Day 5 – More Heat, More Jungles, More Vaseline

Day 5 got off to a great start when we were all able to pack up our belongings and pay a sad farewell to the Bungalow complex which has been our home for the last two nights. I know the idea of a place called "Bungalows" in the Thai jungle probably conjures up lovely colonial stylee and cosy images such as these: 

The reality was something more like this.

That's where the bath went!

The morning’s cycling consisted of a combination of dry river beds, plantations and fire trails which we mercilessly pounded, not for want of speed records, but to put as much distance as quickly as possible between us and the toe-less machete man who had been our host over the previous 2 nights. The morning’s heat and frequent water stops allowed for much banter mainly surrounding Magic Adam’s deteriorating perineum, his improvised bush-medicine for the said condition, and his endless quest to obtain Wi-Fi.

My memory does not allow me the satisfaction of remembering what and why the WI-FI signal was so essential but I think it had something to do with the upcoming launch of some children’s shoe ranges at the prestigious Hobart Shoe Expo. That said, the WI-FI signal may have been solely needed to seek emergency first aid tips on how to deal with saddle sores and the associated discomfort. A signal must have been acquired at some stage because as soon as google could be accessed the urgent distress call went out for Vaseline and Sanitary Pads and before too long, he was all lubed up and ready to climb back on the saddle.  

Temple and statue stuff

Later that afternoon we reached the hardest climb of the tour, the HC classified "Route escarpée au temple" a 2km long drag up the side of an imposing mountain with ramps in part hitting 15%. It was a struggle for all to get to the top, lowest gear was being employed as the elevation metres on all our Apps went into overdrive. We all finally reached the top, pretty much as a tight peleton, and were able to enjoy the spectacular views that had made the trip up the hill so worthwhile. It really was a highlight of the trip........second only to the mad-cap death defying decent that followed.

Its fair to say that its not necessarily the best cyclist who reaches the bottom of a steep hill first but the one with either the least thoughts of self preservation or the lousiest brakes. Either way, it was always going to be GG who made it to the bottom first. We now realised that his King of the Mountains shirt was actually representative of his ability to go down hills and in no way should be confused for any stand-out ability in going up them.

GG attacked the descent like the wild crazy wacky guy he is.

Following the descent we had a 5km/20 minute saunter through to the finish.........which turned into a highly controversial end to the day. 

The highlight was just toodling along and coming across a couple of elephants having their afternoon swim and drink. Lets face it, it doesn't get more pukka Thai jungle than coming across random elephants doing their thing, does it?  Photos taken we then finished off the last 1km back to the bus.

About 5 or 6 km later Hayda, as self appointed Chairman, Spokesman and Agent Provocateur, decided to double check with the guide exactly how far it was to go considering as it was "just 1k about 5k ago and I'm out of water and jolly tired". Run (the guide) suggested it was just another K and Hayda followed that with a comment concerning whether he (Run) had any idea in the faintest what or how long a Kilometre actually was! This activity was classified later that night by David as "a serious sense of humour failure from Hayda" which was surprisingly not followed up by Hayda "kicking-off". No penalty was awarded to Hayda.

Hayda's recollections of the events are simply of a bit of jolly banter with the guide. That said, it was hot, we were tired, we were out of water, and we probably all smelt of elephants.

Another 5 or 6 k later we arrived at the Bus and were driven to the delightful town of Phang Nga.  Our quarters for the next 3 nights was a Hotel which, if rumour was to be believed, may have had a star once. That said it was nothing short of palatial compared to the Bungalows.

The Phang Nga Hotel was a definite improvement

Later that balmy night as we sat by the river, dining on a feast of Pad Thai and bits of pig, discussions about the trip-so-far abounded. Suddenly ETS, made an apparent innocent admission, that, when fully analysed would change the course of the trip and his nickname forever. 

The sin was of such magnitude that an impromptu kangaroo court was hastily convened. Where he would by duly blamed and convicted for his crime. His punishment was the only point of debate. After deliberations (and I must say a shocking lack of remorse from ETS) it was decided that the punishment would fit the crime.

