Slow but steady to Chiang Mai

The memories of our interactions with Mook and Mr. Nhong left us in high spirits as we drifted down the road northward.  Once again considering my health, we kept our objective short and headed towards the city of Chai Nat, less than 50 miles down the highway.  On our way we crossed the lowest damn on the Chao Phraya river, used mostly for irrigation and a little bit of hydroelectric, but was not significant enough of a check to stem the tide of the horrific flood from last year.

We arrived in Chai Nat in the early afternoon and checked into the Chai Nat Resort, which was more than we required, but was still relatively cheap since this was an un-touristed area.  I laid down to enjoy the air conditioning and recover while Lauren went to work on the internet.

In the evening, as had become our routine, we went in search of the local Night Market street vendors for dinner.  These markets seem to pop up in almost every Thai city. We have learned that you need to identify the vendors with seating and dishes otherwise you will receive your food in the proverbial inflated plastic bag with no way to consume it on the street.  So we sat, ate our pad thai, I drank a bagged Fanta and returned to our hotel satisfied and ready for sleep.

Every day I was feeling better and we began to amp up the kilometers, which was nice because they pass by much faster than America's miles.  Ambitiously, we routed ourselves along small side roads along the river once even chancing the local ferry system.  My cue sheets, that I keep on my handle bars, had begun to evolve due to the vast number of roads out here that Google maps can not identify: take second right, and third left, and so on.  It takes us a bit longer and causes more hesitations at intersections, but we found our way to Nakhon Sawan with enough time to ask a motor cycle salesperson unsuccessfully and then the police for a hotel recommendation.  We cycled to one too far outside the city and one with no vacancies.  The third stop yielded a third night of air con, this time in a nondescript multilevel hotel.  Outside we struck up a conversation with a dutch man  riding a motorcycle seemingly twice the size of anything else we had seen.  He showed us on a map all of the scenic places that we should be riding. During our conversation we got the impression that he would prefer to travel with as few human interactions as possible and we took his recommendations with this in mind.

 

 For dinner we found a popular street restaurant with an actual indoor kitchen. Feeling classy we ordered appetizers and two curries; one with king crab meat and a couple of beers.  The crab dish came with shelled bits of crab in red curry, which must have taken more work to eat than to make (and made me look even more like a cave man). When the dust settled we owed significantly more than we had paid for our room, which was still under $20.  Somehow I didn't question our twelve year old waiter's math, and decided that next time I could resist ordering seafood.

The following day we made our way to Kamphaeng Phet at one point passing a monkey infested wat. We were excited that there was a recommended cheap guesthouse in the area, making finding a place to sleep easy. Kamphaeng Phet is an old city with some beautiful ruins, but is still a ways off the tourist path. The small amount of tourists that do come here though allow for the 3 J Guesthouse to exist, an eclectic place with a fairly horrible shared bathroom. Nevertheless we were thankful for the easy and cheap place to spend the night. While we were there we began to look for accommodation options for the following day. Not much.

75 miles up the road was the small town of Ban Tak. With no advertised guest houses except for a high end retreat looking place called the Bantak House. I was working on something else while Lauren decided to give the Bantak house a call.

"We are cycling to Chiang Mai and looking for accomodation in your area but need something more simple, is there any chance we can camp on your grounds?"

I think it went something like that. She had called one of the owners, a Danish guy named Michael who has lived here for 30 years. He laughed a little bit. Lauren didn't exactly realize that this wasn't a high end guest house with many rooms for rent, it was a rent the whole house kind of deal, including all meals and top notch service. Whoops. He said that he thought they had clients the following day, but that he would give his wife a call, Nong, a Thai woman, who was in Ban Tak, while he was working in Bangkok.

He called Lauren back saying that clients weren't coming for two days, and that they don't normally do this but he would like to help us out. He said, "pay what we can, we'll  cook dinner for you, and you can have a bedroom...welcome to my country."

We couldn't say no. Lauren thanked him for his kindness and wrote down Nong's number to coordinate with her directly.

The following day's ride brought us some incline, small but still noticeable rolling foothills. We finished the majority of our riding by noon, giving us enough time to run some errands in Ban Tak.

We have been working on getting a set of "Water Questions" translated into Thai, Laotian, Vietnamese, and Cambodian, so we can begin asking individuals as we cycle. Our friend Natasha  helped us out with the Thai set, but we still needed to print them. We also wanted to be able to have a letter written in Thai that explains who we are and what we are doing and asks if it would be okay if we camped somewhere on the grounds (at a school or temple etc.) After a couple of hours we got both of those things printed and the accommodation letter laminated.

