Eight Hundred Kilometers Later: Siem Reap to Surin

National Highway 68: The Road to Uncertainty

November 9, 2013. There is this newly paved stretch of road from NH6, about 52kms after Siem Reap. It's so unknown that if you search for it in Google Maps, the road stops and leads to nowhere. This was the road to the Osmauch/O'Smach border of Cambodia, which would lead us to Surin, Thailand.

A few kilometers on NH68, I felt something snap from my bike. The shock made me lose control and I ended up crashing into Pen. We both fell on the side of the road. Luckily, neither of us were injured. LA, who was pedaling behind us, saw the whole thing. My pedal detached itself from the crank! He tried to remedy it as best as he could but the bearings were frozen stiff. I was afraid that if I clipped myself on again, another crash would be imminent, so I removed the cleats from my left shoe.

The aftermath of our crash. LA is trying to fix my pedal, while Pen looks on.

Eight Hundred Kilometers Later: Lists

How difficult is it to write about a two week bike trip across Southeast Asia? Every day there seems to be a highlight of the trip and trying to compress it in one entry seems extremely challenging. Yet creating separate posts for each day pose their own challenges as well. 

How long can I keep this up? Editing pictures, creating infographics and writing half-baked entries that may or may not be posted? It's worth a shot to write something memorable. Or maybe just to sit down and write.

Practical Stuff on the Road
1. Your gadget should have a wordless travel app. Or better yet, pictures of things you will really, really need on the road, like: eggs, water, ice, toilet, guesthouse.
2. Never cross a border on your own or else be scammed like Pen. She was charged 50,000 dong upon entering the Cambodian border of Bavet for God knows what reason.

Caught on camera: scammed at the border!

3. Tell your bank you're traveling abroad so you can withdraw from your ATM. Otherwise, be prepared for a frustrating process of unsuccessfully trying to withdraw from your ATM or searching for a money changer or a bank that's open on a late afternoon on a weekend. Yeah. Exactly.
4. I don't care what anyone says on how gadget dependent we were. Wifi rocks. Gadgets rock.
5. Do not look at your Garmin/whatever gadget you are using to measure your mileage/kilometer signs. You will go crazy. Especially if your expected mileage for the day is 90kms and you're only on KM 30.

Do not look at your Garmin! You'll go crazy!

6. Instead of taking the Poipet border to enter Thailand from Cambodia, take the Osmauch border instead if you have time. What a hassle-free/people-less experience it was!
7. Get a Brooks saddle. Instead of suffering through saddle sores, and weird blisters from cycling shorts and uncomfortable "performance/racing" saddles.
8. There are always little roadside stores where you can stop for a meal or a cold drink, but always bring comfort food. For this trip, we brought a whole jar of Nutella.

Beer and Nutella were lifesavers

9. Extra clothing is overrated. Doing our laundry became a regular occurrence and big cities always gave us an excuse to shop for clothes.

We spent a lot of time doing laundry. We were so used to seeing each other's undies hanging all over our room.

10. Just put your bike in an effin box. We were confident that airport check-in counters would allow us to roll our bikes in (without any packaging whatsoever) simply because we've done it before. Airports have strange rules sometimes. So to avoid the hassle of nearly missing your flight (or just to avoid the hassle), just get a decent bike box and pack your bike in.

We got away with unboxing our bikes in both Manila and Bangkok but not without endless pleading. Next time, we'll just put our bikes in boxes.

11. Do not take a late night flight out of Manila to HCM. Otherwise, be prepared to sleep outside the airport.

We got kicked out off the airport and spent the night on benches outside waiting for sunlight.

Cambodian Guesthouses Rock.
1. Wifi all the time (except in the tiny town of Samreoung, 60kms away from the Cambodia-Thailand border).
2. Rooms that can comfortably fit 2 queen size beds, huge wooden chairs and tables and still have space for your luggage.
3. Bathrooms that can fit a queen size bed.
4. Speaking of bathrooms, bidets in EVERY bathroom.
5. Toothbrushes in every guesthouse. (Quality wasn't so great though. Every time I used one, my gums and tongue would be scraped raw.)
6. Extra towels and blankets
7. Hardwood bed frames.

