Have pedals can travel!

In the 1960s, when the Malaysian government, under the aegis of the first Prime Minister, Tunku Abdul Rahman, proposed building a modern highway, the Federal Highway, to ease traffic in the Klang Valley, it drew considerable flak from the Opposition. They said it was a sheer waste of money.

The same kind of antagonism arose in the early 80s when the ruling government considered it another waste of money when a modern toll highway along the spine of the Peninsula was announced. The opposition also cited profiteering and the enrichment of cronies' coffers as the basis for their position. Still, the leaders successfully bulldozed their plan.

Undeniably, these projects have brought so much development to the country. One cannot imagine Malaysia without these highways, and life would not have been the same without the minister responsible for the roads, Samy Vellu, and his antics.

This was the first thought that came to my mind when I participated in a fellowship ride in Cyberjaya recently. It was an 88-km ride organised by the Development Board of the State of Selangor (PKNS) as a sin-washing, oops, CSR, Corporate Social Responsibility project. It was named the Selangor International Ride (SIR), but the only thing close to being international about it must surely be the expatriates who participated. I do not think anyone travelled all the way to partake in this event. It was not a race, there was no podium for medals, and there were no prizes. Just like in India, where SIR (Special Intensive Revision) of the Electoral Roll is chasing away illegal immigrants from places like West Bengal, SIR (Selangor International Ride) kept competitive cyclists away.

The ride was led by a lead police car and outriders, which created a safe gap for cyclists to speed up until they approached the water stations at the 40km and 60km marks. Here, the convoy would stop, regroup and restart after a short break. So, it was not a race, and there was no race chip to record participants' times.

The intriguing thing is the intricate lattice of well-paved dual-carriage roads that serve this whole area. From the Selangor Cyber Valley Lake Park, the convoy moved around the dull, imposing infrastructure surrounding Cyberjaya. In the 90s, Cyberjaya was earmarked to be Malaysia's answer to Silicon Valley. It promised to attract investors and market players by providing high-speed internet free from government controls, with information flowing seamlessly like rivers of glaciers. 30 years on, everyone realised it was just an afternoon post-prandial daydream that cleared when it became clear it was time to go back to work. In 2025, the police are more diligent at being a thought police than at going on their beat rounds, managing traffic, or keeping the community safe.

After completing a short loop near the starting point, the mammoth structure came into view: the Cyberjaya government hospital. Funny, less than 15 minutes' drive was another huge government hospital, the Putrajaya Hospital. In a sparsely populated area, it is mind-boggling that the powers that be deemed it necessary to have two large hospitals so close together. In contrast, other State hospitals, such as KLGH, Sg Buluh, and Selayang Hospital, were packed to the brim. Some things in life remain unanswered. This is one of them; the other may include the strange disappearance of MH370.

Technically, the bureaucrats would tell us that both hospitals are in different districts. One is in Putrajaya, whereas the other is in the Sepang district. From Cyberjaya, we slowly moved towards Sepang town and its vicinity.

The first time I saw the word 'Sepang' was when I was a teenager. It was written on a bus in thick, bold Tamil script. In fact, it was the only bus company that used Tamil lettering and operated solely on the Sepang route. During those days, rubber and oil palm estates covered these areas. To cater to its passengers, who were mainly plantation workers well-versed in Tamil, such arrangements were considered necessary. 

http://worldabh.info/evobus/benz/of1313/photo01.html

An interesting banner I saw outside a construction site while cycling read 'Keep Sepang Green and Clean'. I thought that message reeked of hypocrisy to the viewer. The whole area was green in the first place, cooling the air and reducing greenhouse gases on the planet. But no! In the name of development, to keep up with the rest of the world, we needed a brand new airport. A new town had to be started from scratch to prove our sovereignty. Industrial estates, expensive bungalows, and housing lots became essential. After clearing the trees, now we want to re-green them. That is the price of development, I suppose. What is development, purists may ask. But even the most spiritually inclined among us may feel that monetary offerings can help spread the Word more smoothly. 