So with 75 miles under our belts and a few pertinent errands accomplished we made our way to the Bantak House.

It was down a small road alongside the great Ping River. This neighborhood street was bustling with children riding bicycles and playing games. Both Lauren and I noted that this would be a good street to grow up on. Around 4pm, we pulled up to the Bantak house and met Nong.

She welcomed us in, and showed us our room. We were blown away. This was by far the nicest place we have ever stayed in, and probably will remain so. Normally this isolated bedroom, bathroom, and deck costs $100 per person per night (which for Thailand is a lot of money). It was simple and beautiful, made all out of Teak wood. The shower was inside a wine barrel. The deck overlooked the great river and a herd of water buffalo. We felt bad actually, it was a little too beautiful, and we both knew we couldn't afford nearly what it was worth.

 

They cooked us a delicious meal,  and we simply soaked up our good fortune always remembering to thank them profusely.

It poured that evening and continued to pour through the morning. Eventually we decided that the day was just going to be wet and soggy. We suited up the bicycles and prepared ourselves for a rainy ride. Nong was such a gracious hospitable host, even to two poor cyclists. We gave her about 1/4 of what the room was worth, which was still like five times what we normally would pay to stay somewhere.

The ride that day, although soggy at times, was a beautiful one. We took very rural roads. This was the day where we had to slosh through the stickiest mud I have ever seen. It was tenacious stuff. Motorists were turning around, one brave tour bus didn't fare to well. Lauren pushed through till about half way, and then walked through the sticky mess. I love mud and enjoyed the thrill of sliding through it.

Now soggy and muddy we pressed forward to the town of Thoen, which sits at the base of the only major mountain pass on the way to Chiang Mai.

We made it in around four and began asking for a guesthouse. As always this was a wild, lost in translation, goose chase. After following two governmental officials, and a bad address on Google maps, we made it to a skanky very cheap hotel. It wasn't skanky in the same way as the curtained motor lodge was, it was just not so clean. The carpet hadn't been vacuumed in who knows how long, and the shower walls were peeling etc. But it did have a nice wooden drying rack for our clothes, and after a rainy day's ride, this was a nice touch.

We laughed at our peeling room with dirty floors, and vowed to pedal out early.  Which, we did.

Our route to Chiang Mai and the pass we chose was on Hwy 106. We knew we had a long day ahead, about 75 miles and more incline than we had had in a month.

We started off with good energy. The landscape was breathtaking at the base of the mountains ahead of us. The green of the rice paddies under the glow of the morning sun was simply indescribable. An old man past us on an old steel bicycle--it was a good omen.

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The road up the mountain was an easy grade of switchbacks. We rarely saw a car, and their were no villages in sight. Halfway up we snacked on our new favorite riding snack: sticky bars of sesame seeds, puffed rice, dried coconut, and peanuts. The small mountain range was lush and covered in rainforest. It was a breathtaking 25 miles, and then finally we settled into the high valley that houses most of  the communities of northern Thailand. We ate a sweet lunch at a market in Li, the first prominent town since Thoen.  Pedaling forward, we made it to our 75 mile destination, Ban Hong, around four in the afternoon.

Our friends, Lauren May, Jess, and Aaron were only in Chiang Mai for one more night before heading off to a ten day long silent meditation retreat. Being only 43 miles away from Chiang Mai, Lauren itched to keep moving. 29 miles away was mellow guesthouse, called the Stonefree House, and if we pedaled there, we would only have 16 miles to go to meet May for breakfast in Chiang Mai before they headed out the following morning. If we were to stay in Ban Hong, we were going to have to find a uninspiring hotel. So with that, Lauren pushed me forward, and we headed out to the Stonefree House in San Pa Tong.

Within 15 minutes Lauren got a huge thorn stuck in her front tire. We pulled over, a bit bummed, knowing we really had to hammer it, in order to get all of the miles in. We parked ourselves out front of a huge warehouse and began taking bags off. As we were getting situated, a family emerged out of the warehouse to make sure we were okay. The father made the hand motion that described a bike pump, he was wondering if we needed one. I pulled out our hand pump, and he made motion for a bigger one. I doubted that they would have a presta valve. Their daughter, who was about our age, escorted Lauren to use their bathroom facilities, and I quickly worked on the flat. The father reassured me that he had a better pump and led me into the heart of their warehouse, full of home building materials. He had an air compressor and a fleet of bicycles and motorbikes to go with it. He communicated that both his wife and himself ride bicycles.

