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From Coast to Coast

3/25/2015

With Danielle and Erik heading back toward Bangkok on a bus, we were now faced with plotting our route off of Koh Lanta. Trang, the region south of us, sounded enticing but similar with lots of tempting small islands and more karst topography. At the same time, we felt like we might be stuck in Thailand indefinitely just with the options heading north to Bangkok. A desire to eventually make it to another country prevailed in the end and we found ourselves putting our bikes on a boat (no, not again!) to Phuket, the one place in Thailand we had been determined to avoid based on its pretentious reputation.

Arriving mid-day, we ate a delicious coconut green curry pizza and set out to cycle to the north end of the island. A few miles out of town, Matt came to a sudden stop, I caught up to him, and we both stared at his bicycle's chain lying in the road. He had already repaired the chain once in the same spot where it had broken again, so we accepted the fact that it was long overdue for a new one.

Now for getting to a bicycle shop. It would be a long slow walk or a hassle to put the bikes and bags in a taxi, so we decided to giving towing a try. We hooked some webbing around a bar on my rear rack to Matt's front rack with about five feet between us and it worked like a charm. Plus, we got a lot of funny looks, cheers, encouraging honks, and thumbs up. By the time we got the new chain taken care of, it was late in the day and the historic district of Phuket town actually looked like an interesting place to wander around. There is always tomorrow to get to where you are going anyway.

We were indeed successful in getting to Siranath National Park the next day, where we set up our tent under some towering sea pines just off of the beach. We had heard that there was some good snorkeling as the coral had gradually recovered from the 2004 tsunami, but the murkiness made it difficult to see the underwater life. We selected some snacks for dinner from the vendors as they were just packing up their carts and stalls for the day and carried them over to the beach for a sunset picnic. We couldn't bear to keep the sea breeze out of our tent that night and without the buzz of mosquitoes around, we left the tent door open, only to discover we had been nearly sucked dry by morning. Apparently, we had been sleeping very well.

We reached Khao Lak that evening and headed directly to the office of Wicked Diving, hoping to jump on a liveaboard dive boat within the next couple of days. The taste of diving we got in Koh Lanta had set off the craving for more and from what we understood, the Similian and Surin Islands were worth a special splurge. Perhaps due to their excellent reputation, Wicked was booked up until early April. While they offered to get us situated with another dive shop, we decided to wait in order to go with this company. We had singled them out for their commitment to environmental responsibility and positive contributions to the local community, which is particularly relevant with the Khao Lak area being the hardest hit in Thailand by the 2004 tsunami.

Looking around at Khao Lak's main street bustling with tourists browsing shops and restaurants largely oriented toward them, it was difficult to imagine the devastation of just over one decade ago. Evidence is there, if you seek it out, such as visiting the memorial that has been created around Police Boat 813 at its resting place a few kilometers inland. We learned more about the specific impacts of the natural disaster and its aftermath at an eclectic little museum afterward. The rest of our time was spent enjoying the ambiance of the newish Monkey Dive Hostel where each hip room has natural history facts about the marine organism painted on its walls.

From Khao Lak we had a nice ride to Khao Sok National Park. Even the steep, sweaty one-thousand-foot-high hill was scenic enough to be enjoyable going up and more so on the way down in the cooling evening light. We took a bungalow near the village at the west entrance of the park and did a combination of biking and hiking within its boundaries the next day. The main attraction on this side of the park is waterfalls, none of which were more than a trickle after an extended dry period. The other big draw is seeing the largest flower in the world at up to a meter in diameter, the rare and putrid Rafflesia, a parasitic plant with no stems, leaves, or true roots. Besides being informed that the flower was not currently blooming, it sounds like the environmental ethics of seeking it out are also questionable. Sites that have previously received a lot of foot traffic have yet to re-bloom.

