Bicycle and motorised 'rickshaws' are loaded to the gunwales with rolls and rolls of the stuff.

The General sits and watches

The cafe

The ladies

The basket weaver

Looking out over the bamboo-covered hills

The highlight of the trip for me is a small old village, Guodong, clinging to the sides of a gully in a thick bamboo and conifer forest. Old people, teeth askew and amiable, greeted us warmly as we strolled downhill to a busy street cafe, stopping for an hour is so in an old basket-weaver's house watching as he dexterously wove strips of green bamboo into an elegant basket. Others invited us in to observe them packing colored paper clips and push pins into small perspex boxes. One old woman weighed, others filled, someone applied sticky labels and another bar codes. I will never regard a colored paper clip in the same way again. They were seated in a cool stone-floored courtyard around long tables, working slowly and enjoying the hum of each other's conversation.

The Silver Fox takes a bite

However, my ride has come to a sudden and brutal end. I was stationary in the bike lane at traffic lights when an electric motor scooter ran into my back wheel. I picked myself up, thinking this was a minor annoyance, a graze on my left elbow immediately stinging. What I didn't realise however was that my right calf had been sliced into a semi-circle by my chain ring until the scooter driver threw me a roll of toilet paper. I sat in the shade around the corner on the grass, wrapped the paper around my leg and applied pressure as scooter driver hightailed it out of there as fast as possible. A call to the nurse, Claire, who was tending my friend Kendy who'd fallen 10kms back and ripped a fingernail clean off, then sit and wait. No one stopped, offered assistance, brought me a drink. Nothing.

Claire dresses my leg

Claire and Kendy do clinic

The ladies in the village loved our wounds

Finally some fellow riders hove into view and I was able to yell loud enough for them to hear and keep me company until the lunch bus arrived to take me and Kendy to a hospital in Hangzhou.

I'll spare you the grisly details, but suffice to say I was cleaned at stitched at 4.30pm, about 5 hours after the incident, and Kendy arrived back in our room at 1am, also stitched and cleaned after surgery to remove a chip of bone detached from her middle finger. As she arrived in hospital pyjamas - to my eye the same as those worn by concentration camp inmates - I needed to be disabused from a bad dream.

What followed was two days in the lunch and luggage buses, our room looking more like a medical clinic than an overnight home for two bike riders. We kept Claire busy with dressing inspections and changes, more so after my wound became infected and I too had the IV antibiotic drip administered.

In the meantime, Ken from Canada slid under a car coming the wrong way at him in a bike lane, and has stitches in his Achilles, scrapes and grazes and Mick Jagger lips.

Three in three days.

On day 5 I arrived at the Shanghai airport without Silver Fox who is still careering round China in the luggage bus and boarded China Air Flight 177 to take me home. Leg up, lots more antibiotics, rest. Des has been plying me with copious cups of tea. Lovely.

Then I read Svend is also on his way home to Canada after breaking arm bones, and maybe more, on Day 6.

How do I feel? Mournful. I wanted to ride, and I was riding well. Not first, of course, but not last either. It felt good to be strong and on the Silver Fox. I didn't expect Silver Fox to give me such a big bite, though. I wanted the cameraderie of old and new riding buddies. I wanted to see these Asian places from the personal distance of my bike saddle. It is the best way to observe I find. So here I am on Grand Final day sad, miserable and sore. Happy to be with medicine and practitioners I trust as I certainly want to keep riding, and happy to be in the bosom of my 'family' again, but pining for what could have been.

Fremantle kicks a goal, but Hawthorn wins the game

Stats

September 22, Shanghai to Jiaxing: 103km; 19.6 ave; 5'15" TITS

September 23 Jiaxing to almost Hangzhou: 66km; 21.6 ave

September 24 Hangzhou to Yiwu: 103km

September 25: Yiwu to Guodong: 101km

September 26: Gudong to Shanghai Pudong Airport: 2.5 hrs by bus, 3.5 hrs by bullet train, 50mins by taxi, 2.5 hr layover

September 27: ~ 8000km Shanghai to Melbourne, 11 hrs