Jan distance: 936 km

Thu 25 - Sun 28 Jan: Hearts on Wheels
To Malacca, Malaysia, 549 km.

Are we there yet?
Day 1: Thu 25 Jan, Singapore - Batu Pahat (Johore), 159 km. It's a bad start: it's raining when I get up just after 5 am. And I lose a contact lens in my eye. It (the lens, not the eye) finally pops out and I promptly lose it. I ride to Mandai to meet S. There's supposed to be three of us going north, now there's two. I'd have biked north even if it's just me. S and I are fully loaded, with backpacks. The agenda for S: to train for Ironman. My agenda is more mundane: to see if my new pedals are "expedition proven". Along the Johore roads, I see signs of flooding; the roads are dry but the drains have overflowed, sometimes stretching into homes. But over 50 cyclists have signed up for SWCT's charity ride in aid of Club Rainbow, which starts officially tomorrow (they ride to Malacca - in a bus).

It is cloudy; good cycling weather. We have three breaks (excluding a detour to see the Shimano factory; alas, there's no warehouse sale). Three breaks is a tad too little for a long, fully loaded ride. Dealing with the hills at the "entrance" to Batu Pahat after 150 km is tiresome. Also tiresome is the noise at night, no thanks to patrons at the coffee shop downstairs and at the karaoke across the street. Of course, I'm in a rumah tumpangan in a happening part of town.


Close call
Day 2: Fri 26 Jan, Batu Pahat to Malacca, 102 km. I have breakfast in bed. Why spend time and calories looking for food in town? We stop an hour later for breakfast, part 2, when we come across a decent place.

The weight of a backpack is a real pain in the butt. To liven things up, an overtaking lorry bears down on us. It flashes its headlights. Like a deer frozen in the lights, I just look - and keep riding. S swerves, commenting on the danger. I veer offroad too. The truck whizzes by. This might be my closest brush with death in over 30,000 km of riding.

Weekend warrior vs triathletes
Day 3: Sat 27 Jan, Malacca to Batu Pahat, 105 km. For months, I've been cycling once, at most twice a week. The triathletes train six days a week, sometimes twice a day. I stick to the lead peloton until most of them breakaway to draft a police car (we have police escort). I'm too slow in the head to figure out what's going on and too slow to catch up as the gap widens to 300m and beyond. The lead cyclists then split into three groups. Total time elapsed is about 3.5 hours; the only break my group has is at the traffic lights. I arrive about 10 minutes after the second group. My butt hurts less; the hard riding (max speed: 53.7 km/h) must've taken some weight off my rear. The triathletes arrive about 10 minutes after me. Weekend warrior wins, so I think, until I find out that the triathletes run and swim after arriving.

Bringing a rainbow
Day 4: Sun 27 Jan, Batu Pahat to Singapore, 183 km. The first leg is supposed to be free and easy. K and I set off at a brisk pace - but where is everybody? We stop at a bus stop. When the "bike bus" of riders in two columns comes by, we "board" it. I find myself braking too often. This is three hours of non-stop riding, in a 50-strong peloton. We stop for lunch at my favourite coffeeshop by the Straits of Malacca in Pontian. The food dropping into stomachs seems to affect cyclists in a strange way; they start dropping things when the ride starts: tools, light, food. I drop off too, for a toilet break, than scramble uphill to catch up. At a stop to regroup, a roadie warns me about the wind that topples bikes. No worries, my mountain bike is twice as heavy as his.


My white jersey has turned as grey as the drizzly sky. The sun comes out and I'm glad. I'm also glad when the toughest ride (going from Mandai to Club Rainbow, negotiating the traffic and stopping at the many traffic lights) is over. The closing ceremony is simply touching. The charity auction of paintings done by the seriously ill kids of Club Rainbow, and the sale of calendars (featuring biker babes) raises $30,000; I hear we raise another $30,000 through our pledge cards. The money goes to help the kids. The guest of honour and head of Club Rainbow thank us, and we thank N (who conceptualised, planned and led the ride), the support crew and sponsors.

