It was hard to get up this morning as after our long ride of yesterday and then staying up late with our hosts. Plus we spent the night in a comfortable bed and, with shades on the windows, no sun to wake us. After coffee and a delicious breakfast of ham, eggs, and potatoes we headed for the garage. After 2400 miles of hard riding and noisy chains it was time for some much needed maintenance beyond the daily fettling. With the very kind assistance and advice (and garage, and tools, and rags, and enthusiasm) of Glen, we set to work on the bikes.



The first order of business was the chains. After we removed the chain guard on my bike, I discovered what poor condition the chains were actually in. My chain had tight spots to where one run had an inch of play and the other was drum tight. Re's chain actually had a kinked link. I don't know why they degraded so rapidly, we knew they wouldn't last the trip but had expected to get more than 3000 miles out of them. While we are carrying heavy loads and running the bikes pretty hard, the chains have been well maintained. Since we purchased them, the chains have been adjusted and lubed every 300 to 400 miles with DuPont Teflon chain lube. Our bikes, however, did sit on the showroom floor for over a year before we purchased them, so I am unsure of their condition prior to sale.



Regardless of why, they needed to be changed. While I removed the old chains and inspected the sprockets, Glen got out his Dremel and cut the new chains to length. The RK o-ring chains that I had purchased prior to the trip only came in a 120 link length but the Symbas only need 96 of them. The new chains went on easily, but after the chain guard went on, we quickly discovered that the o-ring chain is wider than the stock one, and it was dragging on the chain cover. We removed the covers, spread them slightly, reinstalled them, and everything was quiet once again.



It was also time for an oil change, so while the oil drained and I checked other fasteners for tightness, Glen was kind enough to run to the auto parts store for two new quarts of 10w40 Castrol GTX. The used oil was somewhat discolored but neither black nor burnt smelling, and the oil screens were clean. While the bikes' oil was drained, Glen and I took the opportunity to adjust the valves. I have the Symba shop manual on our laptop and was able to use it to muddle our way through my first valve adjustment on this type of bike. Screw adjusters are certainly easier than shims but finding TDC on these was not very intuitive. We did learn that my bike lacks many of the timing markings on the A/C generator that are present on Re's, too bad we started with mine first! The valves on both bikes were slightly loose and were easily put back to spec. In my visual inspection of the bikes I found that the tires were still in good shape and appear to have enough rubber to make North Carolina at least. I also discovered that we had donated three bolts to the road along the way – Re had lost one countershaft sprocket cover bolt and we both were missing one leg shield bolt each. With inspection done, valves adjusted, new chains installed, and fresh oil in the crankcases, the bikes were once again ready to roll.

I have said since the beginning of the trip that in my toolkit, I have a wrench to turn every fastener on our bikes. But while changing the chains and adjusting the valves, I discovered there were three fasteners on the bikes for which I lacked an appropriate tool – a deepwell 14mm socket to turn the crank, a big washer to unscrew the cover to get to the crank bolt, and a stubby crescent wrench to turn one rear axle fastener (that must be a 21mm or so). Many thanks to Glen, who donated those tools to our cause and was a great help in getting the bikes fit.



Re also took the opportunity to clean up the bikes a bit and we spent the rest of the afternoon and evening eating and swapping stories before heading off to bed again.

0 miles today. Topped off the oil in both bikes and added a couple of psi to all the tires.

After another easy morning, rising late and enjoying a home cooked breakfast we bid our goodbyes to our hosts and started down the road again. No maintenance this morning after the marathon session of the previous day. Our time at the Heggie's was a nice break from the road and the bikes seemed to appreciate it as well. The new chains were quiet and smooth and I no longer feared the damage that they might wreak if they broke at speed. We cruised around some of our old stomping grounds and rode to the outskirts of town to see how our old house was fairing before heading back into town for coffee with another old friend. The bikes were parked on 9th Street, a fairly busy street, and we could see them from our table. We smiled at the many passersby who paused when they spotted our steeds and their Oregon plates. At least three people took multiple pictures with their cellphones, but we were enjoying our coffees too much to visit with them.

Jazzed on caffeine, we soon set out for St Louis. The bikes were purring right along, enjoying the lower altitude, smooth roads and relative lack of hills. We marveled at how silent and smooth the new chains were; the clutches were still very grabby, though. It is approximately 120 miles from Coulmbia to St Louis on I-70 and takes less than 2 hours. We, on the other hand, couldn't take I-70, so once again we found the “scenic route” and headed south to ride east along the Missouri River. It was a pretty ride- we'd forgotten how picturesque the town of Hermann was. While it was a nice ride, it also added about 40 miles to the trip and took nearly 4 hours as we soon found ourselves winding our way through the St Louis suburbs on surface streets during rush hour. We spent the warm afternoon idling in traffic and were quite happy to finally make it our destination for the night. We stayed with Michael, another old friend we knew from our days in Raleigh, NC and St Louis. We spent the rest of the evening catching up on life and love and business over Racanelli's pizza and Schlafly Kolsches. We were up well past 1am and finally collapsed into bed for the night.

