Running-in...

[LocalHero1953]

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My grandfather was a missionary in South Africa before the First World War. In the war itself he was attached as chaplain to the Motor Cycle Corps, and wrote a book about his adventures following the German Army up through East Africa on his BSA belt drive. His adventures were drier than yours but similar in many ways. (I had a similar trip in a Landrover in Somalia in the 70s, where we resorted to cutting down trees to provide traction out of the chassis-deep mud.....)

You should write the book.

[EoinC]

4 hours ago, LocalHero1953 said:

My grandfather was a missionary in South Africa before the First World War. In the war itself he was attached as chaplain to the Motor Cycle Corps, and wrote a book about his adventures following the German Army up through East Africa on his BSA belt drive. His adventures were drier than yours but similar in many ways. (I had a similar trip in a Landrover in Somalia in the 70s, where we resorted to cutting down trees to provide traction out of the chassis-deep mud.....)

You should write the book.

Along the way, Paul, I was reading Ted Simons’ “Jupiter’s Travels: Four Years Around the World on a Triumph”. It provided perspective on the ‘fears’, and how woosie I am.

Analysis paralysis was an interesting phenomenon I encountered frequently, which I seemed to deal with in the 3rd person. Some obstacle would present itself, and the auto-fears would kick in, bringing me to a halt. I’d watch myself building a mental wall to proceeding, then another conscience would calmly kick in with “Why are you here?”. Normal service would generally resume, and the imagined problems would evaporate.

I enjoyed the mind-games as much as the external experiences, as it was interesting to see those same thoughts and possibilities as I experienced when much younger - Made me feel alive, and connected with a younger Me.

I spent a large part of my younger years in deserts, jungles, mountains, and at sea, and that sometimes seems very far away, as I now flit from office to office. I know that I only tapped the surface for a very brief time, but it was incredibly invigorating... and addictive.

I’m now in Krabi, Thailand, heading off to Sungai Golok today (hopefully a 4am departure to get some cool, quiet km’s under my belt), then tomorrow should cross the border into Malaysia, and the run down the middle to KL. Returning to a phase of planning my days ahead is like waking from a dream. I planned my days up, and back down, so as to get the km’s in to be able to maximise the piece in the middle, which was purposefully sans plan. Those planned days have been good, but less rewarding than the part where I just followed my nose (which is big enough to cut its own trail), and fell, Alice-like, into experiences.

I also value that I was on my own. This both allowed me to be fully selfish in my meanderings or ‘stayings’, and also allowed for greater immersion in my encounters (a person on their own generally appears more vulnerable and less threatening). Although I rode some great roads, such as most of the 1,864-curve Mae Hong Son Loop, the roads / trails I enjoyed were where people were out and about in their daily work, particularly with the rice harvest coming into full swing. It was very nice to wave to people, and for them to stop and wave back.

I’m addicted...

[EoinC]

6 hours ago, Michael-IIIf said:

Brilliant adventure and write-up.

One for the 'what bag' threads.

What bag for total immersion in mud? Answer: Kriega.

You are spot on, Michael - Kriega is the ideal bag to be seen wearing in Northern Laos with a 4x5 field camera and an inappropriate motorcycle and rider!

The only concern with the Kriega is an Eoin Issue - In the first few days of traveling, each time I went to mount the bags on the bike in the darkness of pre-dawn, I would find I had lost one of the straps. I also found that every strap is needed (4 per bag). Retracing my steps in the darkness would reveal the missing duckling, but it was always a “What if...?” task. It took me at least 3 of these occurrences to figure out that I should re-clip the straps after taking the bags off - Not the smartest bear in the forest!

The bags have been very robust and stable, not missing a beat (or a strap).

[LocalHero1953]

I've passed through those same periods of flitting from office to office, and retired to get away from them. The memory of office work blurs while the earlier times remain vivid (I can still picture my journey across Sinai to St Catherine's Monastery before it entered the tourist books), for the reasons you make very clear in your own experiences. Faced with disaster or using your brain to work your way out of it, it's remarkable how often mind wins out over matter - but you remember those moments afterwards. I hope you'll tell us where those 4x5 images can be seen, even if they aren't on this (Leica) forum.

