Malaysia - Championing The Cameron Highlands

With our goodbyes and farewells given to Steve, we moved on to conquer what is the toughest stretch of mountain cycling in Malaysia.

The Cameron Highlands do no lay in the the direct path to Thailand; they do block the path to our next destination; we had not to necessarily cycling up and over them to complete our tour.

That is, what might have taken us from Kuala Lumpur in two days we did in nine. Nine hard days of riding. Doubly for me since my decision to partake in the Fast. Participant-observation (what up Anthro majors!) had something to do with it, more does the added challenge of pushing my "self" further than I thought it could. If I've been pushing the boundaries of my mental capacity in academia the last four years, I feel ready now to push my physical limits as well. Mind and body.

After it all, us Californians just like to do things a little different, don't we?

It happened then that rather continuing along the west coast that we headed North - right into the center region of Malaysia. 

Our route: KL -> Kuala Kubu Baru -> Raub -> Sungai Koyan  -> Tahna Ratta -> Gua Massang -> Jeli -> Grik -> Pinang! 

Something like 4700 m of ascent had been championed by the end of our detour. Check out Chris' blog for more statistical data, you'll realize that although I appreciate accounting our trip in numbers, that it is much more the qualitative essence of the journey I value. Here are my accompanying admissions:

Before completely leaving the KL area, we stopped off at Batu Caves. A beautiful ritualistic space inside the mountain side turned tourist attraction.

The caves are excellent for what they are, a naturally carved out region of private earth used as a place to demonstrate worship. Monks can still be noticed carrying out their daily routine. 

Our routine has also set in. Cycle, cycle, cycle, rest. We've just spent the last week on our ass reminiscing with Steve, the time has come to cycle on.

My bike taking a break at a hidden lake. Just one of the benefits to traveling by bike rather than charged bus is that you will always have the option to stop off and do lunch. Come cycle with us!

You want to be here.

Another bike brake. On occation, when the mood is paired with opportunity, Chris and I will stop off at either an outside exercise structure (more present than you might think) or in cases like this, well stop off a children's playground to do pull ups, planks, press-ups, sit ups, an any other type of repetitive movement and stretching that utilizes parts of the body not activated by cycling. Feels good!

Admission, my travels are not always about the good times. I've had small accidents, food poising, broken bike parts, rain outs, and the type of diarrhea that has you wiping you're legs and your ass (apologies for the visual). Anyways, low points are inevitable.

There is this line in Terrentino's PulpFiction when Vincent Vega turns to Jules portrayed by Samuel Jackson in the morning coffee restaurant and asks him what he plans to do with his life now that he's decided to leave life as a hitman/thug/agent of organized crime. When Jules responds that he simply intends to "walk the Earth," Vincent then retorts, "they have a name for that Jules - it's called being a bum - you're going to be a f**king bum!"

I may (or may not) have left a life or organized crime behind me, but I certainly felt like a bum on this day. No one would take us in and no hotels to provide accommodation, we roughed the night. Showers in gas station bathrooms, and a little apartment (depicted here) bordered by a broken plane of white board and a trash can. Our space was small, out of the way, and covered in case of rain. You know what? I did feel like a bum. And Im glad I did. At least for one night, you realize you don't need all the things you think you do.

Side note: Sorry moms. I know you worry about us from time to time and this does not help. However all was safe and without incident - we ride on.  

Lucky for us, the Brothers in Raub did let us stay with them. This is their mosque and the gazebo we spent the night in.

Breaking the Fast with our Brother friends in Sungai Koya, a town so small it is not mentioned on our paper or digital maps. 

Inside of the mosque at Sungai Koyan where Chris and blew up our inflatable mattresses and rested the night away listening to Islamic hyms.

It took four full days of mountain cycling to reach the secluded town of Tahun Ratta, nestled right in the middle of the Highlands.

The mosque were we spend two nights.

There wasn't much to see for the town itself; a few boutiques, a few shops, and a Starbucks.

However, this does not mean there is nothing to do, especially durring the Holy month of Ramadhan. We made friends with a young man named Muhammad who invited us out for a night at his local hideout. 

Just a wooden shack in a rural backcountry. Muhammad's hideout is comfortably homie. Cards were played and snacks consumed.

And what would a group of young men alone in the would be without explosives? Grab that torch and light this paint bucket mixed with a certain chemical and water to see it go sky high - only cover your ears before you do. Sigh, you just can't have this kind of fun in America!

We took a day off to do some hiking because that's what you do in highlands. Why not rest up and use our other leg muscles.

See the smiley face? 

A view from the top. This is no mount Kerinchi, but it was a solid hike.

Top the day off with meeting a nice trio of women (Margie, why don't I have your picture? See you in Austrailia!) on the uphill, great conversation, and a couple rounds of Tiger beer!

 Leaving the Cameron Highlands. My bike pulls me over to take a snapshot. 

We're we spend another night. Basically a community recreation room. At least it was covered.

Scenes along the way back to the West coast.

And one last night outing in Jeli. Not an easy sleep. I got through it but was not rested at all.