159 miles in about 6 hours of intermittent riding. The bikes are running good with exception of the clutches.

We rose late today, felling a little “dehydrated” from last night's libations. Suitably fortified by several cups of good coffee, we eventually found our way to the shower and made ourselves decent again. Michael had to go to work, so we spent the morning doing some laundry and catching up on some blogging with the help of Michael's wifi. (We also have a more general interest blog at underboningtheworld.blogspot.com but, be warned, that it is more current than this trip report for those who want to read ahead). We had a favorite place for cheap, non-authentic Chinese food near the zoo, so we headed there after noon to see if it was as good as we remembered. It was, and after again eating too much, we set out for the Maplewood Scooter Company.



This shop was recommended to us by Circleblue, a fellow Symba rider who has put more than 10,000 miles on his bike. They were a SYM dealer until the recent troubles with the importer situation and hopefully will be once again after Alliance can get their stuff together. We met Mike and Jeff who own/run the place and spent some time chatting with them. Mike is a real enthusiast and a knowledgeable mechanic to boot, he gave me a couple of tips on the clutches that seemed to help. I also told him about our struggles with the thin air in the mountains and asked him for his thoughts on replacement needles when he suggested more air instead of less fuel. While we were riding in the high altitudes I considered removing the air filter or even the airbox top, but nixed it due to concerns of too much air and/or no filtration. Mike disappeared into the back and came back with a pair of Uni pod filters he said would fit our carb inlets. He apparently was unable to get a replacement airbox for a cannibalized Symba he acquired and had fitted a Uni to it with decent success. These may be the trick if we are lucky enough to end up in the Himalayas (we are crossing our fingers for a late winter in Nepal) and Mike refused to let us pay for them. Needless to say, if you find yourself in St Louis and need anything scooter related, we recommend the Maplewood Scooter Company. (Seriously, amongst many other scooters,they had 4 Madass 125s on the floor at a very attractive price)



From here we then went downtown in search of another Symba and to get a picture of our bikes next to the Arch. Form his blog and other postings we knew that Circleblue worked near a certain area in downtown and went on a hunt for his Symba, Billie. We knew that he must park outside as Billie was recently blown over in a storm and began circling the likely blocks, eyes peeled for a black Symba. We almost gave up when we spotted motorcycle parking down a sidestreet and found Billie. We pulled our bikes on to the sidewalk for a quick picture and then headed toward the Arch. But no photos for us because all decent portrait locations are now blocked by “No Parking” signs and bollards thanks to the post 9/11 security measures. As it was a steamy afternoon, block-to-block riding was fast losing its appeal.

Mid-afternoon we headed back to Michael's house (and A/C) for an unsuccessful attempt at reupholstering our seats. From back in the day when some of us roadraced, Michael still had several square feet of ¾ inch high density stick-on foam that we used for seat pad material on TZs and such. I removed Re's seat from her bike, removed the seat cover and then carved some seat foam to fit. The new foam was too thick and incompressible to fit under the seat cover with the stock foam still in place, and I didn't feel comfortable trying to replace the foam with this high density stuff. Instead, I just put the seat back together unmodified and we tried the pieces I cut as another layer under our sheepskins.

We ended the day with dinner at a local Mexican place and a can't miss visit to Ted Drewes for way too much frozen custard and deliciousness. If you haven't already noticed, we do enjoy eating. We were already much too full before we got to Ted Drewes, but we may never be this way again! Back home for an earlier night as tomorrow we head east again.

28 miles and too many stoplights. The bikes are good.

After a restless night's sleep, we arose to another warm morning and were itching to hit the road again. After breakfast, Re started packing our gear while I headed to the garage to once again subject the Symbas to my tender ministrations. (I'm clearly running out of synonyms for turning wrenches) Both chains took a slight adjustment, which I expected they would after our break-in run. I also removed Re's lower chainguard and gave it a further tweak to clear the new chain since it was dragging ever so slightly on decel. I again adjusted both clutches, cold this time as recommended, and slightly tightened one of my exhaust nuts. Bikes good, goodbyes said, we rode out into the morning sun once more. We lived in St Louis in 2002 -2003 and felt a little nostalgia as we cruised past the Arch on our way to the Eads bridge which was the only non-Interstate crossing we could find in the area. The drawback to the Eads bridge is that it dumps you off in East St Louis, Illinois, a particularly unlovely and dangerous place to be. We followed our directions that twisted and turned us through the city, and the urban and suburban quickly turned rural.

The hot morning didn't ever really make good on it's threat of another hot afternoon as the temperature stayed moderate throughout the day. As the morning went by, we meandered through southern Illinois trying to keep our speeds a little lower today (but still wanting to make the 350 miles my schedule asked for). We soon found ourselves at the bridge across the Illinois/Indiana border where we each paid our dollar to cross the crazy patchwork of pavement that made up the bridge across the Wabash river. Exiting the bridge we found ourselves in New Harmony, Indiana, a truly beautiful old town. There were a fair number of white, puffy clouds in the sky as we rode through Evansville and on to Owensboro, Kentucky.