Our journey took us to the outskirts of Banting and Kuala Langat, where we made our initial stop. There were hardly any challenging terrains to overcome. The temperature was mild for Malaysian standards, staying around 25 degrees Celsius throughout the ride. 

After a 15-minute break, the convoy reconvened and headed towards Sepang town proper and Dengkil town. Here, there was a slight inclination near the district office that needed to be conquered. After that, it was all flat all the way. 

A bit of forgotten history of Dengkil was not known to me when I passed through these few points, which are worth mentioning. It had long been of interest to archaeologists, who discovered ancient human activities dating back to the Neolithic period. This period in our history occurred between 10,000 BCE and 2,000 BCE, when humans evolved from hunter-gatherers to settled communities. Tin ore mining was an important industry in Dengkil from the 1920s. At the height of its prosperity, the Dengkil area boasted of having seven large modern dredges. During this period of exploration, bronze bowls, ceramic ware, stone tools, pottery, and agricultural implements from that era were found. Around that time, rubber plantations and Indian migrant workers came to occupy the region. The Chinese were brought in to work the tin mines. The pre-existing Malays in the area could not be persuaded to work for the colonial authorities, hence the need for migrant workers.

Kampong Jenderam Hilir, which we encountered on our route, is an important archaeological site located at the confluence of Sg Langat and Sg Semenyih. Bukit Piatu, which we saw signboards for, yielded a pottery shed.

The 1950s saw the creation of new villages by the Malaysian High Commissioner, Gerald Templer, and his men to combat communists. These settlements were another name for concentration camps. The British sold the idea of winning a war through a 'heart and mind' strategy to undermine communist activities.

Bukit Unggul Golf & Country Club
Courtesy Eric Lim

Paya Indah Wetlands, which is situated in the Sepang district, has seen better days. After flattening the land around Putrajaya and the KLIA (the airport in a jungle), maybe as an afterthought, after brutalising so much of Mother Nature, a disused tin mine was engineered as a wetland to showcase the tropics' fauna and flora. To enhance its allure, the Botswana government donated four hippopotamuses. Pelicans, crocodiles and porcupines were added for good measure. The Wetlands are rarely visited these days.

There is another rarely mentioned news of the oppression of the Orang Asli that has been going on here. The Temuan tribe, who had lived in Bangi, was relocated in the 1970s when their land was used to build the UKM campus. They were given a plot of land around Bukit Tunggul in Dengkil. In 1993, a private golf course was planned to be built on their land. After years of confrontation, by obstructing water and electricity supply, the Court of Appeal, in 2005, reserved that piece of land as their ancestral land. Things, however, are not all hunky dory for the Temuan people.

The ride finally ended back in Cyberjaya with much pomp and splendour. Another ride, another venture to another part of the country not often explored by the mainstream, or at least city slickers. The best way to explore any place is to take a slow voyage on foot or pedal power. Have pedal can travel!

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A dry 'Rain Town'

Taiping Heritage Ride 2025

November 30th, 2025.

The trains used to stop at Taiping in those days. It was a game we shared between my sister and me. Each would predict whether it would rain when the train reached Taiping. It would invariably rain, and I would always win. That is Taiping, the wettest town in Peninsula Malaysia. The Maxwell hills, aka Bukit Larut, near the town, recorded the highest rainfall, second only to Bintulu, according to the meteorological report on sustained high rainfall. Historically, the Maxwell Hills are said to have received 5000mm of rainfall. As a result, it acquired the nickname 'Rain Town'.

So when the Meteorological Department issued a warning that a rare storm had arisen in the Strait of Malacca and would bring torrential rains over many towns in the Peninsula, I was concerned. With my planned cycling race in Taiping all in high gear, the last thing that Taiping needed was torrential rain from a tropical storm. Rain in 'Rain Town' on top of a storm did not sound too good. To top it all off, people started marking themselves as safe on social media in anticipation of floods, heightening the already tense situation. The BBC began showing footage of flood victims in Southeast Asia to set the low mood. 

