Rising in the west, setting in the east

Sat 6 - Tue 9 Aug. To Batu Pahat, Mersing and Sungei Rengit, Johore, Malaysia, 545 km. The sun rises in the east and sets in the west, but we rise at Batu Pahat in the west and cross the spine of Johore to set down at Mersing in the east. It is the first time I've done three American century rides in as many days. And fully loaded at that. It is a ride where blood - and beer - flow.

Fully loaded
Day 1: Sat 6 Aug, Singapore - Batu Pahat, 162 km. We plan and hope, but plans can be smashed and hopes dashed. Some have hard power, some have soft power and some, no power. And that's the way life is, at work and at outside work. But I make it for this ride. The seven of us (Bike-Aiders and friend) head across the causeway, past the horrific jam that starts before 7 am. Ours is a multi-religious, multi-ethnic group, with diverse dietary requirements: halal and vegetarian food - and beer - are mandatory. Happy coexistence. I see another group of cyclists (with a Mercedes for a support vehicle). Turns out to include FP and DC. The last time we cycled together was in Apr 2003. This time, they're heading to Batu Pahat and Malaysia. Today is the first time my little red Tank is fully loaded. I think I'm having vertigo, but it turns out the seatpost rack is swaying from side to side. It is also the first time I'm using dry lube for my drive train. It collects gunk, but is easier to wipe off than wet lube. This is the first time I'm using a proper rack top bag instead of my makeshift ones. It's also the first time I try out another makeshift handlebar bag. Both perform superbly. Night stop: Garden Hotel.

Bloody broadside
Day 2: Sun 7 Aug, Batu Pahat - Mersing, 153 km. We start cycling just after 6 am. Lights twinkle like stars, but at waist height; if you lie down, bikelights would like like stars on the horizon. This is the first time I cross the spine of Johore. As the sun rises, my Tiger Balm turns liquid. My drive train squeaks like ecstatic mice, especially when I shift to the big chain ring. Not that I really need to; there are hills all the way from start to finish along federal trunk road #50. I wonder how I'd have fared on my Iron Horse. "Captain and Tenniel" surge ahead on their Kona bikes. They move together, with identical cranks, forks and socks. Both are swift on their sandals. Captain cycles with his backpack all day, all four days. It may have saved him from a bloodier experience when the "brigadier" side swipes him. Both are 57, born on the same month. The Captain tumbles, suffering abrasions. His saddlebag is sheared off. Drafting just behind, I evade a similar bloody fate. IA, who rides a superlight Cannondale road bike, whips out a well-stocked first aid kit.

During lunch, two locals chat with us. They advise us to get off the road by nightfall, when hunters lay branches on the roads and waylay passing traffic. They also warn us about cows (the four-legged variety) on the road and lightning strikes. During debrief, the "major" conducts a military-style "inquiry" into the bloody mishap. To compensate for the blood flow, beer flows. Night stop: Mersing Inn. Same hotel, same room even, as my first 1,000 km expedition. Except that then, the TV was working better. I clean and lube my drive train.

Hot and getting old

Day 3: Mon 8 Aug, Mersing - Sungei Rengit, 190 km. We set off before 6 am. I bring up the rear. IA's rear light is dazzling. Good thing I'm wearing my shades. Rising from the mist are the ghostly shape of trees, desperately seeking light. Passing drivers dim their lights as they pass us. In Singapore, this would be exceptional. As the day wears on, the route gets old. I'm geographically challenged, but I recognise places - this is the route of the Charity Bike N Blade in Mar 2005. A sign says Johore Bahru is only 60 km away, I'm tempted to go home. The sun burns and the day wears on. Captain and I make use of a woman - Tenniel. We draft her unabashedly. As I draft him and we sway like drunken sailors, I have a few near-collisions. After two hours of solid cycling uphill against the wind, we stop by the roadside to catch our breath and wait for the others. H asks: "Where are we?" IA replies: "Hell."

This ride ranks among the top 5 toughest rides I've been on. Three American century rides in as many days, fully loaded. Never before have I travelled so far in one day fully loaded; my previous single-day record was 186 km, from Taiping to Butterworth. Today's ride has us riding up interminable hills against the incessant wind. I take turns with the major to break the wind, going at 21-22 km/h. Our intent goes awry and we break up. As the major says, it's hard to ride slow. I cycle solo part of the way. A troop of monkeys cross the road; their chattering sounds like my drive train. A few mangled cats dot the road. My butt hurts, it would've been worse if I hadn't alternated my shorts to vary the pressure points. I learn today to stand ever so slightly on my pedals and still pedal over bumps on the road.

It is hot. "Getting old, getting old," goes the chant in my head. I don't want to ride this route again. But before I know it, I'm in "the zone". The heat doesn't matter; the wind is in my face. My drive train falls silent. A schoolgirl stands at a bus stop, sheltering from the sweltering heat. I smile at her. She smiles sweetly beneath her tudung and nods.

Lunch is at Sedili Kechil, where the "inn keeper" gives us excellent service. The table groans with food. We groan in turn, appetites satiated.

We reach our destination around 7 pm; first time I've seen rush hour traffic in this quiet little place. Night stop: Tai Hoe Hotel. I check my drivetrain again; the problem now seems to be with sprocket #5. But my seatpost and handlebar height are right. And the different brand of contact lenses surpass my expectations; no discomfort for 14 hours, contrary to the negative reviews from two contact lens practitioners.

No rush, no fuss
Day 4: Tue 9 Aug, Sungei Rengit - Singapore, 40 km. One snores, the other tosses and the third is sleep-deprived. I rise to a lazy morning. Sungei Rengit is sans city madness. No rush, no fuss. A driver waits without honking as we saunter past. At a shop, the proprietor smiles as I watch him and his Indonesian worker make Chinese pastries, stuffing each with goodness, compressing the fillings rather than skimping. The brigadier sits down and soaks in the atmosphere.

In line with the laid-back setting, today's ride should be a relaxed one. I'm mistaken. Some of us city folk cycle furiously above 30 km/h towards the jetty. The left pannier bag drops off one bike. Had it been the right one, I would've rushed right into it. Enroute, I meet not mishap, but some alumni from Charity Bike N Blade and the NUS centennial ride. At the jetty, a long line of Indonesians await entry into Malaysia. As they wait to start work, we head home too, to work the next day. At the Singapore arrival hall, a policeman takes my bike from me. The way he props it against the wall suggest he's a cyclist too. He returns my bicycle to me, remembering which bike is mine. Another policeman slides the exit door wider so we can egress. How thoughtful. How friendly. How Malaysian.

And thus ends another puncture-free ride. Thanks to the brigadier who organised the ride and navigates over 500 km without needing map or compass. And only one wrong turn.