Our time in Thailand can be easily summarised by the phrase ‘get a wiggle on’. From the moment we had kindly been offered the chance to stay at our friend Claire’s apartment in Bangkok, for a few days over New Year, we quickly set our sights on it. Despite not being city people and despite Bangkok itself not being a place we were drawn to, the thought of having a few days rest, a chance to relax in the pool and, wait for it, a sofa to sit on (!) meant her little apartment became our shining beacon. The light at the end of our tunnel, pulling us onwards, making us wiggle that bit quicker across Thailand.

Drawing a straight line on the map from Vientiane in Laos (where we crossed the border), to Bangkok in Thailand, is relatively simple if you follow the highways. But of course, for us, it wasn’t a straight line, of course we wanted to include a few wiggles in our route – A chance to see some of the more interesting back-roads and lesser-known national parks of Thailand. It meant that we turned what would have otherwise been ten days of very easy, cruisey (read, boring!) riding, into ten days to cover over 1000kms and not an insignificant amount of climbing. It’s been a while since we felt any real need to do days of longer distances, so after a moment or two questioning whether we really did want to do this, we opened our hearts, minds and bodies to welcome in the challenge. We set our sights on reaching Bangkok for New Years Eve – or earlier if our legs and lungs would allow.

We had heard that there were many roads in Thailand that were perfect for cycling – quiet, wide and relatively traffic free – and we definitely found that to be the case. Cycling side-by-side became the norm for a couple of days, and what a treat it was to chat away without needing to worry about traffic and being being bowled over like a couple of skittles. The rural roads of Thailand twisted through sugar farm, after sugar farm, with the occasional rubber plantation for variation. The huge sugar canes being stacked precariously high on old chugging tractors that bellowed black plumes of smoke from the exhausts. The empty fields were then burnt and churned over before being replanted again. It all felt very destructive. That and the ever-present smell of the burning rubbish was hard on the lungs to cycle through. But the addictive draw of the sugar is fuelling the world, puts money in the pockets of the local economy and keeps the fields growing –  the natural, jungle-dense forest becoming smaller and smaller with each new field of sugar cane. And compared to Laos, where the food was very traditional and simple, the effect of the sugar on the population was clear to see in Thailand. There were lots of sugary snacks even in the smallest village store and American fast food chains occupied every high street.

But thankfully for us there was also plenty of delicious Thai food when we found out where to look and what to ask for. The juiciest, perfectly ripe mangoes jazzed up our breakfasts, lunches were mainly rice, eggs and a variety of veggies and we have definitely eaten enough vegetarian Pad Thai for the next few years! In the rural villages, roti (thin fried pancakes, usually served with eggs, bananas and lashings of sugary syrup) were sold from a roadside stall which you could guarantee would be a buzz of excitement in the late afternoon and early evening, with everyone lining up to indulge in the sweet treat. The roti sellers were always the smiliest people – maybe it was the knowledge that their simple, traditional snack was feeding the souls of those who enjoyed it.

And all the great food was what we needed to fuel us onwards with our little Bangkok mini-mission. We started to relished the feeling of the tired legs and lungs at the end of the 100km (ish) days. It felt good to push the body a little. The relentless up and down hills of the Lom Kao District gave us some spectacular views and a great variety of riding. I enjoyed the silliness of singing and dancing along to some classic tunes from the saddle as they motivated me up the hills, along the pancake flat roads and alongside yet another sugar plantation. But it did all start to feel a bit rinse and repeat. Covering ground from one cheap roadside motel to another, day-after-day. That was until one night, as we rolled into a small village as the sun was setting, the locals told us that there was no longer any hotel in town. After a little thinking though they told us that there was however a temple around the corner and we would be welcome to stay there. So after downing our chocolate milk (the Olympians recovery drink of choice!) we set off to find the temple as the darkness of the incoming night was quickly enveloping us. We arrived at the temple but no one was around. There were a few huts with lights on, and wait… what was that… we could hear a TV in one of them. Are monks allowed TVs? I mean obviously they are, as this guy has one. Are they limited to monk appropriate programmes? I mean I don’t even really know what that would be – Strictly? No – too many sequins. Nervously wondering if we could interrupt the TV viewing, we loitered around for a moment or two thinking of what to do. Soon enough a small, old Buddhist monk in his tradition orange robes came out and welcomed us. With no questions asked he offered us one of their huts for the evening and showed us where there was a tap for washing and water. Perfect. With the inner of our tent up inside the hut, to act as a mosquito net, and our sleeping mats snuggly inside, the little hut was all we needed. We were so grateful. Waking to hear the monks morning gong, followed by their chanting meditation was quite the experience, but seeing the monk who had welcomed us sitting on his porch smoking a cigarette as we went to say goodbye was not quite what we were expecting! It always feels a bit strange to have preconceived, idealistic notions of something, like a monks life, and then to experience the reality that includes TVs and cigarettes. It always takes me a little time to readjust to reality, to recalibrate my internal dialogue and remind myself that of course they are human too (maybe just a more compassionate and dedicated kind of human!).