They got us back on the road in no time and nourished us with some ice water. Their kindness was beautiful. We gave them our web address so as to keep in touch. Both Lauren and I left feeling silly for  assuming that they wouldn't have the correct pump (never assume anything), and we left loving the fact that cyclists are everywhere.

We pushed forward at a great pace. The sun was on its was down, and we raced through rural roads, past orchards and small houses, excited to be pursuing our first century ride (in miles) on this continent. We arrived in San Pa Tong, and ambitious Lauren, after 104 miles of riding wanted to just keep going, into the dark to Chiang Mai. We ate noodle soup, and I convinced her to just get there in the morning.

We winded our way to the guesthouse we had researched, it was a couple miles down a dark road off the highway. We got there and it was entirely empty, not a light on, not a soul to be found. Lauren kicked herself for not calling in advance. As we sat there in the dark, debating what to do, a young Thai woman pulled up on a motorbike saying "sorry," as she flipped on the lights and invited us in. She explained that her husband who ran the guesthouse was out of town, but welcomed us nevertheless. She got us set up in our little elevated hut, gave us towels, and asked us how long we would be staying. Bidding us goodnight, she promised to  see us bright and early.

The Stonefree house is a bit off the beaten path, so it must not get too much business in the slow season. But it is a beautiful spot. The social area backs up against a rice paddy. The shower and bathroom is built around a tree. It's covered in books and inspirational quotes. It was just a little funny to be the only guests.

The next morning, we pedaled out early to meet our dear friend for breakfast. We made it to the doorstep of May's hostel and savored our few hours together. Lauren and I were entirely happy we had ridden the extra thirty miles to make it all happen.  Good bye for now friends, and enjoy ten days of silence.

Body Aches and More Thai Hospitality

As we left Ayutthaya, Brant's body began to ache with the sad sad signs of inevitable sickness. Feeling weak, we decided to move a few miles at a time, pulling over whenever necessary.

We had all the time in the world to make it to Chiang Mai. Our permaculture course just north of Chiang Mai begins on October 17th, so with 17 days to get 450 miles we took it easy. Not to say it was easy for Brant. The sun was scorching, illuminating all of the color and foliage around us, but still powerful and wearing. We passed by herds of cattle and their shepherds and noted that cows here look very very different than cows at home.

We made a pit stop for lunch and Brant ordered sweet and sour soup and sipped on a fresh coconut. That is one thing you can count on here, good healthy food. Good luck finding soup and a vitamin rich coconut on the side of the road in Kansas! But here, a standard roadside stop offers what's good for anyone's tummy and immune system.

Around three in the afternoon we arrived in the small city of Sing Buri. We were told to call Mr. Nhong when we saw the "Money Pub" sign just outside of town. We both crossed our fingers and hoped that we were not expected to go to "Money Pub." But we called and Mr. Nhong said he would be there in minutes. Hot and sweaty, we sat under an  awning across the street waiting for our host.

You never know what to expect when meeting a stranger. But in a few minutes a kind looking middle-aged Thai pulled up on a Surly Long Haul Trucker. His bike was decked out with fenders and larger tires, all of the signs of someone who travels by bicycle. My favorite of his bicycle accoutrements was a cup holder basket zip tied to his handlebars. He tried to give it to me. Believe me I wanted it, but I couldn't bare taking such an awesome accessory. Instead, I pedal looking for roadside basket shops.

We quickly learned that Nhong's English was not fluent, but way way better than Brant and I's Thai. We communicated mostly in English, pulling out our Thai dictionary to help fill in the gaps.

We didn't know if we were going to stay with Mr. Nhong or what to expect, but within minutes he was guiding us to the local Thai  Temple. So that's how it happened, all of the sudden we were staying with monks. Apparently this is a normal occurrence. I had read on cycling blogs that if you ever can't find a place to sleep in South East Asia that the monks will always take you in, and that leaving a donation was all that was expected. Without any effort at all, we were experiencing this Buddhist phenomena.

Nhong spoke to the monks and then we were guided to a large room on the  temple grounds with tile floors, a bathroom, and some air conditioning. We were told that the head monk couldn't see us right away but looked forward to practicing his English and meeting us later. A very friendly monk who spoke fantastic English asked us how long we were staying. When we told him only one night he reassured and prodded us to stay longer. This monk used to work in a hotel in Bangkok, he explained, and that is where he perfected his English.