Inspired by the concept of a "Jam Boy" where a local native boy in the tropics is smeared all over in Jam to attract all the neighbourhood flies and insects in order to keep them from bothering the VIPs.  It was agreed upon that ETS would be the Jam Boy for tomorrow morning and would be liberally covered with all the jam we could liberate from breakfast.

As we retired for the evening the only faint sound that could be heard above the hum of the mosquitos was the distant whimpering coming from ETS's suite as he repeated over and over "but i haven't done anything". His frustration turing to anger as he bit his pillow at the perceived injustice dealt out by his cohorts.

Dramatic re-enactment of the pillow being beaten.

His Jamming awaits.

Day 4 - The Casualty List Mounts

Day 4  - From somewhere in the jungle to somewhere else and ending up back at the Bungalows.

First light came and went. After a wild night of gorging, rooting and reproducing the insects that lived in our mattresses were highly disappointed to feel their temporary occupant and food source leap out of bed and head down to the breakfast restaurant. Surprisingly Hayda was first down there which enabled him to have some quality 1-on-1 time with the 3 toed, grass chewing, machete wielding maître d’ of the establishment. Following some rudimentary banter, which resulted in the offering of some of the grass to chew, Hayda, was proudly presented with the Thai Version of a Full English.

Interestingly it was the first meal for 48 hours that did not consist of Pad Thai and bits of pig but was in fact  œufs brouillés dans le pain blanc served avec sauce tomate. Given the exertions of the night day before the team one-by-one mowed down the meal as they arrived at the breakfast suite. Interestingly no one else took up the offer of the “chewing grass” a mistake, which could, but didn’t, prove costly.

After breakfast the team set off again on the burning hot trails. The heat and frequent water /cigarette stops on that 2^nd morning began to merge into one as that wicked lady that is the Coast to Coast Tour began to claim its first victims.

Victim1 – Jam Boy (as he was later to be know) while speeding through the undulations of a palm oil plantation hit a down slope too fast and plugged the front wheel into the up slope, forming the front wheel into the perfect pivot point. The front remained steadfast while JB and the bike rotated around it and deposited him and the bike into an elegant sweaty heap on the jungle floor.  Sadly only Hayda was behind JB at this stage to witness the carnage but even sadder he was so far behind that he missed it all and almost rode into the stricken Cupcake as he lay bleeding amongst the ants.  Surprisingly, sympathy was scant on the ground, as hilarity broke out when the full extent of the pain was established.

Probably looked a lot worse than it actually was.

Victim 2 – Hayda – (soon to be know as the Chair-man due to his liking for the support truck). After battling sickness, dehydration, fatigue, sickness, Dutch elm disease and sickness at 11.22am Hayda stepped off the bike and climbed into the bus of shame. His dignity in ruins.

Victim 3 DK – at 12.45pm, aka Lunch time. Due to the fact that he wasn’t the first to do so, David followed the Chair-man’s initiative and stepped off the bike and boarded the bus of shame.

Due to our poorly state Moo sourced us some snacks to enjoy in the support bus.

To be frank, not really sure what happened the rest of the afternoon but DK and I did enjoy a fabulous bottle of Chablis and some wonderful barbecued lobster in the bus while the others toiled in the heat. If we were to lose our dignity we were dam sure we were going to have a swinging time doing so.

Mark modelling his King of the Mountains shirt he had awarded himself before we had got to any mountains. It was to prove a premature move.

There were some unsubstantiated rumours of a “nasty climb” late in the day and GG losing his temper at the top but David and I were pretty confident this was invented to give the remaining cupcakes some Kudos and make us feel bad. Either way, at close of play the team reassembled at the now infamous Bungalows and took advantage of the services of some local massage ladies (hastily organised by the ever resourceful Moo) and had our aching muscles soothed and manipulated in the privacy of our pest ridden, pine clad, individual rooms.

In rural Thailand the Thai Disco we went to looked absolutely nothing like this at all.

That night we again searched high and low for local nightlife, managed to load up on some more Pad Thai and replenish our depleted hydration levels with some local beer.  A Thai disco followed before carriages.

Things we learned today:

1. Pad Thai can get repetitive
2. Mark is the Queen of the Mountains
3. Magic Adam and Jam Boy are actually quite good at cycling.
4. Moo can fix anything. I mean, anything.
5. The Support Bus is your friend.

