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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It was a lovely day!

At 'starting point'

Have you heard the latest news around town? The National Heart Institute (Institut Jantung Negara, IJN) is offering free stress tests. Unlike other medical procedures, this one is not conducted in a hospital; it is carried out on the streets. Yes, IJN organised its annual premier cycling event, IJN Ride. All you need to do is sign up, choose your category, and ride. If you have anything suggestive of a heart condition, IJN will take it from there.

So, there it was. IJN Ride For Your Heart on 19th January 2025. The 115 km ride was scheduled to start at 7am. So there we were, waiting at the starting line in Anyara Hills, Semenyih, a new housing development. And waiting. The announcer had run out of announcements to make in his not-so-proficient English. The VIP was still not there to flag the participants. Despite being the State's Chief Minister with police outriders and controlled traffic for him to pass through, he thought it fashionable to arrive late. I guess he wanted to stamp his authority. When he finally arrived, ten minutes late, the participants gave him a befitting welcome. When the announcer, in his highly accented English, asked the participants to warmly welcome the VIP, they responded with pin-drop silence accentuated by the screaming of cicadas. 

Just barely 400 metres after flag-off, there was a casualty. Two cyclists had crashed into each other's path. Shaken but not stirred, they were all right. It was a lovely day to ride. For someone from an area with a temperate climate, their idea of a beautiful day is the sight of the sun over the horizon and sunlight shining through their hair. Not in Malaysia, it is not. The sun showed its full glory by 10 am, and from then on, the temperature reached scorching late 20 degrees C. The idea of engaging in strenuous sporting activities at high noon is indeed a duel mostly avoided by Malaysians. But then, the world needs lunatics to set standards on sanity.

Miraculously, the sun shied away through the ride, all 115 km of it. Either it was one of those gloomy days, or the shamans employed by the organisers must have done a good job. Yes, it is an open secret (or maybe an urban legend) that Malaysian sports bodies have shamans (bomoh) on their payroll to control the weather during important sports events. In the 1970s, when Malaysia was flying high as a football nation, it was discovered that we performed exceptionally well when the pitch was wet. This was attributed to the pathetic training pitches and the players' experience learning to play soccer in their youthful years in paddy fields. So, the bomohs were summoned to perform their 'rain dance' to invite the heavens to pour. That resulted in significant victories for Malaysia in the Merdeka Tournament. Seeing our country bag double-digit goals against minion teams was a common sight.

The ride covered a route commonly used by cyclists around the Klang Valley. Cruising along the flat terrain of Ulu Semenyih, we were guided to the sleepy town of Broga, which in its days had seen much resistance given to British colonial masters. The ride paved us to Lenggeng, another town forgotten in the annals of time. The national highway and the appetite for the general public to get from point to point B in a jiffy essentially sealed the growth of this town. Still, life goes on. Not to be confused with another town in the State of Perak, which still garners attention from the users of the East-West Highway to Kota Bharu. Curious minds flock here to view the complete skeletal remains of the oldest man in South East Man, the Perak Man, at Lenggong Archeological Museum.

At Lenggeng, we took a turn to climb over the Two Sisters, as they may be fondly referred to. It is a bi-peaked formation that is part of the Titiwangsa range. The sisters were quite unforgiving, starting with a 10% climb. It covered about a 5 km distance followed by a free-wheeling decline, only to tackle another 5 km climb heading towards Kuala Klawang, the driest town on the Peninsula, in the district of Jelebu. Another free-wheeling afterwards. 

Kuala Klawang @ Jelebu

By then, we had covered about half of the total distance. After a short banana and bun break, we were good to go.

The next half of the journey included the much-dreaded Kangkoi-Peres climb to Hulu Langat. In essence, it covered a 13 km unforgiving trail, with the road mostly going uphill, punctuated by a couple of deceiving short breathers. The undulating roads created the illusion that the climbs were ending, only to reveal another ascent. It started at the 75 km mark. We expected it to be blazing hot by then. Surprisingly, it was a tolerable 27°C thereabouts, with no sun 'breathing' down our necks. Still, it was no pleasure cruise!

The 'we' I have been mentioning throughout the event consists of me, myself, and my inner demons. I had to train for the race on my own after a fellow partner-in-crime withdrew due to family commitments. It was a test of self-motivation and discipline whilst juggling work commitments and the cranky weather recently. 

The inner demons were mostly curtailed as the external environment was kind. 

These long, monotonous rides make me think. Besides giving me ideas on what to write in the next blog, they also humble me. Finding myself in the middle of mighty structures of Nature that have been around forever reminds me of the fragility of this existence. One minute we are here, and the next you are late (pun intended).

Just like life, we start the race with much pomp and glitz. Along the way, the cyclists break into pelotons akin to all the relatives who keep you company throughout life's path. Deep inside, you still have to manage the day-to-day, just as a cyclist must listen to his body, plan his caloric intake and hydration, avoid potholes, and deal with lunatics behind wheels—motorised and otherwise—who are hell-bent on causing trouble for cyclists just for kicks and the occasional change of gears in anticipation of a climb. Some things work mechanically, like pedalling, while others require vigilance. In other words, you are the controller of your destiny in life, cycling-wise and philosophically. 