I noticed that Re was falling back and having a hard time maintaining a constant speed so we swapped off lead duties a few times and finally pulled over for a bathroom stop. Re said she was zoning and actually found herself nodding off - the moderate temperature, pleasant roads and lack of glare were not conducive to keeping her awake. No better time to have some trail mix and apples and a quick nap in the sun before heading out again. Refreshed and more awake, we motored on into the early evening.

We finally made it to Elizabethtown and another fuel stop. We were both surprised when I checked my iPhone for the time and discovered it was already after 8 pm as we had apparently crossed yet another time zone. While I pumped the gas, Re asked the cashier and a couple of patrons about the location of any nearby campgrounds. No one knew of any close by so we continued into Elizabethtown hoping to spy a handy road sign or billboard. No luck, so we spotted the local Motel 6 and rode over to see if they'd left the light on for us. As we had recently spent several nights rent-free paired with Re's sleepy day, we decided to go for the relative luxury of another night indoors. While Re carried the bags into the room, I locked the bikes and gas cans to each other. Somehow, we seem less worried about the security of our gear and bikes in campgrounds than we do at hotels. Everything secured, we walked across the road for a stomach ache from Taco Hell. Neither of us have eaten at a Taco Hell for several years (and we were never totally sober when we did) and we both now remember why. Back to the hotel and off to bed for dreams of flatulent chihuahuas chasing our Symbas across the the savannah.

349 miles in about 11 hours of riding. We rode in 4 different states today, a first for the trip. The bikes are running well, the clutches still aren't smooth but they are better.

Up early again in preparation for the long day ahead of us, we found our bikes exactly as we had left them. I unrolled my tarp and spread out my tools in the parking lot and set to the bikes. I was happy to find that they needed the least amount of maintenance of any day on the trip so far. Just some chain lube and one psi in each tire and they were good to go. While I worked on the bikes, Re headed across the street to McDeath for more grease and coffee. I figured the best treatment for a burrito induced stomach ache would be a full frontal assault. As we rolled out of town, I pointed out the campground that was less than a mile from the hotel and laughed.



Our route for the day was fairly confusing with lots of turns and confusing road signs, so I wrote them on a post-it note that I stuck to the headlight nacelle. It might have been a sign of things to come when I noticed that it blew away within 30 miles of starting out. The morning was fairly uneventful, and it was a pretty ride through the rolling bluegrass of Kentucky. As lunchtime neared, we found ourselves in the town of Pineville, Kentucky where we pulled off of the highway to look for some Clif Bars and fruit. Not finding any on this street, we headed back onto the highway and looked for another likely street. As we came to a stoplight, I spotted a sign for a Subway and a grocery store on the street to the right. I said, “This looks likely” and thought I had clearly indicated where I was talking about. I flipped on my right turn signal and pulled away when the light turned green. We usually ride in a staggered formation with the outside rider taking the lead. I was leading at the time and consequently pulled out first. I saw that Re was also accelerating smartly, but assumed it was to make it around the corner two abreast. I assumed wrong. As I began to turn right I heard the unmistakable sound of a front tire locking up and looked back to see Re struggling mightily to keep her way too top heavy bike upright. She had managed to stop without t-boning me, but now the bike was leaning too far over for her to save it. I jammed on my brakes and came to a stop in the road and looked back to see her bike gently hit the ground on its right side. ****. I ran back to check on her and help pick up her bike. She was fine, she never left her feet and the bike was surprisingly OK, too. The spare rear tire kept the back end off of the ground, and only her mirror and brake lever apparently hit the ground in the front. I then turned around to see my bike laying on the ground on its left side?!? We ran over and picked my bike up and discovered the same lack of anything more than a few scratches. In my haste to get off of the bike, I failed to notice that it was parked on a pretty good downhill slope, in second gear. The only thing that I could figure is that it slowly rolled off of the sidestand. Double ****. We putted into the parking lot of the grocery store and decided to take a break for a few minutes. Re was seemingly unfazed by the incident and was only mad at herself for not being able to keep the bike upright She had been hitting the gym every other day for about 8 months before we left and she is strong, but not stronger than gravity once the bike got past that certain angle.

While I re-inspected the bikes for damage, Re headed into the grocery store for Clif Bars and some fruit. We once again ate by the bikes and dissected what went wrong. Miscommunication, plain and simple, Re thought I meant that we should head further down the highway and was unable to see my turn signal from where she was stopped next to me. We decided at that point that whoever was leading would also signal all right turns with a hand signal as well as the turn signal.

Feeling better with some food in our stomachs and our bikes refreshed by their naps, we continued. When we got underway again I noticed that my left footpeg seemed to be slightly higher now but wrote it off to bending the bracket and kept riding. As the afternoon wore on we crossed into Tennessee and found ourselves gaining altitude again. Fortunately not so much as to upset our carburetion or force us back into third gear. We studiously practiced our hand signals as we traded off the lead throughout the afternoon. After an hour or so I shifted my foot position and realized that my footpegs were rocking up and down on both sides. I signaled a quick stop and we found a patch of shade to park in. Looking under the bike, we found that of the four bolts that secure the footpeg/sidestand bracket, one was gone, one was tight and the other two had backed out at least halfway. Yikes. Out came the 14mm wrench and we tightened up the remaining three while trying to avoid third degree burns from the exhaust pipe. We checked Re's and found them to be tight, so we saddled up and continued on. I wondered as I rode if the loose bolts were the result of rolling off the sidestand or perhaps were part of the cause. Looking back at it, the hill I parked on didn't seem steep enough to cause the bike to roll forward – but it was in second gear and fairly heavily laden... I guess I'll never know.



