Bad boys, bad boys, whatcha gonna do.....

One month on from piloting motorbikes through northern Thailand’s twisting mountain highways and the whole venture seems like a distant memory.

We’re in Phuket now, a weird sanitised version of SE Asia for package tourists and sex pests, and daily we find our minds drifting back to those 800kms of misty trails.

We didn’t know it at the time, but just six days touring that rugged green loop would prove to be among the finest adventures any of us would undertake in Thailand.

Enough certainly, to keep us smiling through long sweaty days detailing the yacht prior to Christmas.

Here are a few highlights:

Coffeecoffeecoffee:  A few years back, the Thais never seemed much into coffee. In 2011, the place was awash with the stuff, much to my glee. And decent, too.  Every hole-in-the-wall in Chiang Mai housed another bloke with an espresso machine. Even better, they were growing it in those same hills we were riding. The morning roadside coffee quickly became part of our motorcycle routine, not least because it gave us another chance to get off those wretched seats.

My local

The motorcycle as transport:  Apart from a pushbike (too slow, too many hills) there can be no better way to experience a country than from the back of a motorcycle. You can hear the kids laughing at you as you ride through another village, smell the sunflowers on the hill (as well as the truck belching diesel in front of you), you can feel every temperature change as you charge up another mountain through the cool morning fog. You can even flirt with girls sitting in the back of pick-up trucks. Unbeatable.

Do you accept magic beans?

Unscheduled detours: To prepare for this venture, we bought a large waterproof touring map of the north, Sadly, this was lost before lunch on the first day, so we resorted to IPhone photos of other people’s maps. This was a dual-edged sword – 1)much easier to carry; 2)much harder to read which led us to take some exciting detours. I was responsible for directing us to Mae Surin waterfall (“the best in Thailand!” I had been assured). This particular sideroad however, took us high into the mountains, above the clouds on a narrow ridge track that frequently turned from concrete into mud. Each time, Jodie would switch bikes onto my offroader for a bouncy stint, while James wrestled his Phantom through the muck. It did turn out to be a pretty rad waterfall though.

Not every bike is designed to go offroad. That's bullshit.

Later, nearer Chiang Mai, we found a fast-flowing river and an old crone renting inner tubes. No one else was riding the rapids, but this didn’t stop us paying the princely fee of 30Bt each for a few hours of nervous, hysterical laughter. It’s amazing to consider you can almost drown in two feet of water, but we did, and the Thais thought it was brilliant, until we almost took out their entire riverside bar.

Exotic eats: Given the proximity to Myanmar, food in the north is all about the Shan – a hilltribe living in exile on both sides of the border. They’re into things like fermented bean curd, weird fragrant herbs and baby fern salads. It’s awesome, healthy gear. We also chanced on a Yunnanese village where we hopped into some steamed pork belly with smoky exotic spices and young tea leaf salad on the shores of a pretty lake. Beats the old Pad Thai for a change.

Jodie with her beloved condiment quartet. And Beer Leo.

Pai: Three trips to Thailand = three trips to Pai. There’s gotta be something going on up there. A cute, artsy village on the side of a river surrounded by soaring hills? What’s not to like. Sure there are a helluva lot more tourists now and a nightly market selling the same Pai-radise t-shirts on every corner, but it still has neat galleries, kick-ass health food and cheap accommodation. I stayed in the same bamboo hut that I scored six years back, for the very reasonable price of $4. Inflation? Nil.

Pretty Pai paddy

Cave Lodge:Caving is a big deal in the north and there are few more qualified to drop you down a dark limestone hole than John Spies. An Aussie who moved there in the 70s, Spies runs Cave Lodge, a legendary hillside bungalow surrounded by pristine rivers, hidden tunnels and huge caverns full of batshit. He’s been responsible for mapping out the area’s archeologically-significant caves and is still finding new sites. Nearby he has discovered teak coffins more than 2000 years old, burial caves which pre-date the Thai civilization. Combine this with 30 years of hellraising on the border and well, he’s an interesting bloke to have a beer with.

James took this on the G12 at Soppong. It captures that hazy lazy late-arvo feel so perfectly.

Big bamboo near the border.

Once again I had found myself in Chiang Mai, this time waiting around for a yacht to arrive in Singapore.

Interestingly, half of Thailand had also fled north, told to leave Bangkok as floodwaters continued to rise. So low-season in the walled northern city was pretty damn busy.

“To the hills,” we cried.  To the north and west of Chiang Mai, mountain ranges hold Myanmar at bay. They looked like a giant amusement park to us part-time bikers.

Thailand’s refreshing tourism policy of look-after-your-damn-selves meant no one even questioned our ability or qualifications as we picked out powerful motorcycles. OK, maybe a 250cc Kawasaki isn’t termed powerful, but it was certainly dangerous enough.

