Today we slept in, read our books through a rain storm, then after eating we went for a swim. This time, we walked down to the pier on the North end of our cove and jumped in there, and swam South to the sandy beach we’ve been getting in and out of.

We covered quite a distance and were in there a long while. It was the most spectacular swimming so far. We saw more kinds of coral and many more fish than before. All different shapes and sizes of fish were darting in and around the coral patches, and we also swam through large schools of tiny fish flashing left and right and all around us. It was amazing. We would point neato things out to each other and dive down to inspect underneath overhanging coral together.

Dave pointed out the first spectacular find: a stingray! It was irridescent, grey/lavendar with blue spots. It was hiding under overhanging coral, but didn’t scare off when we kept going down to look at him. Then I was under the surface looking around and saw a turtle. I shouted, “TURTLE! TURTLE!” and Dave came over to see it too. We held hands and followed as it gracefully and efficiently swam near the bottom. It was heading into the current, the opposite of the way we came, and it was hard to keep up with it. He looked up and back at us a few times, but didn’t seem to mind us tagging along. The shell alone was at least two feet long, so it was pretty big. We were so close we could have made the effort to touch it, but we didn’t want to disturb it. After a while we came up and decided to head back the way we were going. A few minutes later I was under again when I saw a huge fish swim right by! I called to Dave and he barely saw it too. Later we found out from a local that it was a Parrot fish. He told us they are very friendly to divers and won’t hurt people. He did say, though, that if you are under and you die, that about two or three days later they will come back and nibble the bones clean.

We ate an early dinner, then went back out for dessert and juice. Every place here serves fresh-squeezed juice that’s more like a smoothie than just juice. It all tastes amazing, and we have to have some at every dinner.

We’ve decided tomorrow morning we’ll take the morning ferry back to Mersing and head up the coast further.

47 km

While we were eating breakfast, Dave decided to get the laptop out and see how the Packers’ playoffs game was going (we had unlimited wireless at the hostel). We ended up getting hooked on watching the play-by-play field animation and notes and stayed in the hostel until the game was over. Sadly, they lost in overtime. Darn! We decided we better get on the road, since it was already 11:30.

We rode South through the city again to the bike path that follows the coast to the East around the airport. This time the city part of the ride went even smoother, as we knew a bit more of where we were going. Once on the path, it was quiet and smooth sailing without all the weekend roller-bladers. We got to the boat dock at about 1:30 and had a snack, and got on the boat at 2:00. The passenger-only boats here are called bumboats. You step on the deck on the back and then step down about four steps to the inside, which has benches on either side for probably about ten passengers. There was only one other young man on the boat, and the boat driver helped get our bikes down inside. It was a really pleasant ride as Dave and stood on the steps in the back with our heads out in the breeze. The ride to the East coast of Malaysia took about an hour and was pretty smooth.

At the Malaysian dock our boat sidled up next to another boat that was tied to a third one next to the ladder. We had to get our bags and bikes across two boats and up the ladder to the dock. I was worried, but it all went very quickly and easily, with the driver and dock guys getting things right up to the dock with ease. They didn’t even knock the bike mirrors out of place.

Welcome to Malaysia – Dress Code for Cyclists

We then had a quick an easy check-in with immigration – a small office for a quiet entry port – and hopped on our bikes to start our Malaysian tour. Wee! We were on a very quiet country road in the humidity and heat with a complete change of scenery from Singapore: small shacks and fenced in compounds lined the road. I kept saying to Dave, “We’re in Malaysia! We’re in Malaysia!” This was my first international border crossing on a bike, and it was so easy. Here we were, riding along like it was no big deal. Kids were waving and shouting, “Hello!” and giggling, and it seemed everyone had somewhere to go, mostly riding scooters.

“We’re in Malaysia! Ohmygosh, we’re in Malaysia!”

Today we slept in, ate a leisurely breakfast at the hostel and then got ourselves and our bikes ready for a ride. We decided to ride out to the ferry dock and take it to Palau Ubin, an island that is part of Singapore but not so developed.

It took a while to get our stuff together, find various odds and ends that got packed in weird places (like one of our bike computers), fill up on water, and get out. But we finally did, early in the afternoon. I was really dreading this ride, as we would have to ride through crazy-busy Singapore to get to a bike path that runs around the South/East part of the Island to the ferry. I was so nervous when we got our bikes out to the curb. Dave looks back at me and asked me if I was ready. “Sure,” I replied, not really meaning it.