Tennessee was also a pretty ride and we made frequent stops to check directions and maps to ensure that we were still heading in the right direction. The clouds ahead, however, weren't so pretty. We stopped early for dinner when we saw the familiar Bojangles (!) sign in the distance. Like an oasis to thirsty travelers, we could barely contain our enthusiasm as we swooped into the parking lot and ran inside for fried chicken goodness. During our twelve years in North Carolina, we developed quite a fondness for this chain. Stuffed on chicken and biscuits, we continued on into the evening. As we neared Elizabethton, our destination for the night, the skies finally let loose and we again found ourselves in the rain. A quick scan of the town didn't reveal a single campground, but we knew that the Cherokee National Forest lay ahead a few miles. As the rain began to let up, we wound our way into the rapidly darkening evening and sighed in relief when we spotted a campground sign. We pulled in, fully expecting primitive camping but found that we not only had a beautiful site next to the lake but there were hot showers to boot! We set up our tent and stove and had a cup of coffee in the light drizzle before crawling in for a peaceful night of raindrops tapping on the tent.

345 miles in about 11 hours. Bikes are running good after their naps but the footpeg bracket is now added to the daily fastener checklist.

The overcast morning and heavy trees around our campsite made it hard to get up this morning. The lack of early morning light coupled with the knowledge that our day's ride would be under 300 miles led us to turn the alarm off and snuggle some more. Eventually we rolled out to yet another wet campsite, but things had already begun to dry. While Re made coffee I walked up to the bikes and again was pleasantly surprised by how little maintenance the bikes needed. Chains OK, fasteners OK, oil level OK, even the air pressures were good. Just a shot of chain lube and a slight rear brake adjustment on my bike and they were ready to go. We, however, took some more work – we were glad for the hot showers and hot coffee.



We finally hit the road around 10 am, our latest start yet, and cruised through the still misty morning down US 321 towards Boone, North Carolina. We really felt at home in this landscape, having lived in the Raleigh area for about 12 years and spent many weekends strafing the Blue Ridge Parkway, 215 and 276, and the roller-coaster section of 74 around Lake Lure. We have lived all over the US, and this area feels as close to home as any of them. Our trip was soon interrupted by a detour sign, 321 was closed at some bridge up ahead, and this necessitated a trip through Mountain City, Tennessee, where we would follow US 421 south back to US 321. Our mild irritation with the detour soon turned to smiles as the drive to Mountain City was gorgeous, and we finally remembered to start taking photos again. We stopped in Mountain City for brunch and the usual questions from people at the restaurant. We spent more time than we should have chatting with the morning coffee brigade and then turned south for North Carolina.



We hit the border and had to stop for another photo before winding our way further south and east into Boone. Our planned rout sent us down 421 towards Winston-Salem, but I decided that I knew the roads well enough to ignore Google Maps' suggestions. Instead we rode 321 down past Blowing Rock to Lenoir where we picked up 64 east. I recalled that 64 east would join with 70 east, which is the road that would take us to Hillsboro. What I forgot would be the next surprise. Feeling confident in my navigational skills, I paid little attention to the road signs. I had also apparently forgotten that shortly after passing through Salisbury, 70 joins with Interstate 85. Whoops. I didn't actually remember this until we were on the I-85 on-ramp. With no place to stop or turn around we pinned our throttles and shot out onto the Interstate. Immediately swallowed by semis and flying traffic we hugged the right shoulder, but we were in a work zone so the shoulder itself was closed. For nine vaguely terrifying miles we let the mighty Symbas run as fast as they could. I saw an indicated 60 on a slight downhill which unfortunately turned uphill before we saw an exit. We dove off the exit and pulled out the map, which was no help since all we had was just a Rand-McNally road atlas that lacked much detail. Out came the iPhone, and Google Maps once again came to our rescue as it routed us along a couple of country roads and highways that eventually rejoined with 64. All glory to our Mountain View overlords.

We followed 64 through Asheboro before turning north on 49 towards Burlington where we would again try US 70. The sky had again been threatening most of the afternoon and made good on its threat about halfway up 49. We pulled under a gas station awning to zip up vents and then rode into the storm. The Symbas came through the standing water with flying colors. We hit several flooded areas that were about 6 inches deep at speed with no aquaplaning. It rained on and off for the rest of the afternoon and finally stopped when we were about 5 miles from our stop for the night. We pulled into the driveway of our friends Bill and Dawn and were happy to see Bill there to greet us. We had a lovely evening of dinner and conversation, catching up on each others' lives and families. Bill and I worked together for years and started riding at about the same time. It was fun to reminisce about some of our early adventures (like rebuilding my first racebike in Bill's driveway and then putting 50 break-in miles on a totally not street-legal Moto Guzzi V50 with an open megaphone exhaust on the back roads of Durham County).