This was no groundbreaking plan, mind. The Mae Hong Son loop is an established touring route through the north, renowned for its 1864 curves in just the first half of the trip. It sounded challenging bloody great.

As luck would have it, our timing for this venture could not have been better. A record wet season had left the entire country bursting with colour and life. But we never got rained on once.

cute little passenger

Rice shined greeny-gold as it ripened in mountain paddies. Jungle-covered limestone karsts loomed large over winding roads. Sprawling fields of Mexican sunflowers nodded their little yellow heads. Orchids lined every tree. Outrageous.

And the roads. The freakin’ roads.

Hairpin turns, long smooth straights, gently winding curves rising higher and higher into the mists.

I’m no biker, but this must be one of the world’s great rides. Every day it was “Whoa, that was a great road.”

When we met fellow riders at the frequent viewpoints, we would give a knowing nod and watch grown men on big bikes giggle like schoolgirls.

Over seven days we knocked out 820km, through Pai, Mae Hong Son, Mae Chem, Chom Thong and back to Chiang Mai.

And that feeling of seeing the open road ahead, winding up the throttle and leaning into it with the wind roaring in your ears still hasn’t left me.

I might be hooked.

plotting our route thru the hills.

sunflower hill

the inevitable bikshop visit. Out of there in 5 mins and no charge.

Important to have the right shoes for motorbiking. Not these then.

For anyone headed to Melbourne, here’s a selection of things super-cool-shit that kept me occupied around the city.

Accommodation. I stayed at littlegeorgestreet, in Fitzroy; kind of a post-modern B&B that I organised through AirBnB.

The lovely host, Ramona, worked at an organic bakery around the corner so breakfast was a treat. As was her amazing home with its collection of vintage sports equipment. Such a top find and only $60/night.

Ramona's groovy pad

Galleries and stores. So many to choose from, especially ’round Fitzroy. A few standouts were Lamington Drive in Collingwood with its awesome and awesomely cheap prints. Made me long for a house to hang them in.

panelpop goodness

Also Third Drawer Down for quirky gifts, and PanelPop, which prints photos or art onto recycled stone, framed with recycled timber. Freakin’ rad. We also went and checked out Space Invaders – street art at RMIT until Nov.

Bars n t’ings. First morning in Melbourne I focussed on getting lost among its multitude alleys until I stumbled upon Bar Americano, a tiny cafe serving the finest coffee I’ve  had since Italy.

Later that day we hit The Hardware Societe for lunch and then Thousand Pound Bend for a bunch of Doss Blockos beers. Originally, these beers were brewed at a squat in NY, and they come in a paper bag. Ghetto chic, huh? They also taste superb.

Finally to wind up our bar crawl, Anj took us to New Gold Mountain, an unassuming door in Chinatown requiring a phone call to enter and home to gold-standard cocktails.

Other junk. While visiting with my pal KJ, she decided she needed a vintage bicycle. Luckily, just around the corner in Fitzroy, we found Cameron Threthowan, a man dedicated to matching Melburnians with bikes. And boy, does he love his bikes. After enquiring about one stately cycle and pointing out in no uncertain terms I was not a customer, Cam insisted I take a spin, because “…they’re like dogs – they need a good run now and again.”  What a champ.

Also of note was the launch last week of Characters by Stephen Banham; a typographic journey through Melbourne, blending signwriting and storytelling. And regular readers of this column will know just how I feel about typography. I’m buying a copy.

Tall buildings, traffic, throngs of people, green signals which tell me when I can cross the street; these things go against everything I love.

So I went to Melbourne not expecting much. Catch up with some friends, drink some beer, wander about with no real agenda.

I never expected to fall in love. With a city.

But here I am. Four days later. Basking in the glow of our brief affair. Ha.

city love

The best way of describing it, is that Melbourne made sense to me. Now. At this point in my life. with the interests I have and a renewed sense of what it is exactly I value, the city delivered.

The infamous Melbourne weather played the game most beautifully, each day warm, sunny and windy, so I need to keep this fact in mind while examining my infatuation.

But if I compare Perth, the equation is thus: Do I want to be bored in a sterile Mediterranean climate, or excited and inspired in (occasionally) inclement weather. No contest.

So what did I do? What was so damn fine? It wasn’t so much the activities, more the environment as a whole. It was the vibe (apologies to The Castle).

It was the crumbling heritage buildings. The ever-present street art. The shabby, graceful terrace houses with their wrought ironwork. The hidden laneway cafes. The neighbourhood small bar culture. The vegan taco stores, The recycled bicycles. The weird little vintage shops. The creativity. The eccentricity. The promise.

Melbourne made me think there really might be opportunities to follow your passions, to do something outside the square and have it succeed.

It was honestly inspiring.

loving my bike

architecture which perseveres

I’m going with the latter. Ever since his startling debut novel  A Million Little Pieces  was ‘exposed’ as a work of fiction rather than the memoir of a recovering crack addict, the American writer has been lumped with the label of con-man.

