PAI in the Rainy Season

There's a waterfall at the end of a 7 kms hike through this valley. We managed 500 meters before the 'belakang pusing' (about turn in Malay)

No prizes for guessing that it was wet and muddy in August ! Doesn’t really matter if you’re the indoor type, but with mountains and dirt trails all around, mountain biking or even mere morning walks through scenic countryside will surely turn into a mud fest. And not too long ago back in August and September of 2005, the  Pai valley,  parts of it being an alluvial plain were hit by devastating floods which brought down tons of mud, rock and debris from the surrounding mountains. Imagine a small stream no wider than a road turning into a force of nature, wiping out river banks, houses and cars in one fell swoop. Two actually. Long time Pai resident, Chris P. an American has a very detailed blog here, http://allaboutpai.com/flood

We visited Pai again 6 months later in early 2006 and the effects of those floods were still evident. The locals had a secluded dumping ground, in a forested area where heaps of broken and rotting wood, construction debris and the odd rusting car were kept hidden away from visitors’ eyes. Guest houses by the river that were swept away in the night, showed exposed plumbing and even toilet bowls. Amazingly no one drowned or were reported missing. No one with a Thai ID or foreign passport at least. At the fancy River Corner Resort where we stayed in 2003,  4 bungalows by the river were gone. In it’s place was a new and wide riverbank with concrete slabs, presumably a car park. www.pairivercorner.com

Remains of a bridge over troubled water

The tourist dollar that this mountain town attracts meant that rebuilding bridges across the Pai river and even new guesthouses, is a yearly or more affair. Competition is fierce amongst the trinket shops, massage places, restaurants and hotels. Ironically we did not see any of this hustle and bustle this time round.  It looked like the Pai of 2002 when 10 of us went mountain biking there. The low season has it’s rewards. Room rates discounted at 50% or more, absolutely no crowds, unlike the thousands thronging the streets at year’s end, and business owners who actually had the time to talk to you, instead of just nodding grumpily, overworked but with tills and pockets overflowing with $$$.

Our relatives who were in Pai for the first time could not see what the fuss was all about. I don’t blame them, coming from a place like Melbourne, this was the absolute Thai boondocks, 4 streets, 2 traffic lights, sleeping dogs in the streets, wooden houses and some resorts in the countryside.  In 2 hours of slow driving around we had seen the whole place / town / valley  that was drivable.  I’ve been to Pai 8 times, and with the right mountain bike and weather, a month or so would be just right to ride my tyres bald. Occasional wifi would be nice (it’s the norm now)  but, I’d be too busy exploring the valley and spider web of dirt trails that dot the hills here.

www.paibaanthairesort.com Amazing Thb 600 / US$20 low season rates

In the Shan Burmese lingo, Pai actually means, migrate or simply, GO. In the last 10 years, the changes have been so radical that some bewildered locals have packed up and left. They literally went after caving in to big city investors whose offers for their land and homes were too tempting to refuse. No doubt some left unwillingly, instant millionaires or not. The resorts here are owned by big city folk to cater to big city folk. We saw Pai’s newest resort to top them all.  The Montis is an African themed safari like place by the highway. 6 star luxury @ Thb 10,000 / US$300 a night. 2 fake straw giraffes in the lobby to greet you. Empty car park.

Mamacharis for rent in Pai

At just 500 m above sea level the Pai valley is not Aspen, Colorado but the year’s end cool season when nights can get down to 5 deg C is a big draw for Thais, clothed in winter wear, even when the noon day sun heats everything up to 32 deg C.  Cats and dogs are decked out in knitted vests. Then came the movie makers. To date 4 romantic comedies or rom-coms have been filmed in Pai, so now everyone who’s hip and in the know, can say they’ve seen the movies and been to Pai, Mae Hong Son Province. Whilst cycling the tikit in search of a jok (rice porridge breakfast)  I came across 2 Thais on their Vespas.