[Michael-IIIf]

31 minutes ago, EoinC said:

The only concern with the Kriega

Oh those straps. Last year I stayed in a friend's house in the west of Ireland. The morning both my nephew and I were leaving on our bikes it dawned 'soft' - as they call it in the west. Not quite raining but not dry either; not a breath of wind. The house was in a forest and we could see from indoors that the dreaded midges were afoot in thick cloud formation.

We geared up in the house as best we could. Said our goodbyes, put on our helmets, zipped up everything, closed visors and stepped out into the cloud.

I have never experienced anything like it. I had to keep my gloves off to do up those straps and I thought I would fail. At one point I considered throwing the bag there and riding off. By the time we got our bags strapped on, and bikes moving, the little bastards had got into our helmets. Annoyingly the house was at the end of a dirt track so we couldn't increase our speed until we eventually joined the tarmac road. The joy of opening the visor at speed, and clearing those little beggers out, still lives with me.

[EoinC]

4 hours ago, Michael-IIIf said:

Oh those straps. Last year I stayed in a friend's house in the west of Ireland. The morning both my nephew and I were leaving on our bikes it dawned 'soft' - as they call it in the west. Not quite raining but not dry either; not a breath of wind. The house was in a forest and we could see from indoors that the dreaded midges were afoot in thick cloud formation.

We geared up in the house as best we could. Said our goodbyes, put on our helmets, zipped up everything, closed visors and stepped out into the cloud.

I have never experienced anything like it. I had to keep my gloves off to do up those straps and I thought I would fail. At one point I considered throwing the bag there and riding off. By the time we got our bags strapped on, and bikes moving, the little bastards had got into our helmets. Annoyingly the house was at the end of a dirt track so we couldn't increase our speed until we eventually joined the tarmac road. The joy of opening the visor at speed, and clearing those little beggers out, still lives with me.

Another example of how slowly my brain works (There isn’t a lot of it, and it is an old model, to be fair) - This morning, at 4am, after only 4 weeks on the road / trail, I worked out that, if I left the straps fully extended, I didn’t need to unbuckle them again to fit the hooks when remounting the bags*.

*This will make no sense whatsoever to anyone other than Michael, or other Kriega users, but is such a simple thing as to be indicative of a grotesque ability to overlook the obvious.

I’m currently down near Hat Yai, crossing back to the East Coast of Thailand from Krabi, with about 300km left to Sungai Golok. I’ll see whether I want to stay another day in Thailand tomorrow, or to head across the border for the run down to KL.

[david strachan]

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Travel safe Eoin.

...

[EoinC]

4 hours ago, LocalHero1953 said:

I've passed through those same periods of flitting from office to office, and retired to get away from them. The memory of office work blurs while the earlier times remain vivid (I can still picture my journey across Sinai to St Catherine's Monastery before it entered the tourist books), for the reasons you make very clear in your own experiences. Faced with disaster or using your brain to work your way out of it, it's remarkable how often mind wins out over matter - but you remember those moments afterwards. I hope you'll tell us where those 4x5 images can be seen, even if they aren't on this (Leica) forum.

Indeed, Paul. Although my office to office includes place like Angola and Equatorial Guinea, it is still very logical and organised. That causes the brain to be ‘busy’, but not directly engaged.

I spent my 21st birthday on my own, out on a closed gold mine, 170km of dirt road from the closest shop. I was out there for 8-months, and never got bored with my environment, nor did I ever feel lonely.

It is incredibly gratifying to me to find that part of me still exists - The pilot flame is still burning.

[EoinC]

7 minutes ago, david strachan said:

Travel safe Eoin.

...

Thanks, David.

The roads and the weather are good, and neither I nor the bike are particularly fast.

[gbealnz]

Confirms it for me, you are mad.

Having done my share of off-road riding, the R/E doesn't strike me as being "ideal", but to be fair you sort of said that.

Keep well. And post the 4x5 shots, regardless of whether you could be convicted with the fingerprint evidence.

Gary

[EoinC]

26 minutes ago, gbealnz said:

Confirms it for me, you are mad.

Having done my share of off-road riding, the R/E doesn't strike me as being "ideal", but to be fair you sort of said that.

