It has been a full day. I’ve been kept on my toes with at least the usual quota of things going wrong. But all has ended well.
The pack up from camping on one of Penang Island’s beaches was smooth and trouble-free. I set off a bit late but otherwise in good spirits. Perhaps it might be said I was “sauntering” along if that can apply to bikes, not in a hurry and enjoying the beautiful morning and prospect of making further progress north for a new flag on the panniers. It was as gentle as riding could get, in a few lanes of city traffic moving at a steady pace.
So it was a bit of a surprise in the midst of my ponderings about life on the road to hear an almighty CRASH behind me. Against the evidence instinct immediately told me that crash was something to do with me. Evidence was out, and instinct a winner. The crash was, in fact, my right-hand pannier simply dropping off the bike. In the middle of busy city traffic.
That’s the first major fail for the day.
How it wasn’t immediately run over – and how it didn’t cause damage to cars or people – is quite beyond me. One of the cars physically behind the cataclysm was very gracious and sat behind the pannier with hazard lights on while I ran back through the traffic with all my heavy bike gear on to retrieve my box. It must have been a strange site. I was surprised at how well everyone took it in their stride. No one was yelling at or honking at or abusing me. They simply made room for my rescue operation, and carefully navigated around the site. Easy.
I replaced the pannier as quickly as possible, and set off to the side of the road to investigate more deeply than the middle of a multi-lane busy city road facilitated. CRASH. Again! No second prizes for working out that the second crash was in fact a repeat of the first scenario. Really?! So much for the peaceful start to the morning.
Traffic was once more gracious and made space for me to retrieve my box and bike to the side of the road. It was a bit tricky to see what was going on, but with maybe 80-90% confidence I decided that after the repairs the day before – and my own middle-of-the-busy-road retrieval – had both attached only 3 of the 4 cleats that hold the box in place. The 4th is hard to see, and I think we just missed and it didn’t connect properly. So when the box was locked in place, that left enough room for it to shake free.
It really could have been quite a disaster. Could have caused a bad accident, and damage to property or people. Could have seen the demise of all my road-trip tools. Could have landed me in trouble with the law.
And all that as a reward for investing over-and-above to get repairs done and keep the bike (and boxes) in good shape. Sigh. Anyway, there really was close to zero consequence, so I’m very thankful. It took a few hours from there before I began to relax and stop wondering if the pannier would fall off in 100km/h highway traffic. I’m glad to report that it hasn’t shifted since, although I’ll be super-careful from now onwards if I’m taking the box off and putting it back on the bike at any point.
“Onwards and upwards” (quite literally as far as our typical maps are drawn) through towards Thailand it then was. Keith from Penang recommended I stop at Bujang Valley Archaeological Museum on the way through. It wasn’t much of a detour, but wasn’t much of an event either – being closed.
That makes two fails for the day.
They say they come in threes, right?
I kept riding north, stopping only for a quick bite of “brunch” if it still gets that label when breakfast and lunch are combined at 12:45pm. Casual riding, relaxed posture, all going well. The closed museum wasn’t much of a bother and the crashed panniers were a fading memory. So I was feeling reasonably positive again. Bike in good shape and she loves the ride as much as I do, water in my camelback, food in my stomach, and the road unfolding beneath me. All going very well. Hold that thought.
I worked out I was nearing the Thai border because there was a sudden proliferation of dozens of roadside stores offering “insuran”. I was super-glad of the reminder that represented, because (as it is for many countries) locally-procured third party vehicle insurance is compulsory – and fair enough too. This was one of the very few stipulations a little later at the Thai immigration counter. So I pulled in at a random choice of vendor, and after a loop back around for the required cash from an ATM, got both insurance and a Thai SIM card.
Then back to the highway. Maybe 10 minutes later the highway devolved into tollway-like queues that siphoned us off into vehicle types. I wound up at a little booth where a bored border official simply wanted my passport for an uninterested stamp, and waved me on. But I insisted we weren’t done yet. There was still the Carnet (like a passport, for the bike) to deal with. I’ll have lots of challenges if the Carnet isn’t consistently and correctly completed. Language challenges made that all a bit awkward, but eventually he waved me in another direction for Customs. Fair enough. However the waving was anything but precise.
I then spent the next half hour or probably more wandering around through Malaysian Immigration. It was actually a little surreal, and I felt that at any moment a swat team would swoop in and snaffle me into an interrogation room deep in the darkened bowels of the complex to work out why a scruffy stinky white guy was skulking about the place. But no such swat team appeared, and I was left to wander unhindered and unhelped through the labyrinth. By a process of elimination I had to eventually find the right Customs office, so long as I wasn’t taken into custody for trespassing on sensitive government property. And find it did, at last.
