Riding to Bagan: Slowly

October 26, 2016

26-10-2016
Riding to Aunglan
70 km in about 4.5 hrs of riding...

Also called Myaydo, Aunglan is about 70 km due north of Pyay. Good thing about staying out of town was I had a head start on the road north. I was surprised at how busy the road was compared to 2200 hrs the night before. Once I turned off the busier road to the east and got on the road north to Aunglan, the traffic quieted down.

It was slow and steady progress and once I grew accustomed to the traffic, the ride was enjoyable. There was a fair amount of motorbike and minivan traffic, with the odd bigger bus and heavy truck to keep you on your toes. The road surface was either potholes or lumpy patches, so it was hard to build up a rhythm or any semblance of speed.That's my excuse anyway. The twisty, lumpy and dippy road and the foot and bullock dray traffic also helped to slow down the cars and trucks. Almost every person I encountered greeted me with smiles and "mingalaba" (Burmese hello/welcome). I spent a fair amount of time waving, bell ringing and mingalabaing in reply. It's hard not to enjoy yourself when a day passes like this.

There is not a whole lot to commend Aunglan and I could only find one hotel, the WinLite. It's about half way through "town" on the left (heading North) near the banks. Cost was 20000 Kyat, about average and nothing much to speak about - clean sheets, A/C and a cold water shower.

27-10-2016
To Taungdwingyi
90 km in about 6.3 hrs

Writing this a few days after the ride, I remember more potholes and lumpy patches and some small rollercoaster up and down and twisty bendy bits. Bullock drays are everywhere, slowly plodding along the side of the road on their own dirt/mud track, wooden wheels wobble squeaking and bamboo cow bells clunking. At least someone on these roads is going slower than me.

Often the locals are sitting in groups on elevated roadside platforms, watching the traffic. I get a lot of comments and I'd love to know what they are saying. As I pass one group of women one of them shyly and quietly says, "I love you." I smile to myself and keep riding - what do you say to something like that? The group of men sitting on an adjacent platform laugh and say something like, "I don't think he heard you." So the women all shout in unison, "I love you!!" I respond at the top of my lungs waving my arms, "I love you, too!!!" We, all of us crack up laughing.

I remember the kids: the wee ones too young to attend school, delighting when they spot me coming down the road, shouting mingalaba and waving. The school kids chanting their lessons tunefully as I ride quietly by. And when playing in the school yard erupting with shouted hellos, waves and lord knows what other comments when thy see me riding by.

I arrive just on dark, wondering where I'll stay the night. These towns are not bustling Metropoli, more a collection of shacks and simple business along the main road with a couple of muddy side roads full of simple dirt floored houses. I got lucky and stumbled right into the hotel (just before you get into the town proper). Luckily they take westerners. Shwe Phi San Yar Guesthouse; cold water shower and dirty sheets which they begrudgingly change when requested. 20,000 kyat.

And no westerners, not one. I've got the entire country to myself.

28-10-2016
On to Magway
0 km on the bike today...

It rained all night and I woke to heavy rain at 0500 hrs, so I thought it might be a good idea to try another train. I'm simply not fit enough to pull off another long day of cycling and it's over 100 km to Magway, too far for this old man this early in a tour. Seems the train stations are not in the centre of towns, but often hidden away down back streets. It's small, dark, run down, but quaint and laid back - I like it immediately. The station master tells me the train leaves in two hours and doesn't get into Magway until 1830 hrs. He suggests the minivan may be a better option.

100 metres down the road there are a number of minivans queued at the roadside. "Magway," I ask? "Absolutely" is the signed response. Kyat change hands (6000 kyat),the bike is strapped to the roof rack and after we acquire a few more passengers, we are away. We progress at a nice leisurely pace, stopping and starting frequently to pick up and let off passengers. It suits me just fine as high speeds on these crowded poorly surfaced roads would most likely end in disaster. And I'm honoured front seat passenger, no seatbelts, so we want to avoid that outcome at all costs.

At the Magway minivan depot one of the local young lads helps me load up my bike and ofers to take me to a guesthouse. I'm told it's the only one in town that takes foreigners. Fact or not, that's tonight's accommodation taken care of. I'm in my room by noon. It rains gently all day. My phone (Moto G3) is having difficulty charging. When it does finally work I update my journal and plan my ride to Chauk, a good 120 km to the north. I'd like to do the entire distance on my own, but may resort to a minivan or bus for part of the journey.