Instead, we took our time looking for wildlife in the dense forest that the visitor center notes has been growing there uninterrupted for an estimated 150 million years. Being the middle of the day, we didn't see much except for abundant and ever-present lizards, but we did hear the whooping calls of gibbons, which I would liken to friendly Martians from an old-school sci-fi movie. We tried to locate them, but stands of the thickest and tallest bamboo we have ever encountered kept us from venturing far off the trail. We made our turnaround point a refreshing swimming hole, but we were already soaking wet with sweat by the time we got there.

The east side of Khao Sok is popular for boat trips on a tremendous reservoir that has artificially created many karst islands, as well as spending the night on rows of floating raft houses. Despite the temptation of allegedly better wildlife sightings and unique lodging, we decided that the combined cost of the boat transport, raft house, and pricey daily entrance fee was not worth it. We simply overnighted in a town near the east entrance and moved on without ever setting eyes on the fake lake.

The amount of food opportunities that line the roadways is Thailand is generally a blessing, but occasionally it is a curse. We managed to shamelessly snack our way to the Gulf Coast, stopping for bowls of noodles, meticulously cut baby pineapples, kettle corn, and iced coffees. We learned our lesson, or perhaps it was just an unfriendly reminder, that sharing three bags of deep-fried battered bananas followed by ice cream does not make for happy riding. Quite nauseated, we lurched in to Suratthani, home of the night boats to the Gulf islands of Koh Tao, Koh Pha-nang, and Koh Samui.

We could have rolled up and instantly gotten on a boat to any of the three, but that would have been far too simple. You see, along with over-abundant food offerings, Thailand simply has too many combinations of possibilities. We had recently been faced with one agonizing decision after another. North or south? To liveaboard or not liveaboard? If so, now or later? How much or how little should we do at Khao Sok? Are we on a cycle tour or are we on a boat tour with the extra baggage of bicycles? Will we ever make it back to Bangkok? Now we had to figure out which island(s), with or without the bicycles, and whether to take the night boat in front of us or research the specifics of day boat departures from distant piers east of the city.

My poor husband, already fatigued from carefully considering options A through Z, was now paralyzed with dread of getting on a night boat. The final straw was rolling up to the night boat going to Koh Pha-nang and being quoted the same price for each bicycle as our personal passage cost, no negotiating. That just seemed wrong, so on principle alone, we rode away with as much indignity in our pedal strokes as we could manage to convey. With the ticket offices of the day boats already closed for the day, we turned our attention towards finding cheap lodging instead. After a long night of hemming and hawing and not enough sleeping, Mr. Kohn was still not satisfied enough with any of the options to commit to a decision. It was only by putting on my cycling clothes and definitively announcing that "we were no longer going to go to any islands on any boats, we are just going to cycle north, plain and simple," that he suddenly came to his senses. He agreed to the night boat to Koh Tao with the bicycles, thus saving us three days of riding since we would return to the mainland at Chumphon, a city decently north of Surat Thani. By taking the night boat in the city center, we wouldn't have the hassle of getting out to the day-boat piers with a full day of riding or trying to get the bicycles on the crowded shuttle buses. Now we just had to contend with a very long day of waiting for 11 p.m. to roll around...

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Sand, Sea, and Sisters

3/16/2015

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As it turned out, putting the bikes on a bus was far less traumatizing than on the boats. Our ride toward Bangkok was uneventful until the bus began dying a slow death on the highway. It crept along at maybe 15 mph on the shoulder for what seemed like a couple of hours before another bus came to rescue us. Of course, we were the last ones on the new bus after dealing with re-situating our bikes and bags and had to sit at opposite ends of the bus from each other, since apparently previously assigned seat numbers go out the window if an unexpected transfer is involved.

We took this breakdown, combined with what seems a disproportionately high rate of motorized transport issues during the rare times we have used them on this trip, as karmic punishment for not staying true to the pedal power. However, the important part is that we eventually arrived. I have to admit that until the day we get run over, which does seem inevitable, I actually enjoy the adrenaline of cycling through Asian mega-cities, especially at rush hour. We survived the gauntlet one more time and made it to our pre-booked Chinese-style hotel, which did indeed feel like we had somehow found our way back into China.

