Isaan Oddessey Part 4

Leaving Nong Khai

I was up and at it early doors (0630), I had the eager fever to get the fck out of Nongy and riding. I’d nearly finished my packing when I heard movements from next door; Ulrich was up and about too! Perhaps I’d been a bit too harsh in expecting him to be wasted. A part of me even felt he’d be as up for the adventure as I was.

My door was open and Ulrich popped, or should I say, fell around the doorway on shaky legs and staggered a bit into the room. How wrong I was, he was wasted alright. Probably still fuelled by the night before.

‘Rawargh! I was drunken last night, still drinking until they closed the door...’ He droaned on. He was in no state to ride and we both knew it.

But it wasn’t my place to control another rider’s free-will either.

Either he took the risk and followed or he used his brain and waited. Choosing caution over crazy saying he’d be staying another day at the town.

He knew I was in no mood to babysit him and wait around, besides which, on a piss-heads whims he might start all over again.

Besides which he’d also been less than enthusiastic at wanting to go to the Biker Week in Khon Kaen.

If it wasn’t now it would be later.

I wished him well and he clumped back into his room.

I loaded the bike up swiftly. A part of me expected Ulrich to come charging down the stairs saying he’d changed his mind.

I throttled it away and bore away eastwards on the Mekong Highway!

To the Edge of Isaan!

The Highway 212 follows the river almost perfectly and carries on past Nakhon Phanom. But it’s at Nakhon Phanom where I’ll be interested in going to. A fine place by the Mekong River it was (by its namesake) a large city worth exploring.

John Galt the bane of the internet buzzcock Stickman Bangkok dwells in Nakhon Phanom.

Known as John Galt aka Man of Galt aka Keith Summers he’s a controversial entity in the game of life in Thailand. With luck I’d run into him whilst there...

I’ve also set myself a speed challenge to reach the city in less than 3 hours. This is not wild-crazy, nor is it careful. The middle ground you might say, with leanings towards furious gallop! LOL

Some people think I’m a little bit speed-crazy and out-there, but for me it’s testing yourself and pushing the adventuring envelope. Besides which who wants to just go along life at a boring pace all the time. Not me baby. You’ve got to rev-up the rocket-thrusters now and again, blow the cobwebs away and ride!

Whether it’s some hot babe in a bar, or a 100 HP sportsbike on a racetrack, you take her for a wild ride and keep it to the limit!

It’s great setting off early, you really feel like the day is being put to good use rather than wasting it away in bed.

Speed speak:

Cushion – 50 to 80 kph

Debatable – 80 to 110 kph

Live – 120 – 160 kph

Edge – 160 to 199 kph

Death-Watch – 200 to 270 kph

Ghost-Watch – 280kph+++

The Abyss! 320 kph++++

This morning, roaring out of Nong Khai was no different.

I took it steady at first, leaving a settlement, town or city first thing at speed is dicey. Many folk are to-ing and fro-ing from homes to work and the journey could end in tears before it’s even started.

I hit the first fuel station and am out of there in a flash. I’m well outside the ‘zones of congestion’ and stretch her legs...

Straight roads, cruisin’ traffic and WR flying towards ‘em. Go get ‘em WR!

I take her beyond the ‘cushion’ of 80 - 100 kph and well into the ‘live-wire’ band of speed in the 120-150 kph region. I even went beyond that and into the ‘edge-rider’ speed category (151-199 kph) and once into the ‘Death-Watch’ speeds of 200 kph++

It’s worth saying that the traffic in the Isaan fringes is very easy-going compared to around Bangkok. It travels slower, is less edgy but still a bit ‘care-free’ with regards to pulling out in front of you.

I carry on, letting the fates and my ridermanship decide on the lottery of traffic as I ride.

The roads are in fine form for the first hour or so. Yet I make a near un-forgivable error on a sharp turn here.

The road banks to the left and although I powered-down for it, the camber ‘dipped-in’ towards the centre line taking me dangerously close to the middle line. Any faster and Somchai’s pick-up would of met the Storm-Child and Watch Ryder head-on!

This disaster avoided I cooled my speed-fever a fraction. I’d keep the power on for the straights and bends, but allow for dip-ins and keep the lean-on and revs higher.

