Mud Mobile

I'm somewhere in Thailand. My dad found where I am on a Google map, but I don't yet really know where I am. It is off the beaten path, and there is no public transportation. Last night I went to rent a motorbike for 24 hours. 

The young women renting out the bike were worried. "Do you know how to ride a motorbike?" they asked in doubt. They obviously have no idea who they are talking to. A motorbike has been my main mode of transportation since 1998. 

I parked the bike at my place of lodging overnight. The torrential rains and thunder came overnight (of course, it always happens that way). When the rain let up, I went out by motorbike. But the rain started as soon as I got out, and I got soaked before I had gone only a few yards. I went back, changed clothes, and waited a couple of hours for the rain to stop again.

Then I went to the nearby national park. Please rid your mind of "national park" notions such as park rangers, nicely paved roads, or a visitors center. The only thing this national park had that national parks back home have is this: someone to take your money in order to enter. Inside, it looked like no one had paid attention to it ever. In fact, a few times it felt like I was in the Twilight Zone.

I heard there was a pretty beach. But I couldn't find it. I asked a young woman where it was. She pointed in some direction, I drove that way, and entered a Buddhist temple area. When I saw a orange-robed monk, I thought I had entered in error. So I went back out the gate.

I went down another road, and drove through a village. I saw a lady cooking at her outdoor kitchen. I smiled at her, but she didn't smile back. 

I went as far as I could go down the road. I hit a dead end. I could see the ocean, and a beautiful coastline beyond the end of the village, but there was no road to get there. 

A village man understood my dilemma and pointed for to me to go behind his house. So I did. There were no paved roads, just ruts that had been rained upon recently. The ocean was too close for me to give up now. I drove through the ruts. 

Soon I was hydroplaning in the mud. I was so glad that for the first time since 1996 I had decided to wear shorts in public today. (More on my neon-white legs some other time.) 

A few times I drove down the grassy "median" of the waterlogged dirt road, at full power, with my legs stretched out. You know, like I was 13 years old or something.

I couldn't decide if I should just roll with this and have fun, or if I should start to worry about how I was going to get back out of this place.

Then finally, there I was, on a beautiful stretch of ocean that was totally undeveloped.  This was not even the beach that I was aiming to go to today, it was one I had accidentally discovered on my own. I could see a fishing boat in the distance, but there was not another person anywhere else in sight. I wanted to stay for a long time. But it was thundering. I wasn't at all sure I was going to get out of there under the present conditions, and another downpour would surely only make things worse. So I went back to my motorbike. 

And it didn't start.

"You've got to be kidding!" I said to the only one listening, God. But then I turned the key in the ignition to the "on" position and it started. Oops! 

Between my bike and the mountain back there, you can't tell by the picture, but the entire area is a virtual swamp.

I returned the same way I had come, of course. The mud made a Jackson Pollock design on my white legs. 

As I drove back through the village, the lady in her outdoor kitchen had a humongous smile on her face. I'm pretty sure it was a look of relief. She probably felt responsible for my well-being, and was glad to see the white woman had found her way out.

I got back to the Buddhist-looking place, and I drove in again. I used hand signals to ask if I could enter, and the monks smiled and told me I could. (The monk pictured here was smoking, and had puppies playing at his feet.) I drove ahead and found another easily accessible beach that had restaurants and shops (civilization, so to speak). 

I decided to eat.  

I gave my leftover chicken pieces to a skinny dog. As soon as he ate up the last bits, I turned and found two of his dog friends hanging out under my table. I wish I had saved some for them.

The dogs were dirty and scratching like crazy. I kind of wanted to take them home and give them a bath, but then I realized that what I really ought to do was just take myself back and give myself a bath.

So I did the Australian thing and drove back, on the left side of the road, like they do here. I saw lots of interesting things on the way back. I'll tell you about them later though, because this is kind of long. I'll stop for now.

(Dear Mom and Dad, I promise not to do anything even remotely dangerous or weird  tomorrow.)