With the air con on, Mr. Nhong said he would meet us back at our room and take us to a good spot for dinner.

Poor Brant needed some rest and respite from the sun. We rolled out a big rug on the floor, drew the curtains, blew up our trusty old Thermarests, and laid down for a siesta.

We woke up to find that our shoes had been absconded by canines. Many dogs live on temple grounds, and like good old pups, they stole our shoes. Brant walked around the grounds retrieving our goods, laughing at the simplicity of life. Whether you're in Thailand or San Luis Obispo, dogs like shoes, toddlers have tantrums, pregnant women seem magic etc etc. My shoes came back with only a nibble in one of the straps (they have seen worse days).

Mr. Nhong escorted us to a restaurant and did all of the ordering. It was delicious fresh food paired with soup and rice.  Mr. Nhong and I split a beer and Brant nursed his health. But over food and Leo we learned much about our host. He used to be a policeman but quit two years ago. He now sells dried fish at the Sing Buri market, a trade passed down from his wife's side of the family. We learned that he is back in university studying public policy. He explained that many Thais want more money; he said he just wishes he could ride his bicycle around the world, and wants to work in his local government to help nourish his community. Every year, he rides a loop around Cambodia, Laos and Vietnam on his bicycle.

He refused to let us pay for our dinner, and then escorted us back to the temple.

As I lay there trying to sleep, Mr. Nhong stuck in my mind. There is a kindness about him, a peace, that makes you too want to be kind and warm. I felt sad too for some reason, in his struggle to communicate with us he felt so bad that his English wasn't better. But it just made me wish I could speak Thai. Why did he need to know our language? That weighed  a bit heavy. In America, Americans freak out if someone doesn't speak English, and here in Thailand, Thais are expected to speak English for the ease of tourists. It is true that English is spoken by far more people than Thai is, but still, it made me want to give my all to attempting new languages as we travel--whether I sound stupid (because I surely will) or not. I have felt extremely attracted to Thai culture ever since we got here, but speaking with humble Mr. Nhong made me want to learn just a little more Thai everyday.

The next morning we were set to meet our friend at 7 am. We packed up and drew our curtains and were quickly visited by the head monk. He invited us to sit and drink coffee while the monks ate a communal breakfast together. The monks eat every morning together but separately for all other meals. Brant and I  sat as outsiders looking in on a very intimate moment. The monks sang their prayers together before eating, and we sipped Milo and instant coffee. We exchanged Facebook contact with the English speaking monk, and spoke about our trip to the very interested head monk. We went back to our room to meet Nhong, and before we left, the same monk came back with a bag full of food he had purchased for us: three different types of milk (kefir, soy milk, and regular old milk), banana chips, mama noodles, and coffee.

Once again we were overwhelmed by kindness only to be overwhelmed by more kindness. Mr. Nhong greeted us with gifts, little wallets and journals, and then took us to see the central Sing Buri market where his wife was selling the fish they smoked in the wee hours of that very morning. Afterwards, he took us to eat a breakfast of beautiful green curry with eggplant, then to get some meds for Brant's aches, and then to get coffee. We got to experience the infamously cheap prescription drugs sold outside of western countries. Brant told the pharmacist how he felt and three dollars later he was given a set of drugs including antibiotics. He only took the ones for back aches and head aches, saving the antibiotics for a rainy day, but nevertheless it all cost three dollars.

Afterwards, Nhong escorted us down a road that followed the river out of town. These types of roads are Brant and I's favorite to ride. It winded us slowly along the contours of the river bank. We may have seen two cars for seven miles. Houses and people living their daily beautiful lives lined the small road. As we passed many shouted "helloo" at us and we shouted, "Sawadee ka/kruhp," back, which always makes people laugh.

The river was big and strong and brown.

Mr. Nhong wanted us to see a two hundred year old wooden Buddha at a very old wat. This wat was just off the small river road and was a peaceful sight. While we were there, a preschool class of little Thai children made a stop there too. They melted my heart as the said in unison, "Goooood morning" I said my usual "sawadee ka" back and placing my hands together and bowing my heard. They bowed back. Its such a polite culture, even rambunctious three and four year old's have so much respect. The kiddos took off their shoes before singing their prayers under the wooden beams of the old wat. I couldn't take my eyes off of them.