275 miles in about 9 hours. The bikes are running great but the clutches still aren't quite right.

We again woke late and had a lazy morning of good coffee and homemade waffles, bacon and strawberries. Thunderstorms were still booming this morning, but since we only had about 200 miles to ride, we were in no hurry to get wet. The radar showed that the line of thunderstorms was slowly working its way east, so procrastination was the order of the day.



We spent the rest of the morning admiring Bill's stable of bikes, which includes a PC800 and a GB500, and working on ours. Minor tweaks were all they required – a little oil, some chain lube, and a cinch on one of my exhaust header nuts.

Around 1 pm we decided that we should get on the road since we had 6 or so hours of riding ahead of us. We worked our way slowly through Durham before the road opened up slightly, but then we reached Raleigh and again had to slowly wind our way out the other side. Here we were greeted by faster roads and darker clouds and spent the rest of the afternoon dodging showers and other vehicles. The scenery in eastern North Carolina isn't nearly as pretty as the rest of the state, but we were excited to finally be nearing the coast and the end of Phase 1 of our trip. While we tried to exercise some throttle restraint for the sake of our fuel mileage for most of the day, our excitement won out once we turned south in Jacksonville and headed the last 20 miles to my parents' house. Turning into Sneads Ferry we could smell the salt in the air and zoomed down the last couple blocks to our destination for the next couple weeks.



My dad met us in the driveway, and we got off the bikes for the final time in this leg of our journey. Our butts were looking forward to a couple of days of hot sand and salt water therapy.

We have done over 3800 miles in 12 days of riding, and aside from the chains and one simultaneous bike nap, it's been a trouble-free trip. Thanks to our generous friends who provided us with several nights accommodations and home-cooked meals along the way, our 15 days on the road only cost about $850. Over the next couple of weeks we'll be visiting family and friends, going to the beach, eating east Carolina barbeque, and surveying our vast tracts of land (we just bought 2.5 acres in Selma, NC) before we head out again to Ohio and on to Toronto in early September.

195 miles in 6 hours. The bikes are running well, but the clutches are still unhappy.

Do you have a map of the route you took are taking.

Sorry, we haven't been keeping a route map.

We got up early this morning and packed our gear before hiking it down the three flights of steps to the bikes. After we had everything strapped and locked to the bikes, we had breakfast at the hotel before tromping upstairs to get our Dariens and helmets. Having no idea how long it would take to cross the border, especially since this crossing included a boat ride, we wanted to be on the road by 8:00 am. So at 8:00 am we hopped on the bikes, only to be stopped by one group and then another of nice people who wanted to find out more about our journey. Consequently, we pulled out of the parking lot at 8:30 am for the 60 or so mile ride to Chiang Khong.



It was an easy ride, and we covered the distance in about two hours. It wasn't particularly scenic though, mostly passing through farmland and small towns.

We arrived in Chiang Khong around 10:30 am and attempted to find the Immigration office in town. From my research, it appeared that we would need to pick up a couple of forms in town, get them stamped, and then carry them with us for when we return to Thailand. We did not see an Immigration office in town, so we followed the signs marked “Immigration Office” to the ferry dock. Just before we turned down the ramp towards the dock, we spied three large BMW GSs, loaded for travel. We soon spotted their riders, who insisted we stop so they could take our photo. We couldn't really compare too many notes, since they only spoke Chinese but indicated they were traveling back through Laos to China.



This was a first for me – I have seen a lot of different plates on a lot of different bikes, but these were the first Chinese license plates I have ever seen on a BMW (let alone, three of them). We waved goodbye, and Re and I rode down toward Immigration and Customs. We got stamped out at Immigration easily enough, and at Customs, they simply took our TIP forms and stamped the piece of paper inside our passports. Since we still didn't have the TM-2 and TM-4 forms that my research said we should, we asked at Customs if we needed anything else, and they assured us we did not. Hmmm. Since it was now 10:50 am, and the ferry leaves every hour on the hour, I didn't feel like screwing around anymore, so instead we paid the extortionate price of 500 Baht (17 USD) per bike for the privilege of crossing the Mekong.



While we waited in line to board the ferry (which only held three trucks and four motorcycles for our trip), we met Hubert, a German rider who has already done 18 months on his Tourateched 1100 GS, and Herbert, an Austrian tourist who was doing a couple of weeks of riding on a rented Honda AX-1. We chatted for a couple of minutes, and then it was time to board the ferry.

They loaded two of the trucks first, then Hubert, then the third truck, then Re and I followed Herbert down the wet, concrete ramp that turned to dirt before it reached the water's edge. The deck of the boat did not actually reach the shore and required us to ride through about a 3-foot stretch of water about 18-inches deep to the edge of the boat. A little unsure as to how riding off the mud, through the water, and onto the wet, steel deck was going to turn out, I did what all the best motorcycle riders do, and gassed it and hoped for the best. (When I was racing, we had a saying - When in doubt, gas it! You may not save it but it will end the suspense... ) I picked my feet up off the pegs as I hit the water and powered the mighty Symba onto the deck. I pulled in next to Herbert and turned in time to see Re do the same.