They too knew of the high season mayhem and decided to ride their scooters 250 kms from home in Lampang, rain or shine, (mostly rain) in search of saner room prices of Thb 300 in August. They agreed that the slower pace of life in this town was an attraction, but apart from that there was nothing else much to do. That was the whole point of the ‘old Pai’  Hand made hammocks sell well here. That and bikinis knitted by the same two grandmothers in front of their homes, since the last millenium. There’s also a sizable Muslim community in town and their grand mosque sits behind 2 rows of shop houses that they  lease out to the trinket / tourist shops. The 2 Muslim bakeries in ‘town’ also cater to a handful of non Thai residents yearning for something other than rice or noodles.

Where can I get a sign like that ?

What of the backpackers and Lonely Planet crowd who first discovered Pai?  Seasoned hands have left save for a few diehards who have matrimonial or property ties to Pai.  Ex PM Khun Thaksin’s war on drugs must have played a part too as the availability of certain special weeds dried up, or were channeled elsewhere in the Kingdom. The Burmese border is close by and my friend Paul and I have first hand encounters with the Border Police. http://chrisgrrr.wordpress.com/2010/06/09/pai-yes-migrate

See what a slice of Pai and good ol’ mountain biking can get you into ?

I guess another cappuccino wont hurt !

Yours truly watching the rice grow in Jan 2003

Pai to Mae Malai

Sunday May 2, 2004, 95 km (59 miles) – Total so far: 386 km (240 miles)

We seem to have hit the northern Thai mango showers season. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mango_showers

Sudden, heavy rains with strong winds that start in the late afternoon and die out as fast as they started. No complains really as these rains bring a breath of fresh air each day and also less dusty roads to cycle on. Our first one was in Chiang Dao in the dead of night, and now a couple of times in Pai. As we sat sipping hot tea after a great two hour massage, another storm hit. Rushing to close the windows in the living room at the massage place, I realised that the new windows had no panes. It’s in places like these that remodelling a home carries on when the kitty has some money. Just like the lady who closed her sundry store and phoned a neighbour, then directed us to a bedroom above for our massages.

After two thoroughly relaxing days, we reluctantly left Pai down the 1095 to Mae Malai, the town with great tim sum. That was as much a driving force at the mumber of down hills that awaited us today. We followed a quieter parallel road for abut 15 kms before it rejoined the 1095 at Pai’s hot springs. There are a number here in the valley, but probably best experienced in the year end Thai ‘winter’ and not May’s sizzling 35 degrees C. That’s like steaming a previously boiled lobster, in an oven. Overkill. By now we were used to the heat and humidity, or was it the massages that made the 95 km ride not too daunting? Paul was all smiles, mostly because we knew where we were going. It’ll be a long time coming before following me on another, ‘the trail across the mountains looks interesting’ kind of ride. Ah, humbug to former roadies with no sense of adventure.

We check into the Mae Tang Hotel in Mae Malai. Mae Tang is actually farmland some 30 kms north of Mae Malai where tourists are brought on elephant rides and rafting trips, so if you ask for the Mae Tang Hotel without emphasizing ‘hotel’ you might just be sleeping with some elephants. The lady owner here is used to touring cyclists and there’s even a bike rack of sorts in the lobby. Plonk in the front wheel and lock. The restaurant has some really pretty staff, seemingly more interested in comparing make up and hairstyles, than showing us a menu. It was empty at dinner time, so you have to ask yourself why? Their menu’s pricey and there’s tons of street food outside, that’s why.

Pai: yes, migrate

Last night, we pretended to be too tired and decided to sleep just after our bedding arrived at 8. We had to, if we wanted any real sleep further on into the night. What would the guys at a camp like this do to fill up their long nights? Two words, booze / women. We were invited for both. Hence the act to be tired and sleepy. We had a pretty good excuse. Cycling from Piang Luang most of the day. It wasn’t easy, lying flat on a floor, for 3 to 4 hours while a party was going on just beyond the walls of our room, while not really feeling sleepy at all. The guys must have packed it in sometime between 1 or 3 am. Next on the programme? The Muang Noi Border Patrol Snoring World Championships. Really sleepy now but kept awake by the ruckus above on the second floor.

