Nakhon Si Thammarat, Thailand (Day 48, 5540 km)

Of course, since Australia nobody has yet made any attempt to search either me or my bike for prohibited goods... Also, the further I go, the less people seem to know about my carnet, partly because of the language, but also because almost everybody else crossing the border is a local (and thus don't seem to need any much paperwork at all!). So it's often a case of being pointed towards the actual office, rather than just the little kiosk, and from there, everybody in the office clustering around waving their arms in intense discussion for a few minutes – always fun, because they eventually realise that they just need to put the date, place, signature and official-looking stamp, but being customs people, they want to find out for themselves...

And on to the Kingdom of Thailand, and the year 2548! The technology 543 years into the future remains fairly basic, but everybody seems to have mastered the art of getting along and helping each other out as a community, which suits me just fine. Especially when my bike won't start. At all. After prevailing on a portly customs gentleman to push me, I recognise the forboding sound of the timing somehow being wrong again... well that only lasted 800km! (My first run was troublefree for at least 6500km, including the test run down to Christchurch and back, so I am rather disappointed...)

Thailand is also where English suddenly became a language that I have all to myself. So I have very quickly mastered the art of informal sign language, my phrasebook being rudimentary at best (especially for the science of motorcycle repair). So, unless stated otherwise, all conversation from this point is 95% signing... First things first – where I can I stay? You want hotel? No – too expensive... how about a guesthouse? Hmm? You wait here please... Ok.

A few minutes later the local mechanic turns up – no thank you, I want to open it up and have a look at it myself. Thank you for your help. I start to wheel the bike out the gate. They want to know where I'm going, and I sign that I'll be looking for a place where I can stay (where I will then take the bike to bits). You wait here please... Ok, what else can I do?

Well, the head customs man comes back with his ute, and we load the bike up – me sitting on top to hold it upright and the handbrake very firmly on! Five minutes away we come to an apartment block - it seems obvious that they live here. Will I please stay, and eat with them and spend the night? No, I couldn't possibly – that would be much too much trouble. Oh, are you sure? Ok then, muchos gracias!

So I take the head off, and find again that two valves are bent – argh! (Sorry, from here on the report becomes quite centred around the bike problems – apologies to those who are not technically inclined – I know that there are at least 2 people reading who will want to know the details, and besides, it provides a framework for all the fun and interesting times I've had.)

Enough for today – we stop for dinner (Thai food is the best!) and I find that I've been given an unoccupied apartment where I can lay out my sleeping bag – that makes me feel a little less imposing at least than being in their actual home!

The next morning they sign that I should hop in the ute, and off we go to the next town, 30km away! I'm not sure if these customs guys have flexitime... they didn't seem very busy when I first arrived... but it certainly worked out in my favour! We find the motorcycle repair shop and I sign that I would like a whole new XL250 head, as it has other problems apart from just the 2 bent valves. The guy brings out a head that looks almost the same, but with a single carb inlet (mine is twin).

Those in the know will understand why I couldn't help but smile at his next words: “Badger! Badger!" Eh? Oh, this head is from a Honda Baja... hehe – I still wanted to go “Woo-ooo! Here comes the snaaake!". Well, the head is almost right, but I can't use it – so I'll just grab the valves instead, which happen to be the right part number.

Of course, I haven't changed any money yet, so off we go to find a money changer. I change my few remaining Malaysian Ringits, but still don't have enough, so we need to find a bank to change my US50 note. The first one can't help, although they've got a board up with all the rates, including for US50 notes... ah well. Eventually I find another bank that will do it, but I need my passport, which I left back at the place in the other town where I am staying... Not negotiable here, so eventually I call the customs guy to change it – he needs to give them his ID, which they photocopy together with both sides of the note, and eventually, after taking down address and telephone details, I have my money – a little different from Bali, where even the shopkeepers will take 10 different currencies!

After getting the new valves put into the head (at another place), we head back, and I check the timing chain guide, to find that it has of course disintegrated, which was what caused the problem. There's no way I'd be able to get a replacement Honda part in this small town, and it would still require jimmying, even then... Of course, the whole time I have an audience, so I hold it up and pull a face... I now need some way, any way of getting the bike to go the 1200km until Bangkok, where hopefully there will be some spares – ideally a replacement head!