All through the weekdays leading up to the planned Taiping Heritage Ride on Sunday, I was waiting for announcements from the organisers in anticipation of the freak storm called 'Senyar'. Nothing. News of heavy rain, floods and landslides was reported occurring most in the central and southern parts of the peninsula. 

Come Sunday, everything was hunky dory. No rain, no threat of rain, no roads reported to be underwater and dry roads as well. In fact, for once in my life, I did not experience rain while in Taiping. Almost at 7am, as planned, the 90km ride was flagged off. It was a ride as easy as Sunday morning, to quote the Commodores. 

From a town named 'forever peaceful', Taiping, the cyclists rode, under the supervision of marshals and traffic police, to another 'forever' town, a small town named Selama. (Selama-lama could mean forever.) Mainly cruising on flat terrain, it was a pleasant ride, complemented by mild weather: 23 degrees C, with the sun shyly peeking through the clouds throughout the day.

I knew that Taiping town had come into existence ever since tin was explored on an industrial scale in the mid-19th century. In reality, it had already been mined there. The British exploited it by bringing in dredging machines and mined it to extinction. The local rulers had already been using tin coins earlier.

Tin also brought in the Chinese immigrants, the secret societies - Ghee Hin and Hai San, representing the Cantonese, Hakka and Teochew communities respectively. To transport the merchandise, the first railway lines were built between Taiping and Port Weld in 1885.

Besides this, Taiping also boasts many of its firsts in the country. The first post and telegraph offices, the first fire brigade, the first hill resort in Maxwell Hill, the first library and museum, the first English and Tamil newspapers, and, probably, the first mall. There was even an airstrip, Tekah Aerodrom, in 1929, which would qualify as the first Malaysian airport. It is alleged that Amelia Earhart made a stopover here in 1937 during her ill-fated round-the-world trip. There is a mural to vouch for that, it seems. Her navigational log, however, showed stops only in Bangkok and Singapore with no mention of a layover in Malaya. In all accounts, she would have just flown over Taiping and would have obtained permission from Taiping as a possible place to land in case of emergency.

With an impressive past resume, now Taiping, away from the main highway traffic, has to contend with the tag of a retirees' hometown. 

Continuing the ride from Selama district, the convoy turned to pass Bukit Merah town, a recreational park with lakes, greenery and a water-themed park. I remember travelling on the trains through a long waterway. It used to be never-ending, and in those days, my simple mind thought I was travelling across the sea. Until I saw a stretch of railway line running across the Bukit Merah Lake from a flyover in that small town, the avalanche of memories came rushing back. The train had been travelling across the Bukit Merah lake. 

From there, the ride continued back into Taiping through Kamunting. Kamunting earned its notorious name in 1987, when over 100 people from civil society were incarcerated under the cruel Internal Security Act under the orders of the then Prime Minister, Mahathir Muhammad.

It was back we started, and that was it. Another day, another race done.

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Just Passing Through...

https://borderlessjournal.com/2025/10/14/just-passing-through/

During my early days of cycling, as I trained during the early hours before dawn, my greatest fear was not the darkness. Beyond fearing fear itself, the next thing that frightened me was the possibility of a head-to-head encounter with a pack of stray dogs that throng the country roads leading up to Genting Peres, the border between the districts of Hulu Langat in Selangor and Jelebu in Negeri Sembilan. ...

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Merdeka!

https://www.facebook.com/bikebaju.official/

Melburnians often claim they can experience all four seasons in a single day. It might start out sunny in the morning, then suddenly turn windy, cold, or rainy, with hail sometimes following soon after. Melbourne's temperate oceanic climate and its location, where hot and cold weather systems quickly interact, cause this phenomenon.