Our Gadget List
2 iPad minis
1 iPhone
1 Sony Xperia
1 Samsung Galaxy Note 1
1 Kobo Reader
1 (non-functional) Nokia
1 GoPro Hero 3
1 Lumix LX7
1 Garmin Forerunner 305
1 extension cord
A lot of cables/chargers

How to Keep Yourself Entertained on the Road
1. Tell yourself over and over you can do it
2. Think of new business ventures to topple existing ones
3. Sing songs from the Sound of Music and Disney movies
4. Put your earphones on and listen to your iPod (er, not recommended)
5. Take out the GoPro and ask your companions stupid questions.
6. Daydream..
7. Pray/meditate.

Eight Hundred Kilometers Later

How difficult is it to write about a two week bike trip across Southeast Asia? Every day there seems to be a highlight of the trip and trying to compress it in one entry seems extremely challenging. Yet creating separate posts for each day pose their own challenges as well. 

How long can I keep this up? Editing pictures, creating infographics and writing half-baked entries that may or may not be posted? It's worth a shot to write something memorable. Or maybe just to sit down and write. 

What I remember the most was the nonstop pedaling. The road was so flat most of the time (except for a rise in elevation upon approaching the Cambodia-Thailand border), there was barely any opportunity to coast/freewheel.

I remember the intense heat as crisp morning air slowly gave way to the burning midday sun. I remember how refreshing it was to gulp a can or a 1.5 liter of Coke. Something I would never do back home but seemed like a necessity on the road.

I remember the children frantically waving and shouting "Hellooooooo!!!" at us as we biked along the highway. At some point, we even had an escort of schoolgirls on their bikes as they accompanied us for a few kilometers along the Cambodian highway. I remember wanting to return every greeting but there were some days when we were so tired that the simple act of waving or shouting a greeting back took so much effort on my part.

Schoolkids on bikes were a common sight as they biked and laughed with us along the highway.

Where in the world did we get the discipline to wake up everyday at 5:30am, have breakfast before 7 and be on the road before 8? We would pedal until the midday sun would scorch us, then we would stop for a snack or a meal, and then pedal again until the afternoon. Our rides the first few days would take us to a town by early afternoon. The last few days of our ride however meant long afternoons and sunsets on our saddles

Teresa Experiences

There was something different about my bike. For several years, I had tolerated its slightly bigger-than-me frame, with my back and arms stretching forward. This position never bothered me during long rides, maybe some back pain, but nothing too uncomfortable. Downtube shifting took a while for me to master but I liked the vintage feel of it. It felt clattery and bumpy, especially on poorly maintained roads, but on long rides, I knew it wouldn't let me down. All in all, I had grown to love this old road bike with all its imperfections. 

Today was different. I could feel the chain struggling to hit the gears. I could feel the bearings slowing down and I felt like I was in a more stretched out position. The strange synergy I felt that nobody else could feel whenever others would ride my bike was missing. It felt... old.

I blamed this all on 2 recent crashes. The first crash was when the car hit me and I had to have my handlebars replaced. I'm now on wider (42cm vs. 40 cm) handlebars and have pretty blue and yello camo handlebar tape on. My second crash happened a few weeks later as I descended a hill with a flat front tire. As I braked, the wheel slid out in front of me and fell facedown. Thank God again for my helmet. I ripped my pants and skinned my palm. In the few seconds that I lay there, I already felt the bruises forming.

What was wrong with me? Was I biking too much? Was I taking too many unnecessary risks? Was I becoming complacent in my riding? I contemplated taking a break from riding but I knew that I would only look for it.

But I still rode. However, there was a new sensation. It was fear. I no longer blazed through downhill sections, instead I gripped the handlebars and brakes tightly, imagining all sorts of scenarios, mostly where the bike would spin out front of me and I would get crushed by an incoming truck/bus coming from Teresa. And that was what I felt that Sunday, as LA and I did another semi-long ride (60km~). My riding position was so stretched out and I had to reach farther down my brakes.

LA and I had our lugaw, and as I was explaining my situation to him, I realized my handlebars were all wrong. I thought back to the time the bike mechanics installed my semi-new handlebars and told them to place the brake hoods further down. No wonder I felt stretched out. I was literally stretched out. I was leaning so far forward as I braked that I was off my seat, placing all my gravity on the front part of my bike. No wonder it felt like I could topple any second-- it was only a matter of time before that could actually happen.

