A Whole New Ballgame

Never...ever, as an adult, have I had to push my bike up a hill. After thousands of miles of bicycle touring in Europe, the U.S. and Asia I have finally had to face the shame and defeat that N. Thailand has dished out. Everything...all the moaning, whining, complaining, and even wimpering that I've done so far? Forget it. It's all been the writing of the uninitiated. Like someone complaining about the heat of black pepper before tasting a red chili. But I now have been initiated. Northern Thailand has shown me things I thought only God or satan could. The places of despair and anger and futility that pull things out of you that you wish would have stayed in. Sure there were the hot days of hallucinations and talking to myself down in S. Thailand...where sweat stung my eyes and blurred my vision. Sure there were the lonely days of wanting to have a conversation longer than "hello". There were times after cycling for days that progress could hardly be measured on the map. Ahh, the good old days.
Riding out of Chiang Mai was a joy as it had been almost 6 weeks since I had been on my bike. My legs felt good and rested. I now realize that rested means atrophied...6 weeks of sitting and menu gazing makes for lousy traing. But I was finally headed out of town toward Laos knowing I would soon be off the crowded polluted highway. Fourteen km later and a right turn showed a world that is quiet and wonderful and full of water buffalos and rice paddies. There is a feeling that I get when I am out here propelling myself quietly along, using no fossil fuels and watching the world pass by that I can not describe. Self reliance, pride, elation, alive, physically strong, adventurous, ecofriendly (OK, I can describe it) are some words that come to mind. There is a peacefull understanding that all is right and all is as it should be. Had I known that just 6 hours later every one of those feelings (except eco-friendly) would be stripped from me and left me to feel just weak, inadequate, tired and stupid I might have turned around. Nah, everyone I met already had warned me about a new kind of hill in N. Thailand but I didn't listen. It's not like I would have changed my plans but maybe I would have unloaded a few things before the hill climbs. Things like Presta, my new battery operated shiny, golden, one-armed, waving kitty-cat that I thought would be hilarious outside my tent every night keeping me company as I camped out. Presta was weighing heavily on my mind, and without the hilarity, the first time I hit the monster hills. Or other things like clothing that I bought for friends back home, books, a knife that no longer opens, or the down jacket that I might use someday, or the 2 extra pairs of shoes (rumor has it that the king of Thailand has only 3 pairs of shoes...and I'm right up there with him...on a bike!). OK you get the point, a catalogue of the absolute useless crap that is in my panniers being hauled up the mountainsides of this country doesn't make for the most exciting reading. I just wanted to be clear about the feeling stupid part.
I've ridden some steep mountain passes in my time. And there is one thing they all seem to have in common that is lacking in Thailand...foothills. The nice little rollers that introduce you to the mountains ahead. The ones that say, "Welcome, friend, you are going to have to get it together soon because in a little while your gonna be in a world of hurt"...like a puff of air on a still day that warns of the impending storm. Here in the paddies of nowhere, minding my own business, the looming hill just ahead seemed to say, "What the hell are you doing on a bicycle?" It's a question I've asked myself over the past 3 days many times. There are no foothills here. From rice paddie to steep incline, the road changes incline so fast that I have to rapidly downshift into my lowest gear to avoid losing all momentum. The roads start steep and stay steep. Or worse they tend to get steeper. On day one of my re-introduction to cycling, after 5 hours of HARD riding, the hills just went crazy. Surrounded by the most amazing scenery of steep cliff sides and tumbling valley walls and coffee plantations, the road just shot UP. The switchback ahead curled around the bend recalling a paved spiral staircase. I was already exhausted and sore and my knees were having discussions with my common sense. I just buckled. I had run out of wimpers long ago and just shouted out a big F#%$$& to the world who didn't seem to care a whole lot. I was still 2 km from the summit and the sun was starting to head down. I was beaten...done...paralyzed. I stood there for the longest time as mopeds crawled up and cars groaned in first gear spewing black clouds. I got it together and started pushing my bike up the "staircase" having to stop every 10 steps or so to catch my breath. My pulse hovered around 160-180 just pushing Presta and her mobile home up this road. Now it's acually harder to push 80 pounds uphill than it is to cycle it, but when your legs and the gear ratio on your bike meet their limits you get off and push. I don't know how long the last 2 km took to walk but the carrot of the town/lodging/and food kept me going. As I walked, I also considered the other thing that most roads (outside of Thailand) have in common...some sort of engineering. The sort that puts turns in roads so as to make the ascent easier...or at least doable. Maybe it's cheaper to just go straight up the hillside though, as that seems to be the common theme in roadbuilding here.
As the milemarker read zero and the summit came into view, the town didn't. I was met with an amazing view of mountains and trees and valleys as far as I could see. I was also met with frustration. The light was fading and I was done. To the right the road stretched uphill. To the left a steep drop to a town and hopefully food. Yeah, I went left and what had taken me hours to achieve had been erased in a mind-blowingly fast and scary descent in just about 5-10 minutes (a descent that I would have to climb the next morning!).
What occurred just outside of that town strengthened my faith in humanity as there was no store or market for food down here, and no lodging. I was brought to the house of a man in 50's who set up a place for me to sleep on his floor and cooked me the best meal of rice and some green beans that I've ever eaten. After dinner, when I bit into the bar of imported chocolate I just started giggling like a fool. I'm not sure why. And he smiled along. The connection we shared was limited by language and culture and yet it was deep because it transcended both. He was a human being helping fellow man and it is a lesson I hope to remember for a long time. It washed away a lot of the pain (that and the HOT! shower) and gave me courage to get up the next day and do it all over again.
I'M NOW NEARING LAOS AND MAY BE OFF LINE FOR A FEW DAYS...OR DEAD...SO STAY TUNED.