Keep well. And post the 4x5 shots, regardless of whether you could be convicted with the fingerprint evidence.

Gary

You waited a surprisingly long time for confirmation, Gary. Surely there was enough circumstantial evidence since you came to know me to support an early conviction?

I hear things are warming up over there.

[gbealnz]

Benefit of the (my) doubt, but now beyond reasonable. 😉

Yes in the 20's today, but given our 4 seasons in one day weather I'm not expecting much.

Gary 

[willeica]

11 hours ago, Michael-IIIf said:

Oh those straps. Last year I stayed in a friend's house in the west of Ireland. The morning both my nephew and I were leaving on our bikes it dawned 'soft' - as they call it in the west. Not quite raining but not dry either; not a breath of wind. The house was in a forest and we could see from indoors that the dreaded midges were afoot in thick cloud formation.

We geared up in the house as best we could. Said our goodbyes, put on our helmets, zipped up everything, closed visors and stepped out into the cloud.

I have never experienced anything like it. I had to keep my gloves off to do up those straps and I thought I would fail. At one point I considered throwing the bag there and riding off. By the time we got our bags strapped on, and bikes moving, the little bastards had got into our helmets. Annoyingly the house was at the end of a dirt track so we couldn't increase our speed until we eventually joined the tarmac road. The joy of opening the visor at speed, and clearing those little beggers out, still lives with me.

Last year was particularly warm here. Add in a little bit of a 'soft day' and you get two mists to deal with, the liquid kind and the midges. The Gulf Stream brings warm moist air to the West Coast of Ireland which can have all kinds of interesting climatic and other effects, such as the one you describe in Summer and huge storms in the Winter, but they rarely get snow except on high ground.

Eoin, I am in awe of what you are doing. I thought that dune bashing in a jeep in Qatar was adventurous, but it was nothing compared to what you are doing. I am just about to engage in a 4x5 (or 5x4) photography workshop in the safe confines of Dublin, but you are bashing around what we used to call Indo China on a Royal Enfield with a 4x5 land camera on the pillion. I am speechless. I would like to see the photos that you got. One of the drivers for me in getting involved with 4x5 was collecting old larger format lenses such as a 1934 Leitz Large Format Compur lens, but even more relevant to me are my 3 Grubb lenses made here in Dublin in the 1850s and 1860s. Organising a rig for the older lenses is interesting and I am considering options such as a Thornton Pickard Roller Blind Shutter to allow the use of modern emulsions with the Grubb lenses and not just the old 'take the lens cap off and count' method. I am sure that you have more modern equipment. I am look forward to seeing the photographic results from your journey.

William

[EoinC]

Thanks, William. I have my favourite little Fujinar-W 135mm f/5.6, along with a Nikkor-SW 90mm f/8, but the Nikkor never saw the light of day during the trip, slumbering in an air filter box. The Fujinar is especially nice, in that it can remain in place when folding the camera.

4x5 is reasonably portable, and the setting up is fun - By the time one takes a shot, everyone has forgotten that it’s a camera. It is fun to show people that there’s nothing inside, and they tend to be intrigued by the upside-down image on the ground glass.

I said I wouldn’t haul the 4x5 backup there, but actually, I would. Next time around would be just the Fujinar, and a box each of Delta 100 and Tri-X 320, with more time shooting, and less time riding.

When it comes to little flying things, I worked for several years doing seismic traverses of Papua New Guinea’s mountains, jungles, and swamps. I got malaria every time I was in PNG, except for a couple of years doing geothermal coring out in New Ireland Province.
 

The very worst I experienced was working across a massive sago swamp, out from the Sepik River. It was weeks of a nightmare existence, with the spiny sago trees floating above the black, stagnant waters. Every second was filled with a black cloud of mosquitos around each of us, so thick it was hard to see. They bit us everywhere, including inside our ears and on our lips. The only way to escape was to jump in the bottomless water, which only gave very temporary relief. We tried DEET, but the mossies would bite us through it as we applied it.