Riding home, a jaywalking pedestrian waves me away like I'm a fly. A car turns a corner and stops abruptly. Welcome to Singapore ...

New toy, old problem

To Lim Chu Kang, 63 km. This is my last ride before next week's charity ride. I'm still not used to my new toy; it seems to change how I pedal. The problem is, is the pain real or imagined? To simulate a long ride in less time, I cycle with higher gears, stopping only at traffic lights and to adjust my saddle (again). The pain eases when I remind myself which plane my knees should move - which is what I told myself when I first got clipless pedals. To keep my new toy company, I have other new toys: a water bottle (sponsored by Rodalink yesterday) and a watch.

Water, water everywhere

To Mandai Zoo, 35 km. The roads are wet. I look at the night sky and see white clouds (so much light is thrown up by urbanites). It looks safe to cycle, rainwise (though not so safe that I cringe when heavy vehicles pass close by). I'm in such a hurry, I forget my water bottle. Water, water everywhere (on the roads) but not a drop to drink. Why am I cycling? Perhaps because I rode 1,794 km less in 2006 compared to 2005. It's as if I didn't cycle for over four months last year - that's how bad work was.

Like or dislike?

To Lim Chu Kang via Changi, 110 km. I look at the grey sky and feel blue. It's been raining all day, all over the island. When the rain stops in the evening, I hit the road. But it feels like a chore. Which spells trouble. Without cycling, there's no "cycle-therapy" and I'll go crazy (since I can't afford psychotherapy). If the cure is driving me crazy ... A family of pedestrians try to kamikaze into me. Then a bus gets so close. A a pair of cyclists weave into my path though the road is three lanes wide. Ah, I get it. I just dislike cycling in Singapore, not cycling as such. Proof: I'm looking forward to cycling in Malaysia in two week's time. And grimly satisfied that I log a century ride despite the weather.

Only time will tell

To Mandai Road, 35 km. I take my new headset out for a spin. It feels good, without that spooky tug on the handlebars as was the case with the old, pitted headset. I think of doing laps but the thought of training depresses me. So I ride for leisure, until I see a cluster of red blinking lights ahead. The chase begins. It's only at 40 km/h that I start to close the gap. I never manage to overtake the two lead riders, one of them on a mountain bike. Among the things I blame for my dismal performance is my seat height. I'd gotten it just right, after hundreds of km from consecutive days of riding. I marked the height but the mark was rubbed off when the seatpost got cleaned. While the height can be approximated, only time will tell if it's right - from the presence or absence of pain.

Weathering the weather

To Woodlands, 101 km. I don't want to cycle today as Saturday traffic is heavier. But it is sunny. Instead of being angry with the weather in case it messes up my traditional Sunday ride, I ride bike while the sun shines. I vow not to go home till I cover 100 km. In little Singapore, that's hard. I cycle to get used to my shiny new toy. I find that wearing thinner socks ($13 for 6 pairs! Branded too!) gives more pedal "float". My steering is messy - a pitted headset. As the bearings can't come off, I buy a new headset. And seatpost clamp. I don't know if my bicycle is lighter, but my wallet is.

To believe my feelings or my eyes?

To Mandai Road, 43 km. I got a shiny new toy yesterday, made by an original equipment manufacturer (OEM). Being excited, I adjust my toy without reading instructions. A piece falls out, taking my heart along with it. It takes a while to put it back together, then install it on my bicycle. I take it for a test ride today: my first ride of 2007. The Q-factor doesn't feel right. But to the naked eye, it looks OK compared to the old component. What should I believe: my feelings or my eyes? Time will tell - when I test my new toy on a multi-day ride. Maybe I should've bought peace of mind by buying a branded (instead of OEM) version. But who knows if the former (which costs more and heavier) would cause me grief, or would I feel it's better since it costs more and is branded?