Day 3 - Welcome to the Jungle

Distance Covered - Irrelevant - it was really really hot and a bit hilly too. :-(

The Sun had barely risen over the distant horizon when the team freshened from their nights slumbers met in the Breakfast hall to carb and protein load for the day that lay ahead. With all the optimism of fresh recruits heading to the line for the 1^st time, talk was off weight loss, PB’s, climbs to look forward to and sprint finishes.  Hayda delightedly reported that he felt less sick than the previous days and was up for a “big-day” and the others were equally charged with excitement.

After a sportsman’s breakfast of bananas, coffee and fags we “Cupcaked-up”, checked out of the Hotel and made our way round the back to the car park where the bike truck was located to meet our trusty steeds for the 1^st time that would get us through the jungle to Phuket.

The crowds were out in force to see the Cupcakes on their way

After some quality faffing we were ready for the Grande Depart. A short cruise back into the town we had scoured so hard for a beer the previous night, a quick parade lap round some island thing and we headed off on the bitumen out of town and into the unknown.  The team resplendent in hot pink with cup cake motif riding line astern as the kilometres soon began to go by.

The riding was flat and uneventful but it soon became obvious to all that the brave and noble Hayda, despite his herculean efforts to raise himself from his death bed, was struggling not just in the 40 degree heat but with the hard pace being set by the front of the peloton. Time and again the elastic snapped and he was tailed off. If it wasn't for the regular cigarette breaks being taken by the Peloton he would no doubt have disappeared out of the back door and on to the bus.

This continued for several hours and it soon became apparent that even those of us who lived in the steam-room that is Singers were finding the still dry heat much tougher to deal with. Water breaks were as frequent as cigarette breaks, and finally we pulled over to a small shack showing some kick-boxing which would be our lunch venue.

While the rest of us watched kick-boxing Mr G still only had eyes for the camera. The torturous heat continued throughout the long hot afternoon and under the heat of the Burning Sun tempers became frayed, reputations were in tatters and mate-ship (to use an Aussie word) was being strongly forged. However it was at this time during this infernal suffering that the Legend of Cupcakedness (probably another Australian word) was founded. After what seemed like the thousandth palm oil plantation our guide, finally declared it was "beer o'clock" and we pulled over beside the support truck and eagerly knocked the top off a few cold ones.  To say it had been a vision of hell would have been an under statement.........and also sadly premature.

A still shot taken from a sense of humour failure moment.

The "Bungalows", our accommodation for the next few nights redefined our visions of hell like a motel had never done before. The Zero Star Eastern Europe place the night before now seemed like a luxurious memory. To convey the ambience of the "Bungalows" below are the Top 10 and Worst 10 points.

Top 10

1. There were beds in the rooms
2. There was WIFI
3. There was Air con
4. Breakfast was supplied
5. There were showers in the rooms
6. There was TV in the rooms
7. The Motel Manager was on 24 hr call
8. The Motel Restaurant staff were also on 24 hr call
9. The Motel was quiet enough that our stay did not inconvenience others
10. There was an impromptu boutique art gallery in the reception area.

Worst 10 

1. The beds all had dead mattresses which probably needed Gordon's Ramsey's special lamp shone on them. This may have at least killed off the menagerie of insects calling them "home".
2. The WIFI signal was incapable of downloading anything.
3. The Air Con provided limited cooling but what it lacked in "chilling capacity" it made up for in tractor-like noise and room vibrations.
4. Breakfast looked like this (see below)
5. To use the showers you had to be sitting on the loo at the same time.  After a long day cycling this could easily be seen as a plus.
6. The TV only had limited Thai only channels, all with copious static.
7. The 3 toed Motel Manager lived in a rocking chair in the open plan reception area where he chewed some grassy looking stuff and generally looked scary at anyone who passed his way. 
8. The Motel staff all lived in an annex to the open plan reception area. This annex contained an assortment of people of various ages and sexes, all of which were believed to be part of the Motel Manager's extended family.
9. No-one else was daring to stay at the Bungalow. Hence we were the only guests.
10. The art in the reception area consisted of mounted cross machetes and various animal skulls. A little bit sinister but very Damien Hurst I thought.

