Muar, Malaysia - Long Bike Ride

260 Miles in 36 Hours
I have hardly a friend here so when I get an invite I jump at it without thinking.  Since my last big ride in Indonesia, I've been getting more invites, this one from a Norwegian named Odd who asked if I'd like to "take a spin in Malaysia."  I immediately said yes without asking for details.  A few weeks go by and he explains that we're to get up early and ride to Muar, which is 130 miles north of Singapore.  "So, we're taking the bus back?" I naively asked.  No, he countered, we'll ride back in the morning.  I was stuck.  I'd been hoping to get invites and here I had one, so I pretended.  "I was just joking, come one, of course we'll ride back."

The ride was organized by Odd and a Scot named Euan, a smiling giant who is known to grind away at 24 miles an hour, regardless of the slow folks struggling in his wake.  He's standing second from left.  After a restless couple of hours I got up at 3am, showered, put on my gear and a small backpack that had exactly one tee shirt, a pair of shorts, socks and underwear.  Our Muar hotel promised shampoo, soap, toothbrush and toothpaste.  I left home and rode for an hour to our meeting point, a bridge that connects Singapore to Malaysia.  We were a large group, 17 in all, mostly Singaporeans with a sprinkling of Americans, Indians, Bangladeshi, one Norwegian and a Scot.

My sinus troubles were still in full effect.  I thought maybe this ride would kill them once and for all, or just kill me.  After passing through immigration on both sides of the bridge we stopped for a quick "pre-breakfast breakfast."  I chatted with Greg, an American from DC whom I've ridden with before.  It was pitch dark and my head was pounding.  10 miles down, 120 to go.

Muar is on the west coast of Malaysia, ask a Singaporean what it's known for and they'll say one thing: "otah."  Otah is ground mackerel mixed with tapioca and spices, grilled and wrapped in banana leaf.  It smells like cat food.  You wouldn't ride a mile for it, much less 130.  Reading up on Muar a bit, it's been around since the Portuguese were here, known variously for rubber, palm and furniture.

I wish I could tell you that most of the ride was shaded like this, but it wasn't.  The great majority was dusty and hot.  It was precisely here that one of the guys went down, head over handlebars after hitting a pothole.  Just a few scrapes and bruises.

After 30 miles, I'd forgotten about my sinuses.  We stopped for a proper breakfast in a small town called Batu Pahat.  I ate some bananas and a prata, which is an Indian flatbread that is grilled on a stove top.  After breakfast, the sun made its entrance and we began a slow simmer that would soon turn to a boil.

The pace was high and rarely did we have to stop for any lights.  Euan was on the front, breaking the wind for everyone.  He rides like a robot, just nonstop pounding, shedding many of us in the process.  We regrouped every 15 to 20 miles at a gas station to fill up on water and eat snacks.

We had two support cars, one driven by Odd's wife, Ju Lee.  Another was a van that could fit 4 people and 4 bikes in case anyone was too injured or tired to continue.  There was water, sports drinks, fruit and snacks.  I was eating about 400 calories an hour, which is a lot.

Ju Lee has been doing this for a while and it shows.  As we sat eating, she sprayed us with ice cold water and topped up our bottles.

Along the way we caught up with a guy who was riding from Singapore to Bangkok.  Ten times further than us.  He left us during one of our rest stops and we never caught back up with him.

After eleven hours, we reached our hotel.  I rushed up to my room to shower and when I turned on the tap, brown water came out.  Same in the sink and toilet.  I let the shower water run for a while until it somewhat cleared up and jumped in.  At dinner, at a Japanese restaurant of all places, we compared notes.  Most of us showered, but some were too scared and simply wiped down with bottled water.  Many complained that there was no toothbrush and toothpaste.  The restaurant wasn't ready for prime time either.  My table got their drinks and food after an hour but the other table gave up and dispersed into the night to grab pizza.

We were up by 6am the following morning and riding in the dark.  We reversed course exactly and the legs were surprisingly fresh.  The seat was another matter.  No matter how I shifted around I couldn't get comfortable.  We had a repeat of the day before, crash-wise.  The same guy went over his handlebars again and he was out for the count.  He got in the support vehicle and once he did, it was like the seal had been broken.  He was quickly joined by another who complained of knee pain and by a third, who said nothing.  He simply removed his front wheel and got in the truck.  It was 2pm when we reached immigration and we went through the motorcycle lane quickly.  Once in Singapore I slowed down to a crawl and spun home.  I was completely exhausted and when I got in bed at 7pm I didn't wake up for 12 hours.