The only thing that briefly halted my feeling sorry for myself was when, halfway across the fetid 100km swamp, we came across a village, floating on the sago. The people were universally in poor condition, with whole-body skin diseases, and permanent malaria. They lived solely off sago, which has to be the least inspiring diet known to mankind. The process of getting the sago (pith of a weak palm) is very labour-intensive, and the final result is something akin to (and perhaps not quite as tasty and nutritious as) wallpaper glue.

Since then every time I have felt hard done by through the attention of mossies, sandflies, ticks, or even the flying ants doing aerobatics inside my helmeted ears on this Laos trip, a quick reference thought back to that village brings a little humbling perspective to my ego... at least until the next Stuka Whine, or flying ant barrel roll.

[EoinC]

There are 2 factors that fascinate me with travel:

1) The ‘parallel universe’ factor, of seeing people living their lives in their environments. I consider myself to be very fortunate in many aspects, one of which is having heard the following tale when I first met a person many years ago, who has turned out to be a very good friend. As it happened, I was on my first trip to PNG, and I met him at the airport in Auckland, flying up to the same job.

He is older than me, and comes from a small town on the West Coast of the South Island of NZ. He had a job-for-life with the Roads Dept when, as a young fella, he was offered work exploration drilling in Western Australia. All the town told him he would be stupid to leave, except for one old bloke. He said to him something along the lines of “Don’t listen to those idiots - You have to travel to see how other people mow their lawns”. That has stuck with me for 30+ years - The more I see, the more I recognise that everyone has their lawns to mow. They all have the same general concerns, day to day - Food, shelter, money, kids, security etc, etc. There may be differences in how they go about things, or the scale or complexity of their challenges, but there is more in common than there is at variance.

It continues to fascinate me to make those connections, as all these individuals’ parallel universes continue along their paths.

2) The effect it has upon me. I find it to be like a touchstone. Brushing up against the human experience of others is like turning on a reality light bulb for me. All of the dross that normally fills my day (and it is interesting dross, for me, at least), subsides like a sand bank into a stream. I find it a very refreshing experience mentally, and greatly value it, when it occurs.

Although current technology, to some extent helps us to share our thoughts and experiences (here, being an example), it also risks becoming a substitute for real human interaction. Sometimes we (I) have to feel the mud to understand what it is.

Edited October 31, 2019 by EoinC

[StS]

Apologies if I wrote this before, but in my understanding a bit of adventure distinguishes the traveller from the holidaymaker. It seems you are getting quite a lot of it.

Enjoy you trip and travel safely

Stefan

[willeica]

2 hours ago, EoinC said:

He is older than me, and comes from a small town on the West Coast of the South Island of NZ.

About 15 years ago, we drove along the West Coast of South Island from Haast to Hokitika (had been in Milford Sound earlier with someone else doing the driving) and then turned inland further North towards the wine country. They were hardy people in Haast, a lot of them being of Irish descent. They invited us to the 'afters' of a cattle fair, which, just as in Ireland, involved mighty lots of drink. One of them a sturdy chap in a check shirt, who turned out to be the brother of the lady we were staying with, kept sending drinks over to our table, just for my wife. I was told later that there was a shortage of wives among farmers on South Island as women would not go into remote areas to find themselves as 'deputy farmers'. Anyway, all was well when I introduced myself to the guy in the check shirt and we got on famously for the rest of the night. The roads in NZ were fine apart from the one lane bridges, falling rock avalanches (mixed with ice near glaciers - we really had to run from an avalanche near Mt Cook with pieces of ice the size of houses falling off the mountain glacier), a Swedish farm boy running his car into the back of mine near Mt Cook and, of course, the odd wandering, one or, perhaps, a million, sheep.  They told us that there were 40 million sheep in NZ, but I thought that I spotted more than a few without their 'green cards'. I would say that living in NZ would give great training opportunities for driving and exploring anywhere in the world. And the photographic opportunities were superb as well.