Into the heart of Thailand

Dec distance: 1,152 km

Mon 25 - Sun 31 Dec
Phuket to Bangkok, 952 km

Prologue
My past three expeditions in as many years took me from Singapore through Malaysia to at most 100 km into Thailand. This year, I head further north, by air - to Phuket, then ride to the heart of Thailand - Bangkok. This time, as was with previous rides, something chilling happens. In 2003, violence rocks my destination days after my ride. In 2004, a tsunami misses me during the ride. In 2005, floods wreak havoc days before my ride begins, causing deaths of some and evacuation of thousands. In 2006, bombs go off hours after I leave Thailand.

Ride overview

Day	Date	Destination	Km	Hotel
1	25 Dec	Khao Lak	81	Khao Lak Tony Hotel
2	26 Dec	Ranong	206	Royal Princess Ranong
3	27 Dec	Chumpon	135	Chumpon Grand Palace
4	28 Dec	Prachuap Khirikhan	215	Hadthong Hotel
5	29 Dec	Petchaburi	181	Royal Diamond Hotel
6	30 Dec	Bangkok	134	Bangkok Centre Hotel
7	31 Dec	Bangkok	0
			Total 952

Ride highlights
What I learnt (personal firsts)
1. Packing my bike into a bicycle box. The most useful webpage I find is Box your bike (most of the information there is useful, though I made my own modifications like using styrofoam to prevent the box from being crushed when baggage handlers inevitably place the box on its side instead of the right way up.
2.  Using chamois cream instead of vaseline (thanks, VL)
3. Taking a group photo (including self-portrait) while on the move
4. Drafting a van (look below the bumper, around the side and through the windscreen; when drafting a biker, look between the legs instead of just the rear tyre).

What I'm still figuring out
1. Why, for almost 1,000 km, I've seen only one Siamese cat in Siam
2. Why Thailand is almost litter-free though litter bins are widely unavailable, while Singapore is litter-filled (but for the cleaners) though litter bins are widely available
3. Why there is broken glass on the road (more so than in Singapore or Malaysia)
4. Why hot Milo and and well-known isotonic drinks are practically unavailable. However, some shops sell a local, yellow-coloured isotonic drink that is very sweet
5. Why almost all the hotels we stay in have a "no bikes in room" rule though the rooms are big enough.

A holiday is hard work
Day 1: Mon 25 Dec, Phuket to Khao Lak, 81 km. I spend over two hours yesterday removing bicycle parts, bubble-wrapping them and packing my bike into a bike box. I'm concerned the box might not fit into a taxi, so I walk around a carpark measuring taxis. A box measuring 135.5 x 76 cm (width doesn't matter that much) would fit into the usual Toyota Crown taxi. Today, I wake up at 4 am to catch my first-ever budget air flight. It's hard work unpacking my bike and getting it ready in Phuket. Our bike leader is "Ant" - of the flying ant kind - as he leads the roadies while on a moutain bike wih 1.5 inch tyres and so-so components. It's a bad start for me. My pen doesn't work though I dip it in hot water and steam it at the Singapore airport cafe. My tyre punctures. My waterbottle, veteran of three expeditions, cracks on Day 1. My cable housing cracks in sympathy. My mind is about to crack too as I start too fast and drop faster behind the rest (most of the 11 in the group are on road bikes). I haven't fully recovered from my cold.

Khao Lak is tsunami territory. It commemorates the second anniversary tomorrow, at the site where a two-storey, bungalow-sized police boat was swept hundreds of metres inland. At its swiftest, the tsunami had travelled as fast as a jumbo jet. In its wake, tsunami warning signs dot the landscape. I visit the tsunami museum and see signs of the worldwide outpouring of help offered to the Thais.