What gives ? Only one guy is in uniform, the rigid one

Like a real army camp, MSG gave us about 30 minutes to pack up and follow their Unimog to Pai at 0730 hrs. What? There goes our leisurely morning, to eat, crap, take some photos (but not the camp proper) And what about the remaining 33 kms, downhill to Pai? No, no and no. Pulling us aside, he asked, “Do you want to die, today?” We took that as, take the free ride, as the road conditions will be just as bad as the day before. We must have looked like death yesterday, then. In all probability, he felt responsible for our safety, even after our departure from the camp. He looked like he had the worst hangover and couldn’t wait for everyone else to leave him to some quiet time.

As a slight consolation I must add that we did enjoy the ride on the unimog, interacting with some of the guys and finding out what goes on in camp after dark. OK not all the female company last night were 100 % female. They just looked like it in make up and heels. Yup pretending to sleep was a good idea after all. Life in camp, maintaining the border, took up 20 straight days a month, with the remaining 10 days for R and R in the towns of Pai or Mae Hong Son. To save money, the single guys would stay in other camps or their headquarters in the larger towns, while the married men returned to their homes. Today was Day No. 21 and there were many smiling faces on our truck, at times coming to a standstill, finding it’s way in first gear, down some very steep switch backs, on the bone dry road to Pai.

The daily 'bus' up the mountain

After we got off the truck at Pai’s bus station, I figured a token sum of 500 baht or about $12 to be given to the Captain for their hospitality last night. He flatly refused it and gestured that it was ‘thank you the Thai army’ Now we really felt bad and thankful at the same time. I knew what to do. We got a six pack of beer, some fruit and snacks at the market and put it all down on the driver’s seat while the rest of them were taking a break at a coffee shop. While we were cycling off later, they overtook us, the driver honking and thanking us, open beer can in hand. Though he didn’t as much as speak 10 words to us, we figured that he was the one who also bought two bottles of water and two cans of Coke, (his bunk was on the ground floor, where we slept) leaving them by our panniers last night. Amazing. Even more so is another of Paul’s random thoughts. Something that I’ll remember in my old age. “Do you think that they share their women too?”

From the Pai pictures, you can tell that we did more eating than cycling. It’s a small cross roads town, hemmed in by mountains, on the 1095, part of the Mae Hong Son loop, a winding mountain road boasting a couple of thousand hairpin bends. These days the loop and sleepy towns along the way is one very well beaten and ridden path in the Thai north. What’s interesting are the other thousands of off road trails within and around the loop. I once harbored thoughts of living here for a few months, but I’ll probably miss my wife and some of my bicycles, and in that order please. Mrs Paul will also blame me for being a bad influence. Interestingly enough Pai translates as ‘migrate, or ‘go’ from the Shan Burmese language, right across the border.

Over the last decade, Pai has bagged the gold medal for being the most touristy town in Mae Hong Son province. Another Chris sums it up pretty well, if not very detailed, www.allaboutpai.com Sacrifice your lunch hour and read on.

Like a kid in a candy store

Piang Luang to Muang Noi: via Wiang Haeng

Friday April 30, 2004, 80 km (50 miles) – Total so far: 271 km (168 miles)

Today’s dire stats :

Stage 1 : Piang Luang guest house to Wiang Haeng 13 kms.

Stage 2 : Getting lost 25 kms riding out on the wrong trail head to nowhere. Actually it dead ended at a small dam. No chance of riding over that.

Stage 3 : Wiang Haeng, rather Kong Lom, the correct trail head, to Muang Noi, as the crow flies 10 kms, as the wheels turn 42 kms

Having been to Chiang Mai 9 times from 2002 to 2009, I thought it would be nice change to ride off road trails close to Burma and seek out some ‘soft’ adventure options on a mountain bike. Strangely and feeling slightly proud of it, I’ve never saw the delights in doing the typical tourist thing.