We had planned to take our bikes in to one of the city's many quality shops for an overdue tune up, but we soon became fixated on the idea of complete overhauls for a bargain price. We didn't have the required week to spare, so we begged our bicycles to hold up until our return to Bangkok when they could be properly rewarded for all of their hard work. Instead, we went on an all-day across-the-city scavenger hunt for propane gas canisters compatible with our camp stove, finally finding success at a strange flea-market style shopping mall. After marveling at the accuracy with which the shop owner had recreated a mini-REI, we bought four of them just to make our efforts worthwhile.

The most painful part of the ten-hour bus ride from Bangkok to Krabi was getting up at 5:30am to cycle to the southern bus terminal, but at least the deserted streets made for an easy ride in our grogginess. However, I didn't think it was possible to sweat so much before the sun had even risen. About twenty-four hours after arriving in Krabi town, my little sister Danielle and her boyfriend Erik found us eating dinner at the night market after flying in and checking in to our hotel. The reason we had come to Thailand was finally a reality!

The next day we took a longtail taxi out to Railay, a peninsula accessible only by boat due to its dramatic karst formations rendering road construction unfeasible. The beauty and intrigue of Ao Nang lived up to its reputation, despite being by far the most crowded beach we had ever seen in Thailand. We respectfully appreciated the caves lined with hundreds of wooden phalluses next to flower-laden shrines where Thais in tour-boat life jackets knelt in prayer, not far from beginner climbers awkwardly picking their route up limestone cliffs. We swam beyond the reach of the sand under an imposing overhang to a wooden walkway that led in to a complex of cool caverns. Leaving this beach to continue our exploration, we witnessed the sad habituation of a troupe of macaque monkeys as one tourist stuck a GoPro in their faces while another couple donated their piña coladas to the assertively grabby primates.

In contrast, while wrapping up lunch at an inland cafe, Erik noticed a Dusky Langur monkey whose dietary preference for vegetation makes them much more aloof concerning human activities. This species immediately became my favorite when I spied a precious baby with bright golden fur that was such a contrast to the dark coats of the adults with remarkable white patches on their faces. After scrambling over some rock outcrops to get to the hippie haven of Tonsai beach, we were lucky enough to see an extended family of them hanging out in an as-of-yet undeveloped tract of land amongst all of the Rasta-colored mushroom milkshake bars. We just stuck to a boring ol' bottle of beer to accompany some sunbathing and swimming before making the scramble back over to West Beach. It was quite an iconic sight as the late afternoon sun hit rows of longtails tethered in the shallows with karsts pointing skyward as book ends to the powdery white sand beach. But the low angle of the sun indicated we were overdue to catch the last taxi boat of the day back to Krabi. Luckily for us, the boatmen operate on island time as well.

After some careful consideration of the many tempting options for our next destination, we headed to Koh Yao Noi, minimally developed for tourism compared to its famous and overrun neighbors Phuket and Koh Phi Phi. A taxi, ferry, and another taxi brought us to the nicely furnished bungalows of Coconut Corner. The place is owned by an outgoing and smiley young Muslim couple who seemed representative of the general population of the island: very friendly, very laid back, and almost entirely Muslim.

Koh Yao Noi has likely been passed over by the crowds because locals have opted to stick to traditional island life over developing and promoting their little slice of paradise. That is slowly changing, but the shallow murky waters off of the beaches, especially at low tide, will likely protect it from the impacts of reaching world-class status. On the other hand, we easily worked around this limitation with the generous sponsorship of Mom and Dad Fagre by taking an all-day boat tour with Captain Bao, a friend of the Coconut Corner's owners. In his longtail, we visited at least five different karst islets with gorgeous beaches, but the highlight was motoring through a narrow gap in the cliffs to enter a turquoise lagoon surrounded by mangroves lining the towering walls on all sides. It was perfectly still, at least until we jumped in from the bow of the boat, and perfectly peaceful, at least until the other boats started up their engines to depart.