Well, we, weekend cyclists, experienced the same phenomenon during our small weekend ride. The temperature remained consistently above 25 °C, but we did endure the various climates one would encounter here in Malaysia. We are referring to the BB Merdeka Ride organised by a sports garments company in connection with Malaysia's 68th Independence Day celebration. Yes, we are 68 years old, but we are still struggling to find our way in the right direction. Rather than moving forward, we seem to be walking in reverse!

A ballpark estimate of 1,000 participants took part in this event. Participants could choose between a 50km or 100km fun ride; there was no pressure, no timing chip, but a 5-hour time limit. As it was Merdeka (Malaysia's Independence Day), the event started to the tune of Negara-Ku, at the Selangor Fruit Valley, a tourist attraction located near Rawang. We all regrouped at the Sekinchan Coconut Farm before returning to the starting point, covering 94km and passing through Bestari Jaya. Batang Berjuntai is the former name of Bestari Jaya. The name change, when translated, means 'a dangling trunk'. In 2007, the authorities believed a name change was necessary to avoid the graphic sexual connotations it might imply. 

Pitstop @ Sekinchan

The different climates we experienced were like this. At 7 am, when we started, it was a little still and humid. It was about 25 °C. As riders began riding on the comparable flat terrain, the crosswinds provided a pleasant, cool sensation. The Sun decided to get up late that day. It was aware that many Malaysians would be out celebrating outdoor Merdeka festivities. From a humid environment, it became windy. The joyful ride, overseen by police and marshals, was smooth. We passed through scenic padi fields, serene rivers, and fresh morning air. The halfway point was at Sekinchan. A few stalls were set up selling light refreshments. The organisers arranged to provide drinks and bananas.

By 9.30 am, it was time to head back. The Sun slowly began to rise. It was mild, though. The ride home was more challenging, as everyone had clearly expended their energy. Most lacked the strength to keep up with pelotons that overtook them. Cramps started to appear. The sweeper vehicles were just waiting to pick up cyclists who threw in the towel, but many politely declined.

Back at the finishing point, all that was left were smiles, laughter, and congratulatory messages. Some lucky ones went home with goodies after winning at the Lucky Draw.

A weekend well spent.

 

(P.S. Why is it that every time the national anthem is played, my insides grow mellow, and my mind becomes all nostalgic with a hint of melancholia? Is that patriotism?)

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Not funny

It was a local cycling event with the usual thrills and frills. It was a fun event. It was not a race. People came in dressed in masks and capes. There was a chap who wore a Viking helmet with cowhorn-like horns to give a fiesta feel to everyone around. 

Close to a thousand riders thronged the much-delayed, newly paved expressway that would bring people all the way from Ampang to Putrajaya and beyond.

For the bystanders, it must have been a sight to behold. Rows of cyclists in tight-fitting gears all going in a single file must have tickled the onlookers to the bones. 

So there were a group of cyclists in front of me who were boisterously rolling along the highway. Manning the traffic was a group of Bangladeshi foreign workers. They, too, were fascinated with the event of the day. They, too, whipped out their mobile devices to record the race.

One of the racers in front of me quipped, "hey, give a good pose. For all you know, you would be appearing on Bangla Youtube!" (closest translation)

https://www.amazon.com/Authentic-Reproduction-
Viking-Warrior-Helmet/dp/B008E4DFYW

It was an uncalled-for conversation. Just like everyone else, a foreigner or a general worker also has their likes and dislikes. He, too, wants to capture a momentous moment or share a scene that he wants others to see. Just because he is from the working class and is from a country considered to be in the lower rung of socioeconomic status, his action is by no means a justification for mocking. 

Another thing, YouTube is universal. There is no such thing as a Bangla YouTube or a Myanmarese one, but the local language may be. Now, with subtitles and audio choices, the world is one. 