Kaung Sann Thant KST Motel. 25,000 kyat - I get a 5,000 kyat discount because America and Australia are helping to improve Myanmar. Good luck finding it without the help of a local. Still no tourist sightings.

29-10-2016
The oilfields of Chauk

I wake up anxious and worried about the distance I have to travel to get to Chauk and what I'll find when I get there. So far I've been lucky with accommodation, but sooner or later my luck will run out. I can always try one of the Buddhist temples. But my last experience staying at a Burmese temple didn't turn out that well.

My room includes a free breakfast. The cook watches me power through the meal and gives me seconds of everything without me asking - done with a big smile. They take my photo out the front of the hotel, as I'm only the second cycle tourist they've seen. As I'm getting on my bike the hotel owner tells me I shouldn't be riding on my own as it is not safe. That sets the tone for what turns out to be a strange and challenging day...

Some days the cycling is fluent and natural, other days it is an effort from the first pedal stroke. This was one of those other days. It felt like my wheels were sticking to the road tar; so much so that after about 15 km I pull over at a local petrol station to pump up my tires. One of the young attendants hands me a bottle of water unasked. I beam a big smile at him and down it in one big gulp. Tire pressure was down a fair bit, maybe a bit too much. 40 in the front / 50 in the back now and it does seem to make a difference. Much more than that and I'll start bouncing around on the lumpy road surface.

The hills start and I worry needlessly that I will struggle. These aren't mountains, just low rollers, up and down all day. And I enjoy it. I just find a comfortable low gear and winch myself up one side and zip down the other.... all day.

I have three encounters with unsavoury types today.

First is a young guy dirty and poorly dressed on a beatup motorbike who tries to engage me in conversation. Only problem is he is riding way too close to me and we are constantly in danger of crashing into traffic or going off the road. His conversation consists of "HelloWhereYouFromKangaroo" repeated endlessly. After one very close call where he runs me off the road, I've had enough. I politely sign that he needs to leave. He then angrilly tell me he is police and I must come with him. Yeah, that is not going to happen. I'm not so polite now and it's a Mexican standoff by the roadside. He eventually leaves, saying some things in Burmese that are no doubt not all that nice.

Second atypical encounter is at a roadside stop at a fork in the road where I pull over for a cup of instant coffee and a bit of a break. I say to the two guys there that I think Myanmar is #1. One of them smiles at me kindly, but the other one says emphatically in words and gestures, "No Myanmar is not a nice place and someone will be slitting your throat for you very soon." I try to ignore the threat, but he repeats it several times. The stall owner backs away and wants nothing to do with this conversation. Now I am not happy... So I look straight at him and say, "No, no one in Myanmar is going to be slitting my throat any time soon and especially not you." No more is said on that topic. He was bigger than me, so I can't call him a little shit: he was a big shit.

Third encounter was about 10 minutes down the track. Another raggamuffin guy on a motorbike passes me and as he goes by his hat flies off. I naturally pick it up and cycle up to him, hand him his hat and say "Mingalaba." He launches into a conversation with plenty of signing and I don't get any of it. He is proposing a transaction of some sort and this time I'm glad I don' speak Burmese. Eventually, holding out his hand it dawns on me that he mostly just wants money. I feign ignorance, shake his hand, say goodbye and pedal off. He gets the hint...

I now have completed about 60 km and know I've got at least another 60 km to Chauk. It's getting late, the sky is darkening and looking ominous. I'm thinking now would be a good time to get a bus. There is a T intersection about 30 km ahead - Chauk to the left and Meiktila to the right, so I set my sights for that. I put my nose down and start cranking. From somewhere I find the energy to get into the big chainring and crank. That 30 km disappears in an exhilirating high speed blur. Although the road did't look it, some of it had to have a downhill cant to it because I just don't do that sort of sustained effort at that sort of speed.