Slower than a butterfly in a headwind
Day 2: Tue 26 Dec, to Ranong, 206 km. I'm careful not to cycle too fast at the start and burning out too fast. FT passes me and pulls me along for several km but I give up. It's hard when the rest stops are 50 km apart regardless of terrain. It's no wonder that Thailand rhymes with "highland". I amble along at touring speed; slower than a butterfly in a headwind. The countryside looks like Malaysia, dotted with mosques and coconut trees. The locals are clad in sarongs and tudungs. I entertain myself by blowing my nose while on the move; it's hard to drink with a clogged nose.

I keep cycling alone until flying Ant whizzes by. I latch onto his slipstream desperately. The only reason I keep up is, he's riding up hills on his big chainring, on roads that pass peaks reaching up to 1,400 km. It gets dark. I have a rear blinker. There are no street lights. I keep my front wheel away from his rear wheel and from the side of the road, by cycling on the straight and narrow - the thin white line. Light from the headlights of passing traffic helps. I wonder if I should remove my sunglasses but keep them on as insects and other unidentified flying objects hit my face. If they hit my eye, I'll be blinded. I'm the last one in, 40 minutes after the others had arrived. My body screams silently in pain. My engine is still "running" and I have a sleepless night.

The butt of jokes
Day 3: Wed 27 Dec, to Chumpon, 135 km. The first batch (of slower riders) leaves one hour ahead of the rest. I stay back to soak my aching body in the hotel hot tub, which is filled by hotspring water from the tap, before setting off with the rest. After a near collision when a cyclist in the peloton screams and swerves, my heart pumps harder and I ride solo, at my own pace. The fastest rider, B, is the last to leave town as he has his carbon-soled shoe stitched after it fell apart. Also falling apart is my butt; it is forming a community of butt sores. I am momentarily distracted by the Isthmus of Kra and my first sighting of Myanmar. I lick the salt from my lips, as I take a licking from the terrain. Thais are tough. In Singapore, people ride from, say, Ang Mo Kio town to Pasir Ris town (halfway across the island) and consider it a big deal. In Thailand, the distance from one town to another can be over 100 km, which is more than double the length of Singapore.

At the hotel, some cyclists ask for massage. The masseuses who showed up aren't quite dressed for the job ... I don't have a good time in bed either, because I had a bad dream about the office. But I'm glad I had the nightmare, as it meant I fell asleep!


Night cycling
Day 4: Thu 28 Dec, to Prachuap Khirikhan, 215 km. There's an edict that night cycling is banned. I also have a 5 mm gash on my new tyres. The peloton powers away as I stop to fix my flat. The support vehicle comes along and I hold on to it for dear life as it goes over 40 km/h. When it gets too hairy, I let go. Holding onto a moving vehicle is a personal first but I don't want it to be the last thing I do. As I try to catch up with the peloton, the picturesque seaside is scant consolation. Thailand is so hilly, even the coastal road is over rolling hills. A helpful roadie, EL, sticks around to help me navigate the maze of seaside roads.

I catch up with the pack at a rest stop. To get a headstart, I take a shorter lunch break, to beat the "stragglers go up the van at nightfall" edict. There's 60 km left to go and two hours of daylight left. Stress, stress! VL passes me and I hang on to his slipstream like a stray dog hanging around for scraps. Other than those who went up the support vehicles on their own free will, the rest of us stay on the road; I guess the edict is no more. I'm so hungry, I eat two cereal bars while on the road. I'm glad I've made it so far - on a mountain bike.

Bike surfing
Day 5: Fri 29 Dec, to Petchaburi, 181 km. My butt is blue-black; this hasn't happened before in about 31,000 km of cycling. KB drafts me for a while; we're among the last riders. I ride the slipstream of passing vehicles; this is the bike equivalent of wind surfing. When a motorbike with a sidecar passes me, I abandon bike surfing and draft it. In the process, I provide some family entertainment, as the two adults and child look at me tagging along. Too bad the fun ends only after 10 km.