Mr. Nhong taught me the Thai word for children, "dek lék" (I am sure I have the accents wrong).

Just us a few kilometers up, Mr. Nhong left us and we were back on the highway. We thanked him profusely, and he explained that he wished he didn't have to work so he could ride around South East Asia with us. We wished he could too. Experiencing a country with a local is invaluable, but we were so thankful for the glimpse of Mr. Nhong's life and his love of cycling.

Escaping the Chaos

After some debate we had decided to leave Bangkok by bike rather than by train.  This would be described as suicide for some, but after nearly a week of observing the traffic and some reading, it seemed like a safe option (especially when compared to cycling in the states).  While the traffic in Bangkok is thick and the motorists seem to only loosely follow the rules of the road, all road users seem to be given their fare share.  Never would a motorist yell at a cyclist from his passing vehicle to get out of the road, or to use the side walk, or any number of obscenities that we received in the states. They simply pass when it is convenient.  Traffic jams in Bangkok are merely a way of life, and road users are no more bothered by being held up by a bicycle than they would say a bus, or a motor bike, or a woman pushing cart overflowing with wares or anyone else with a right to use the road.  That being said, getting out of the city was by no means easy.

There are several factors contributing to this difficulty, first to be noted is that here in Thailand you drive on the left.  In a car, the steering wheel is conveniently located on the side appropriate for driving in its associated country, positioned in the center of the road.  On a two wheeled vehicle you are not offered this reminder, and on smaller streets with low traffic it is easy to drift to the side of the road that you have been conditioned your whole life to be on. Until of course you are faced with on-coming traffic.  Secondly, road signs are difficult to read, granted in the city the anglicized versions of the street names are provided, but they are clumsily long and only sometimes readily visible.  This fact required us to frequently stop and find our location on the map before casting ourselves off in the right direction again.  Finally, as was mentioned earlier the traffic is dense.  This makes crossing large intersections challenging.

Anyway, long story short, after leaving our hotel at 1 pm, having a late but delicious lunch and slowly braving the streets we were not in line to reach our originally planned destination of Ayuthaya.  As it began to get dark we were passing through more and more rural areas.  Knowing that it might take a little while to find a place to lay our heads we used our broken Thai and phrase book to try and ask a family where we might try to find a place to sleep.  After several verbal attempts and much hand waving the son decided to lead us to a guest house in his truck, and so the wild goose chase began.  We were led to a beautiful rural resort that looked entirely out of our budget, and it was.  With our original guide now gone we asked the attendant if there was something in the area that was a bit cheaper.  They pointed north and said something about wave sport and 3 kilometers.  So we headed down the road a little further until we heard the whine of jet-skis on the river and a sign for the Wave Sport Jet Ski resort.  At the front desk yet another language barrier was reached and once again the accommodations were over budget.  Once the clerk was thoroughly frustrated with us we went off on our own, in the direction not recommended.

Before long the newly paved road turned to dirt and we seemed to be getting further and further away from prospective guest houses.  As we passed through a small village we decided to turn around and ask the locals for directions one more time.  By this time we had resorted to simply waving our hands wildly and making a sleeping motion with our hands and head.  The locals waved back pointing this way then that way to signify the roads that we should go down.  Eventually we were routed back to the road that the Wave Sport folks had originally told us to follow until we hit the main highway that we had been avoiding.  With no guest house in sight I made one last effort to ask at a nearby gas station.  Fortunately my thai greetings, thank yous and bastardized sign language were enough for the employee to point at a visible building about a kilometer away.  Feverishly we headed in the wrong direction down the divided highway, turned right on a smaller road, then following the neon arrows left down an even smaller road towards what now felt like a strip club.  Pulling up we found what appeared to be a nice motor lodge with little curtained cubbies for your cars.  The price was okay so we payed and moved our stuff on in.  As we pulled in the attendant quickly drew the curtains for reasons not yet known.  We changed and went back to the highway in search of street food.

Once again the first place we stopped redirected us across the highway towards the 7-11, of which there are many littering the landscape.  So we U-turned under the overpass, a common way to bypass highways or change direction, and pulled up to a small shack on a tiny street.  Immediately we were welcomed in and seated.  Our hosts were gracious, but spoke no English.  By now we had become accustomed to taking everything that came our way as long as we could communicate that we like spicy food, which had quickly become a priority.  The food was great and before we could thank them they handed us the phone with their daughter on the other line speaking English to us for her parents.  She asked if we wanted anything else and recommended the chicken fried rice, which we were obliged to order and it was delicious.  The daughter said that her parents just wanted to thank us for choosing their shop, and suddenly we felt very at home.  Not paying much for our three course meal we vowed to return in the morning on our way out.  We returned to our cubby and passed out in an air conditioned oasis, exhausted from only 30 or so miles.