This was the craziest riding I’ve ever done. I never rode before living in Flagstaff. I am glad to have had a few years of commuting experience, even if it was in such a bike-friendly and small place. It helped. Despite the fast pace and the multiple lanes of traffic and the scooters splitting lanes and the blaring Indian music and the pedestrians spilling into the streets and the DRIVING ON THE LEFT SIDE OF THE ROAD, we made it. It was busy, but it was all pretty orderly. I’m sure we’ll see much much crazier streets in Bangkok or elsewhere, but for now I’m pretty proud of us.

In fact, it was a really fun and totally beautiful day. The crazy part was just getting to and from the bike path along the coast. I didn’t notice the heat today because riding gives you a constant breeze. It rained a little and that cooled us off even more. There was a lot of shade from the trees along the bike path, and much of it was a park with locals and tourist all mingling on rented bikes and roller blades. Thousands of people were out enjoying the Saturday afternoon. By the time we got out to the ferry we decided it was too late to go out to the island, so we had a snack and headed back. We got started too late. But at least we could check the ferry schedule and scope it out for when we leave here on Monday. We’re taking the ferry up to the East side of Malaysia to enter the country in a quieter place than if we rode north from the city. It all looked good and we feel prepared. In all, we rode just under 4 hours – a good warm up for our tour.

All along the ride I just kept giggling to myself that we’re in ASIA riding our BIKES and it’s BEAUTIFUL and I can’t wait for more. I feel so lucky.

75 miles, 5:40/ 8:30

We wake to rain and fog this morning. So much for our morning sun! Dave sets up the rain tarp to cook and eat breakfast under and we discuss today’s ride. We’re in New Mexico now, and the roads here are rugged and isolated. Today and tomorrow’s rides state that if it’s raining we should take the paved highway because of the “wheel sucking” mud. Well, it does certainly look like rain. Guess we’ll take the road. That means a long ride today riding well to the West of our intended route and then South and finally East into Abiquiu.

The ride is absolutely beautiful, lush and green with dramatic dark storm clouds all around us. We get rained on most of the day, but it’s not a super cold rain so we stay pretty comfortable, even drying out between bouts of it. We sail down a few thousand feet and then we’re rolling up and down over and over again. We see several kinds of forests, from aspens and hearty pines to mixed conifer and down to pinyon and juniper and finally grasslands with sage. There are purple and yellow flowers everywhere down low, asters and sunflowers and other yellow flowers I don’t know.

But as the day and the rain go on we are feeling the rolling hills more and more, and by the time we finally make it to Abiquiu we are thoroughly soaked again and this time getting cool too. Then I get a flat, my first of the Divide, from a screw on the shoulder of the road. The one place in town that offers camping, the Abiquiu Inn just a few hundred feet from where I flat, only has RV spots with no restroom or shower facilities. We normally wouldn’t mind too much, but we’re soaked and it sure would be nice to get clean and dry off a bit. Our tent will be wet from this morning’s rain, and that never sounds good to me. So we stand in the lobby and debate and debate what to do. We’ve camped every single night so far and we also have a bit of a budget we’d like to stick to. They have only one room left and it’s their most expensive, a casita with kitchen, fireplace and everything. There are very few places to stay. Uh, what to do? Well, the manager gets off the phone and assesses the situation and offers the casita to us for their cheapest room price. We take it!

The casita smells beautiful the instant I open the door. We don’t want to track in all our mud and muck, so we leave our shoes and stuff outside. There’s a fireplace so I get started on a fire. Dave sets off for groceries after he sees the full kitchen and comes back with a bounty for dinner and breakfast too. The bed is king size and super extra puffy. There’s a covered porch where I set up the tent to dry, along with other various things. I wash clothes in the tub with yummy smelling soap they have on the counter and hang them in front of the fire. We both have huge smiles on our faces as we go through the evening. We take showers and dry with real full-size towels, and it’s warm! Wow. We enjoy everything possible in this beautiful, spacious, spotless place.

We wake to rain pouring down in sheets on our tent in the night. Into the morning it is still sprinkling. We sleep in and enjoy the smell of rain and sound of the river. Dave had already set up the rain tarp last night to cook dinner and it’s a good thing he left it up. We eat pancakes under the tarp and enjoy more rain and the view of the rushing river and green forest.

