So, I thought that I'd write up a day from a couple of weeks ago, as a taster of what we have been up to since Mandalay.
We set off in the morning from Kyaukse, a small dusty highway town (where there is no accommodation licenced for foreigners.....we had dealt with this by finding a hotel and then refusing to budge, and in the end the police were called and gave us special dispensation to stay). Our destination was Pindaya, about 100 miles away and clearly too far for us to cycle, so the plan was to ride / hitch and see how we got on. Mike was a little apprehensive, which I thought a bit strange given the gay abandon with which he had embraced being dumped in Meiktila in the middle of the night for our first day of cycling (see earlier post). I was rather less apprehensive - I have this refrain going round in my head that my friend Mango wrote in an email at the start of our trip - 'it is Asia, something always happens'. I figured we'd find something easily enough.
The first 10km or so were on the main highway but we then headed off on a side road. On our map (which has already proven its fallibility by having the scale out by a factor of two) the 'side road' was a major highway and I had confirmed this with the manager of our hotel, who had assured me that yes, it was a red (ie major) road and yes, it was in good condition.
That was a bald faced lie.
The standard of the road was not a great problem at first, and we meandered along dodging the pot holes and enjoying the scenery of lush paddy fields, thick verdant palms and a backdrop of hazy blue hills. After another 10km or so, Mike suggested that we stop for a rest / cup of tea. Just then, a truck pootled in to view (the first that we had seen going in our direction) and we decided to try and hitch a little way. I stopped my bike in the middle of the road so that the truck had no option but to stop and then edged off and looked plaintively in the window and asked for a lift. He looked dubious but I mimed that the kids were very tired and he agreed to take us on to a village called Myo Gyi. The kids and I jumped up front; Mike and the bikes went in the back. This proved to be in the nick of time as the road quickly deteriorated and we lurched from side to side over the rocky surface.
The view from the windows was beautiful and soon we were in a wide river valley with fields of rice on each side. The peace and serenity was marred somewhat by a number of large yellow dumpers and diggers pounding at great speed up the opposite side of the river towards the head of the valley (cue great excitement from the kids). We guessed that they were building a dam or something similar - either way, the access road was clearly in significantly better shape than ours.
After 20-30 minutes we pulled in to a truck stop and the driver indicated that he wasn't going any further. We regrouped and got out a map. The next town, Yengang, looked a fair distance further on and the road was shocking. A young man at the truck stop had greeted us in English; he was travelling to Taungyi (beyond our destination) by car and I collared him to ask some questions. It transpired that Yengang was 35 miles away that there were no buses or trucks that travelled along the road.
By this stage I was a little nervous. It was nearly 10.30 (ie approaching the heat of the day) and 35 miles was pretty much our maximum even on a good road. This one was far from good. But Mike seemed quite cavalier (note the switching attitudes between us!) and we set off. We got through the village and headed out the other side when we heard a lorry coming up behind us (don't be fooled into thinking that there were many of these; this was the first). We decided to try for a lift for a little way so I flagged it down (its always me that does the flagging). They stopped and agreed to take us. Again Mike and the bikes were loaded in the rear whilst the kids and I climbed up front. The cab was immaculate and we were instructed to take off our shoes and climb on to the cushioned seat behind the driver. Decorations covered the interior - blue and yellow tassels around the windscreen, small shiny Christmas decorations, a yellow lacy heart and two plastic owls sitting within a golden plastic heart. We got ourselves comfortable and the lorry started.
For the next 7 hours the kids and I watched the journey unfold from the relative comfort of the cab. Mike had rather a different time out the back but I'll let him tell that story. Suffice to say that he could scarcely move the following day from being so battered and bruised.
Within minutes of the drive starting, the road started to climb and climb. It very quickly became apparent that we would have struggled on the bikes; or to be more exact, we would have had a major problem. The road was appalling and we inched our way upwards, the truck jolting and careering all over the place. Up we climbed, on and on and on, the view mesmerising, of hill after forested hill. We had one near miss when a jeep came rocketing around a corner and the driver had to slam on his breaks; the stop was abrupt and I was nervous about Mike in the rear; grisly images played through my mind, but as he later said, I didn't do anything about them.
There were no houses and no villages - this a first in Myanmar as every other road has had shops every few km where you can stop for bottled water or tea. We thought back to the truck stop - they had pressed two bottles of water, a cake and some bread on to us and wouldn't accept any payment......clearly they had known of the dirth of options up ahead for weary cyclists!
Eventually as we neared the top there was a road side restaurant - we never would have made it all the way on our bikes. A couple of vehicles had passed us going in the opposite direction but in the time that we spent having lunch, no others appeared going either way. We were very relieved not to be stuck half way up (or, realistically, about a tenth of the way up) rapidly running out of options.
Back in the truck and then a little higher until we went round a final bend, past a hilltop temple, and we crested the top, a pass as it turned out. The view was magnificent and dramatically different from that we had passed through previously. On the way up we had seen only densely wooded hills. Now there was a wide plateau, the earth a rich red colour and the fields a patchwork of yellows, creams, greens and red. On each side of the road were stands of big yellow daisies interspersed with avenues of eucalypts. Bullock carts passed us, their drivers standing fully upright like Roman charioteers.
We started to descend and continued to do so for mile after mile. I was hankering to get back on the bikes - the road had improved on this more populated side of the hills, and I vaguely considered asking the driver to stop so we could continue on two wheels. It was a good job that I didn't as the road deteriorated again and the journey went on and on. Eventually, about three hours after we had clambered on board, we arrived in Yengan. Three hours for 35 miles - it gives an indication of the standard of the road.
Luckily the truck was continuing in our direction and the driver agreed to take us almost all the way to our destination. Finally, finally we came to a stop at about 5.15 and the driver let us off, the kids and I all in one piece (except that Meggie had lost a croc), Mike rather less in one piece and in rapidly declining humour. We cycled the last five miles into Pindaya and collapsed into bed, all too exhausted to do anything else.
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