Since we are taking it super slow and waiting about a week for the Loy
Krathong festival, we have exhausted most of what Sukhothai proper has
to offer, so we branched out. We found a National Park nearby,
boasting mountains, jungle and a waterfall. Problem is, it is just far
enough away to make transportation difficult or expensive to arrange.
Motorbikes, however, are cheap to rent (about $8 US/day). So...we
rented a motorbike!! A terrifying prospect indeed, but it got us where
we needed to go.
We woke up extra early so we wouldn't have to drive through a
convection oven to get to the Khao Luang mountain range (khao meaning
both mountain and rice, among other things) at Ramkamhaeng National
Park. We rented a lime green bike from our guest house and the
obligatory two helmets. It is illegal to ride bare-headed, but many
people do. On Koh Chang and in Trat, we passed check points where the
police were corralling and ticketing all motorbikers without helmets.
Robert went for a spin around the block without me to get used to the
bike, having driven one only once previously and having gotten only a
two minute tutorial from the guesthouse transport guru. And away we
went! (me clinging to Robert like a scared puppy)
Turning was the worst part. I was worried we were going to tump the
thing on it's side and the listing required during a turn convinced me
of it. It was hard for me not to lean out of the turns and throw off
Robert's balance and control. After a few harry turns, Robert taught
me to simply cling to him all the more tightly during a turn and
things generally turned out for the best. We were so nervous at first
though that we managed to leave town without stopping for food or
water. We did manage to stop for gas, one of us sooner than the other.
Robert turned into the gas station right as another motorbike was
leaving and they ended up dancing. You know when you are trying to
walk past someone and neither of you can decide on which side to pass,
how you sort of "dance"? We did that, but on motorbikes. Robert
wobbled and I abandoned ship! Without my weight recovery was easy and
both bikes completed their turns, leaving me looking a fool in the
middle of a field of concrete wearing a baby pink helmet.
After that, we got better. We found lunch and then the park, driving
through beautiful rural rice fields to get there. We paid the guard
220B total to enter, each getting our ten tickets and one for the
motorbike. Why so many? No clue. We rounded out our ration of 750ml of
water with two more similarly sized bottles and a small bag of
peanuts, then hit the trail. We had a map and knew the trail to be
about 4km to the top of the mountain, but that is all we knew. We
didn't know our elevation nor the mountain's. We got slightly down the
trail when I noticed the absence of my sunglasses, not that I needed
them on the dense jungle trail, but I retraced my steps and found them
at the bottom of the small pool where I leaned over to take a picture
of a fresh water crab.
After that small hiccup, we walked - climbed rather. The trail never
looked back; it went up at ungodly angles for most of the way. There
were buckets of clean water to wash your face along the way and a few
bamboo benches for resting. I don't know how better to describe it
than it was tough, but rewarding. There was only one other group that
we saw: five young Thai guys and their two porters. They had the
genius plan of camping at the top for the night, tents can be rented
at the top so all you need is food and water, but we were not so
smart. The camp at the top was pretty extensive, but we didn't explore
it much because of time constraints.rather we walked another 400m to
summit the smallest of four nearby peaks. The view was great, but
climbing on the exposed boulders was nerve-wracking for me. At one
point I was trying to pose for a picture while standing on a rock, but
Robert wouldn't take the picture until I stopped looking so
scared...finally he gave up. We couldn't stay too long on the top
though because we were racing daylight and brooding thunderclouds.
The rain never came and we made it down in an hour and a half, dirty
and hungry and cotton mouthed. Our paltry rations had long been
consumed. We went to the park store and grabbed two waters, then an
ice cream and more peanuts, sitting awkwardly in the restaurant
section without paying, while the staff waited for real customers.
Eventually we paid and Robert coaxed me back onto the motorbike.
Riding home was damn-near pleasant. Setting sun, gorgeous country,
steady driver. We made it home, stiff from the drive, but safe.
One more good story before the day ended. Dinner. I wanted noodle
soup, my standard. We went to the night market to eat, a semi-indoor,
open-air affair. Some other night we had been disappointed by one of
the places on the outside edge that sends out touts to offer you a
menu of you look western and are passing by. Again--- you'd think we
would know better by now. This time we walked blank faced passed the
excited waitresses surprised at their our success at garnering repeat
business to the hidden gems within. We found a woman cooking who
looked intriguing and sat at her shop. We ate noodle soup with
veggies, pad Thai muu, and a new dish, a Thai noodle roll I think is
how it was translated (basically a thin egg omelet surrounding fried
noodles). Then we kept our seats for the next hour(?) just watching
her cook. She was a machine. The only emotion I saw in her was when
she noticed I noticed her trying to cook on her flame that had gone
out and she rolled her eyes and half-grinned. Other than that it was
all business. Then we ordered another round of food, more soup for me
and a vietnamese egg wrap for us both, because it was frequently
ordered. She was actually making fast food for most people, wrapping
up the noodles and bagging fresh veggies for them to take away. Pad
Thai is a stereotypical street or fast food here. To round out your
impression of the place, don't forget her husband. She ran the wok
while he prepared soups, cleaned and took money. He was an interesting
sort, short-sleeved button down shirt, opened to reveal chest hair and
a thick gold chain. We nicknamed him, "Guido." Apologies for any
offense.
Robert says he can't sleep. My typing sounds like a mouse mosh-pit and
is keeping him up.
Robert wants to specify that we had dinner for five for two. (this is
how we quantify overeating, not that it happens often enough for us to
have a naming-convention for it or anything...)
We rolled ourselves home to sleep off a wonderfully strenuous day.
No comments:
Post a Comment