Except that, for my money, it simply makes AMLP all the stronger. What sort of wonderfully twisted and creative mind could come up with such a story?

The guy is one helluva fiction writer, even if his ‘memoir’ falls short. Plus, the fact that Oprah and her minions were among those pointing the finger made me feel the deception was just a whole lot of hot air [and ratings??].

Since then, Frey has gone onto pen My Friend Leonard, plus Bright Shiny Morning .

The first, a sequel to AMLP, deals with life after rehab and the protagonist’s relationship with his gangster buddy.

Bright Shiny Morning however, brings us a slice of LA life, a set of unrelated, ordinary lives unfolding as people go about their business of surviving. Except that it is completely engrossing.

Even on a second viewing, I put aside everything else to burn through it, captivated by tales of the Mexican maid with big thighs for example, or the bum who refuses to drink anything except Chablis.

And now he’s done it again.

The Final Testament of the Holy Bible is his latest. He certainly knows how to stir trouble. It’s a pretty amazing read.

The novel deals with the appearance of a man many believe to be Jesus. Certainly, this bloke claims to speak to (some) god and has a message to deliver, but it’s not necessarily what the people want to hear.

Frey raises one of my favourite religious themes here, one that has cropped up previously in the film Stigmata and even The Da Vinci Code, namely that you don’t need organized religion to be a decent person —  ‘God’ or whomever is up there, just wants you to be a good person. Be nice. Love each other.  Have fun.

This new messiah, named Ben in the book (!!), has a fine time taking religious leaders to task over their ridiculous notion of living by the Word of God.

“The world is a different place now…What’s crazy is living your life according to some book written by someone who couldn’t imagine what your life would be like.”

Priest: “Worship makes one’s life better.

Ben: “Love and laughter and fucking make one’s life better. Worship is just the passing of time.”

Go get yourself a copy.

A snowboarder from the ruined city of Christchurch, this young lady was no stranger to adventure, so I took it upon myself to organize some kind of Super Itinerary, positively bursting with desirable destinations and outdoorsy pursuits.

This had the dual benefits of showing Erin a few choice pieces of WA real estate, while providing me the chance to piss off from work and have some holiday-style fun myself.

I think we did ok.

In just  two weeks we cycled the Swan River, toured Freo, found a BYO jazz bar, watched The Nextmen at Villa, cruised to Rottnest and back, hit Margaret River, spent three days in the forest around Walpole, played volleyball, attended a festival in Perth and went mountain biking in the Ferguson Valley. All while consuming our body weight in red wine.

Maybe I should be a tour guide. We sure had a ball. Check some pics.

near gas bay, margs

oh my, the brakes have failed...

karri tree carry on

walpole farmhouse still life

cottesloe beachfront

breakin' bones

elephant rocks, denmark

This is the approach taken by Joni Sternbach with her ‘Surfland’ series, using a technique unchanged since the 19^th century.

Sternbach’s tintype photos are made with a large format camera using wet plates developed on location, resulting in unpredictable, timeless images of surfers and locals.

Landscapes look equally haunting using the wet plate collodion technique and the process just seems to slow time – to capture a slice of history more effectively than any SLR could ever hope to.

www.jonisternbach.com

Apparently, that’s part of the fun.

I’m not so sure, but it is pretty special stumbling onto a good one after driving half the day.

Wolfgang Bloch also knows that moment; when you crest another dusty ridge and first glimpse distant, windswept perfection.

His palette of rocky browns and stormy greys bookend perfect pointbreaks, reeling off unridden in some faraway place.

It’s the sort of art that encourages you to get off the couch and hit the road and that’s very cool.

www.wolfgangbloch.com

Cape Range behind our campsite

One of the very best things about living in Western Australia is the rugged, warm north of the state, a lazy 15 hour drive from Perth.

Even the most bleak winter is quickly forgotten when you cross the 26th parallel and enter the tropics proper, where red desert meets teeming blue ocean.

And there’s so much damn wildlife up there. You almost expect David Attenborough to bimble into shot, explaining why echidnas love crossing the highway at around 5pm.

Around our camp at Yardie Homestead, there were countless roos, emus, wedgetail eagles, wild horses, goats, goannas and yes, echidnas.

In the water was equally startling. As well as the fish we regularly hauled in, there were turtles popping up everywhere, huge sea snakes, sharks chasing our tuna, rays in the shallows. One day, I’d love to see a dugong.

These shots are from a couple months back when we travelled to Exmouth for a friend’s wedding and even looking now, makes me feel wistful.

Hope you feel similarly inspired.

My favourite left in the world. Mike would disagree.

a very Australian wedding scene

on the way

the author and friend

pretty, deserted beaches? check.

A girl caught the biggest fish. A GIRL!?!

fishing, beer and sunsets. a lot to like.