Some cheeky and crazy overtakes followed, then an even crazier pick-up shows off his ‘moves’

Crazy overtake

As the sun passed higher I felt the burn hitting my leathers. Usually at high speed I hardly feel the heat that much. Recently the hot season’s heat was beyond the pale and I knew that today was going to be a scorcher!

I pulled over for a quick bite to eat at a 7/11. Ham and Cheese toastie with liquid refreshment, a trio of thai bozo’s (troublemaking sorts, trust me these guys were lousy) lounged about outside, up to no good. There was an uneasy silence while I stood at my machine and ate, I ignored them as I finished my snack and got out of there. Some say that most thai folk are incapable of riding a heavy sportsbike. While that theory has some merit I certainly wouldn’t want to put it to the test!

Traffic was getting lighter though, and there were times when I felt like the road was my own private racetrack, which I certainly took advantage of.

Indeed this area, being so far away, is possibly one of Thailand’s best kept secrets for highway riding.

I kept the pace at the edge of the debatable band, with nuances and changes accordingly. Make no mistake I was going for a sub-three hour time. I’d set myself a challenge and was going to keep it!

No pick-ups behind me trying to blow their engines in keeping up, it was a cool blast in the fast-lane.

With no Ulrich behind me to worry about, I could focus every facet of my being on speed, the road and my surroundings as I kept on edge riding.

Beyond every corner was a rise and fall of the land with forest, wood or copse. Beyond every tree was a potential track, at every potential track was a potential machine, beast or person who could step out and spell disaster!

I passed them by without incident or evasion, and then the whole cycle repeated itself.

Beyond every rise was another corner... The dangerzone of risk versus reward.

A deadly unwritten equation that has both bedevilled and enlightened man from the first chariot machines of old to horseback riders and then onto modern machine carriages and bike in modern day. The speeds and devices may have shifted. But the hazards are same nonetheless. You hit one and its game over, time to check out in a destructive fashion.

I was fortunate, I didn’t have to risk my luck and skill at accident evasion although once a beast of the field lumber out, but I locked-on early and gauged for it. As it was on the other side the danger was slight, but present.

I slowed down three times for fuel top-ups and for two checkpoints. Stopped at one then away once he saw I was farang.

The long roads continued their allure, great long runs of highway off to the horizon. Overtaking began to take on a surreal aspect now. With clear runs to the next set of vehicles ahead you could see to the vanishing point a distant dot of oncoming traffic change form. You allowed for it as you either picked up speed, slowed down, moved over or a combination of moves as you planned to overcome the next line of traffic and so on.

After 2 hours of hard riding the heat really was pounding down. I stopped a couple of times to get some pics.

I’d reached the mid-point of the leg and was happy with the progress I was making. 130 – 140 kph and all was well. At this rate I’d be in Nakhon Phanom in no time at all.

I took the corners with more edge now, leaning a bit more than I should have but ripping through the distance with ease at 130 kph on a half to ¾ lean between traffic.

A straight period of riding later I casually glanced down to my instruments. Not good, my water temperature was at 3/4. Any more heat and It’d be in the nightmare zone. Too long in the nightmare zone and the head gasket would either blow or the engine otherwise seize up. I wasn’t about to risk that, not even for setting a wild and rapid record. I eased back gently to 100 kph and flicked on the auxiliary fan. This helped bring the level down a fraction, but power response from the throttle was less than enthusiastic. The revs weren’t falling though so I knew there was enough fuel. Benzene 91 was in the tank which wasn’t a brilliant fuel for edge riding with. To be on the safe side I kept her slow for about ten minutes then I took her up to 140 kph again. No problems now, still plenty of punch in her. My enthusiasm for edge riding was spoiled though and I didn’t have the heart for another session of ‘wire-riding’. I eased back again and cruised into Nakhon Phanom after a total journey time of 2 hours 40 minutes. Not bad going if I say so myself :)

End of Part 4

Watch-Rider's story continues in Part 5...

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

An Isaan Oddessey

Prelude to the Adventure

Part 1

Originally the plan was to scout out Pranburi’s biker event in February, but an old friend from Bang Saphan – Ulrich, a wild and eccentric German biking buddy from down south was interested in going up into the Mekong river area of Isaan and touring along it. I checked the calendar of events and noted that on exactly the same day as Pranburi’s biker week there was one in Khon Kaen.

What the hell, I figured; I might as well check out the Isaan one last time.

