Out of China and meet the Laos guide with a pickup. We manhandle the stricken bike in and tie it down tighter than an epileptic tiger. Then down to the border to sweat it out. I think they must all be out polishing that bloody gold paint. To spend the night deep in the forest at a facility where they test rainbows⦠And moonshine..
Leave the gates and navigate the huge new brown elephant shit roundabout that appeared overnight, then get out onto the red mud to clamp my arse shut for the day. Blame the Chinese⦠I stop for lunch next to a hairdresser. What did I stop for? The Bitch is not stopping for anything..
Go there yourself. Fuck what a road. Up to the border and yet another beautiful hotel looking out at Thailand across the Mekong river. T he injured rider is still with us. The bloke is made of steel or something. Get to the Thai border and transfer the bike to another pickup. And get our permits stamped by a women that looks like something out the X Files. Those stupid contact lenses just spook me out every time! Get to Chiang Mai and we all go out to say goodbye to our broken mate.
Enter the Mae Hong Son Loop. Jesus H Christ. Ever since I was a kid, when ever I eat my dinner, or sweets, or β¦ well.. I always leave the best till last. This is the last. This is the best. This is total tarmac insanity. I have a theory about the design of this road. The trace he painted with his tail was dropped directly onto the Mae Hong Song loop. I think they just held hot strips of tarmac under helicopters then dropped then on the mountains. This is absolutely ridiculous.
The only downside is my forks. My forks are now for decorative purposes only. As I follow him I watch sparks fly off his panniers in the corners. Ummmmmmm β¦. We all get to Mae Hong Song with our tyres rubbed raw and our throttle wrists aching like single adolescents, then hole up for the night in huts on stilts and listen to the rain pound down around us.
