The Solitary Pedal: Finding Warmth on Thailand’s Mountain Roads
Every fiber of my being screamed to stop. Alone on a muddy track in Northern Thailand’s mountains, I was heaving my overloaded bike uphill. One thought consumed me: what have I done?
From the trip’s start, I’d wondered about solo cycling. The solo rhythm, the singular pace—I craved to feel its full weight: physical, emotional, all of it.
But I hadn’t expected the moment so soon. Traveling with Bernardo was effortless; I didn’t foresee a solo detour.
Life chose for us.
Weeks of hand nerve pain sent Bernardo to hospital. Diagnosis: neuropathy in both hands. Cycling, paused. A blow for him—and, strangely, an opening for me.
Leaving without him felt odd, yet I knew: time to check in with myself.
For under ten euros, I took a night train Bangkok to Chiang Mai—sleeping upright, penned in by teens gaming. From Chiang Mai, a bus to Chom Thong, bike strapped atop: the journey began.
The Tiger Head Mountain Loop called. It winds through Karen lands—an Indigenous Thai mountain community famed for warmth.
Pele and Bec designed the original route; rainy season led Bec’s partner, Sam Rice, to modify it. Thanks, Sam!
I packed my life—camping gear, heavy bag, laptop… every pouch stuffed. Horrible idea.
Initial kilometers at the foothills passed lovely paddies. Pointed straw hats popped among sprouts—quiet workers. Then, the idyll became brutally steep, impossible to pedal overloaded. I pushed uphill. All morning: push, push, push…
First morning, and my body begged to quit. Worse: my period. Yes, gentlemen—an uncomfortable truth, perhaps an ‘excuse’, but it does mess with us. Give me a week? Could’ve climbed one-handed.
Just as despair hit, a car stopped. A young woman emerged: “You come with me?”
New, Karen community, gave me a lift home. She offered lunch, shelter: “Homestay, we have!” She warned: next village close and easy, but beyond? “Very hard.”
It was 11 a.m. Logic said go on; my body screamed stop. Normally indecisive, hormones magnified it. New tried again: ‘homestay’. I bit.
Over dinner, New shared her village efforts: cooking afternoons, sewing workshops, camping trips. The homestay emerged. Travelers enjoy it; the community needs it. Farming alone barely sustains; extra income for school makes a difference.
Her words affirmed my choice.
Next day, reality bit—New wasn’t kidding. All day, I hauled my bike uphill. Rain turned dirt to slippery clay; dry patches were loose gravel hell.
This intensity begged sharing—to gripe, laugh, lighten frustration. Loneliness whispered, unaware an eight-year-old would ask later: “Do you want me to sleep with you?”
But before dusk, Karen kindness shone again:
Sat roadside, arms aching, when a car pulled over—lift to the next village. Saved three kilometers’ climb.
Evening: I reached a small town, asked to pitch my tent. The head approached:
“The Karen tribe always welcomes brothers from other tribes.”
Then, warmth overflowed…
A young woman offered her home: fire lit, bed made, shower pointed out while she cooked.
Post-shower, villagers joined the fire in my sleeping hut. Phones passed, Google Translate chattered, awkward translations laughed at.
Among them, an elder woman, calmly peeling an apple, delegated tasks. Soon: extra blankets, flashlight, juice, water arrived…and apple slices handed to me meantime.
Then, near bedtime, the eight-year-old shattered me with eight words: “Do you want me to sleep with you?”—as if sensing my solitude.
Next morning, farewells said, I rode to finish the loop—mostly downhill through Chiang Mai’s lush beauty.
Tears came. These days carved deep, but overwhelming me most was the Karen community’s staggering warmth and kindness.
Pele and Bec, the creators, made a beautiful short film about this route—it honors not just the ride’s challenge, but the people along it: the Karen. Like my experience, they made grueling effort unforgettable. Whether you ride or not, watch the film.
Huge thanks to everyone met, Pele and Bec for this special creation, Sam Rice for adapting the route, letting me experience it despite harsh conditions.