Orange-tinted life

As we headed back and went through Antipolo, I felt frustrated as we made our way down. Now that I knew what was causing the problem, I made my way down slowly and cautiously. I was frustrated as other bikes passed me downhill. And turns frightened me, as if I suddenly forgot how and when to brake.

That day was a bit eerie as I felt myself getting stronger uphill (that 3km stretch from Teresa to Antipolo no longer frightened me as I thought it would), yet somehow lost my confidence going downhill.

Rapha Women's 100

(I wrote this thinking I did a century ride as women all over the world were celebrating the Rapha Women's 100. It was only after some research that I realized I did this ride two weeks too late.)

My knee was in pain after several consecutive Saturdays of playing floorball. I desperately wanted to ride the weekend before but my knee could barely make it up the gentle hills of our village. It would be very painful trying to make it up Antipolo. 

As is always the case, every time I say "No" to a ride, I always wish I said yes. If there's anything that biking has taught me, it can make anything better, even throbbing knee pain. It might seem counter-intuitive to give your knee more pain by subjecting it to a 100km ride.

So this Sunday, I resolved not to say no again, despite the nagging knee pain and despite not putting enough mileage the previous weeks.

A 6:30 call time turned into an a 7:15 ride as LA and I couldn't wait for our friends any longer. My lack of training showed as I felt the familiar discomfort of going up Antipolo--

I could write all day about how physically unprepared I was for this ride. But the truth was, I was excited to be there. Just feeling that familiar discomfort and welcoming the heavy breathing, the hot sun, the sweat streaming down, and the burning pain in your legs were like old friends. Friends that you haven't seen in a long time and there is that initial awkwardness of strange hi's and hello's, then you relax and hit that familiar stride of meaningful conversation.

We hit Pisong Kape in about 2 hours. The flats that I dreaded after the Teresa downhill were surprisingly tolerable, helped in part by the tailwind. Shortly after, Cess, Dennis, Luis and Morris arrived, after setting a blistering pace from Masinag to Pisong Kape. Lugaw and egg will always be the best post-race reward.

Waiting for our post-ride meal

Bike friends, old and new.

The backs of friends

As we headed back, our group started to dwindle little by little. Morris forgot the turn to Teresa, Luis took a wrong turn from Antipolo and LA got a flat somewhere between Antiplo and Masinag. By then, midday was approaching and the sun was out in full force. It seemed as if every time I tried to get into a good rhythm during the ride, there was always an interruption. I headed back home solo just in time for lunch with the family. And just like that, another century experience in the bag.

Monsoon Season

I used to avoid biking in the rain. It was a hassle being caught in the rain without the proper rain gear. I'd arrive in school/office/wherever dripping wet, without the proper change of clothes and just feeling absolutely miserable.

Unfortunately, the only other option was commuting, which seemed like a horrible alternative. It was impossible to get a ride in rush hour, traffic is horrible, jeeps are impssibly hot and stuffy, MRT crowds are pushy and impatient. In other words, it would be a miserable experience.

But I always knew that every time I'm not on my bke, I'd look wistfully out the window at some biker in the rain and wish I was out there, dripping wet and all.

So I made some adjustments. I got myself heavy duty rain bags (a Timbuk2 messenger bag and an Outdry backpack), a lightweight waterproof rainjacket and carried 3 extra sets of clothes with me.

Except for wet butt and striped back moments from the rain spray, wet season became my friend. I cleaned and regreased/oiled my bike more often but I didn't shy away from the rain anymore.

Until my wet butt and striped back started to bother me. I want to arrive in my destinations with a nice, warm butt. I needed bike fenders. Unfortunately, the pretty bike fenders online were expensive and I didn't want to wait 

So, I searched for bike fender tutorials. Bike hacks and instructables gave me some inspiration, and my friend gave me the suggestion of using plastic folders as fenders.

On one rainy Wednesday, I rummaged through old school supplies and found an old plastic folder that I could use. I made some rough measurements The result was 2 flimsy pieces of plastic that I attached using zip ties. They are ugly to look at and look extremely flimsy, but guess what, they did their job well. My butt has now remained rain-free the past few weeks.

Plastic folder fender prototype 0.000001

Bent then broken

The crash was painful. Seeing this was a painful reminder.