Other highlights were the authentic Thai-Muslim meals we enjoyed al fresco with sand between our toes, such as the amazing concoction of Mussaman curry. For Dani and Erik, it was a birder's dream right from their front porch and Erik even got to fulfill his goal of seeing an impressively-horned water buffalo, with the bonus of a calf by her side.

With so much to do and so little time, we left Koh Yao Noi after two nights. Dani had decided to get a scuba diving certification on Koh Lanta with their remaining time in Thailand. Matt and I would also join them there, but first we had to stay an extra day in Krabi town to get an extension of our initial entry stamp in our passports. We accomplished this without complication and then proceeded to do what we promised to Phallus Belt that we would never do again: we put our bikes on a boat. We were not given any grief, but we did have to bargain down a surcharge that was simply disproportionate to the amount of space a bicycle takes up on a spacious passenger ferry. Perhaps it was actually helpful that we had endured the abuse of Phallus Belt early on; after him, dealing with anyone else is hardly a hassle.

Erik met us at the pier on Koh Lanta and after lunch at a stilted restaurant over the water in Baan Salidan, we popped in to Hidden Depths, an excellent environmentally-proactive dive center, to check on Dani's studious progress getting through her Open Water manual. They were staying not far from the dive shop, but with having our bicycles, we opted to commute back and forth for meet ups from Klong Dao, the first beach south of town. We settled in to a place that we really wanted to like, but being located right next to a stinky canal of putrid water that slowly trickled on to the beach made it difficult. We felt bad for the friendly owners as maintenance of the canal was under the jurisdiction of the local government and their petitions had thus far gone unacknowledged. Pity alone was not enough to compel us to stick it out though and the next day we relocated to a lovely place appropriately called Hans' Bungalows, since Swedes mostly made up the first wave of tourists to wash over Koh Lanta back in the day.

With Dani in her dive course all day and Erik doing some fun dives as well, we met up in the evenings for dinner and sharing about our respective days. On our last day together, we joined them on the boat for our first dives since our honeymoon in Hawai'i in 2012. Once we passed our refresher course skills and were reoriented to breathing underwater, it felt great to be diving again. Our dive master Erika was a joy to follow, the coral was vibrant, and we spotted many new species for us, the most notable being a couple of resting leopard sharks and a black and white banded sea snake. On the boat ride back after two dives, we got to congratulate Dani on her new certification!

The exciting day also had a melancholy undertone for all of us. For the previous week or so, our mom had been keeping us updated on the status of our Uncle Rocky who had been suffering from long term damage caused by radiation treatment of laryngeal cancer. That morning we received the news that he had peacefully passed away after two days of at-home hospice care following an intensive hospital stay. While we breathed from air tanks as we voluntarily immersed ourselves in water, it seemed particularly poignant to consider how his body fought for every last breath of supplemental oxygen with his fluid-filled lungs on dry land. It was far from fair, a fact of life that neither tropical paradise nor travel protected us from. Uncle Rocky, one of the most genuinely caring souls to ever grace the planet, is certainly missed, to say the least.

This was also our last evening together, so we made a grand finale of it by taking a truck taxi to the other side of the island to wander the streets of Koh Lanta's historic old town. Matt was finally successful in his quest to order pineapple fried rice that actually came in a carved out pineapple and Danielle finally settled on an elephant t-shirt that didn't look like it was sponsored by the Republican Party, being that Thailand's national flag colors are also red, white, and blue. Our time together had gone by quickly, but the week we spent with Danielle and Erik was without question a fun and memorable one.