You, come with me... ok – how can you refuse, when these people are being such excellent hosts, and doing everything they can to help you? I feel so cared about and looked after! We went to his mate's shop (I think his mate was at lunch or something, because he turned up after half an hour or so, clad in a towel and a sheet) and raided it for tools, bits of metal, an anglegrinder and drill, and within 90 minutes, he fashioned up the most dodgy looking repair job I've seen in a while, but far more creatively than I would have done with those resources. And there's no way I could refuse to use it after all that free effort! Sweat was pouring off his brow, and when he ordered us a couple of drinks from the lady across the road, I tried to pay, but again it was not to be.

And to give him credit, it lasted 500km, almost as long as the official (modified) part! After swapping addresses, taking photos, etc, I rode off the next morning, even more gingerly than before. As happened the last two times, it seems that when the guide breaks, the engine will keep the tension on the chain and it will keep running, but when you stop it and restart, the chain will slip, and problems will happen. So I have been a lot more careful trying to start the bike, feeling for any unusual resistance. When I got to the end of the day (Nakhon Si Thammarat) , I stopped at the city hall visitor's centre for directions to a guesthouse, and when I tried to start the bike, I realised that it had happened again. Well the hotel was only 40 metres up the road – an easy push.

Yes, I was concerned that a hotel would be too expensive – well this one is B120 per night, which is about NZ$4. For that I get a big bed with bedsheets, and an ensuite. And to use the hotel lobby as a workshop! Miraculously I find that no valves are bent this time, and, pleased, I fish out all the shredded bits of metal, odd nuts and bolts, etc that went into the customs guy's effort, and wait until the next day to try my new scheme.

Experimentation seems to indicate that if I were to obtain a shorter chain (or shorten my one) and remove the chain guide completely, that I may be able to obtain the correct tension by adjusting the head gasket thickness slightly. I started wandering the streets, something I've done a fair bit in the last few days. I now know the location of countless engine shops, metalworkers, motorcycle mechanics and dealers, but nobody with much in the way of spares for my _humungous_ XL250.

A fairly typical encounter goes something like this – I walk in the door of a shop, hold up the chain, and say “Honda" and “XL 250". At the dealers and similar places they shake their heads, or sometimes have a bit of a discussion about it. I try to sign for directions to a place I can find one, and sometimes they point me up the street, etc. So I try for Plan B – can somebody remove a link from my chain? At one metalworker's, I try signing to cut it, take out a link and join it again. After some discussion with his mate in the shop across the road, he decides that he's smart enough not to get out of his depth tackling this one, but abandons his shop and takes me off to a couple of “big bike" shops (anything that's not a step-through, which is fewer than 5% of bikes here) to see if they have a spare one. One place comes close, but then they have another idea, and my chain disappears off with somebody for about 10 minutes – on their return, alas, they, too, shake their heads. But I still feel special that people here will just drop what they're doing for 25 minutes or as long as it takes, and use all their resources to help you out. Why can't NZ be like this?

I wander down another street, and find a bigger engineering shop, with about 6 or 7 people working there, on mainly large diesel engines. After the usual sign language, and them trying to discourage me, one guy takes up the challenge, and before long (using a punch, hammer and a vice) had accomplished exactly what I was after. How much? No, free! Ok, well not everybody's getting away like this – maybe the Singapore engineers were Muslim, but this place has the usual porn up on the wall, so I disappear off and come back 10 minutes later with a big bottle of beer – he seemed really stoked at that, and I felt good that we'd both made each others' days.

The bike goes together well, and I find a way to get the chain to what feels like a good tightness. I wander the streets a little more to find some gasket sealer – nobody has any to sell, but one guy has half a tube that he gives me on condition that I bring back what is left. How much? No problem. So I disappear off round the corner, and of course, when I return a couple of hours later, there is a beer for him too – I like this economy – a big bottle of beer is about NZ$1.65, so for less than NZ$4, I have all the repairs and alterations I should need. In NZ a new chain is about $30-40, and the gasket sealer about $15.