Stuff like jungle trekking to hill tribe villages. Dining on cold, suspicious food, sleeping with a dozen strangers in a bamboo hut, sharing a one and only squatter toilet in the village, or riding on an elephant, seeing them play soccer, or go pet a tiger cub at the Tiger Kingdom, and experience the goings on at ‘the Monkey Center’ or ‘Snake or Buffalo Farm’

Instead we wake up today in Piang Luang, a one horse, two road village 4 kms from Burma. It’s one of those places that a Burmese refugee would mimic a throat being slit if you say you’re going to cycle across the border. Local Thais usually shake their heads in disbelief, after the initial shock of such an idea. Anyway the border crossing here catered to local traffic only. All others, keep out.

a great sunrise in Piang Luang

That said, I guess the startled army rangers at the two checkpoints, where we begged for water, could be saying the same thing. ‘What in Buddha’s name are Dumb and Dumber doing pushing their bicycles up our mountain trail?’

At Checkpoint No 1, after 12 kms of cycling and pushing uphill, we were greeted with suspicion and outright pity. After they turned their GPMG muzzles skywards and away from us, a low ranking GD Man (‘general duties’, ie, does everything as ordered) brings out a Godsend kettle of water which we promptly finished and asked for another. We even sat down at one of their picnic benches overlooking the Burmese border.

A spiffy young looking officer did the interrogation. He seemed in charge, and very relaxed in a baseball cap, a ‘I love Hawaii’ tee shirt and army fatigues elsewhere, while the others were in full battle gear. After checking our passports and a barrage of who, what, when and why, especially the why, he sort of pointed us down a very overgrown and unmarked trail 30 kms to Muang Noi. Huh ?

I wanted to ask him about his groovy tee shirt, but seeing that they were the ones with the weapons, I went a step further and questioned his sense of direction. We rode a great single track downhill for a while, then U turned just to ask him if this was really the correct way. Why couldn’t we just stick to the main dirt road? Well that was because the ‘big road’ leads to Myanmar, he would have to open his gantry and file a whole lot of paperwork, say if we disappear and a search party descends on his outpost a few weeks later.

Now he got angry and said that his map, pointing to his head, in his brain I guess, was more accurate, and to make his point, took my map and threw it to the ground. OK people with the weapons, I concur. Their campsite looked great too, but we had worn out our welcome, and drank a lot of their water, as the lieutenant practically shooed us away, going back to whatever kept him happy on this mountain top.

In situations like this, Paul likes to be as confrontational as little. I spot him hiding in the shadows of the trees, looking at his stopwatch and pondering lost minutes. He was keeping track of average speeds and the 40 kms or so we had to do today. We plod though 30 kms of singletrack and still doubted how the Thai troops could drive through paths narrower that a wide girth Hummer. At the very most Mr Hawaii would be sending us to oblivion just for the fun of it, but just imagine the paperwork? In retrospect our encounter with an English speaking Thai army officer was not so bad. He could have just turned us back to Wiang Haeng. Now that would really suck, big time.

Are we there yet ??

Here’s when the going really got tough. We were down to walking and pushing our bikes. In times like this, if you have bar ends, adjust them vertically, like some senior riders do. Grabbing the bar ends make pushing a little easier. When you’re on the verge of collapsing in a Thai jungle, every little silly advantage helps. We harbour thoughts of ditching the bikes and walking out to the first village we chance upon. No chance, no villages to be seen, or at least they were hidden. We did come across the only traffic on this trail, two barefoot monks who gave us a glimmer of hope as they had walked from Muang Noi or a village sounding like that.

That hope was demolished each time we rode ourselves into some dark and deep ravine, hauling out bikes over some small stream, seeing if the water was potable too. Then the inevitable, endless pushing up the other side into streaming sunlight, hoping to reach any ridegline with a view of somewhere. Nothing. If memory serves me right, we went through a dozen or so of these nothing viewpoints. At lucky number 13, the vegetation changed drastically. Going downhill the plants and tress were bone dry, there was the smell of smoke and even burning embers by the trail. This had better be a good sign of crossing a major watershed. It was, and the steep, rutted downhill path on which we made up some time, even had some views of cultivated valleys in the hazy distance. Semi civilisation, here we come.