Cyclists start dropping out today, leaving just me and the fast group. I bring up the rear, with the safety van behind me. My eyes are glazed, so much so I almost ride into a car going against the traffic, heading right for me. While motorbikes going against the flow are common, I didn't expect a car. I nonchalantly steer out of harm's way, too tired to panic. The safety van behind me stops but I fail to realise this. Soon, I'm not sure where I am, having made a few turns on my own. Fortunately, I'm in the right vicinity, just the wrong spot. Success is sometimes closer than it seems! The lead riders leave. I stuff my face then get back in the saddle. The driver lets me draft the van, usually around 32 km/h, non-stop for two hours. It's an exhilarating experience. I also find that putting aloe vera on my butt helps.

The end is here
Day 6: Sat 30 Dec, to Bangkok, 134 km. I have the pleasant company of EL and KB today. At the 60 km mark from Bangkok, most riders go up the vehicle, leaving just four riders including me. Again, I bring up the rear. I draft a van, which now goes at 39 km/h. Sweat, sweat. I hear traffic in Bangkok is bad. Having biked in Singapore and Kuala Lumpur , I want to see how bad Bangkok is. As it turns out, I feel safer than in Singapore. There's a risk of getting lost though, as traffic lights and drivers who cut in can separate riders behind from those in front - unless those in front look after those behind.
Reaching the hotel is an anti-climax. Not that I expect a marching band ... but what greets me is the chore of boxing up my bicycle. I'm the slowest to finish the job. I then head for Chinatown and head for Patpong (where the sight of dancing girls in thongs scares my sandals so much, it breaks a strap) and the night market at Silom (where a street vendor seems to have better negotiation skills than I have, though she says I bargain like a Thai).

Day 7: Sun 31 Dec, Bangkok, 0 km. Non-cycling day. It's a no-alarrm-clock day too but somehow I get up at the same time as in previous days. A few of us head to Chatuchak market, where I practice my negotiation skills again. I ask for a discount, the vendor refuses to budge. I name a price, the vendor asks his boss, who pauses, then nods. Was that a show for my benefit or did I get a fair deal? I guess I'll never know. But I know I'm glad I did this ride.


Epilogue
Bad omens are harbingers of bad things to come - but not always. This ride had many bad omens - "training" of less than 100 km a week, a pen that doesn't write, a "veteran" waterbottle that springs a leak and a tyre puncture at the start of the ride. The ride ends well; I've several saddle sores but I'm otherwise unscathed. Only four of out of 11 make it from start to finish and I'm the only mountain biker among the four.

Now that I've given my bike a holiday, I'm taking a holiday from my bike for a while, until it becomes a pleasure again to sit on it. I'll also take a break from bananas, kuay teow and fried rice, my staple food for the past week. 

Recovery ride

To Sembawang Road, 38 km. I spend almost all day sleeping, trying to sleep my cold away as the rain falls. It's been raining hard earlier this week, with record rainfall not seen for 75 years. As I cycle in the evening, I see landslides. In a park, I see a broken lamp post and bent railing, caused by an uprooted tree. Water and earth. So soft, yet so deadly. Today is my last ride on Singapore soil for the year. Next week, I should be riding in Thailand.

"Re-volution"

To Old Upper Thomson Road, 36 km. It pours today, almost all day. Of course it would. I'd waxed my bicycle and this would've been my first ride since then. When it stops raining, I sneak out. Along the road, I see evidence of "re-volution", or regressive evolution. Darwin's theory (it's still a theory, right? It's not been shot down like "the sun revolves round the earth" but it's not survived centuries of scrutiny or martyrdom either) says humans evolved from monkeys. Monkeys don't read. Today, I see humans who, despite years of schooling", also fail to understand signs (some as big as a car) stating "do not feed the monkeys". A driver of a red truck parks on one lane of the two-lane road at a blind corner, so that drivers of overtaking cars have the opportunity to see whether Darwin was right or whether there is a Big Guy in the Sky who made it all.