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Bikes on Boats

3/2/2015

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Near the ticket booth for the car ferry to Koh Chang, a rejected-frat-boy type with a hideous orange polo shirt inserted himself into our hushed conversation about whether they would try to charge us for the bicycles or not, "I'm sure they will, they are the same size as a motorbike after all." Thanks for the opinion, dude. Then he added in a condescending tone, "Cycling Koh Chang? Good luck!" further emphasizing his superiority by revving his motorbike before speeding away. The girl at the ticket counter didn't charge us extra for the bikes and no else felt the need to comment on our chosen mode of transport.

In keeping with tradition, we arrived to the island in the dark after watching a lovely sunset from the ferry. Luckily, we didn't have far to go and we only had to push our bikes up one ridiculously steep hill, all the while telling ourselves that this did not validate Frat Boy Reject's unsolicited comment. We were aiming for a place called The Jungle Way, which was not surprisingly a bit tricky to locate and get to, being tucked away off of a side road in a dark patch of forest. The final push required walking our bikes down a slippery trail, carrying them across a pile of uneven rocks serving as a "bridge" across a stream, and pushing them up a steep concrete ramp on the other side. It was then a bit magical to wander in to a glowing open-air yurt shaped lodge and snag the last rickety bungalow available, cooling off with a shower in a stone room full of lush vegetation and open to the stars twinkling through the jungle canopy far above us. We fell asleep to the strange hiccuping call of the loudest and largest gecko imaginable (or nearly so, as I later learned the Tokay Gecko is the second largest gecko species) with only a thin woven bamboo wall separating us from all of the nature surrounding us.

The next morning we decided to cycle the quiet eastern side of Koh Chang as a day trip. We took our time, stopping for iced coffee and coconut ice cream along the way. We noticed a theme of a sticker on the back of every official road sign reading "The New Treehouse at Long Beach" and the number of kilometers to get there. We though it would be fun to send a photo to Matt's parents from there, since they live on Long Beach, New York, and decided to make it our destination for the day. The rolling hills were mellower than expected considering the overall topography of the island, at least until we reached the far southeastern tip late in the afternoon.

Then the road suddenly shot straight up and didn't seem to stop, but we had grown too curious about this remotely located place that only advertises itself for free using pre-existing road signs. Our novel photo idea now became an arduous mission as the road plunged back down to sea level after a stunning viewpoint of the many islets off of Koh Chang. Then it turned from pavement to dirt on the next rise and we got off for yet another push of the bikes. Between huffs and grunts, we learned that we had each independently come to the conclusion that we would have to spend the night at this mysterious Treehouse given the late hour and all the effort required, making a decision whether or not to keeping going an easy one. It felt liberating to be this spontaneous, carrying barely more than a wallet, camera, and swimsuits with us and not really needing anything more. The worst consequence would be paying for a cheap room at the Jungle Way that only our belongings would be staying in, followed by Matt sleeping in his eye contacts, and myself missing one dose of a daily thyroid medication.

Four kilometers of extreme rollercoaster terrain took us about an hour, so relief does not quite accurately describe our feeling upon arrival. Exhilaration might come closer, considering we had "discovered" a secret laid back hippie paradise! We moved in to a beach front shack in a matter of minutes, and changed for a joyous first jump in ocean of our entire journey. Our tan lines made it brutally apparent that we spend way more time in spandex than swimwear. We joked that we might be the first tourists in Thailand to travel along the coast for over a week without coming in to contact with either sand or sea.

Food and drink were our next priority and we conveniently sat in the restaurant next to a couple of gay European circus performers who were also staying at Jungle Way. They assured us they would deliver the message when they returned that evening on their motorbike that we were okay but wouldn't be making back until the next day.

We weren't really ready to leave the next day, but it didn't make a whole lot of sense to stay either. Besides, I was really looking forward to brushing my teeth when the next morning I could still taste the intensely garlicky and oniony papaya salad I had eaten the night before. It took us most of the day to get back to the Jungle Way, but the steep hills we were dreading didn't seem half as bad when we took care of them right off the bat.