Scrambled egg sandwich. Photo missing the optional grass stimulant offered as a "side" order. So after a tiring Day 1 in the saddle the Cupcakes headed off to a restaurant in a stunning national park for dinner. Sadly it was night and we saw nothing of this beautiful vista. Knocked the top off some Singhas and rested our weary bodies.  None of us at all went into the local town to try the two main bars there in search of some nightlife. Things we learned today: Hayda was gone. Nothing in the tank It is sub-optimal to drop your phone whilst cycling in 40 degree temperatures as it results in having to do some hills twice. Pad Thai can maybe become repetitive. Thai "chewing grass stimulant stuff" is ineffective. Never diss a three toed man who keeps machetes close at hand. Its going to be a long week.

Day 2. The Road to Surat Thani.

Day 2 Bangkok to Surat Thani (547km)

The Journey South

Saturday 29 April started with all the verve and vigor of the 1st 100m of an idiot packed fun-run but by the time the day was out it had petered out to a dead halt like a Tuk-Tuk heading up a small gradient with 5 fat Ang Mohs sitting in the back.

Breakfast was taken early. Its pleasing to know that even with increasing sophistication amongst world travellers and the developing propensity of the Chinese to travel that the Best Western in Bangkok was still able to muster a full English for the final carb, fat, caffeine and protein loading session before the flight down to Surat Thani for the Grande Depart.

David and Darth were first there and tried to make a serious dent in the buffet but their impact was inconsequential until ETS arrived and immediately commenced an orderly dismantling of all the fare that the breakfast team had on display. ETS's training regime had been so intense in the lead up to Bangkok that his carb and fat reserves were so low that no food would be going back to the kitchen that day. The staff were grateful for the regular nicotine loading intervals, which at least enabled them to at least attempt to keep pace, but ultimately their efforts were futile.

Meanwhile the other 2 Team Cupcake members were out for a final training run around the delightful neighbourhood we were staying and tried sampling the local street-food breakfasts. Why is it that when Rick or Gordon wonder round street markets in their Asia food shows that the food looks so good but when you are there yourself, you soon realise that it is literally being served from a piss and shit smelling gutter and that it is so less appealing than on telly. After a few poorly chosen satays the boys were soon requiring quick fire (no pun intended) comfort stops, something that would become a bit of a theme for the week for poor Adam.

Adam and GG's brekkie

After the completion of breakfast the team met up and had the inaugural team beers as a group of 5 (or quintet if you wish) to officially kick start the holiday. Luxury transport was then arranged and we commenced our transfer back to the airport, which we had only left what seemed just a few small hours before.

DMK has seen better days.

Now, we have to explain, Mark is an ideas guy, a natural entertainer, the David Brent of the team, more there for moral rather than actually anything worthwhile. Sadly Adam’s failing was that he had foolishly forgotten all of this and had assumed that Mark had arranged his flight ticket for the trip for the 60 minute flight down to Surat Thani, near the Burma border (Myanmar for those new age types who work for NGO’s-you know who you are Nena).

So there we were all checked in and we realized Adam didn’t have a ticket for the flight. Adam looked at Darth, Darth looked at Mark and David and ETS instinctively looked for a bar which we would no doubt need to wait in while the issue was sorted. They soon found a 7-11 and beers were immediately procured. Thankfully the plane was not full and a ticket could be obtained, failing that Adam was in a complete hole looking down the barrel of a 10 hour train ride to Surat Thani. Adam's confidence in Mark had been shattered, and sadly not for the first or probably the last time. In fact 76% of the time, Mark will let you down. FACT. The remaining 24% of the time he generally lets himself down.

The flight was uneventful and quiet, we nervously knew we were heading off into the great mountainous, lawless wilderness that is Southern Thailand, what greeted us at the airport airstrip (where the expression Under Construction had never been more appropriately used) would soon leave us reeling in flabbergasterdness. (Is that actually a word Mark?)

There are many words to describe the phenomenon that greeted us at the Airstrip and passes by the name of “Moo”.

Warm

Brash

Loud

Short

Blinged Up

Dynamo

Sometimes Un-Intelligible

Boss.