Once Genting Peres was conquered, it was a home run, really. Sliding down a 10-km decline from the 85 km mark, the subsequent section consisted of rolling hills. It was back to the starting point, completing a loop of 115 km, climbing over 1,420 m in 5h 25min. 

Even when I hit the finishing line, I had so much pent-up energy that I thought I should have pushed myself more. But then, it is better to finish strong than to drag my sorry self half-dead. What's more, come tomorrow, I have to return to my daytime job.

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What Do People want?

 

From Berita MMA, September 2024.

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From Srinagar to Ladakh: A Cyclist’s Diary

https://borderlessjournal.com/2024/08/14/from-srinagar-to-ladakh-a-cyclists-diary/

They say to go forth and explore, to go to the planet’s edge to increase the depth of your knowledge. Learning about a country is best done doing the things the local populace does, travelling with them, amongst them, not in a touristy way, in a manicured fashion in a tourist’s van but on leg-powered machines called bicycles. Itching to go somewhere after our memorable escapade in South Korea, cycling from Seoul to Busan, as the borders opened up after the pandemic, somebody threw in the idea of cycling from Kashmir to Ladakh. Long story short, there we were, living our dream. The plan was to cycle the 473km journey, climbing 7378m ascent in 8 days, between 6th July 2024 and 12th July 2024.

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Naysayers abound!

It looks like we are still immersed in the euphoria of our recent close to 500km ride from Srinagar to Leh, Ladakh. Friends and well-wishers continue wishing their felicitations and, in not so many words, tell us to thank our lucky stars (or the Almighty) that we were still able to complete the crunching climb of 7,000 metres at this age.

One of the fellow cyclists in the group did not take kindly to that phrase. He had put in so much effort throughout his life to keep fit. After leaving school and leading a more sedentary life, he decided to go back to his active ways after seeing his father suffering from various complications of diabetes.

From someone who jogged around the housing estate, he graduated to running long distances, hiking, and cycling. By a twist of fate, he found other fellow ‘madmen’ who shared his eccentricity amongst his neighbours.

Hence, he started the weekend sorcery of commitments to hiking, running, and cycling. The avalanche in the weekend noradrenaline rush was enough to keep the mind and body going over the week. All that came with a price, of course. He lost party-going friends, and he rarely got invited to functions. If the Cures were in love with Fridays, my friend was with the weekends.

Saturday nights were not the time to indulge and party all night long. Family birthday functions soon became a chore as he kept looking at his watch when it was past 10 pm. He had to limit himself to that one drink, quickly becoming a wet blanket and a bore to others as he wanted to catch that well-needed nap before the early headstart the next morning.

Along the way, well-meaning, unwelcome advice from friends and relatives alike also came. They often quoted a seemingly healthy youngish so-and-so dropping dead like a fly after a trivial activity. And they would sow the seed of fear and uncertainty. Life is already unpredictable enough. Do we need these doomsday prophets to spread more confusion about what lies ahead of us?

He believed that deep inside, these people have an innate desire to dominate and suppress. Unable to see others doing things which push the boundaries of possibilities, they discourage others. Seeing someone slimming down will pop their antennas to suggest diagnoses such as diabetes or occult cancer. They jump to offer a shoulder to cry on the moment you get diagnosed with a chronic illness. On the sly, they are happy you are sick. They have one negative point to run the other down over. It looked like they loved to see others sick. They must have been vultures in their past lives, patiently waiting for the dead to breathe their last breath before they devour.

So when these people congratulate you for work well done, they were the same people who gave you anxiety, questioning your whole trajectory of life as well as throwing a spanner into your well-thought path to self-improvement. Remember not to sneer at them, as no one knows what lies ahead. They may actually have the last laugh and say, "I told you so!"

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Of dragging, drafting, pulling and teamwork!

Learnt a few new words over the weekend. A cyclist earns the title of randonneur once he successfully completes 200km of long-distance cycling. In some countries, Audax (bold in Latin) is the term to differentiate elite cyclists and clumsy riders with clunky vehicles. Once he completes the 200km course, he receives a certificate, a Brevet.

Cycling as a sport started at the turn of the 20th century when people not only discovered its versatility but also found it to be a woman empowerment tool. For the first time, ladies sprung to learn cycling. For Victorian women, it was their licence to partake in politics and business. The ease of cycling changed their gender-assigned roles confined to their homes.

Women Power

It also became a fad then for boys and girls to find romance on the wheels. If in the 1950s, it was cool to hang out at ice-cream parlours, teenagers got their kicks by cycling side by the people they fancied.

The road at their feet and a convenient contraption at their disposal were the best excuses to venture out to explore the world. And they did. The desire to get from Point A to Point B grew. Soon it became a popular recreational activity to complete a preset destination. The idea was not the race to end. The essence of the whole exercise is camaraderie, exploration and teamwork. From the offset, it was emphasised that randonneuring events were not races, but a social event, a test of tenacity and to work as a team.