The bike was in seemingly good order apart from a looming oil change everything seemed well, I dusted off the trusty saddlebags and prepped the kit. I’d be filming the entire journey on helmet cam and carry the all-seeing Lumix for photos and other video.

No laptop this time, I’d be saving on space and weight by using net cafes for processing the video data onto the external HDD.

The route would be a long one, from Prachuap Kiri Khan Province we’d be going around Bangkok, up to Saraburi, past Khorat (Nakhon Ratchisima), through Khon Kaen, past Udon Thani and then finally to Nong Khai. Once there it would be either west or east along the river highways.

Hopefully then there’d be enough time to scoot back down to Khon Kaen for the Biker Week there on the 20 th to 21 st Feb.

Ulrich was staying out in Cha-am and it was there I’d meet up with him.

To put it mildly, he makes even my quirky style look conservative. Germanic style with a towering, loping gait that’s all his own, although he didn’t smoke he certainly drinks enough to make up for it.

The weather was pretty hazy setting out but there were no problems and located Ulrich off to the side of the road on the pavement in Cha-am. With him was the Blue Wolf, a CBR 150 I’d sold him months ago.

Ulrich was of a rough and ragged disposition, volcanic blue eyes bleary and bloodshot.

‘A hard day’s night’ would be the opener if the previous nights involved wine, women and song. Today was no exception; I’d have to take it easy as Ulrich was a complete stranger to the highways and traffic of Thailand north of Cha-am. Having gone over the route with him off we went.

The Adventure Begins...

It had been a month or so since I’d last done any real touring and I was a bit skittish for some reason.

This along with worrying about Ulrich behind me might of been why I didn’t notice the 7 series BMW that nearly smash into me!

It was a near miss and I soon recovered and got into the riding groove. As it was still early the morning air made for a pleasant ride.

Deep down I knew that worrying too much about the rider behind me could be as dangerous as riding with your eyes closed especially with my bikes restrictive mirrors.

I’d intended to turn off at Highway 35 so to have a clear run to the highway 9 ring-road and save us some time.

However in my second blunder I missed it, getting confused with highway 32. This wasn’t a problem, I figured as we’d plenty of time and the road surely wouldn’t be too crazy going into Bangkok. My optimism faded as I weighed up the facts.

It was a Monday and millions of Thais would be streaming their way into the capital from all directions from the weekend.

Highway 4 aka Petchkasem being one of the main avenues of entry would be no different.

Sure enough as we moved onwards to the east the endless rows of traffic lights, the stream of cars and diesel spewing trucks and buses soon reached gridlock point. Ulrich’s usual flare and prowess at blasting ahead to gliss between traffic was of no use here. In fact he was very much a low traffic rider. Filter-streaming between stationary traffic unnerved him. I understood this as I was similar when I first got started in Bangkok years ago.

I was getting unnerved a touch also though and it wasn’t the traffic either. I nagging doubt soon formed and reinforced that the route would pass under the highway 9 without any means to join it. This may seem a little crazy but the map showed Petchkasem as a normal road now with no obvious intersections. If this were the case then we’d have to face the exquisite joys of an inner city transit, something that would surely prove to be Ulrich’s undoing and have him into the nearest 7/11 for Dutch courage!

It was plod and filter for what seemed like an age but the new CBRs first taste of city riding seemed to be ok, as long as the auxiliary fan was engaged she’d keep to the safe zone of the water gauge temp.

Having owned Ulrich’s CBR previously I knew it would have no problem either. Half an hour later this went on for. At one point I cross-filtered a bit faster through a narrow column of traffic, eager to get some air-cooling around me for a bit. After a minute I glance back, my buddy had vanished, unable to keep up!

Bloody hell he really is softly, softly when it comes to filtering! God help him if he had to ride and live in BKK!

I pulled over and, out of a sea of traffic came the brooding German spitting flames and howling like him namesake.

‘This isn’t funny! I could not see you!’ He exclaimed. Volcanic eyes bugged out as he raised his clear visor. He was unnerved alright.

Luckily, as if by providence, the turn-off onto the ring-highway was just ahead on the left.

Suppressing the desire to chastise his slow-coach filtering I pointed to the escape route.

‘Look!’ I shouted, pointing to the hallowed turn-off.

He nodded; the nightmare road could be left behind now. Had I not pulled over so suddenly I’d surely of overshot it, such was the traffic.