One word. "Moo"

She was our official Tour leader and we first encountered her at the arrivals gate at the Airstrip. She ushered onto the official Paddle Asia Limo-Bus and we commenced the 30min ride into Surat Thani. During this trip she tried speaking loudly and constantly at Hayda (as he had booked the trip) and Hayda spent a lot of time nodding and smiling back barely understanding one in 10 words being uttered in his direction. 

Mark tried his best to strike up conversation, as coming from Burnley, had a better ear for unintelligible gibberish, “Where are the ladyboys he continually asked,” to be repeatedly retorted with “Ladyboys ha ha. You want Ladyboys ha ha. I get you ladyboys, ha ha.” A conversation that would be repeated more often then any other during the week ahead. 

So this crescendo of noise continued for the whole drive, only occasionally interrupted by ETS pointing out all the hills that we would no doubt have to struggle up and over during the next few days and Adam declaring whether he was getting reception on his phone or not.

The Wangtai Hotel

Proof that the Camera can and Does Lie. I'm not sure exactly which decade this photo was taken but the year most definitely began with "1".

Now Hayda has experienced Lithuania, Slovenia, Croatia and Poland and has a good knowledge of crap and ugly Soviet style architecture and the hotel we checked in to in Surat Thani was a picture perfect example of some of the best concrete architecture seen to the East of the Urals. If the Best Western in Bangkok had been three stars we were now entering the realm of the one star. Something Mark had not been exposed to since he was very young and still had his own teeth. 

Probably the only acceptable angle to view the Soviet style hotel

The ever-irrepressible Moo shouted loudly spoke Thai to the receptionists and our room keys were obtained and we quickly dispersed to freshen up in this no doubt luxurious hotel.

Sadly Not.

Now you could wax on about the deficiencies of the hotel but it would be much quicker to extol what it did actually have:

Rooms with doors

Air Con (variable)

Thai only TV reception

A sort of restaurant

What was like a gift shop that sold beer (for a while until they quickly run out).

A swimming pool full of Russians (where we could sit beside and drink aforementioned gift-shop beer).

Prior to the commencement of the final poolside carb-loading session, team kit-man, ETS ceremoniously presented team members with their official Team Cupcake Shirt, which were to be worn the following morning. A proud and historic moment, which probably deserved better than the kit being left outside the Team Member’s room doors. But heck they were all the same size anyway.

After getting out of our Guantanamo-esqe rooms we were soon heading poolside for beers and our first taste of what was to become our staple diet for the next 6 days:

Pad Thai

Rice

Chicken with stuff

Fried indiscernible pieces of pig

Singha Beer.

All the beers that the hotel had, assembled for a Group Shot

During this banquet we had two very rude awakenings:

1. We met Mr. Run ((“as in Run-DMC”) his words, not ours)) our cycling guide, kilometers guide and all-round bully-boy-cum drill-instructor with an evil laugh only previously matched by Dr Kananga in Live and Let Die).

2. The hotel staff reliably informing us that all bars in the town were closed on that Saturday night due to a Government election the next day. Mark’s katoys would have to wait.

After dinner Team Cupcake headed off with wide-eyed optimism and an instruction to the Tuk Tuk driver to “Find a pub. Any pub”. Approximately two hours and three lemonades later the team straggled back to the Hotel, dispirited at their complete inability to find any type of alcoholic beverage outlet. The wiser ones amongst us commenting that this would be a good move for the cycling tomorrow and being roundly told to “F’off” by the rest.

Team Cupcake - drinking dry the only bar open in town on a Saturday night

So at 10pm we headed back to our “rooms” and commenced watching Thai telly before drifting off into action packed dreams of the road to Phuket, which lay ahead.

Things we learnt on Day 2:

1. Never ever rely on Mark for anything.

2. Hayda was still feeling crook and making sure everyone knew about it.

3. Adam had an increasingly bizarre interest in the sourcing of Wi-Fi (something that would prove contagious as the week progressed)

4. David was fearing being stuck at the back of the peloton but should have really started taking increasing solace for (2) above

5. When ETS is hungry. He's really hungry.

More Importantly - Things we hadn’t learnt by Day 2

1. Moo was delightfully Nuts

2. Mr Run was a compulsive liar with no concept of time or distance.
3. Who won the bloody election anyway.