I was relishing this downhill run, taking out my revenge on this trail that has zapped every bit of energy that I had the last few hours. After narrowly missing a few tumbles and wheel sized ruts by mere inches, I slowed down as Paul was nowhere to be seen or heard. No response to my emergency whistles. I actually had to stop as I did crash into a final rut and landed a few bike lengths away. Bike stops instantly, jump off and jog like a silly gibbon a few feet in front of it. Grab any vegetation if you don’t seem to slow down. I tore a glove and scraped a knee. Having your left SPD unclipped plays a big part in saving some pain and blood. Paul showed up a while later, both gloves torn and both knees scraped. Slightly moody, but brightened up when I explained my watershed theory. Twice.

He muttered that while we were separated for the first time on the ride today, he had crashed a few times. That would be normal, given this rutted trail, laced with dark, blind corners. Crashing, while riding uphill is just too embarrassing. That would be on par a few hours ago, with my pulling Paul aside and saying, ‘Whatever happens, please don’t leave me in this jungle!’ We can get our bikes later, but…..repeat previous sentence. I’ll blame that on a very deep, dark and slimy ravine and depleted energy. The two drops of water left in my bottles didn’t help either.

Now you know there is a God, of course there is, there are quite a few these days, just choose the proper One, and here’s where humanity will beg to differ. Oopps, better get back to what God has sent. A small beat up, black Honda motorcycle, parked by some burnt out tree trunk. Brudder Paul, check it out, a machine here. That means people, a village, food and drink and dare I say it, guest house.

It was 5.30 pm and light was disappearing fast as we found our spots, stretched some lycra and drained out what little trickle there was out of our bladders. As I looked down upon my trickle, it was making a plonking noise hitting a plank that read, ‘Muang Noi 1 km’

What a satisfying pee that was.

Fine art at the border patrol camp

The trail widened into more dirt and then turned into a concrete road quite common all over rural Thailand. Disused rice fields in the dry season. We see wide eyed Karen villagers, wooden homes, satellite dishes and a phone booth, minus the phone by a basketball court. Noticed a beat up Toyota Hilux, the village bus I guess. There’s transport and a dirt road to Pai 33 kms on. That will be on tomorrow’s plate.

As usual we find a small store and head for it’s refrigerator. Half frozen cans of Coke. Wow. We down a few, and started to look for the village Hilton. Apparently there are lodgings here, but secret ones, reserved for the chosen few and known only to a special class of leaders, like the north Thailand tourist trekking guide. Book such a trip and sleeping quarters are guaranteed.

As for us? No, no guesthouse here. Plan B. We found a school, that meant classrooms, shelter and possibly the school toilet. It was better than nothing and better than the benches at the sundry store. Salvation came when a soccer ball flew out of a cluster of white buildings that was to be Check Point No 2. I kicked the ball back over a fence and was waved to come over by some kids. I guess the guys here were used to lost, hungry and desperate looking mountain biking tourists. We were literally ushered into the compound, had our bikes parked in a garage for us and asked whether we needed a place to sleep tonight. The open garage seemed pretty good but we were shown into a huge and clean store room of sorts with a bathroom and shower attached !

Our luxurious store room, beats sleeping in the open

Our saviour had an Auatralian accent, wearing a fitting camo T shirt that read, ‘Special Forces, East Timor’. Rank was Master Sargeant or MSG. Our language problem solved, more surprises followed. A GD man appeared to sweep our floor, some bedding arrived and dinner was announced, as long as it was fried rice with sliced pork, out on a park bench by the garage. We were bowled over time and time again by such unexpected kindness and hospitality. Either that or we’ve just joined the mountain Border Patrol. Was that why we were asked whether we had any women with us or food in our panniers, in that order?

MSG also apologized that we had to eat by ourselves as the rest of them about 10 had an important meeting to attend to, at their dining hall cum kitchen that overlooked the school. I learnt later that night that the army had not paid their salaries for the last three months, so their Commanding Officer, just a Captain and some men were going to a bigger camp at Mae Hong Son town, 150 kms away to lodge a complaint, as the Captain himself had no more money to lend to his subordinates. Sad.

I totally regretted taking less than ten pictures of our off road exploits today. Must be the extremely low morale, thirst and hunger that puts photography at a very low priority.