We took to Highway 9 like bullets and soon after made it our first stage check-point.

The journey to Saraburi was uneventful for the highway was a world away from Petchkasem. We soon reached Saraburi by late mid-day.

Saraburi

Since my last Riding this place had scarcely changed. The Hotel Babylon still stood gaudily high with the prices bill-boarded onto the side.

My travelling companion, despite being widely considered the master of kee-niowship, readily agreed to the 350 baht a night rooms. Yet I think my careful explaining of the horrors of the Timewarp Hotel nearby might have had something to do with it ;)

There was nothing else to do but wait out the balmy and sweltering day for the next day’s riding. Before I settled in, I recalled the oil-change was due on the CBR.

Figuring an oil change is an oil change I checked at the nearest bike dealership, in this case the Suzuki dealership...

‘Yes can change oil on CBR 400’ the dolly behind the counter chirped.

With those fateful words the Isaan Odyssey merged with an entirely different one as I rolled the Storm Child in and up the ramps and into a right royal cock-up.

The Most Expensive Oil Change in Saraburi...

It started simply enough, first off came the sump plug and out glugged litre after litre of black crude oil into the pan. Only 3000 kms was on the clock from the last oil change. Demanding beasts these CBRs!

In fact so much dirty oil poured out it nearly reached the brim of the drip tray!

One of the dolly birds behind the counter asks me to sit in the waiting room, I decline. One reason being I like to see things happen as they work, the other is I had a lingering intuitive fear that to not do so would be unwise.

Sure enough my biker-sense paid off as two one litre oil cartons were lined up next to it it.

I took one look at the oil rating and winced; SAE 40 was the cheapest stuff out there and nasty. Sure, it does the job for somchai's scooter pootling about town. But for a big cc, old engine that gets ridden long, hard and fast it was beyond the pale.

I knew it was time to phone a friend; in this case the all-knowing machine navigator Mr Kitt.

After burbling the script about the scene in thai he asks me what grade oil. I told him.

‘Mai dee, mai dee, MAI DEE!’ He chastised in his unique chinese-thai accent.

‘Use Mobil 1 premium, racing grade synthetic oil. Anee dee dee. ’ came a piece of Gnosis from the oracle of biking. The name was familiar but sounded pretty hi-tech for these parts.

I asked the mechy if he had any. ‘Mai mee.’ came the sad sounding reply. I'm not surprised. A can of superior suzuki oil appears from nowhere, it still looks less than what's needed.

It was time to invoke higher authority and the power of native tongue; I passed over the phone to the mechy and the master of large cc machinery met the apprentice of mechanics.

And so the quirky verbal duel began. Some more oil came out, it was a better than the other stuff with a higher rating, but not by much. I knew though that if the worst came to the worst I’d have to take my chances with a can or three of Suzuki’s finest.

By now the entire staff were turned out and looking on. Little brown and yellow faces poking out of hatchways and around doors along with cautious customers wondering by a mighty Honda machine was in their midst.

Passing the phone back to me the mech took off on his motorbike. Now on a mission for the sacred oil it was a waiting game. Mr Kitt rang back and we palavered talking about the upcoming Pranburi Biker Week and how I’d be unable to make it and so on.

For the Thais it was a talking game and one of interest.

A little Thai dude shuffled across the workshop with a calliper and began measuring the brake-disc wear. They’d both need replacing soon I reminded myself for the umpteenth time.

Chatting to the TMB clerk about this and that took up time and after what seemed like nearly half an hour the questing mechy came back with the hallowed oil.

I don’t know where I squirreled it from but it was the real deal at 1900 baht! As if on cue Mr Kitt rang up. Telling him the update he asked the price of the oil, telling him this he reckoned that it was a fair price. I did some research later, this stuff certainly does get the cutting edge spiel.

http://www.mobil.com/Australia-English/Lubes/PDS/GLXXENPVLMOMobil1_5W-50.asp

It took nearly the entire 4 litres to get it to a touch over the max level. I paid the money, wincing at how this cost over ten times what it’d normally cost on a CBR 150! Gotta pay for the real deal though, that’s how life usually works...

I got back to the Hotel Babylon and the brooding Ulrich was there. It was time for beers and sangsom and I opened the conversation...

‘Here, I’ve got a story about the most expensive oil change in town...’

Watch-Rider's story continues in Part 2...