An unlikely group of riders experience the challenging roads of a foreign country.
In April of 2023 I was hiking in Nepal but found myself with a case of pneumonia and a case of the blues. It’s a beautiful country but I wanted some tropical air to clear my lungs and some tropical heat to clear my spirits. Being too sick to hike, and not in the mood for frozen squat toilets — the standard along most hiking trails — I booked a flight to Thailand with the goal of alternating between scuba diving and reading on the beach.
When I arrived in Bangkok, Natalie, a backpacker I had met in Kathmandu, invited me to meet her in the north of Thailand for a self-guided motorcycle trip with two other friends she made at the hostel. A “yes” felt foolish but a “no” felt like a missed opportunity. I hopped a 14-hour overnight train to Chiang Mai, but due to language errors, I booked one without air-conditioning and that afternoon it was 40 C outside. I arrived at 5 a.m. dizzy and dehydrated and stumbled to the first open restaurant and ordered several drinks. I sat until the sun came up and I started to feel human again.
I checked into a hostel and Natalie introduced me to the other members of the group: Courtney, a sweet woman from Chicago, and William, a Swedish man who had been living in Australia for the last few years. I was relieved that there would be no language barriers between us. I was also worried that I had, by far, the most experience on two wheels. I was the only one with a motorcycle licence and an international driver’s permit. One of the members didn’t even have a regular driver’s licence. I raised my concerns to the group, but in typical laid back traveller fashion, they didn’t seem too worried.
Courtney rented a 125 cc scooter, William and Natalie both rented 125 cc “semi-automatics” which were manual scooters without any clutch system. I splashed out and rented a full-sized bike, a Honda CRF300L. I also had to be everyone’s dad for a second and make sure everyone got a full-faced helmet and a jacket, many of which were scratched and dinged from previous adventures.
Just Chill and Let It Go
The following day, we strapped our gear on our bikes and hit the road. I decided to go light and just run the risk of stinking. I fit a week worth of supplies in a 20L backpack — I hoped one pair of jeans was enough. We got a late start. It turns out my companions are all the kind of people who like to sleep in whereas I am used to getting up before five for work. I later learned from more seasoned motorcycle enthusiasts that start times are a huge consideration when choosing a…
