Category Archives: Detours

“Never in the way,
never out of the way.”

- King Charles II

Phun Phin: A Detour

One of the best things about not making definitive plans is that you are free to make it up as you along.  When I arrived at the Surat Thani train station around 5 pm, I had to do just that.  Because my reservation for Koh Phangan was not for 2 more days, I had decided to take a fellow ATI course member’s recommendation and check out Khao Sok National Park.

Unlike most train stations in the country, the Surat Thani station is not actually in Surat Thani, but rather in Phun Phin, about 14 kilometers outside the city and about 80 kilometers from Khao Sok.  Because I arrived in the evening, no more of the buses or cheap transport were heading to Khao Sok for the night.

This pretty much left me with 2 initial options when I got off the train.  I could have easily and cheaply gone into Surat Thani (the opposite direct from where I wanted to go) on one of the songthaews or buses taking most of the people leaving my train.  Or, I could have taken a private cab/songthaew to the park for 1000-1500 baht ($30-45).

Neither sounded too appealing to me.

I looked over lodging options at Khao Sok as I ate dinner just down the road from the train station.  Since it was already starting to get dark, and the drive there was around an hour, there was very little I would be able to do in the park that night anyway.

So, throwing the other options away, I got a room at the Queen’s Hotel, right around the corner from the Surat Thani station for 240 baht, a quarter of anything I would have paid to even get to the park that night, much less stay there too.

Sure, the room, and especially the town, was nothing special.  But, it was a night in a place I had never seen before and would likely never stay again.

Phun Phin from the Surat Thani Train Station.

After dropping off my bag, I began walking around the town a bit to see what it offered.  The area around the hotel had a park and a small street market, which I unsuccessfully searched for some new headphones at.

At the train station, there is a shabby metal bridge over the train tracks into another park of the town.  It looked more questionable, and as it was already getting dark, I opted to stay on my side of town for the night.

So picking up some snacks and Elephant brand super glue from 7-11, I headed back to my room at 19:30 and passed the night watching television, getting ready for an early morning trip to Khao Sok.

The local Happiness Center. It was closed.

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A Walk Along the Death Railway

There’s no point in travelling if you aren’t going to let your whims get the best of you occasionally.  Or, in my case, most of the time.

By mistake, I overshot the turn I was supposed to take back to Kanchanaburi.  But, I came across a sign advertising, in English, Krasae Cave, one not so far away (under a half hour) from where I was.  The day was barely half over after I had left Muang Sing, and the bike was only 50 baht per hour late.

Given a conversation I had a couple nights back with Sarah about caving, and my lack thereof, I gunned the little motorbike in the direction of this Krasae.

This whole area to the west of Kanchanaburi, where Muang Sing and I were, is a sparsely populated grassland with random rocky hills cropping up and stray mountains looming over the distance.   Problem with this is, because of my experience driving out to Erawan the day before, and my tank being almost empty, I was a little concerned about the dwindling petrol arrow.

Passing (and passing up) a number of otherwise intriguing attractions unexpectedly advertised along this backroad, I continued along toward Krasae Cave.

Within 2 kilometers of where it was supposed to be, my path was suddenly blocked by 2 mega buses pulling out onto my road from what seemed to be nothing more than a small temple a few hundred meters off the road.  It took about 4 minutes for the 2 of them to correct their turns and actually head in the direction I had just come from.  Meanwhile, I couldn’t move around them at all.

The megabuses which shouldn’t be on roads like this blocking my way . . .

. . . and the only thing visible in the direction they came from.

Once on my way again, it was only a few minutes before I found myself at a dead end.  I hadn’t missed a turn I was supposed to take; I knew that much.  There were no other stemming roads between the last sign and where I was now, next to an empty dirt parking lot.

It was here that I stumbled upon the Death Railway and its Wampo Viaduct.

The only things in sight were the railway and an auspiciously located English camp that was next to me.  The camp stood next to a river, and there was a visible path leading along the trestle railway from it.  I rode down the rather steep slope into the main grounds of the camp, hoping to find something.  In doing so, I gained nothing but the inquisitive looks of a few Thai employees working the grounds.