After breakfast we retire to the tent to read and nap. What a great rest day! The sun pokes out just a couple times throughout the day, and each time we rush to hang up things to dry, from our clothes that we washed last night in the river to rain pants and jackets and even the sleeping bags which soak up a bit of water from the dew on the tent. Everything gets nicely dried by the end of the day and we get plenty of rest. This is our last night in Colorado.

29 miles, 4:01/5:30

We sleep in today as last night’s errands kept us up late. We do a quick bit of email and get out of town at 11:00. It felt nice not to hurry so much.

We are climbing right from mile one today, and end up climbing 4,000 feet in about 23 miles. The last twelve miles are once again railroad grade, so it goes well and we can enjoy the scenery. Once we get to this point we can settle in to a good pace where we can chat with each other. We often chat in the morning if the road allows, and it can be my favorite time. Today we are joking around and having fun. Dave said that whenever he meets someone named Carrie (or Kerry) he wants to sing that song, and then he busts out a full volume rendition of this horrifying, uh, tune, which is nothing like the “Carrie” I’m thinking of from around the 50s, but instead is something one of those awful hair bands from the 80s sang and he’s really doing his best to get it all right, but he says to imagine it an octave higher.

Yikes.

So I say, well, I guess that’s like every time someone meets me they want to sing that Beetles song, “Michelle, my Belle” but they never know the words that come after that line. And I’ve heard it about three thousand times in my life and I can’t remember one person who could actually sing the next line so finally some time last year I Googled it and found out it’s French, and I understand it (having recently taken French) and I get all excited and blast out my best version at the top of my lungs, “Michelle, my Belle, sont les mots qui vont tres bien ensemble, tres bien ensemble… I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU I LOOOOOVE YOU…” and then Dave and I are simultaneously singing our songs at the top of our lungs together. And then I can’t stop laughing, and then I really can’t stop laughing, until I nearly ride right off the edge of the cliff that we’re so gently climbing at railroad grade. And I look down from the edge and see a quiet little lake just down there with fishermen floating and I wonder how often they hear that kind of quality singing out here in the woods.

Late in the afternoon after topping Marshall Pass we descend just a bit down to about 10,000 feet and get to the recommended free-camping area. We see Dee Jay and Kerry setting up camp just below a huge aspen grove in a grassy meadow above the creek. We set up camp too, and spend a bunch more time chatting. We get their email so we can keep in touch. They have done many bike tours and also canoe tours in beautiful places and have lots of experiences to share with us.

34 miles, 3:24

We get out at 9:20 today from our lovely free camp spot along the river. So what if the bark beetle has killed most the trees, they don’t seem to be falling at the moment so we really enjoy the lack of people around and to total quiet except for the river. This is the kind of camp spot I always imagine in my head as perfect. Except for the dead trees, of course. But nature will take care of even these details.

We climb Ute Pass today, which is over 11,000 feet, but it goes fairly easy as it is all railroad grade, as it follows an old small-gauge rail line from the 1800s. There are spectacular views of the ever-bigger Colorado Rockies that make all other mountains we’ve seen look small. I feel strong today and enjoy–yes, enjoy–this beautiful climb. We both do. It’s really amazing what a difference the grade and road quality can make for a climb. This elevation gain is twice as much as climbs that have felt twice as hard.

Dave is craving some fresh vegetables so we go in search of a salad bar in Dillon on our way through. We end up at Ruby Tuesdays for about two hours because they also have wireless internet. Score! So Dave drinks about ten refills of Coke and I drink several cups of coffee (it’s a cold, sometimes rainy day) while we take turns with email and post pictures and a quick post. This is how it happens on the trail. We try to plan but it never works out, so we just take it on the fly when we can get time on the internet. Now you know.

We had planned on a much longer day, but since we spent so much time eating salad and working on the internet we decide to call it a day when we get to Frisco, where we stop in at a bike shop and the guys are so friendly they give us a free tool, a 30% discount on a new tire, and directions to a free and very local camping spot by a stream. It’s all perfect, because we get camp set up and a quick wash in the stream and then dinner right before it starts sprinkling.

57 miles, 5:30/7:00

Today we start with breakfast at the local cafe. Breakfast is my favorite meal to eat out now. I love eggs, hashbrowns, omelettes, and french toast, and these things we don’t cook at camp. Plus, usually country cafes serve up big portions, and it takes a lot to fill us up these days. This morning we order a cinnamon roll on top of the usual breakfast, and it comes with our coffee and is huge and frosted. It’s gone within a couple of minutes. Oh, that was good!