Bumbing off of park benches in Gerik. I'm off to find food before the Sun, Chris won't be up for hours.

And so ended our expedition. Challenge accepted, challenge complete. I do have to say, in retrospect, how much the highlands have conditioned my legs. I am no where close to cycling the capacity I was six months ago. Now I would fly if My bike had wings. What would that look like? Hmmm....

Another post for the books my friends and loved ones. I miss you all.

Love,

-A

Ps. I've done a lot of math in my head while riding this bike. It's an excellent exercise to keep you sharp and kill time. One of the things I've figured is this: that I've officilly spent more time sitting on this bike than I have spent sitting in a Berkely classroom. No judgements on which is of greater value, just a fun fact. 

Malaysia - Where Is Maniam?

"Stop! Cyclists!" were the yells of a man behind me. 

However, I paid no attention to the man at my rear; my attention was spent rather on the graded hill Chris and I found ourselves on. No time for chit chat right now. Besides, the yeller probably just wants to sell us some if his home made whiskey, or talk about the weather, or (on not so rare occasions) have us try and marry his daughters.

It happens like this in Indonesia. We'll be on a climb when a local motors his/her cycle up along side us, oblivious to our sweat and effort. And in a complete inversion to the illustration of the moment they ask, like a casual hello on a Sunday afternoon, "Hello! What are you!?"

Yes, "what" am I? Good question. Is this guy asking a deep question, or do I have something on my face? 

Despite the philosophical trench of pondering the question introduced in me, the question's intention is actually "how", not "what." A mistranslated induced by context.

"Hey cyclists!!" Louder and closer this time. In any regard, we ignored him. 

But he persisted. Our meeting couldn't be helped now, he was close. I broke my concentration and turned my head to see who was demanding our attention. Who would have guessed (certainly not me) that it would be our riding and treking parter for the next three months - and a good friend. 

It's been almost a month now, since we last saw Steve Maniam in Kuala Lumpur. Where is he now? Follow his blog to find out: whereismaniam.blogspot.com/?m=1

The twin towers of Kuala Lumpur. It is possible for tourists to ride an elevator up to a public viewing space, but the space is only on the twenty second floor. So, why bother? See that bridge thing connecting the two towers half way up the first cylinder? That's it.

Kuala Lumpur, as a city, is not for me. They say its crowded, overpopulated, smelly, etc. the same old list of adjectives to describe the characteristic grime of any metropolis. Yet, Jakarta and NY subscribe to the list and I loved it there. And although Singapore was missing the dirty underbelly that I like to bask in, it was still OK. No, what ends up killing my desire to revisit KL (they shorten all the major cities down to two letters here. You kind of have to be in the know) is the physical lay out of it all. 

That is, walking and therefore even biking is a harassing frustration. Traversing the city was like trying to find your way out of a unwinable concrete maze. Took a walk, ended up on the freeway. Ok, maybe I took a wrong turn. Ride my bike, ended up on the freeway. Shoot. Eventually, making your way through all came down to either driving or taking public transportation. Sounds familiar Dodger fans? Ugh. When you can't even walk out of one neighborhood to the next without crossing an eight lane highway, your City Planer needs to go back to school. Grade school.

All said, we came to KL to see Steve not the City. We separated over a month ago back when we left Lake Toba because of visa expirations. Back in KL, we met him by the train station closest to his family house and Team Neapolitan was reunited; and it felt so good. 

Try walking across this. A moat, concrete walls, commuter stations. You'll get lost before you figure out where you need to go. And I'm not talking tourist SF kind of lost, I'm talking Arctic plain crash lost.

Train stations. We would have managed our sightseeing by bike...but like I said.

Ahhh, hell. KL can't be all that bad, they house the last Borders Books on the planet.

And this is Oscar. Probably the only huskie breed in Malaysia. Because of the warm climate, Oscar spent his days trying to get inside the house where the temperature is nice and cool on the cold tiles.

Steve's family also had a nasty little cat who loved pouncing on unsuspecting toes. 

...and she'll eat your toast if your not quick enough!!

What? What is there to do in KL you ask? Eat! Yeah, we'll, were good at that. What else ya got? Orchid garden? Ok, Im in.

That was some free fun, and worth a day. In all honesty, this day was one of my more productive days. Wanting to stay at home in a cool house, swapping stories with your ol' cycling mate, it was easy to stay Malay-zeed. It didn't help (or did it?) that the family has a home helper who cooked breakfast, lunch, and dinner. All vegetarian of course but I have since long ago accustomed to the diet.

Don't worry, I still eat meat! 

A Ramadhan bazzar in KL on the first breaking of the fast. Lots of people, lots of food!

One of my new favorite dinners. Eggs, meat, veggies, flour; it's like a....well, nothing I've ever tried before. And it's delicious. 

One of the last times the three of us had was a great night at home. Ordered chicken sate, beer, homemade pita bread and hummus, and Wimbledon men's tennis championship match.  

The event got on at midnight and we were all but too prepared to stay up late to watch the match.

All of three months and some odd days did Steve cycle with us, in front of us. We had an awesome time Steve! Thanks for stopping us on that hill oh so long ago.