I test the bike, and it starts on the second kick and purrs away smoothly. I have a lot of hope that this fix will now get me the rest of the way through the trip. It is now about 3 in the afternoon, and the next town about 150km away looks worth an overnight stop, so I pack up my gear, wave goodbye, and ride up the road... about 100m. Then came the worst sound I've heard in a long time, as metal hit metal and the engine ground to a halt. Argh! That has to have been by far my worst moment on the trip thus far! By a long way!

So much so that that night after checking out the damage I took about 24 hours off just being grumpy and angry at myself and how I could be so stupid... Yes, I'd forgotten to tighten a couple of bolts on the timing sprocket, which meant that one of them came off, the sprocket pulled round, and broke off the other side of the sprocket mount, and the chain jammed up in the works, and of course... not two, but three (!) bent valves. Not my proudest moment at all!

Yes, I know some people are thinking what sagas I'm having with this old bike – the fact remains that I'm absolutely impressed with Honda's reliability and robustness. My bike has taken a lot of punishment, being used for something it was not designed for. The weak link has been my custom work (and my absentmindedness!), and even with bits of metal floating around the engine, nothing worse has happened. So, despite appearances, the bike is doing great! (And the chain still seems quite serviceable!)

On my day off, I grumped around a bit, but also posted some more papers and CD backups back to NZ, used the Internet, read a book, and generally tried to distract myself while I got over my stupidity.

Anyway, now I had a further opportunity to test the resourcefulness of the locals... as expected, nobody knows where valves can be had closer than Bangkok. In any case, I'm sick of going through valves at this rate – I know you're not meant to bend them back, but what else can I do? I go back to my friends at the engine shop, and they greet me like one of them – I sign what I have in mind. Well, they really don't think this is a great idea – do I know they might break when they straighten them? Well, they're not much good to me as they are, so go right ahead!

After popping the valves off the head, one guy put them in his lathe one by one, and malletted them gently back as straight as he could, then another guy ground them on their valve grinder, and they genuinely pulled out all the stops while I went off and grabbed another couple of bottles of the right currency, although they protested that it was unnecessary. As we shared the beer, I explained about my trip, which seemed a little strange to them, until they saw the photo of Wendy and realised the goal – they were all excited then! We used the whiteboard for a few other topics of “discussion" while I was waiting.

I was very happy with their effort, and we parted on good terms – one of the guys wanted to see my bike, so gave me a ride back to the hotel, and inspected the dismembered engine in the lobby. He obviously thought I needed a hand, and told me to come with him – we ended up at a mechanic friend of his, but I said I'd done it before and I knew how (thinking to myself “if only I can not make such a stupid mistake again!")

I put most of the engine back together, and rescued the bits of sprocket mount from the side of the engine. Engine compression seems excellent (indicating that the valves are making a good seal). I decided that although the sprocket could still bolt reasonably securely to its mount, I wasn't going to risk it coming adrift again (once bitten, twice shy...) even if I had to wheel the bike down and get it spotwelded in place! But the next day I considered maybe the mount itself could be welded up, redrilled and rethreaded. After a couple of tries I found somebody who agreed to do that, but as he didn't seem to have a tap (for making the thread) he ended up just welding the pieces back together and then doing a really nice job on his lathe to make it look almost like new! I am very happy with the result, having expected an angle-grinder job and getting a perfectly well-aligned one! This one cost money, though – 100 Baht (the same as two large beers...).

Sadly, when I got everything together again, although the engine fires and sometimes starts and runs for a little, it keeps dying. Discouraged, I have taken it somewhere for a second opinion – I'm just too close to the problem and at this stage I'm likely to miss something blindingly obvious.

I think it turned out to be a wise move in the end – two guys, who seemed very knowledgeable and experienced, despite my fears (I learned a lot about my pride in being able to fix things myself, as well how I feel about somebody else messing with my bike...) tinkered away for a few hours. The carburettor is now nice and clean (it had a bit of dirt and water), the bike is tuned, a broken pannier mount has been fixed, and a few other minor things have been fixed/improved. The problem? I'm pretty sure it was just that the sparkplug gap must have been bumped when the engineers were straightening the valves – a small and obvious thing, but not one I'd ever have checked in my current state...