Unfortunately, most Malaysians are like this - condescending and feeling one-up against each other. We suffer from so much insecurity that we pin others down to convince ourselves that we are doing alright. It is a form of cognitive dissonance. 

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To the Land of Smiles!

Epic Ride 2025 - Cross Border

Now that cyclists in Malaysia (and Singapore) are labelled 'bad boys', as shown by the many disparaging comments from netizens, the only sensible option is to take our cycling elsewhere. Just as everything in life, this too shall pass. It all started when a group of cyclists riding side by side on a highway was honked at by a bus driver. Taking it personally, the cyclists stopped the bus afterwards and gave the driver a piece of their mind. The confrontation was recorded by someone and quickly went viral on social media. To be fair, it is cycling 101 to ride in a single file.

The real reason why netizens are up in arms against the cyclist is class envy. From its humble beginnings as an affordable means of transportation for the economically disadvantaged, the bicycle has evolved into a symbol of luxury and style. Nowadays, one of these niche machines may cost more than an average motorcycle. At a time when everyone needs to tighten their belts, the sight of these bourgeoisie flaunting their babies during the weekend, when the Joe Plumber has to work extra time to bring home the bacon, may appear like the most cruel thing possible.

To rub salt into the wound during the pandemic, when human contact was outlawed, cycling was the only recreational sport allowed; no running, hiking, swimming, or even travelling in the same car with one's own spouse. Cyclists could continue.

Starting point

Perlis, the northernmost state on the Peninsula, welcomes everyone this year. It is their 'visit Perlis year', hoping to generate income for the state, squeezed between two giants, Kedah, with its Langkawi, and Thailand. Langkawi has its duty-free status, while Thailand has, well, everything else in between. So Perlis ushered in everybody with open arms.

The 'Epic Ride- Cross Border' was celebrating its 10th anniversary. It included many repeat offenders in its entourage this time around. Many returned for this excellent organisation and its 'happy-go-lucky' attitude towards problems, as well as its approach with a pleasant smile.

The participants congregated on Friday evening, July 18, at Tok Mek Restaurant, Beseri, in Perlis, for a briefing and fellowship over traditional Northern Malay dishes, including ulam, belacan, tom yam, and rice. After mapping out the instructions, everyone was good to go the next morning. All in all, 52 cyclists took to their saddles, including four German riders, many Singaporeans and a couple of Indonesians.

Although the rest of the country viewed cyclists as a nuisance, here they were treated with respect. The State even had the Deputy Chief Minister flag off the cyclist quite early the following morning. That too, just because the Chief Minister was away in the capital. If not, he would have done it himself. 

Day 1 - Beseri to Hat Yai via Wang Kelian

A light breakfast of nasi lemak, the favourite Malaysian breakfast meal, and everyone was good to go. The stuporous post-prandial intoxication disappeared suddenly just about an hour after heading towards the Wang Kelian immigration checkpoint. A continuous, steep 2.3 km climb with an ascent of about 12% in some portions awaited us. This stretch saw hardcore cyclists being sifted away from the novices. Many got down from their machines to push their way up. That was the only challenging climb throughout the two-day ride. The others were mere rolling hills.

Grind, grind, grind...

The descent after the first climb was equally challenging, with steep, sharp declines and perilously sharp bends, adding considerable strain to brakes, tyres, and the rider's tenacity. Soon afterwards, we reached the immigration checkpoint. Crossing the border was a breeze with minimal fanfare - just show your passport, look into the camera without your glasses and helmet, and you are off Scot-free. No inspection of vehicles or no digital traveller card was requested.

We were already about 30km into the journey by then. The rest of the journey was more mental than anything else. The Sun was already slowly rearing its ugly head, and the roads were quite bare, with no shady scenic trees lining the roads. Cyclist had to keep a careful eye on their fluid balance and their caloric intake. The first proper water station only appeared at the 55 km mark at Ban Thung Nui. The coconut water that the 'Thailand Tourism Authority' sponsored lived up to its divine status conferred in many tropical countries. It was truly God sent. Hey, even the Tourism Board of Thailand was excited to see us and have us as their guests. Not our own netizens, how sad.