We both made it without issue and were glad to be safely on board. The Mekong might be a half mile wide here, and it does have a substantial current, so once the ferry pulled free from the shore, we soon found ourselves heading downriver. Then the boat captain floored it, and we took about a four mile long, half mile journey. Maybe ten minutes later, we reached the other shore, and the crew held me, Re, and Herbert, while the trucks drove off the ferry and up the steep riverbank. When it was my turn to ride off the ferry, I was surprised to see that the ramp was not actually on land, but there was a several inch gap between the steel of the boat and the dirt. The captain was fighting the current, but the boat was slowly inching its way downstream. I heard the captain throttle up and decided to do the same. As the edge of the boat pushed into the shore, I scampered across to terra firma. Re followed quickly, and we rode up the bank to the top of the hill to Customs.

The nice lady from AGL Insurance explained which buildings we needed to go in and in what sequence. The funny thing about Laos is that it is not a Carnet country, and you're supposed to need to do a temporary import permit (TIP), but I had read reports that a couple of other travelers had used their Carnets in lieu of a TIP. I wanted to try this, since the TIP in Laos apparently only gives you 14 days, while your visa is good for 30 days and a Carnet admission is good for the duration of your visa. While we waited in line, I mentioned this to Hubert, who was also traveling with Carnet, and since he was ahead of us in line, he tried it first. The officer stamped his Carnet, tore out the souche, and told Hubert he didn't need to get a TIP. Oh, and it didn't cost a dime. Awesome! I handed our Carnets through and got the same results. We stopped at the final office, where we needed to be entered into the computer. Here, they asked for our TM-2 and our TM-4, which we did not have. The officer here did not speak enough English to explain the situation, so he flagged down some guy, who explained it to us. Since we didn't have our paperwork, we had to pay a mysterious 100 Baht (3.33 USD) fee per bike. Apparently, Re and I must have looked skeptical, because the guy assured us that it would, “go to the Lao Government.” Perhaps, it will, if the Laos Government owns the company that makes Beer Lao... Oh well. Having heard bad stories about riding in Laos without insurance, we did stop at the AGL office to become legal. While I dealt with the other paperwork, Re spoke with the insurance agent, and we were able to get 30 days of minimum coverage for 10 USD per bike.

Fifteen minutes later, we were back on the bikes and riding to passenger ferry dock to go through the Immigration formalities. Re and I rode with Hubert and Herbert, and we all worked on our visa on arrival applications together. No hanky panky at this office, since the fees are clearly posted on the wall- 35 USD got us a one month Laos visa. Unfortunately, here is where Herbert ran into problems. It seems he neglected to go through Immigration when he left Thailand. The Laos Immigration officer insisted that he return to Thailand to get his passport stamped before he could go through the process here. Since it was now only 1:30, Re and I decided to head for Muang Sing, about 100 miles northeast of the border crossing at Huay Xai. Hubert, Re, and I rode to the ATM we'd spotted on the way in, where Re and I became instant millionaires when we withdrew 1.7 million Laos Kip, which sounds good, but is really only about 210 USD. We waved goodbye to Hubert and hit the road.

One of my big worries about riding in Laos is the riding conditions. I haven't been able to find out much information about the quality of the roads and availability of fuel. As it turns out, today, we didn't need to worry about either. The road leaving Huay Xai was a silky ribbon of black, brand new asphalt. It turns out that the Chinese and Thai governments are in the process of building a bridge across the Mekong at Huay Xai in order to facilitate commerce between the countries. Consequently, the Chinese have built a beautiful road between Huay Xai and the border crossing with China at Bo Ten. The bridge was supposed to be completed in 2010 and is now slated for completion in 2014, but today we are the happy recipients of their largesse. And what a road it is! Brand new, with well cambered corners, and smooth as a baby's butt, excellent lane markings, guard rails, and it snakes through the mountains, hugging the hillsides and occasionally dipping into the valleys. It is truly a thing of beauty. Our one difficulty on the trip today was that my GPS did not have the cut off road to Muang Sing in its map, so instead, we watched for the signs, which we never saw. Our new destination for the night became Luang Nam Tha. We covered the hundred miles or so in about 3.5 hours and rolled into Luang Nam Tha at about 5:00 pm. We missed the driveway for our first choice in guesthouses, so we stopped at our second choice first and found a great place at a great price. Not seeing any reason to look any further, we checked in and unloaded our bikes.

