March 1, 2017

Bad news comes in 3’s. This was my day and it was easily the single best day that I have had in Thailand. I was back. I would do it again without hesitation. A last second check of the map at 6am as I was drinking a soy milk and eating 4 yogurts and 3 bananas from 7-11 (my normal morning ritual because every town has a 7-11 and they are the only thing open at 6am), yielded the discovery of a faint, almost too faint to show up on the map, dotted line remote “road” through the mountains. I missed it the night before because it was that faint and I had not zoomed in enough to see it. It was like discovering a distant planet in the universe that may include life. It was exciting and exactly what I wanted. And like that, my route changed from concrete jungle, to actual jungle.

The sun was coming up but had not yet crested the horizon. It was 54F, down more 40F from yesterday’s high of 95F. It was chilly, especially on the dirt road into the mountain jungle that I was embarking on. By noon it would be paralyzing again, but now, now it was perfect. The birds were singing, waking up to start another cloudless day. Instantly my perspective and my attitude changed. It was only a 16 mile connector to a subsequent 25 mile section of pavement to the town of Chiang Dao, but it would prove to be all that I could handle.

Similar to the contours of the pavement, the dirt was no more welcoming. It was easily as inhospitable yet with obviously worse traction. My smile quickly turned to grunts, to flagrant audible cussing, to reflective laughter…a true tell of reaching the point of absurdity…because what else can you do but laugh? Sweat was again hemorrhaging from body, dripping down my face and stinging my eyes. There was just no way to win with this terrain. All of the roads, dirt or pavement, simply go straight up and then immediately straight down. And like that, strike 1: my front brake pad conceded.  I heard the metal on metal indicator. Fortunately it occurred on the uphill. I was muscling my bike up a diabolically steep section when I stopped to catch my breath and let the lactic acid dissipate from my legs. I was holding both front and brake levers tightly to keep the bike from sliding back down the hill, dragging me with it. When I released and pressed on, I heard the indicator. Changing brake pads is easy, except on an 18% degree slope. Twenty minutes later, new pads installed, and I resumed my slog. This time the down hill leveled off briefly and paralleled the river for about ¼ mile. I encountered an older man likely in his 70’s ,who was walking along. As I approached him, his eyes grew big as saucers and he bursted out laughing, flailing his arms about, pointing in the direction that I was going, as if in total disbelief.  If I could translate, I think he said, “What the fuck are you doing out here with a bike? Are you crazy, man? Have you seen these hills? You’re gonna die!” Noted… and thanks. At times, I too had this thought. Onward…

Dozens of stream crossings, countless uncompromising hills, mind numbing exhaustion over 4 hours and 16 miles (it’s pretty easy math to know I was going S L O W), I popped out onto the pavement in a small village. It was nearly 11 am and the heat was coming. I had incidentally forgotten to fill my 2^nd water bottle the night before so I was nursing a single bottle.  There was no place to refill, save for those dozen or so stagnant river crossings that I encountered. I stopped at the first place I found to refuel. With my senses slowly returning, I recalled hearing a distinct creaking coming from the rear wheel the past few days, much worse today.  I assumed it was just that the hub was nearing the end of its life. It was not immediate peril and would get me through Thailand. It had a good run and had seen more abuse than maybe was designed for. Four thousand miles in the Himalayas is a pretty good test. Later, when I took the wheel off, the cassette (the round thingy with all the gears) literally fell off. It isn’t supposed to do that. I had broken the axle revealing sheered, jagged metal.  Strike 2. While I was diagnosing this problem, the woman who was cooking my lunch aptly pointed out the gaping tear in the sidewall of my rear tire. Also expected after 4,000 arduous miles. Strike 3. It was a comical end to the day as I slowly spun my bike down the pavement and got in back of the first truck that passed me by. It was a ride I would not have finished even with a healthy bike. The roads, just as I remembered were daunting, and there were 25 miles of them. I sat in the cab of the air conditioned Toyota Hilux, drank a soy milk, and smiled. A fitting wrap to Thailand. I had survived nearly 5 months in the Himalayas from India, to Nepal, then back to India. But it was two weeks in Thailand that did me in.

In Chiang Dao, I found a nice guest house, run by a welcoming couple in their 70’s. They asked me if I spoke Thai, to which I embarrassingly replied, no. I feel that it’s important do learn some language in every country that I visit. Language breaks down barriers and creates connection. They spoke very basic English but were happy to teach me what they could. In fact, the husband had a flip book of common English words written down and the Thai translation that he too was learning. We spent the next 90 minutes learning from each other. The human experience

I recently wrote a rather sour post about my experience in Thailand on 2 separate occasions. The heat…my god, man..the heat! The development and tourism. The finely manicured walls that are the roads in the northern mountains.  Roads so steep that I have seen more that 1 vehicle stall while going up, and smelled plenty of burning brakes (mine included) on the way down. Sure, it is not my ideal experience, however it is still an amazing experience! How many people get to ride their bikes through the mountains in Thailand? And the people here? They are wonderful, warm, and kind.

It has been written in Buddhist teachings and other areas that happiness is a choice. This has been such a valuable lesson learned for me. It’s true that it is not always easy to get to that place, but it is possible. This is not an attempt to oversimplify unhappiness by saying, “I choose to be happy.”Happiness is a feeling and we cannot directly choose our feelings. Instead, be a witness to them. Lean into the feelings. The discomfort. It is a lesson in choice and perspective.  (Most important…I’m just riding my bike so it’s critical to maintain perspective.  I have a couple dear friends currently in much tougher battles, but hopefully the lesson is the same).  Being away from home and mostly alone for nearly a year has ups and downs.  Each time I’m feeling off, I have learned to step back, breathe deep, and ask myself “Why I am feeling this way?” It is too easy to blame. Blame is foolish and never solves anything. Brene Brown shared in a TedX talk, “Blame is simply the discharging of discomfort and pain.” I am responsible for me and how I respond. Happiness is therefore the result of our choices.We can choose our attitudes. We can choose our thoughts and actions that will foster happiness.  The beauty is here. It is all around.  I just had to dig a little deeper to find it. Step back. Breathe deep. Check yourself and reset. I chose a different perspective, a different attitude.  And then I found Thailand…and my smile.