PD Waterfront

Randonneuring has been popular amongst local enthusiasts for the past few years. After the lack of sports events over the Covid era, they all come out with a bang. At the spur of the moment, probably not in the best state of mind, my cycling buddies decided to sign up for a 200km cycling event. A local conglomerate, with the pretext of promoting their lifestyle living apartments and such, got the official licence from Audax Club Parisien to sanction the event here in Malaysia. Audax Randonneurs Malaysia has planned out a series of long-distance cycling under its umbrage. I think they have plans to have 600km events (gulp!).

Under cover of the dark, just after 5 am, the event started from Kota Kemuning in Shah Alam. Amid the cool breezy tropical morning, we, the seven members of my chain gang, cruised along the small state roads along Sepang district to Port Dickson via Tanah Merah. What? I thought Tanah Merah was in Kelantan. Now I know! Just like there is a Kota Baru in Perak, just like Kelantan has Kota Bharu. By then, the day had broken, but the sun was not emitting its powerful rays. Traffic was slowly building up. Again cycling along the country roads, this time detoured towards Tanjung Sepat, Morib, Banting and back to where we started.

It was a long day. For most of us, it was a new experience altogether. We were familiar with cycling 100km or thereabouts, but 200 was a new monster. The last 40 km was the longest 40km that we had ridden. By 5pm, it was all over. We had one casualty who cramped all over. Another two were too fast for the rest. All in all, came back in one piece, shaken but not stirred.

At Start

At Finish 

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of wants and needs...

We Are Nature (2021)

Pictures by: Wim Michiels

I met Wim and Ellen during their tour of duty to Malaysia. When they were here, we met every now and then. They kept me updated on their yet another adventure. Besides being keen hikers and long-distance runners, they soon debelled into cycling.

One of the most adventurous expeditions that they embarked upon must surely be their journey to Japan. They did it in style, however. Investing in a tandem bicycle, they started their journey in Kuala Lumpur and cycled their way all the way to Sapporo in Japan. Of course, I assume there must have been a ferry trip somewhere between South Korea to Japan and to Hokkaido.

Taking an extended leave from their daytime jobs and sorting out familial commitments, armed with basic necessities, pedal and leg power and the traditional paper maps, they embarked on their journey. 

Their excited family members and friends managed to follow their progress as they periodically updated their positions on their blog http://7billionand2.blogspot.com/ whenever digital signals showed up.

An interesting thing happened when they reached China. The Border Control officers, bored stamping document after document in a seemingly monotonous chore, must have been jolted off their slumber when they saw Wim and Ellen’s immigration card. They must have dropped off their chairs when they saw the mode of transportation as a bicycle. They came out of their cubicles to see what kind of vehicle had brought them all the way from the land at the tip of the South China Sea to mainland China!

They contacted their superiors to give a good inspection and scanning to ensure no wonder fuels were smuggled into China!

Incidentally, our paths almost crossed when they were passing through Cambodia. I had gone for a family visit (by air, of course), but due to logistics, I did not catch them there.

One life lesson they imparted from this travel is worth mentioning. After travelling for months, they finally reached Korea. Even though the travelling light as they had to carry their baggage on their tandem bicycle, they packed the bare minimum. Even then, they realised that half of their things remained untouched. 

By chance, an old friend caught up with Wim and Ellen while in South Korea. They sent back their unused things in tY their luggage as he returned to Kuala Lumpur. Wim’s famous pearl of wisdom, he mentioned later on, was this - half of the things that we think we need in this life are worthless. We do not require half of the things we think are essential for life. Sadly, we overestimate. Epicurean teachings are worth collecting. Give me wheat, give me water, and I will be a happy man.

Asian elephant close-up - Udawalawe National Park, Sri Lanka

Get off my back! No close-ups, no long shots. Just leave me alone. Too much on my elephantine mind right now. First, you used me in your wars. Then you took my tusk; you said it was priceless. You forced me to pull your logs and carry spoilt brats on my back. With a shortage of water catchment areas and a lack of habitat, I have nowhere to go. Now, don’t ask me to dance for you. Go get a monkey! FG

They have since returned to Belgium, but they continue in their search of natural beauty in the four corners of the world.

I was pleasantly surprised one day when I received a signed copy of his collection of photographs he had taken during his escapades. Apparently, his other passions include composing impressive pictures and capturing the picturesque side of nature. He had earlier requested some of his friends, yours truly included, to write little snippets based on the pictures Wim and Ellen had taken in their travels..

With permission, I had taken the liberty to reproduce some from his coffee table book.

Beach flower after a downpour, surviving in harsh conditions - Koh Lipe, Thailand.

Perspiring trying to keep the beauty amidst a world so harsh;

being a flower among the thorns. FG

Intriguing rock formations - Takachiho canyon, Kyushu, Japan.
You ain’t heavy, I am your rock. FG

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