Ask a seasoned biker and he’ll tell you – your bum becomes acutely ‘plugged in’ to the bike the moment you find yourself head down, rump up, negotiating a switchback on a 20-degree downhill gradient, followed by an immediate elevation change, with a three-tonne haulier bearing down on you, in the middle of a torrential downpour.
I check my digital display indicator (DDI) to make sure my traction control is on. The ‘tick tick tick’ of my ABS kicking in is reassuring. The loud ‘CHHHHHHH…’ – the sound of compressed air being vented from the brake system of the massive truck behind me – not so much.
Off in the distance, I see the red ‘Hey… pay attention!’ caution markers just before the start of the sharp turn. The sky is literally pissing on me. I ‘pop the speed boards’ – feather both the rear and front brakes to dump my speed, and my throttle is set to idle. Engine braking helps prevent the brake pads from exploding into a white-hot mess. The speedometer winds down to 15kph.
The wet tarmac tilts at a crazy angle at the apex – not only am I hanging forward on the handlebars, I’m about to bank sharply to the right. Streams of water cascade from the left side of the road down the slope. I glance at the rear-view mirrors and all I see are the huge halogen lights and the chrome grille on the behemoth behind me. A sliver of panic creeps in, and my right hand unconsciously twists on the throttle – just a smidge.
I suddenly feel the rear wheel sliding away from under me, but only just. I still have traction. I counter by shifting my weight to the left and thankfully, the bike responds. I’m still upright and have not swapped ends. I commit to the turn – albeit more upright now – and once I am in the clear, I feed the throttle gently to build separation between me and the truck barrelling down behind me. After three switchbacks, a wide-open ribbon of tarmac lays unobstructed in front of me. The truck is safely behind me, but I wasn’t going to take any chances. I plug the burners and head for the horizon.
I never really understood the phrase ‘flying by the seat of your pants’, until I hit the downward leg of Thailand’s Highway 108 after Pha Bong Viewpoint, 67km from my target for today, Mae Hong Son. The 163km stretch from Mae Sariang to Mae Hong Son is famed for its steep, winding mountain roads, forming part of the legendary Mae Hong Son Loop with its 1,864 sharp curves. The route features intense elevation changes – notably a 1,000m climb within the first 20km – followed by a series of short, steep ascents and descents. It’s gruelling enough for the greenhorn rider. Add extreme weather conditions, heavy gusts, and low cloud cover, it is a bruiser.
By now, I am completely and utterly soaked. Two straight days of solid sheets of rain. I stopped griping a long time ago. This time, I didn’t even bother to pull over and put on my rain gear. My waterlogged boots feel heavy.
Thankfully, by the time I hit Ban Mae Surin, 31km from Mae Hong Son, the sun had begun peeking out from the clouds, and the warmth of the afternoon rays enveloped me like a warm, comforting blanket. Ahmad Razlan Alias, wife Karlin Kayzee Khairudin, and Captain MK Ganesan had left me in the dust and were already laminating and collecting their Mae Hong Son Loop certs when I finally arrived. I spend the rest of the day flat on my back while the hairdryer worked its magic on my soaked socks, boxers, and boots.
Our next destination is Pai, 115km away. The rest the night before had done the trick. I woke up with a bounce in my step, aided in no small part by the iced mocha and croissant I had for breakfast. The thought of getting soaked again for a third straight day was not an appealing one, so we decided to fire up the engines at 11am. We figured that it would take us about three hours to get there. The waterworks usually start around 4pm here.
The journey from Mae Hong Son to Pai is along Route 1095, a stretch of road famed for its scenic views and relentless curves. This highway, which connects Chiang Mai to Mae Hong Son via Pai, cuts through the Tham Lot and Pai mountain ranges and offers one of the most thrilling rides in northern Thailand.
The sweepers and corners were invigorating and the three bikes stuck together like white on rice. The bends, sweeping corners, hairpin turns, switchbacks and endless elevation changes took us through mountainous jungle terrain, often clinging to ridgelines and steep hillsides. With more than 400 bends between Mae Hong Son and Pai alone, the road features a mix of gentle sweepers and sharp, decreasing-radius hairpins. Though the tarmac was generally in good condition, debris, loose sand and gravel in corners posed a constant hazard.
The climbs began not long after leaving Mae Hong Son, with several long ascents reaching gradients of between 8 and 10 per cent, more in some places. These are followed by sharp, twisting descents that demanded deft handling and laser focus. Elevation ranged from about 400m to 1,300m above sea level, and weather conditions can change quickly. The Honda ADV 350s acquitted themselves fairly well, the engines smooth, and putting out enough grunt for the challenging ascents. Handling was a different can of worms altogether. The rear wheel felt skittish and the weight distribution was a bit off, making slow-speed handling, especially in tight turns, particularly hairy affairs.
This section of Route 1095 is considered moderately to highly difficult. It’s manageable for beginners, but the combination of tight switchbacks, steep drop-offs, blind corners and potential fatigue from continuous turns makes it better suited to intermediate or advanced riders, which I am not. Common risks include landslides in the wet season, erratic drivers cutting corners, and mental fatigue from the sheer number of curves.
We pulled over at Kiew Lom Viewpoint, a scenic lookout point just 24km from our accommodation – Pai Country Huts. The weather was decent but our sojourn over Cokes and peanuts was cut short when dark clouds scudded by.
Pai Country Huts is a collection of 22 huts and cottages sprawled over two-and-a-half acres of farmland in the middle of Pai, close enough to the action if one is inclined that way, yet far enough from the hustle and bustle of a tourist hub. Two nights there and I was itching to open up the throttle once more.
Pai and its collection of eclectic bars, bistros, and weed shops were refreshing. Food was not a problem with a slew of halal restaurants to choose from. The suspension on the bike sank a bit lower when I swung a leg over it and got ready for the 127km run back to Chiang Mai.
The route back took us through a multitude of landscapes – farmlands, jungles, valleys, and peaks. The never-ending ribbon of asphalt stretched forever, providing hours of endless thrills and adrenaline spikes, interrupted only a few times by road and construction work.
Eighty-two kilometres from Chiang Mai, we spotted a quirky little roadside coffee joint on the right side of the road. The supernatural was the central theme that dominated the café, with ghouls, ghosts, witches, and banshees propped up all over the establishment. ‘Coffee We – The Witch’s House’ – is run by a diminutive lady in her 40s who whips up some fairly decent brew that made my eyebrows singe.
On the way back to my bike, I suffered a close call. A ‘Belgian waffle’ in a tight cropped top and baby blue crotch shorts that had been folded twice over, took a fancy to my Honda ADV350.
“Ah… 350…” he squealed. When that was met with a perplexed look, he sashayed over to my bike and pointed to his bike.
“Mine is 160.”
I nodded and said “Yeah… mine’s bigger than yours,” while Lan, Karlin, and Cap looked on, bemused.
I think it’s time I headed for home.
