From Pai we made our way south to Mai Hong Son, following a route artfully called “The Loop” that’s popular with motorcycle tourists. The first three days of climbing out of Pai had me hanging my body over the front of my bike to keep the front tire from popping up off the road. The hills were steep and relentless and necessary to tackle as early in the morning as possible. We stopped in small towns, waiting out the heat in the afternoon and exploring in the early evenings. By this time we were miles from the Mekong and making our way along the Moie, an unofficial border between Myanmar and Thailand. A day out of Mai Hong Son we ran into the first and only cycle tourist we would meet on the road in Thailand- a jovial, Hawaiian shirt clad Kiwi traveling light with two tiny, half empty panniers. I was green with envy. Because our original plan had us biking through the mountains of Tibet and Nepal through May, we were lugging at least five extra pounds of winter gear, including 3lb zero-degree sleeping bags. The extra weight was particularly insulting as the terrain steepened and the thermometer rose, but ditching the gear wasn’t an option considering the last leg of the trip would take us through the roughest conditions.
Mae Hong Son had a subdued feel to it. The city was tucked in a lush valley and showed all signs of a popular tourist haunt, but the hollow restaurants and quiet strip of shops along the main market implied that the escalating violence in Bangkok was responsible for thinning the herd. The central lake and surrounding temples made up the urban draw. We found a comfortable hotel nestled in an alley off of one of the concentric roads ringing the lakefront and took two days to rest rubbery legs and explore by motor bike. The Mae Surin falls were spectacular. Our waterfall visits had been hit or miss (mostly miss) due to the delay in the monsoon, but this time we lucked out. The falls normally rage, so the dry season is really the only time of year when swimming is possible. We played under the tamer cascades and dove into pool after pool of refreshing, clear, green-blue water. The park was free (as compared to the $10 fees we paid near Loie) and empty. We headed to the hot spring on the other side of town to find it had been captured and held hostage as an expensive day spa, so we skipped it to cruise the countryside and chase after a hard to find canyon. We found underwhelming trickling falls, enveloped in uniquely weathered, spongy rock formations resembling bronze meringue whipped into skyward peaks and slopes. Tanks nearly drained, we headed back to the bikes to find them, and the nearby fence, literally dripping with fluorescent yellow caterpillars. I did my best to shake and sweep them off, but found myself dodging darts of bright mush catapulting from nooks and crannies for a good mile.
From Mae Hong Son we took on a less touristed route and made out way to Mae Sot, a transshipment point and the only open border (for tourists) between Thailand and Myanmar. The road grades between these two cities remain the steepest I have ever cycled…or seen. The combination of steep terrain and rural surrounding meant that we had to maintain high enough mileage to reach food and water by the end of each day. Mae Sariang was a comfortable mid-way stop. We stayed at a family run hotel and the giggly company of two sisters who came to our room toting a costume box and plenty of spunk. It rained with impressive force the morning we planned to head out of town. We had only 40k to go to Mae Ngao National Park, so we risked frying in midday heat and headed out just before noon. The skies were friendly when we left, but the clouds gathered, darkened and burst just 2k from our destination. When we arrived we were told that the park was closed, despite the fact that our Kiwi friend has stayed just a few days before. The park rangers were reluctant to offer up one of the empty bungalows, but apparently our pathetic looks of dejection and our drenched state was enough to win us a huge three bed/two bath bungalow in the end. The power and water had been shut off to the cabins for the season, so our hosts brought us a thermos of hot bathing water and delivered omelets, steamed forest mushrooms, and a pot of rice for dinner. The downpour finally subsided sometime after sunset, promptly followed by a barrage of winged jungle bugs. Thousands of them found their way through the small holes in the window screens and honed in on our headlamps. We sealed off the rooms as best we could, and woke up the next morning to a carpet of carcasses.
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