After about a 20 minute wait at the intersection a bus pulls up that's going to Chauk. By the time we pull into the wildwest oilfield town of Chauk darkness is descending. The main street is more or less paved in spots at least; all the side allies are dirt/mud. I start my hunt for a hotel, but my luck has finally run out. There are hotels for the locals and I'm sure they do have rooms, but they flat out refuse to take me in. On the edge of town I pass a run down doctor's surgery, patients queueing out the open front door. My logic is as he is a doctor, he must be a sympathetic bloke and he should also speak some English. I ask if there are any hotels for westerners in Chauk. He says no, no hotels, but then tells me to sit down and he will phone around. 5 minutes later he comes back and says there is a resort 5 km out of town that should take me. He writes down the name and hands me the piece of paper.

I head out in the dark and the drizzle hoping he is right... In the darkness, I pass by oil derrecks and dipping donkeys and pipelines. This is no tourist destination. I also pass two lit up Buddhist monestaries making a mental map of where they are - they are my last resort if I can't find this place.

Right on cue, I find the spot. It's a fairly fancy resort, with a swimming pool and a row of upmarket bungalows. As soon as I pull in the manager tells me, without my asking, that they are full and have no rooms... so sorry. I'm pretty sure that he does have rooms, but just doesn't want the hassles of dealing with a westerner. But I'm not taking no for an answer this time. I tell him I've been cycling all day, I'm tired and worn out, I've tried every place in Chauk but they all say they are full. And I add that I know they all had rooms, but don't want to deal with westerners. I tell him I'll sleep anywhere out of the rain, including that bench in the corner of the garden over there. Things are getting surreal at this point... He repeats the mantra, "sorry, but we are full - no rooms." Then for some reason, he changes. He says, "wait, I will phone the owner." Still talking to the owner, he shows me a bed in the corner of what must be the staff sleeping quarters/storeroom. I say, great, that will do perfectly. I think both he and the owner are surprised by my response. Next thing I know, yes there is a double room bungalow available and I am now a legitimate guest of the resort. Hey, I'm not complaining, but why must it be so hard?

They treat me really well and rustle me up a dinner of fried chicken, rice, egg and chili sambal. And only 25,000 kyat. I was expecting to pay at least triple that. It rains hard all night.

It was one heck of a long, bizarre and challenging ride. 100+ km and lord knows how many hours of hard riding. I'm so wired from it all that although totally exhausted, I can't sleep.

30-10-2016
Bagan & I finally find the tourists...

It's only about 25 km to New Bagan, my goal for this first stage of the ride. I picked up a cold last night: too much riding, too much stress, too much cold aircon; so the 25 km goes down more slowly than it otherwise would have. No matter; I'm in my hotel (Bagan Central) by 1100 and it is the best value hotel room I'll probably get in Myanmar: 20000 kyat for a double room with wood panelling, polished floors, aircon, a bathroom with hot water and twin beds. And a good breakfast each morning.

I'm booked in for three nights. I mostly sleep and take it easy, trying to kill off this cold before it can take hold. But I still have plenty of time and energy to take in a few of the key temples.

My favourite temple is one that thankfully, so far has yet to be "restored" and hopefully never will be. It is splendid in it's decaying grandure. And there are no beggers,no touts, few trinket sellers and only a couple of tourists. There are even bits and pieces of the original frescos linging the interior walls. The recent earthquakes have done some damage and a couple of the corner domes are plastic wrapped, but she's still standing strong.

And I finally find my tourists. But oddly, it doesn't seem there are too many of them. The Bagan temple site is so big that it can accommodate quite a few of us without feeling too crowded.

I should probably ride out of here to Meiktila, but will catch another minivan instead. Next stop is Inle Lakes...

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Reposed in the low light of the inner temple.

Puppets tastefully hanging from a tree and swaying softly in the breeze. This was the only seller working this temple.

My favourite temple. It's a bit off the main track, so it doesn't get as much traffic. And so far, no one has tried to restore it, apart from the blue plastic wrap around a couple of the domes damaged in the more recent earthquake.

Meditating monk standing silently alongside a huge wooden door. I certainly appreciated his keen sense of place. It makes for a great photo.

If you can get up high on one of the pagodas (one that isn't damaged and allows climbing to the top), you soon get an idea of just how big this place is.

Bullock cart at rest. Away from the main roads, I'd hazard a guess that theyy are still a major form of village transport.

The Troll at rest. It's proving to be a capable tourer. A bit like the bullock cart, she is no lightweight carbon fibre toybike. And like a bullock cart, it sure can carry a load effortlessly. And I think my spoked wheels are much quieter andlook much nicer. She's built to last..

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