Cycling down the west side of the island explained Koh Chang's overdeveloped reputation. Just as we crested a major hill, gasping for breath, we observed a minivan pulled over a ways down the hill and tourists piling back in after throwing their last scraps of food at a troupe of begging monkeys. The van drove off but the monkeys stayed, waiting for the next one to stop, no doubt. A couple of days later, the insightful website and our de facto guide IAmKohChang.com posted a photo of a dead monkey hit by a car near White Sands Beach. It is highly likely that we saw that very monkey alive, getting fed by brainless tourists with a careless tour guide.

Anyhow, once at White Sands Beach we embraced its touristy-ness long enough to find The White Elephant, a "sports bar with a Scandinavian touch" or something to that effect. Our motivation was their claim to have the best beer selection on the whole island. The menu of around one hundred imported beers was impressive, but their actual inventory was not. After many tries, we eventually selected two that they had available and Matt got to enjoy his first dark beer since Beijing, an oatmeal stout from a Danish brewery.

Besides the pricey beer treat, this area was not for us, so we continued on to the more mellow but still quite developed beach called Kai Bae. We adopted a bungalow set back off the beach at Porn's, which is a common Thai nickname by the way. Perhaps only to procrastinate facing the lung-busting hills in our immediate riding future, we stayed there an extra day before reaching the Southwest end of the island. It took us several hours to cover about six miles on the final and literal push. Half of the distance was spent straining against gravity with each step up the insane hills and the other half screeching our well-worn brakes down the other side. At the port town of Bang Bao, we secured the last cabin at the Hippy Hut, a Rasta place with a convincing number of Bob Marley portraits glowing under black light. On Koh Chang, bikes are an ideal mode of transport, as long as they have a motor. I can't argue with the fact that bicycles--loaded or unloaded--are not, but ultimately we survived. I wished that Frat Boy Reject was around to see us roll in, but I don't think the Hippy Hut was quite his style.

Now we faced a different, but perhaps equal, challenge of getting our bikes on a boat to the next island of Koh Wai, because there was no way we were going to cycle back north to the car ferry. We figured the small speedboats were not an option, so we approached one of the many agents selling tickets for the "big wooden boat." He had to call the main office who only gave a conditional okay for the bicycles depending on how full the boat was the next morning and of course charging an extra fee. We could sense that an ordeal was developing so we would need to proceed carefully. We went to a different agent and bought tickets without mentioning anything about bicycles. The next morning, we showed up early before the boat filled up and, with feigned confidence, wheeled our bicycles past the guy at the ticket counter without pausing to ask any questions and down to the pier. The boat crew looked very unhappy to see us, but did not say anything. Our sense of entitlement had worked; everybody assumed we had gotten permission from someone simply because we were acting as though we had.

Loading and unloading our gear was indeed a pain, but once again it really didn't inconvenience anyone except ourselves since we did all of the work, even though we were paying extra for the bicycles. The boat double-parked at both piers, so we had to carry the bikes and bags across the deck of one boat and heave them up to the bow of our boat, later doing the same process in reverse. Matt got into a tiff with a surly, muscular, tattooed deck hand who insisted we lay our bikes down on top of each other, taking up much more space than if we tied them to the railing, which made absolutely no sense to us. His contempt only grew when I politely inquired about his belt of thirty or so carved wooden phalluses of all shapes and sizes. From what I can deduce via the internet, the phalluses are likely amulets for personal protection and good luck, and likely an expression of some animistic beliefs. Since the belt seemed to be the most upbeat feature of his many defining characteristics, we henceforth dubbed him Phallus Belt for reference in future conversations about him, and trust me, there were many. However, we did relax a little bit once we realized the special grudge he reserved for us wasn't completely personal as he treated the other tourists on the boat with almost as much disdain as us. Land of smiles, yeah right...

Despite the fact that we would have to deal with Phallus Belt again and that there was no where to cycle on roadless Koh Wai, we didn't regret going there for a second. The super friendly host at Good Feeling led us from her pier side restaurant on a five-minute walk down a rocky path to a stilted bungalow over the water with a secluded white sand beach as our neighbor. We did the beach bum thing fairly successfully for a couple of days, with our biggest exertions being a two-hour shoreline snorkel (cuttlefish and seahorses!) and a meandering hike through the forest to a not-so-secret secret sunset spot on the other side of the little island.