The ‘Miracle of Life’ English camp

The camp’s main grounds on the River Kwai.

For being an English camp, they weren’t terribly helpful in their English, though I got my point across enough that I was looking for Krasae Cave. They pointed to the railway; the kind that runs along a cliff side on wooden supports and always collapses in movies right as the train gets to it.  I was supposed to take that to the cave.

Looking a the Wampo Viaduct from near the camp.

So, heading back up the slope, I parked my bike in the dirt lot at the road’s dead end and began walking along the path to the railway.  There was a metal path built into the center of the railway for people to walk along, and spaced platforms for these walkers to stand should, say, a Death Railway train come along.

The tracks curved along a dramatic river bend.  On the outside stood the cliff I was skimming.  Parts of it were notably carved away to make room for the train, and some of it hung over enough to warrant being reinforced by concrete.  The edges of the body-width pathway promptly gave way to a view below the tracks, which was a very clear 20-meter drop beneath to the river.

On the inside bend, opposite where I was walking, were a series of floating buildings roped to the shore.  The ornate pathways leading to them gave the impression it was a resort of some sort.  I later looked it up to find out it was the Sai Yok Country Resort.

Thankfully no trains came as I was walking this elevated trestle bridge and a few minutes in, I could see the entrance to the cave.

At the entrance to Krasae Cave.

The nicest part about this was the feeling of satisfaction that I had simply stumbled upon this amazing hidden spot at the dead end of the road.  There were a couple Thai couples and a one white European family near the cave when I entered, but this entire stretch was almost empty otherwise.

Inside the cave was a Buddha statue surrounded by miniature idols and other effects.  The cave went back a little ways and ended in a hole, which was too narrow for me to try getting in to.  While not the magnificent display of hollowed earth I was hoping for, it was great to see my first cave temple.

The Buddha statue in Krasae Cave.

As I was walking out, many, many more Europeans began entering the cave and I had no idea where they were coming from.  Surely they couldn’t have come from the same spot I had?  It was empty no more than 20 minutes before.

Outside of the cave, I saw they were coming from the other end of the viaduct.  I continued on to that side to find a miniature tourist village filled with trinket shops and a parking lot filled with dozens of minibuses and a few enormous tour buses.

Seeing this ruins the feeling a little.

Apparently this wasn’t the great find I had thought I had made.  I had just come in the back way.

One of the authentic parts of the village.

I wandered the small village for a while, sometimes having to push my way through tourists more interesting in the souvenirs than the river and sights just a little further.  I, too, looked at a few stands but had no reason to buy anything.

A couple restaurants overlooked the river and I opted to get lunch at one.  It was set up as a build your own plate meal.  When I went to pay, the man at the cashier looked confused.  It seemed a tour group had purchased vouchers for their guests, and he just assumed I was one of them.  Sure, I could have played it off that way and gotten a free meal, but don’t like the idea of that.

Lunch over the river.

But a seat overlooking the whole scene of the Wampo Viaduct, Kwai River bend, and the floating homes below, well, it all made for a nice accompaniment to the first time I tried massaman curry.

As I left the restaurant, a Death Train was pulling out of the Tham Kasae stop (where I was) and headed over the Wampo Viaduct and back toward Kanchanaburi.  I followed soon after, taking the viaduct back toward my bike and riding a different route back.

Now this is a filling station.

Thankfully I came across a very basic petrol station soon enough.  Within an hour I was back at Kanchanaburi and stopped to check out the infamous ‘Bridge over the River Kwai’.

In all truth there is nothing special about the bridge other than it is the beginning of the Death Railway, which has a lot of history behind it.  The bridge itself is not any impressive work of architecture (the current or the original) and the stretch of river it is over is calm and not incredibly wide or challenging.

The famous ‘Bridge Over the River Kwai’

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A Reminder of Why I’m a City Person: A Memory

An old update from 2008 I found:

So last night around 7:30, I was driving through southern Mississippi, and had been driving for about 9 hours, so I decided to pull off for some food. Instead of just going for McDonald’s or some other crappy fast food like the Huddle House (would anyone actually eat at a place called that?) I wanted to go to a local place. So being in southern Mississippi, I figured the small town restaurant would be the way to go.