After getting cleaned up, we walked out to the night market for dinner. There were many stands making papaya salad, while others were cooking all sorts of meats. The whole roast chickens and ducks initially caught our eyes, but then we saw the slabs of pork (remember: it's the meat of kings). We settled on enough pork for three people, sticky rice, a not spicy papaya salad, and one, ice cold, dripping with condensation, oh I have missed you baby, big Beer Lao. Beer Lao, in my opinion, is the best in southeast Asia, and we were about to remind ourselves why. We sat at one of the tables and enjoyed our feast. While we were walking around, Re had spied a woman making crepes with all sorts of things. While I used the last of the sticky rice to sop up the dressing from the papaya salad, Re went in search of a crepe. A few minutes later, she returned with a crepe and Julien and Annie, the Canadian couple we met in Chiang Rai. Not only were they in Luang Nam Tha, but as we talked, we realized we were all staying at the same guesthouse. Funny. We sat and chatted with them as they ate and were joined by four other people the Canadians had met along the way. At one point, Julien disappeared and returned with a single rose for Annie and wished her a happy Valentine's Day. Guess what I forgot? Re and I split another Beer Lao and had a good time listening to other people talk about their travels. We had to excuse ourselves to return to the room and figure out where we were going tomorrow before calling it a night.


195 miles in about 6 hours of riding. Border costs: 33 USD for the ferry, 6.50 USD for “government fee,” 20 USD for insurance, and 70 USD for visas. The border crossing was easy and relatively quick. I hope not having the TM-2 and TM-4 won't bite us in the ass when we return to Thailand.

Last night, we decided that our next stop would be Nong Kiaew, a town east of Luang Nam Tha. The ride wasn't particularly far, so we took our time getting going this morning. Julien and Annie were heading out for a three day jungle trek, so we had some coffee with them and said goodbye for now. While I was loading up the bikes, I ended up telling Frederick, a French photographer, about our trip. He was actually most interested, not in the travel, but in the logistics of fitting everything on a small vehicle. An homme after my own coeur.

We finally rolled through the front gate at about 9:00 am, and dutifully followed the GPS directions, not back the road we came in, but down a dirt road instead. The dirt road, apparently, would take us back to the highway in one less mile than the paved road. This would have been fine if the dirt road hadn't led us to a river. Oh, there was a bridge across the river, but not a bridge I was going to ride across.



Imagine, if you will, a bridge, approximately 3 feet wide, whose surface was made of lengths of bamboo, with no guardrails, and the bridge supports appeared to be large, woven, bamboo baskets. While we stopped to ponder the wisdom of this bridge, another underbone rider came whizzing past, and we watched, a little nervously, as he zipped the 150 yards or so to the other side. Maybe it was because I skipped my bowl of Wheaties this morning, but I tucked my tail firmly between my legs, turned the bike around, and slunk back into town. Of course, the real reason we turned around had nothing to do with the color yellow, but really, we had to go back into town to hit the ATM and get some more fuel. Yeah, that's the ticket! Back in town, we did indeed hit the ATM and pick up seven liters of the cherry chough syrup red liquid that passes for gasoline in these parts.



From here, we took a paved road to the highway, and once again, found ourselves on the same, beautiful, new pavement as yesterday. We were enjoying the lovely, twisty road, but in fact, the road was so twisty that it was cutting into our average speed. Many of the corners were tight enough that we had to slow to 20 mph before rolling through them. But honestly, we didn't care, because the ride was so beautiful. The mountains in Laos are steeper and craggier than those in Thailand, and there were many flowering trees along the way. The other beautiful part of the ride was all the very small towns that we rode through. Though they do not seem to have much, the people here all seem happy, and the children in particular, smile a lot, and many of them waved when they saw us pass. In many ways the people here remind us of the very happy people we saw in Malawi. Also during the morning, we rode past the Chinese-plated BMWs and their riders, who were stopped for a photo op.

Sometime after noon, we rode through the town of Udomxai and became very sad. Udomxai is where the Chinese pavement stopped, and the road condition became terrible. The next fifty or so miles did not contain a single mile of good road.



I'm not sure what happened to this section of road, but for some reason, random sections of road have had the asphalt removed, revealing the dirt and rock below. It appears to be intentional, since where the road transitions between pavement and dirt, the breaks are straight lines. The dirt sections forced us to slow to between 10 and 20 mph, and these sections varied in length between about 50 feet and over 300 feet. Sometimes there would be one in a mile, and sometimes as many as six dirt sections in a mile. Between 1:30 and 2:30 pm, we were only able to cover 15 miles. When we could look around, it was still a beautiful ride, and elevations rose to over 4,000 feet at times.



During the afternoon, we stopped for a pee break at what appeared to be an unofficial dump for unwanted building materials and scenic overlook. While walking around, I spied several discarded Elephant Brand cement bags. Knowing Re's love of elephants, I grabbed my Swiss Army knife and cut one of the logos out for her. Happy belated Valentine's Day! Thankfully, the last ten miles into Nong Kiaew contained none of the dirt sections, but it was still a bouncy ride due to the rippled pavement. We finally made it to Nong Kiaew by 4:30 pm, and liked the first guesthouse we stopped at so much, we chose it for the night.



The town of Nong Kiaew is located along the banks of the Nam Ou and is surrounded by beautiful, blue-green limestone karsts. The two halves of the town are connected by a modern bridge over the river. There's not a lot to do here, other than walk to see some caves and enjoy the peace, quiet, and natural beauty of the place.