One aspect that warrants special mention is the state of Thailand's roads. The quality of Thai roads is definitely better planned and constructed from better materials, or at least a proper proportion, leaving nothing to be desired in terms of cutting corners. The WhatsApp University taught me that to make good roads, contractors have to ensure the base of the roads is completely flattened by a street roller, leaving no holes or stones, as these would be niduses for future cracks on the road and later potholes. Another thing is that the makers must use an adequate amount of tar that glues all the components of the road in place. Sadly, Malaysia, which once boasted of having the best roads in the world, can now just cry, living in the memory of the legacy that the British had left, as they have royally screwed it up in the name of race politics. Another notable feature is the presence of a seamless cycling lane (referred to as the third lane) on mostly dual-carriage roads throughout the entire ride. The third lane is not built for the sake of building, but quality is assured. There were no sudden undulations or visible potholes seen throughout.  

Pit Stop

In some stretches, there was hardly any activity on the road. At the back of their minds, cyclists wondered if they had taken a wrong turning somewhere. Luckily, the occasional yellow-red arrow sign that the organisers put up popped up regularly to give some assurance that they were on course. 

The second water station was located at the 80 km mark, near Ban Na Luek. Again, it was a mind game. Pedalling like an automaton, under the heat of the scorching Sun along pencil-straight linear roads, was a matter of mind controlling the somatic functions.

Finally, after 5 hours and 53 minutes, the first cyclist reached the finishing point at Sakura Budget Hotel, Hat Yai, where the cyclists would spend the night to unwind and rejuvenate their weary limbs, gathering enough energy for their return trip the following day. We had cycled a total of approximately 130 km and 660m of elevation.

Day 2 - Hat Yai to Beseri via Padang Besar

Rise and Shine. The Thais, as gracious hosts, had tables full of breakfast options, from fried rice to bread and Thai cakes. The only thing stopping the cyclists from overindulging was the thought of cycling back to base, with memories of the previous day still fresh in everyone's minds. At about 8:30 a.m., even the Deputy Mayor of Hat Yai was excited to see us and bid us farewell. Wait, was he happy to see us leave? 

The return leg was gentler. The terrain was flatter, with an elevation of 423m, covering over 88 km. The cyclists were invited to grace their presence at two pit stops. At the 20km mark, the water station at Tha Pho of Sadao was the place to savour some Thai mangosteens and local traditional delicacies. All of this was enjoyed while taking in the lake view from Sanan Lan Thong Grand Resort under the auspices of the Thailand Tourism Board once again. After a short break, we were flagged off again, and following a photo session, we were escorted by police to the main road, continuing our journey to a small town called Prik.

At Prik, Southern Thailand

The Chairman of the Prik town council was very excited to see us. The small town has an 80% Muslim population and lives peacefully alongside others, within the framework of the Thai constitution. The Chairman wanted us to act as ambassadors for better relations between the two countries, as I gathered from his Thai-Malay-accented speech, and was proud to show us the grand town administrative office, affectionately called 'The White House' because of its regal appearance and resemblance to the real one. After another photo shoot with the Chairman and his jing bang, we were ready to leave. 

The weather had been mild throughout the day, almost until we approached the check post at Padang Besar. As if Thailand were sad to see us go, the Thai skies wept buckets of rain. Again, immigration was a breeze. The final stretch within Perlis, sadly, was not. Like a bridge too far, the finish line was nowhere to be seen. Everyone constantly compares any small country to the size of Perlis. Even that minuscule piece of land is not so small, we soon realised. Almost 20 kilometres after crossing the border, we arrived at Tok Mek Restaurant, where everything had begun a day earlier. That marked the end of a fruitful expedition to the Land of Smiles, where cyclists were warmly welcomed. 

White House in Thailand?

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