All too soon, it was time for the "big wooden boat" to pick us up. I had secretly hoped that Phallus Belt would refuse to let us on board, thus marooning us on Koh Wai indefinitely. Not that our next destination of Koh Mak was so bad either. We were careful not to criticize Phallus Belt's directions and in turn he let us put our bicycles in a slightly less bizarre configuration. We were thrilled to see that the pier was free of boats as we approached the new island, no double-parking to contend with. Then, our boat stopped short of the pier and dropped anchor. People started piling in to a little longtail. Phallus Belt glared at us, gesturing at our stuff, "See? Very difficult!" The bags were tossed into the front of the little boat, with our bikes wedged at interesting angles on top of them. We waded from the shallows to the beach, holding the hefty steel frames as high as we could to escape the crashing waves of corrosive saltwater. As a goodbye to Phallus Belt, we admitted defeat and vowed, "Once we get off this island, no more bikes on boats!" He seemed to like that. In fact, I think he nearly smiled.

We had our sights set on a bungalow at out-of-the-way Baan Ing Kao, but they were all full. Fortunately, they had a perfect spot for our tent that was even closer to the beach. Unfortunately, we would discover that night that the mesh door on our tent does not allow the level of cooling ventilation one would hope for from a breeze coming right of the water. The mosquitoes were out in force so we had no choice but to endure the sauna.

Enjoying the comparatively flat topography of Koh Mak, on our first day we explored many of the island's back roads on our bikes. We encountered the remains of an abandoned interpretive bicycle route that led us through an extensive coconut plantation to a little-visited beach where hawksbill turtles used to nest in their more numerous days. On our second day, we stayed closer to home except for taking a kayak out along the rocky cliffs west of our simple backpacker resort in search of decent snorkeling. A second paddle at sunset, with the additional passengers of a bottle of Thai rum and a carton of orange juice, was dubbed "Casey and Matt's Low-carbon Booze Cruise."

Leaving Koh Mak, we simply wheeled our bikes on to a catamaran and strapped them to the railing, making it an uneventful return to the mainland. We cycled an easy sixteen miles to Trat. That night we were excited to experience a pillar of Thai food culture at our first real night market, but sadly we did it all wrong. We bought a bunch of food from the take-away stalls, and then noticed there was another section of open-air cafes with tables set up. We bought a beer from one of them in order to be allowed to sit down to eat our food, then felt horrible about the amount of plastic waste our dinner had generated as the other patrons ate similar foods from that stall's reusable dish ware.

Sometimes a dose of guilt is just what is needed for motivation though. Since our initial fail, we always arrive to a night market with our collapsible camping bowls and spoons, our trusty Chico reusable shopping bag (thanks, Kerri!), and a metal water bottle. We watch vendors put plastic bags of pre-portioned food, taut with air like a clear balloon and sealed with a rubber band wound around in a uniquely Thai method, into plastic grocery bags upon purchase. It is not uncommon for each item of plastic-encased food to get its own plastic shopping bag. We generally make our food selection based on the least amount of packaging involved, often asking the vendor to put it directly into our camping bowls. They are generally willing to comply, although usually a bit bewildered as to why.

With the dinner adventure wrapped up, there was no avoiding decision time. We could either leave the bicycles on the Eastern Seaboard, travel as backpackers to meet up with Danielle and Erik, then return to continue cycling east into Cambodia, or throw everything on a bus to Bangkok and then another bus to our southern meet up point in Krabi, cycling our way back north to Bangkok. We debated both options for longer than was healthy and in the end the second option won out, despite our dread of putting our bikes on yet another form of transport.

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From Coast to Coast

Sand, Sea, and Sisters

Bikes on Boats

Casey and Matt

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