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.