The only other issue at the end was how much to pay - “Up to you" and “Don't worry – for you free" were not acceptable this time – two guys tinkering for 4 hours had to be worth something, so I held out 1000B, of which 500B was taken. Exhorbitant? Who knows? NZ$17 well spent at this stage I feel... I've taken back the DVD's, so on to Surathani...

Hopefully that hasn't been too boring for people who have no idea about timing chains and valves, but I hope despite this you can see through to the awesome time I've been having discovering how things are done here, and how far one can get with people even when they understand only a word or two of one's language.

Yes, Thailand has lots of temples, which I've seen in passing. Nakhon Si Thammarat is famous for some of its temples, but I'm not that interested. Especially not compared to just joining in with life, and seeing where it takes me! They also have very intricate archways to nowhere in particular – I just hope they discover underground wiring sometime soon! There are lots of Thai flags everywhere – also just about everybody has gilt-edged photos of the king and queen up on their wall in all sorts of regalia imaginable. There are even big gold-framed, sheltered pictures on the traffic islands at the entrances to some towns – I assume to prove the degree of local patriotism. The national anthem plays on TV before the morning and evening news, too.

There are also the markets, of course – selling fruit and veggies, but also meat and fish, complete with flies. The city streets remind me very strongly of China – even the sidewalk paving is very similar, although a lot less run-down here. But in China the meat markets at least tended to be in an airconditioned warehouse. Like China, the buildings all look like they haven't been maintained in years, although the free maintenance (sweeping) is done what seems like hourly, so despite the grime, things are also as clean as can be, given the circumstances. I guess there really isn't that much money here to spare on non-essentials like paint.

The parts of Thailand I've been in so far have seemed practically untouched by tourism, and, especially when comparing here with Bali, makes one wonder which is preferable. Having lots of tourists has probably changed a culture not to dissimilar to Thailand into one which tries to find any way possible to get you to give up your money. Here, although people aren't really much wealthier, there seems to be none of that, which is lovely. But in theory, tourism is a resource, which could bring in huge cashflow from those who are into the temples, etc that Thailand has to offer. But would it make them any happier? As always I suppose it comes down to wealth not being equivalent to happiness. Despite things not being as affluent or efficient here as NZ, everybody has some little trade or business on the side of the street, etc, and that adds a lot to life that I think we miss out on in our welfare society that's sold out to big business, supermarkets, etc.

An example of this is the lady who sits on the street next to a small alleyway and repairs and polishes shoes. To my annoyance, I noticed the sole coming off my two-month-old motorcycle boot, so I wandered down to where she sits, and gave them to her – she glued it up, and sewed both of them around the sole (also for 100B, NZ$3.30, about 40 minutes' work). They are now better than new. And now every time I walk down the street, it's not just a smile and a nod that I give to everyone I pass, but a feeling of community, that we've enriched each others' lives. The same with the mutual benefit from the other jobs I've gotten done, like the chain shortening, the valve straightening and the welding – whenever I walk past those places the people call out after me, wanting to see what I'm up to now, which adds up to feeling like part of a community that never happens in the individualistic, isolated west. And the bizarre thing is it hasn't relied on language at all!

The other observation I'd have compared to NZ is that most of us seem to have made our jobs into a necessary invasion into our leisure time, so we begrudge every extra thing we have to do – that feeling doesn't come across here at all. My impression is that people appreciate how they each fit into their niche in society and help improve it for everyone, and from that seems to come some pride in doing their bit properly.

Although Thai food is definitely my favourite, strangely I prefer the NZ version to the on-the-street, in-the-dark authentic Thai experience. I think they cater a bit more for Western tastes, and hygiene. That said, I ate at a flash hotel last night, which was a bit more expensive, but yummy. I haven't quite brought myself to eat at the restaurant that appears on the street after the shops close their doors in the evening – fold-out chairs and tables, and washing up in the alleyway...

Ah, there's just so much more to write, but already this is onto its seventh page. Time to include some pictures, and post it for your (hopefully) reading pleasure.