After two hours of sweating it out on the pedals, I was near exhaustion. And very hungry. The plan was to grab food along the way. Roti, snacks, local rice dishes and maybe even the fancied mohingar. And of course water.
Bends after bends and mile after mile, there were no stalls to be seen. Goodness! Popping questions to the rare local passed along the way ended with amused smiles and shakes of the head. Smiles for the confused cyclist and head shakes for my wrangled burmese.
How did I get myself into this?
It all started a few months earlier. Was it early 2017? Can’t remember exactly. The lady boss of my favourite hotel in Yangon had invited me to check out another of her establishment, the Adventure Shore Resort. Now that sounded exciting and inviting. She had plans to do something different with the place and I could take a look-see. Maybe give some feedback.
So, that August, I arrived in Yangon lugging along a newly bought XDS 16inch foldie packed into a size 32 hardshell suitcase.
A tiny foldie would be fine. It was from shore to beach with no climbs of any decency. 56 km flat terrain, it would be a stroll. The only factor would be it was in the middle of the rains but getting wet would be part of the fun. That was what I thought.
I had a lazy in-house simple breakfast and waddled my way to the Pansodan ferry terminal for the crossing over to Dala. A short ride, maybe 15 minutes or so.
You can push your bike loaded with whatever from gate to ramp and ferry once you have your ticket. But foreigners have a separate gate and pay maybe 10 times the price of a local to board. Fair enough since foreigners are “rich”. Nice if I were.
I had already folded the bike thinking that it would be easier to clear whatever checks and besides, I did not want to leave a ‘lift and away’ bike lying around while I say hello to the ticketing lady. Carried the bike to the jetty and swayed up the plankway. Quite a relief. Made friends with two young boys who had an interest in the bike. Nice kids. They helped carry the bike up but they did ask…and we parted later good friends and they a 1000kyat richer each. Nice kids.
The thing about a 16inch bike is that the geometry does not take well to a rear load. First mistake and lesson 1 is always to test ride with the expected luggage. I had packed light and things would be a cinch. Wrong!
This particular foldie does not cater for a handlebar bag of any substantial weight. With the weight all to the rear, it will do a wheelie on its own. That adds to the effort pedalling as there is that much traction on the front wheel. That was Lesson no2 for me.
Lekokkon boasts a stretch of beach about 10km long (own guesstimate). Not fully explored but one day I hope to really give it a fuller cover especially that part nearer to the mouth of the Yangon River. Someday, yes.
If you like wide open padi fields, curious, helpful strangers and loads of fresh air, this is the place to be. The big three beaches of Chaung Thar, Ngwe Saung and Ngapali, are ever popular. If one likes pricy hotels, touristy conveniences then maybe it will be good. Remote off the road places like this one attracts me more. Possibly due to a preference for the basic bare necessities way-of-life things.
As a young boy, I asked a frenchman travelling alone why he chose to travel instead of slogging away at a career. He said simply, “People and places interest me more.” That left a long lasting impression. Would also add that the way people live and the the way they shape their lives under their circumstances fascinates me more. It is like coming home wherever that home may be.
This is a picture of naked happiness. The simple things of life!
Back on the road again, it was another hour before I found a little shack and a grandmother tending it. Thought I could get a cup of good local sugared milk tea but alas, she only had canned drinks. They had this red bull tonic drink loaded with caffeine (believe loaded with caffeine) and there was strip coffee. Never mind, whatever.
I asked, “ar sah par la?”. She looked puzzled. Then she went back inside. I was expecting food. I followed to see what was available. She pointed and looked at me with eyes that asked, “This?” I laughed. She was gesturing at a bottle of salt. Ahh…ar sa…salt… Well, can also.. salt for the road. Replenish all the sweat.
Lesson no3. Eat well before a ride. Bring loads of food which is more important than anything else. Maybe besides tools and spare tubes. Can’t go on much when legs get wobbly.
I had only some oats in the bag and a banana. That would suffice. Not really. Another 2 hours later and still no food stalls, every crank became a challenge. And the 7 speed foldie made every tiny incline seemed like a mountain. Wonder where horses get all that energy from just oats.
Lesson no4. Never discount the headwind. It makes every inch of the road that much harder. And when there is no sugar in the blood, a lovely breeze at any other time carries with it immense grind. With usual good luck, it was headwinds all the way.
Hope…she often lifts you up and brings you down later. Into the fourth hour, (this narrative is more accurately described in hours rather than kilometres), I passed a village junction. The local folks, enviously relaxing under a shelter, gave me directions. Soon I was joined by three energetic young boys who raced after me on their bikes. We chatted as we rode alongside the potholed road. Yes, there is food up ahead, they said as they turned off to their village. Not true. Not even water.
As with all journeys, the end will come somehow. Almost finished off a litre of water when a drink stall finally and mercifully appeared. This trip reminds me of another time in Thailand when the helpful innkeeper offered that there will be one big climb ahead as well as three 7-11’s en-route only to find out countless big climbs and one 7-11. And that at the last 20km of the ride. Needless to say, that was another helluva day.
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