William

PS I forgot to mention the Keas, who would not only steal your picnic, but would also take every strip of rubber off your car wipers, windscreen surrounds etc

[EoinC]

3 hours ago, willeica said:

About 15 years ago, we drove along the West Coast of South Island from Haast to Hokitika (had been in Milford Sound earlier with someone else doing the driving) and then turned inland further North towards the wine country. They were hardy people in Haast, a lot of them being of Irish descent. They invited us to the 'afters' of a cattle fair, which, just as in Ireland, involved mighty lots of drink. One of them a sturdy chap in a check shirt, who turned out to be the brother of the lady we were staying with, kept sending drinks over to our table, just for my wife. I was told later that there was a shortage of wives among farmers on South Island as women would not go into remote areas to find themselves as 'deputy farmers'. Anyway, all was well when I introduced myself to the guy in the check shirt and we got on famously for the rest of the night. The roads in NZ were fine apart from the one lane bridges, falling rock avalanches (mixed with ice near glaciers - we really had to run from an avalanche near Mt Cook with pieces of ice the size of houses falling off the mountain glacier), a Swedish farm boy running his car into the back of mine near Mt Cook and, of course, the odd wandering, one or, perhaps, a million, sheep.  They told us that there were 40 million sheep in NZ, but I thought that I spotted more than a few without their 'green cards'. I would say that living in NZ would give great training opportunities for driving and exploring anywhere in the world. And the photographic opportunities were superb as well.

William

PS I forgot to mention the Keas, who would not only steal your picnic, but would also take every strip of rubber off your car wipers, windscreen surrounds etc

The West Coast, Otago, and Southland are my favourite NZ regions, where nature is the major feature, partly in the form of weather.

Keas have ‘endearing’ personalities. When I was growing up (physically, if not mentally), NZ had 40m sheep, and 2m people. I suspect that ratio is a little milder now, but still plenty to form a revolution, should they ever get organised.

Back in those days, we got our driving licenses at the age of 15, probably aimed at trying to legalise what we were already doing. I received my license on my 15th birthday, along with a ticket from the same traffic cop for attending the test with bald tyres.

[farnz]

I can identify a little with your journey, Eoin, although not nearly to the rugged extent that you experienced and expertly related.

Some years ago during a trip through Thailand and Indonesia I rode a step-through from Chiang Rai up into the mountains to visit a mountain tribe and the 'roads' were astonishingly dangerous - merely very well-used, one-lane dirt tracks with death-guaranteed drops on one side all the way and meeting vehicle coming the other way was extremely 'interesting' and little more than a battle of wills about who would remain on terra firma.

It's doubtful that my ageing rental step-through had seen any maintenance over its life, it had its own thoughts as far as pointing in the right direction was concerned and had a sticking throttle just to keep things interesting.  It seemed to be par for the course in that part of the world.  

But nothing even slightly comparing with your journey.  In the words of Kippling "You're a braver man than I, Gunga Din".

I'm glad you made it out in one piece, fubar-red shoulder and all!

Pete.

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[EoinC]

Decided to head down to KL, as foobarred shoulder was reiterating that the World revolves around it. Along the way I saw some nice limestone karst scenes in Gua Muang that call for me to spend some time there.

More holiday snaps than photography, but here are some of the few shots from the M246, which spent most of its time being a bedfellow to the hibernating Nikkor SW 90...

Looking across the Mekong to Laos, from Chiang Saen:

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L001 by Eoin Christie, on Flickr

Looking down the Mekong from Xiangkok in Laos. Laos is on the left, and the land on the right is Shan State, Myanmar. The track I rode up largely follows the Mekong on the Laos bank. Just downstream around the corner is a channeled, rapid section, which is where I drifted to in my inflatable kayak all those years ago, when i couldn't paddle back upstream - Perhaps that's why my shoulder is foobarred?:

L003 by Eoin Christie, on Flickr

Looking upstream from Xiengkok. The Unfriendship Bridge is a bit further up (Myanmar on  the left, and Laos on the right), and China is a few turns further up to the right. Xiengkok used to be the main port of entry for opium:

L004 by Eoin Christie, on Flickr

Muang Long market just after dawn. The women in the foreground are Akha:

L002 by Eoin Christie, on Flickr

Bridge over the River Ma (Nam Ma) near Muang Long. This heads over to the areas where the Akha live. Once they have 3 fully laden motorbikes, plus a bunch of people walking across, all sorts of sine waves kick into action:

L005 by Eoin Christie, on Flickr

Edited November 1, 2019 by EoinC