Our bungalow had a beautiful little balcony that looked over the river through the well landscaped lawns. Feeling a little hungry, we walked out to find a fruit stand, and Re negotiated for a pineapple, which we took back to the room and cut up for a snack. Later that evening, we walked across the bridge and perused the menus at several restaurants before settling on the local Indian place. After dinner, Re and I again tried to talk about what the future held over and cookies, but we still didn't seem to get anywhere. Oh well. We spent the rest of the evening taking it easy.

160 miles in 7.5 hours. Bikes are running well, but the rough pavement makes me nervous for the bikes.

How can a day that started this idyllically (link may be NSFW) turn so bad, that this ride report almost needed to be renamed, “One Dumbass, One Symba, and No ****in' Sense?” Re and I had a blowout of an argument today and it was nearly the end of our trip, as we know it. What could be the cause of this potentially trip ending fight? Why, the water pressure in the shower... Of course, what this kind of fight starts over usually has nothing to do with the actual cause. For the past several days, I have had a short fuse, and Re has been increasingly sullen, and this has led to some friction between us.

The morning started off pleasantly enough. Re and I woke up to another beautiful morning. The view from our porch was of misty mountains and fog on the river. After being up for a while, our thoughts turned to breakfast, but as usual, we were new in town and didn't know what to have. Our guesthouse had a restaurant, but when Re checked the menu the previous day, it seemed a little bit pricey. She had also seen yogurt at a local store, and we considered the alternative of yogurt and maybe some cereal if they had it. If the yogurt and cereal option worked out, Re would pick up coffee at the guesthouse, and we'd have breakfast in the room. If not, we'd walk out in search of another option. While I sat and finished reading the last few pages of my latest book, Re went out to see what she could see. She returned with coffee and nothing else. Apparently, the yogurt was expensive and they had no cereal. Just getting coffee was not one of the options we discussed, and Re couldn't really explain what she thought we were going to do instead. But, no matter, we'll figure something out. We decided we should get cleaned up and head out. We each have our responsibilities on this trip, and one that Re chose is finding accommodation. Over years of travel, we have developed a list of our basic room requirements. One of them is adequate water pressure and temperature. If we're paying extra for a hot shower, we like to have a hot shower. Our bungalow did come equipped with an on-demand water heater for the shower, so I expected a nice, hot shower this morning. But when I turned on the shower this morning, there was a problem. While the water was plenty hot, it only came out in a trickle. The water pressure was nonexistent, and since it was so low, the on-demand heater cycled between off and scalding. While I tried to rinse the soap out of my eyes, Re went under the bungalow to make sure the water was turned on fully and found that it unfortunately was. But no problem, we can always change guesthouses. Except that Re now told me that she had already paid for another night.

This started an argument that went on for a while. But we tried to recover and spent the rest of the morning reading on our lovely porch. Since we didn't end up having any breakfast, we headed out for lunch at noon. Neither of us could leave well enough alone, so for dessert, we continued our fight. We both decided that now would be the time to bring up all of our perceived slights and shortcomings from the last several months. It seemed like every time one of us would try to defuse the situation, the other would escalate it. Eventually, I left Re standing on the bridge and walked back to the bungalow. While I walked, I mentally divided up all our gear so Re could head back to Bangkok and fly her ass home. A while later, Re returned to the bungalow, and I now understand in retrospect, she tried to de-escalate the situation. I took it the very wrong way and told her she should go home. Over the next couple of hours, Re repacked everything so that I would have the gear I needed to continue the trip, and she would take the rest of it back to Bangkok with her.

After everything was repacked, the reality of what we were planning seemed to set in for both of us. I told Re that I didn't want the trip to end like this, and I didn't want her to go. She was still pretty angry, but I told her it was up to her whether she left or not. I said we should ride as far as Vientiane together, since that's where our paths would split, and she agreed that was a good idea. Re said she would think about continuing the trip, but she wasn't sure. Since we didn't know what else to do, we headed out together for dinner. We had a nice dinner and talked some more about our feelings and why we thought today turned out as it did. We spent the rest of the evening talking, but by bedtime, Re still hadn't decided whether she was staying.

One of the reasons we think everything boiled over today was that we finally had the luxury of time to think about how we piss each other off. During our last month in India, and really through Nepal, we were both just trying to either survive another day or get over our sickness and injuries, so we didn't have the time or energy to do anything else. Thailand and Laos have been so nice and easy, that we do have time to notice each other's failings. But they've always been there, so there must be something else going on, too. The other reason we identified was our anxiety over not knowing what we are doing when this trip is over, or even how the trip is going to end. We have been talking about a couple of different post-trip options since before it began, but we lost sight of them in India and Nepal. Since we arrived in southeast Asia, these plans have again become a topic of conversation, but neither of us can commit to one of them. For me, arriving in southeast Asia is also a bit of a letdown. It is wonderful, and I am happy to be here, but it is, sort of, our last destination before we head back to the US. We have plenty of traveling left to do here, but it's the final geographic region we visit before going home. Time and mileage-wise, we're through less than 60 percent of our trip, but in some ways for me, it's starting to feel like the end, and I don't like it.

None of that really matters right now, since I am going to bed not knowing whether this trip will exist tomorrow. But I hope it will.