We continued our wiggling, getting ever closer and closer to Bangkok, but it was pretty relentless. One full 6-8 hour day of riding after another, only stopping once to quickly eat some lunch before returning to the bikes again. Christmas came and went, just like any other day on the road. No Christmas dinner – unless you can call yet another plate of rice and eggs Christmas dinner – no Santa, no snowman.

It felt strange to let it pass us by, but equally it would have been insincere to try and fabricate a celebration without friends or family around us. We both found it hard, but we had each other and in that respect we are incredibly lucky to be able to find home in each others arms wherever we are.

Soon enough it was our final day of cycling to Bangkok. One final push of 100km. But after a morning that started with a miscommunication, and lead to a few tiredness-induced tears from me, I quickly started to doubt our (or really, my!) ability to reach the concierge office at Claire’s flat before they closed at 5pm. But as usual, Ted maintained his unwaivering confidence and we pushed on. Thankfully, the approach to Bangkok is pancake flat, and the back-roads we had knitted together into the lines on our map were not too busy until the final 30km. The thought that we would finally reach Claire’s flat by the end of the day acted like the wind in our sails. And the great karaoke playlist we found to simultaneously play in our headphones and sing along too in a silent disco from our saddles saw us through the usual post-lunch afternoon slump. The outskirts of Bangkok were as expected – dirty, smelly, busy, polluted and topped off with the ever-present mounds of burning rubbish. But we also managed to enjoy some time riding alongside the quiet waterways of Bangkok – the narrow, rickety, raised walkways took all my concentration to navigate on the heavy bike, but the prospect of falling into the foul, black, polluted stentch of the water below was enough for me to maintain my focus despite the tiredness.

As we turned off the hectic, chaotic main roads of Bangkok into the gated community of Claire’s flat, we couldn’t quite believe the instant change. Behind the gates, the quiet roads were smoothly paved, lined with trees, and there was even the luxury of a pavement that isn’t dug up, or parked on. The air felt cleaner. In fact, there were more people walking down the road, than there were cars or mopeds on it. People were out jogging and cycling in the cooler temperatures of the late afternoon – the only sign of exercise we had seen in months. The blocks of flats all looked like individual swanky hotels, one garden square surrounded by faux Georgian-esk architecture even had yet another gate to go through to reach it (so it was a gated community, within a gated community!). We felt truly disheveled and feral in comparison to smart, immaculate, white sock wearers around us as we collected the key for Claire’s apartment. But we had made it. And in good time for New Year too. Well done legs!

The little apartment overlooking the river and the impressive Buddhist temple beyond became our haven for a few days as we rested, slept a lot and enjoyed making simple, tasty food in the little kitchen. It was such a luxury to have the time and space to truly relax, without the need to make plans, or any pressure of where to go and what to do next.

It was a couple of days before we ventured further out to explore any of Bangkok.

We mainly hid-away in the fantasy land of the gated community. It did feel a bit like living in the Truman Show for a few days. It was a strange, detached, community that bore no resemblance to the world outside it’s gates. Gleaming white, electric golf carts acted as ‘buses’ to carry people the 500m from their plush block of flats to a small shopping centre at the entrance to the community. No need to walk to buy your Starbucks, or overpriced organic wholefood, you could just jump in the golf cart, or better still, sit in the comfort of your flat and have whatever food you desired delivered right to your door thanks to the huge number of food delivery apps. There was a school and a bank, a doctors, a pharmacy and a dentists, yoga, pilates and barrecore classes, all on site, plus restaurants and cafes offering every culinary delight you could think of. And when you had eaten your fill you could workout in the gym or have a swim in the pool in the grounds of the apartment block. It was all very utopian, so much so that it felt like I was always waiting for the dystopian reality to reveal itself. But it never appeared. As long as we remained within the gates, utopia remained. And I suppose, in a way, that is a prison of its own making. Within the gates you could forget about the reality of the world beyond – the world of pollution and noise and dirt and filthy air.

We remained in our utopian bubble as we welcomed the arrival of 2025 from the balcony of the apartment. Watching the display of fireworks over the temple and the city beyond we reflected back on what an incredible year 2024 has been for us. And with that inevitably came the thought of, what next?

Our loose plans had us staying in South East Asia, heading down towards Kuala Lumpur for another month, but is that what we still wanted to do? Being honest, we hadn’t really enjoyed our time in South East Asia. It wasn’t our kind of riding. We love nature, freedom and wildness – South East Asia had been non of that for us. Having loved the classic novel (then film) ‘The Beach’ as a teenager (nothing, or maybe everything, to do with a young Leonardo DiCaprio I’m sure!) I had always romanticised Thailand as being the land of isolated, white sand beaches hidden behind the jungle and yet to be discovered. But Thailand is now very much ‘discovered’ and to enjoy that feeling of isolation you have to be willing to pay for the luxury of a tourist facade. And we generally don’t feel comfortable in the tourist curated resorts. It’s not how we like to experience the world, it doesn’t feel real to us. It was a bit of a conundrum for us but we had to do what felt right in our hearts and for us, that was leaving South East Asia. We decided to make use of Bangkok being an international flight hub, and we booked a flight out of there. So after a chance to catch up with Claire on her return, and to thank her profusely for her generosity and the haven of her apartment, we prepared to fly again. This time we would be heading back to the mountains, and not just any mountains, but the Himalayas of Nepal.