I got off the highway to go to the town of Bogue Chitto, about 5 miles off the highway. It was close enough so that I wouldn’t go out of my way, but far enough that it wouldn’t be swarming with commercialization. Well it turns out that there was less in this small town than even I expected. It was, of course, what you’d expect a small Mississippi town to look like, and MAYBE 200 people could live there at the very most. So aside from the houses, here is a roster of what the town had:

1 school
1 Post office
1 self-storage building
1 Derelict gas station
1 lawncare store
6 churches

No restaurant, not even a town bar. Yet, they had 6 churches. And 4 of these were baptist churches. Can anyone figure why a town of 200 would need 6 churches, most of which are exactly the same?

Another thing I noticed the whole time I was in Mississippi is the pickup trucks. They are everywhere. And these are not the little pickups like those Ford Rangers that we may see around Grand Rapids, these are all gigantic monsters of trucks, Ram 3500′s and such, that seem to take up a lane and a half of roadway. Why Mississippians would need trucks this size is beyond me. Although, there is something somewhat satisfying about jetting past these things in my little Sunfire.

After finally getting through Mississippi, I got to New Orleans last night around 10. Fun should be had now.

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Nang Rong: A Detour

“. . . With a firm and ample base;
And ascending and secure.
Shall tomorrow find its place.”
- Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Angkor ruins dot the entire area surrounding the Cambodia border, but there was one in particular that I wanted to see: Prasat Phanom Rung.  One of the largest in Thailand, this Hindu-Khmer monument stands at the peak of an extinct volcano.

Rather than renting a bike and making a day trip from Surin, I figured that it was time to move on and hopped a bus headed toward Nang Rong. This ended up being a much better idea, as the trip took nearly 3 hours, much longer than would have been comfortable for a motorbike round trip.

While there is an odd branch of the world-famous Cabbages and Condoms in Nang Rong, I opted for the Honey Inn, a small family run guesthouse.  This was an immensely comfortable and welcoming place.  My room had air-conditioning and I was able to finally get all my laundry washed that had been stinking up my backpack since Chiang Mai.  On top of that that, they had free wifi and rented motorbikes to their guests.

It was middle afternoon by the time I arrived in Nang Rong, so I arranged to stay for 2 nights and rent a bike first thing in the morning for the trip.

I spent the rest of the day checking out Nang Rong, which isn’t a lot. The town is essentially a highway stop on the long road between Bangkok and Ubon Ratchathani. There was not much in the way of nightlife, though there was a festival of some sort going on in the town’s park. I grabbed a couple light snacks there and played a few games (no prizes won) before heading back to the guesthouse.

I got back just in time for a family style dinner prepared by the owners. All the guests were there.  Consisting of multiple courses and a large variety of dishes, but my personal favorite was the stuffed fish.  Prepared in a grilled/smoked style typical of many vendors, I had been reluctant to try it in Bangkok, primarily due to the horrid condition of the many canals.  Here, I figured it might be a little bit fresher.

After dinner, I spent a good deal of time speaking to a German couple over a couple of Changs.  They seemed to be going the opposite direction I was.  They had just come from Bangkok and were heading further east, but were there for the ruins as well.

I went to bed happy at the thought I would be off on the road tomorrow (in fresh, clean clothes) to get my first glimpse of the Angkor civilization ruins.

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Ontonagon-title

A Detour: Ontonagon and Rockland

“They’re all faded from all the light
we have in here,
but I kind of like the color
they faded to.”
- Angela Cummings

One of the first things someone driving into downtown Ontonagon will notice, and there is no kinder way to put it, is that Ontonagon is a dying town. At least a third of the homes are for sale. Most downtown businesses are empty. If you continue on down to the end of the road on either side of the Ontonagon River, you’ll come to what used to be the lifeblood of the town, the paper mill that was fueled by the area’s lumber industry.

A derelict boat down the road from the Ontonagon marina.

The area has a fantastic history both visible and a bit buried. One stop to be sure to make is the Ontonagon Historical Museum, filled not only with interesting memorabilia and recreations of the town, but many curious archaeological from all over the area. When visiting, the curator was more than happy to guide me around.

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