We awoke in the morning to our air conditioning unit over freezing and spewing ice onto the ground, it was time to go.  We pulled out of our cubby and said goodbye to our motor lodge and went for breakfast.  Again we were delighted to see our family restaurant and ate a standard issue plate of fried rice.

It was about this time that we received a somewhat frantic facebook message from our friend Natasha who lives in Bangkok.  Apparently our cubbied motor lodge was not as innocent as originally perceived, but in fact a place where Thai men meet their mistresses.  The curtain is intended to hide the vehicle from jealous wives and the promise of 24 hour surveillance is not to protect you from thieves.  Oops, I guess the padded head board should have been a dead giveaway. 

I was starting to feel feverish, so our goal was set to the previous days at Ayutthaya, the old capital city.  Passing by many stilted river houses and small villages the evidence of last years flood was becoming more apparent.  The high water line sometimes reached as much as six feet up the walls of lower lying houses.

We reached the island of Ayutthaya by early afternoon and began the search for a good guest house. In city's, especially those that are well touristed, this is not a problem. Using the travel website Travel Fish we decided on a guest house called Baan Lotus. The only difficulty is that Google maps rarely seems to have the location of things all figured out. But after going up and down the same street several times we were able to locate our stilted teak refuge set back from the main road. The price was right, about $10, the hostess was lovely, and the rooms were simple, clean and comfortable, except that we got two single beds.  Not long after we settled in, a pair of Australian men checked into the adjacent room with a double bed.  We inquired if they would prefer to switch, but they assured us that they preferred a double bed to our chagrin.  We followed the couple, now friends, to a noodle bar and slurped Tom Yum soup while talking about our respective Thailand experiences before anyone had time to get "hangry" from the days travels.  From what they told us we were glad to have missed riding the bus.  The rest of the evening was spent walking amongst the 500-700 year old ruins amongst the elephant riders and decided to stay another day.

On the second day we took the opportunity to ride our bikes without their heavy burden to quickly skirt the city.  about a quarter of the way around the island I spotted an unfamiliar sight, a fully equipped touring bike.  I stopped without informing Lauren and inquired as to  its owner.  A pony tailed Thai man standing nearby said it was his and we immediately hit it off.  Before long he had told us about his  own bike tours in the area and his most recent endeavor from Moscow to London.

Without hesitation he, Mook, told us to follow him to his photography studio to share stories and photos.  He took us to lunch, where he would not let us pay, and for the first time we experienced some unfettered Thai hospitality.

Back at the shop we exchanged Facebook profiles, made mutual connections over another Thai bike tourist Soniak Siraphon whom we had both met on separate occasions, Lauren and I in California and he in Europe.  They provided us with some cheap passport photos so that we might cross borders without interruption.   All of this made us glad that we had decided to stay an extra day.  We said our goodbyes, took parting photos and continued our perusal of the city.

About at the same place that we had encountered Mook earlier in the day we found a sewing shop where I bought a thimble and Lauren found some sharp scissors to enhance our sewing kit.  We passed ruins, plowed down narrow alleyways, found local Thai outdoor markets and sought restrooms at schools, which are always a good bet.  Feeling exhausted we went back to our guest house and I collapsed on the bed beneath our drying clothes and Lauren took a shower.

When I awoke to go to the night market for dinner I found Lauren in the hallway less twelve inches of hair.  Sewing kit eh?  To her credit she also used them to cut the sleeves off of one of her T-shirts. Lighter and cooler we drifted off to the night market for our evening riverside dining experience.

The next morning we packed our bikes while the local kittens played amongst our bags.  I sat outside trying to update my DeLorme InReach while Lauren went out for some Thai iced coffee.  While being distracted, I found that Mook had sent me a Facebook message that his friend in our next destination, Sing Buri, wanted to meet us and provide more hospitality, we of course were obliged.  Before long Mook showed up in person on his road bike to confirm that the message was received.  We thanked him and we were off as well.  On our way out we filled our bottles at a local reverse osmosis booth and swore off rest days until we reached the northern city of Chiang Mai.