Thailand has been a great country to visit, from border to border I have been amazed at every corner and this is one of those meet your heroes scenarios that hasn’t lost anything in translation. It has been very hot, and with only one short shower one afternoon passing through Bangers a couple thousand km previous.

The seasons are changing, as Summer ages quickly and gives way to the dead leaves and dirty ground of Fall, a plastic Malaysian border draws nearer daily.

Before exiting Thailand, a man comes out of his home to greet me and an invitation for water is well received. A giant cup, fit for a litre of Cola is brimming over with ice and rain barrel water, and teamed up with a plate of watermelon.

We’re in the shade from the open, lean-to style roofing that’s popular in this area, and with this man’s tone of voice and familiar appearance, a sense of deja-vu is in the air. Then it hits me.

If you left Metro Stanchuk in the sun long enough to shrink him down to 2/3 his regular size, I would be eating his watermelon and having a glass of his water right now. No wonder it felt relaxed like being at home, now all they have to do is lay out a sheet on the little laundry table in their basement for me to sleep on and the show can roll credits. I wonder if there’s a picture of Alabama anywhere in here?

Crossing the street into a new country, again. Turns out to be the easiest one yet, passport into the booth, stamp-stamp, fingerprint both indexes, and free to go. As usual it takes far longer to talk to the guards than it ever has to deal with the process. More than happy to spend a bit of time telling stories and showing tan lines, offered water numerous times I finally say ok.

The Wang Kelian view point hasn’t let anyone down in a couple centuries, why start now?

This country is very similar to the last, but the sense of tourism has left the building, which is nice. Muslim culture and the wild of mountain ranges take turns day by day, like static and the hockey game when a storm came through town and your rabbit ears needed adjusting.

Finding a waterfall as a touristy location to investigate took my direction lateral now, and the cool green of the forest took over from the hospitality in the small villages. The weather and daylight both faded out in unison, as nightfall showed up, so did the rain. Even the flashlight in my mouth wouldn’t cut the darkness anymore, so I propped up in a roadside shack and blew up my tent.

5am, was early enough for this woman to be on the move and doing u-turns into my campsite. I had draped my clothes all over the stick-built framework of this chalet and this left me in just my underwear to sleep in, and I had company over earlier than expected. Ok, fine, it is what it is. I unzipped my front door, and stood up at full strength as I slid into my sandals and gave this poor lady a good morning greeting with a wave and no clothes on. I pulled my shirt and shorts from the roof and the lady rolled down her window, asking if I was OK?

Replying that I had found this shack very nice to hide from the rain, she asked if I would be leaving soon, and finding that odd, offered her some cookies I started to eat, and she actually took a few. Packing up slowly and half asleep, eating cookie breakfast with my new buddy and watching the sun wake up as well, she asked where I came from, where I was headed, and finally let me know very patiently that I had slept in her food shack last night. That I had used her table cloth as a base for keeping my tent off the ground and that I was standing on it and she would have to clean it now.

Wiping off her plastic cloth had eaten up the last of her patience, and she suggested that I be on my way, huffing and shaking her head subtlety while muttering about our breakfast date, the finishing touches bike packing were all done now and I went out of sight. I should’ve went back and took my cookies after all that attitude.

The best was yet to come.

Some 40 km down a long, winding turkey trail, was a washed out bridge, and someone had rigged up bamboo poles as a means to walk across until the final fix. Nobody accounted for a touring bike and a big double cheeseburger to try crossing and it showed. Hulk Hoganned the bike up and onto the biggest pole, and if my feet spread across the other three, I just might make it. One step in, and with the full weight on the divide, the whole structure creaked and was popping like a bowl of rice crispies. Nope.

Re routed back and on the way again, the next road had warnings of a landslide area that was impassible. What would I do now? Take a few pictures, look at the map, figure something out.

A motorcycle off in the distance came zooming my way on the blockaded road, so I figured if he can make it, so can I. Walking my bike through a path that only the craziest mountain folk could’ve pioneered, it took a solid half hour to sweat it out but soon enough the civilization of pavement had us rolling again.

Howling monkeys were next on the adventure. Coming around a sweeting corner and shouldering a valley, the palm trees started to shake back and forth, with the speakers blaring their warning calls that an intruder was near. Even the nature channels with their British narrative hadn’t had this concert play yet. These guys could’ve been from Saturn for all I know, much like whale calls, yet some sounded like an outrageous bout of road rage.

Given my first few days in this country, I already feel its in my favourite book section, with keepers such as Walden, The Alchemist and Kafka on the Shore, and very much like those works of art, this place will be stuck in my mind for years to come and influence the future days to come.

This trip has already been above and beyond what I ever thought it could be, and displayed perspectives on life and culture than possibility can imagine. Keep going, the best is yet to come

“Party on Wayne. Party on Garth”-Wayne and Garth