We leave Lima and have a pleasant climb and then rolling hills. I love the rolling hills. You get to put in some effort and then recover before leaning into it again. We usually get good momentum built up. Because we know it’s only a short climb each time, we put more effort in and then really enjoy the downhill. There are horses here and there on the grassy hills today and they look pretty content.

I haven’t told you yet about the horses having a tendency to race Dave. It started back when we free-camped outside of Basin, Montana. First thing that morning we were riding along a pasture with about eight horses. What looked to be the lead horse yanked his head up from the grass and took off at a gallop right next to the fence by Dave. So Dave kicks it up a notch and they all join in to race him clear down to the end of the pasture, quite a long way. It was hilarious and Dave enjoyed every second. I was laughing so hard it took me a little while to catch up. Anyway, since then it’s happened a couple of times, so now whenever we see horses we sort of hope they’ll be game for a race.

But that doesn’t happen today. When we crest one of the hills we see a horse alone in a small pen (corral? yard?) and he perks up when we get close. I couldn’t resist, he was just begging for a good scratch. Oh my, he did want some scratching. He helped by yanking his head up and down while I applied pressure. I picked some of the soft green grass just outside his reach and fed it to him. He grunted, and then gave us a show of head twisting, lip stretching and teeth displaying. Oh, and tongue curling. Two or three times over. What a ham. Is this normal? Is this a sign of a happy horse or one that has been trained to entertain? I was tempted to let him out and take him with, but I didn’t have enough apples in my pannier to keep him happy so I let him be.

47 miles, 5:32/7:00

We climb out of the Bannack State Park fairly early this morning knowing the winds will probably be kicking up and we’ll be heading right into them. Instead of our usual 8-8:30 wake up time we set my watch for 7:30 this morning and we’re out of camp by 9:30. It’s still chilly, but the sun is out and it’s warming us up quickly.

We’re traversing the Wild West out here: big wide gravel roads rolling through the sagebrush, hill after hill. After about an hour I feel warmed up, knees and all, and we make good progress. Today is all about climbing, and we set our sights on a big Divide crossing, Big Sheep Divide, which will take all day to attain. The sights slowly change from sage to bushes to trees, with a healthy sprinkling of cows throughout.

We stop about every hour to hour and a half to eat. We just keep eating and eating. I’m sort of amazed and horrified by the amounts of food I’m consuming.

We wind up a grassy river valley full of cows. As we approach groups of them on the road Dave commences to ringing the bell on his bike. If they’re very stubborn I ring mine as well. Cows are so stupid. Sometimes they’ll freak out and run straight ahead, stop, turn around and see you, and then get all freaked out and do the same thing again. What’s up with that?

We can see the pass up ahead for quite a while before we get there. We’ve been climbing gradually all day on rough roads, but soon the road steepens and gets rougher and looser. The last two or three miles are tough, but we stick to it and soon make it to the top. We congratulate each other on another good Divide crossing and put on some extra clothes for the reward: the descent. It’s getting windy and it’s just starting to sprinkle rain. We know from the map we’re just a few miles from our camp spot and we just can’t wait.

We start down and after only a few short minutes the road goes back up. It’s very hilly here and I think to myself, no biggie, it will go back down once we get over this hill. But no. We get over that hill and there’s another to climb. And another. And then it’s a gradual incline that looks to never end. We’re back in sagebrush cattle country and we don’t see any sign of the creeks that show on the map. We can camp anywhere now, we just need to find water to filter and we’ll be OK. We agree to stop as soon as we find some water.

The turn indicated on our map as our stopping point finally appears. But there’s no clear sign of water and the road that goes to the lake looks to be longer than we can handle at this point. It’s late and really starting to rain now. So we head up the road to check it out and pass over a small creek. It’s completely hidden if you’re very far away from it, as it’s a small trough that runs through the sage with no other vegetation to indicate a riparian area. We quickly decide to camp right by this little dirt road and go about setting up camp. We’re really getting efficient at this now. But one thing we haven’t dealt with yet is cooking in the rain. There are no trees here at all, the rain is coming down and the wind is starting to howl. Dave whips out the spare tarp, brought just for such a time, and rigs up a porch for the tent using the bicycles and the tent to anchor it. It works great! Dave cooks up a great dinner and we’re warm and dry while it’s just crazy outside. Tonight we sleep well to the lullaby of rain on the tent.

We are finally back on the route! We ride half the distance in twice the time on washboard roads and truly enjoy it. The first two hours fly by for me in what seems like 45 minutes. After several flat and rolling miles we get to edge of the valley and the start of a six-mile, 2,000 foot climb. The air is clear, yet ahead we see three forest fire trucks and several men standing on the side of our road watching the mountains. We’d heard that the lightning last night started a fire on the mountain next to the pass we’ll be climbing. Small fire, they got right on it. Evidently they’re still monitoring it as there is a big white plane flying circles around the area to the northeast of our pass. We wave and ride on.

After a snack we get back on and start the climb. I mentally say goodbye to Dave, not expecting to see him until the top. My knees have been grumpy so I spin in an easy gear and ready my mind for a long climb. But after only a mile my knees are angry and I stop to stretch. A good long stretch and then I shake it out. I get back on. I pedal and breathe. It’s steep. I try not to look too far ahead, just get into a smooth rhythm of breathing.

The ground rolls under with a steady crunch while I count out a timing in my head. It turns into a song from the Buena Vista Social Club album and soon the minutes are ticking away and I don’t notice. A tenth of a mile, a quarter mile, another mile and another mile… It’s just as steep but feels less so. It’s magic like that sometimes. Now the wind is at my back and pushing me up. I’m smiling and now I notice the squirrels that zip across the road, the different kinds of trees, the constant drone of the fire plane going round and round and round.

I actually crest the hill before Dave, since he stopped to chat with some of the fire fighters who eventually made their way up our road. As we eat lunch at the top he tells me smoke jumpers dropped out of the plane to fight that fire they were watching. Somehow we missed it. Exciting times, these Montana summers.

A few miles down the other side we stop at Reservoir Lake. It’s small and pristine, a blue-green color and clear to the bottom. We decide to stay here and go about our evening routine: we swim or bathe in whatever water source we’re staying by, then wash clothes and hang them. I set up the tent and sleeping stuff while Dave makes dinner and tea.

As I was hanging clothes to dry and Dave was looking for a place to hang the food there’s the sound of a helicopter approaching. Then it gets louder and louder until it appears above the trees and dips down toward the lake. It has a bucket attached and it dips the bucket into the lake and when it’s full it labors its way up and off toward a fire somewhere. A minute later there’s another one. It does the same thing. As they fly off we wonder how they could have any water left to do anything on the fire because they lose so much on the way. Dave waits with his camera ready for a better picture (had the wrong lens on I guess), but they never came back. So we go about our routine.

That’s when we meet Roy.

At first he’s cute; he wiggles his way into camp and wags his tail. Then runs around and barks a little. We laugh, watch him, give him a couple pets. Then he’s drinking our cooking water, grabbing the feather Dave had found a couple days back and had stuck in his handlebar bag.

Then Dave notices his horrible breath. He’s snapping at things around camp and threatening our clean laundry. Some time around then his owner, a grizzled old guy with a beard and walking stick says howdy and walks into camp. “I see you’ve met Roy. He’s a good dog, very friendly. Maybe too friendly, but I just can’t see how you can scold a dog for being friendly.” And then he calls Roy to come back with him but Roy doesn’t react. It’s like he doesn’t even hear his name called. He’s oblivious to his owner and plops right down next to Dave.

Eventually the owner goes and gets a leash and hauls Roy off. He’s big for a 4 1/2 month old lab, doesn’t seem to know a thing about leashes. After a while we hear Roy barking and yapping, and soon we see him skid back into camp. This time he roots around somewhere in the woods behind the tent and comes back chewing on something. He’s really enjoying it. He drops it for a minute and I see it. It’s a big piece of poop. He’s gnawing on poop. He has licked Dave and drank out of our cook pot and he’s a poopeater.

That’s when I use my Stern voice and tell him, “OUT!” When he doesn’t listen I step towards him with body language to back it up and repeat myself. It takes some effort, as he seems confused at someone telling him what to do. But eventually he listens and cowers off.

This happens about three more times through dinner and tea.

While it may not have seemed like the wilderness experience we had hoped for, at least we weren’t bothered by bear or killer deer.