That wasn’t the whole battle done, however. I guess non-nationals don’t often bring a vehicle through this border post, because no one knew what to do with me even when I did find the right place. Official number one asked two, who asked three, who asked four, who ducked off behind a closed door and said “Wait here. I’ll be back.” Thanks Arnie. I was glad when officer number four came back not driving a truck through my road-trip plans, but with a signed Carnet and good wishes for my travels. I’d been holding my breath a bit, but felt a little like I was almost there.
I’d done my research and was confident that the post-Covid Thai Immigration (not Customs – we’ll get to that) would be fairly relaxed and easy. But my research hadn’t prepared me for just how relaxed and easy it was. I did the right thing (of course) and had my Passport stamped before queuing to enter Thailand and then deal with Customs. But as it turns out I could have simply driven straight through, because I was waved on without anyone even checking that I had the stamp. The offical asked – and simply took my word for it that the Passport was stamped. Interesting.
I was officially then in Thailand, but my bike was not. I still had to deal with Customs. Piece of cake. I thought. During the 20 minutes or so of queueing at Customs, I did note that everyone else there had a white A4 form for their vehicles. Curious. I had a yellow binder for my Carnet. But they’re locals, with no doubt a different process for vehicle traffic between two neighbouring countries. Probably simpler for them, as it would be almost pedestrian to bring vehicles through as a local. So I thought little of it.
I eventually found myself at the front of the queue, and showed my Carnet. Official One bounced me to Official Two. Who then bounced me to Official Three. And then Four. Not overly concerned, I imagined that my kind of overlanding was simply unusual so that most of the team didn’t need to be equipped to handle it.
Then it dropped. Like a dam-buster bomb through my day and my travel plans.
“Thailand isn’t signed on to the Carnet treaty.”
They say problems come in threes. “They” need to get a life, and stop messing with mine!
The real reason I’d bounced around from Customs official to official became painfully clear. No one knew about the Carnet, because it isn’t part of Thailand’s Customs arrangements. That meant I wouldn’t be able to bring my bike through.
Still, no point losing my cool or getting stressed. It would be what it would be, and all I could do is follow the bouncing ball. If Thailand doesn’t honour the Carnet, they’ll have some other process and I’d just need to work that through.
I had to stoop down through the window to hear and interpret across accents and ESL even at the easiest points of conversation. Just to add a further touch of challenge, a growling thunderstorm struck just while I was at Customs, and the rain pounding on the roof and the thunder grinding through the sky made it almost impossible to hear. I had almost climbed in through the window in my attempt to catch at least a flavour of what was being said. The key themes were;
- an injunction not to be stressed – although I wasn’t, actually; not in the least
- a repeated insistence that Carnet doesn’t work in Thailand and frequent reminder that I was “trying to import illegally” – yep; didn’t know that before but I’ve got that now, and am not sure it’ll help either party to keep going over it
- the final wash-up is that I would have to take my bike back through to Malaysia (on a new Malay visa) and park it there, then come through to Thailand on foot, and take public transport for a 2-3 hour trip each way to some Thai government department who would provide me paperwork to then travel once more to Malaysia to collect my bike and bring it a final time to Thai Customs to import legally – just “hmmmm!”
As a quick aside, I’ve learned something about me during this trip. I’ve taken more photos of me since November than in the rest of my life put together – a solo trip will do that, as there’s no one else there to stand behind the camera. And I’ve discovered something about me through that photography that those around me probably always knew. When I smile, I believe I can be engaging. When I don’t, I’ve seen in my recent (and quickly-deleted) photos of me that I look anything but engaging. My thinking face looks very serious. My concerned face looks fierce. My thinking, concerned face looks positively frightening. It isn’t a very nice discovery, but it is powerfully useful. Especially at Customs counters (and three or four other critical incidents so far throughout this road trip!).
So I kept smiling.
And persisting.
”Is there anyone else I can talk to? I know and respect that you don’t have authority to fix this, but what about your boss?” Smile, smile, smile. “No, my boss is elsewhere dealing with VIPs so there isn’t anything I can do.”
”Can we apply for the forms by email or phone? Would it be quicker if you’re involved?” Smile, smile, smile. “No, it has to be in person [with at least a day of travel to and from and messing around to make that happen]”.
”Is there a fast-track process?” Smile, smile, smile. “No, it will ordinarily take several days, except that at the moment it is Muslim holidays so it will take longer”.
”I understand your process and agree we should all follow the rules, but can you help me out with ideas, as you can see that I’ve tried to do the right thing but am quite stuck!” Smile, smile, smile. “No – I have to follow the rules and can’t help”.
This went on for quite some time. Smile, smile, smile.
And then. Out of nowhere. There was a phrase that I didn’t catch the first two times, but got there on about the third time. “I make my eye blind”, he said. “I’ll turn a blind eye”, I think some of us would say. Oh. Ok. Sounds interesting. But what does that mean in practice?
He was then at pains to point out that if I was pulled over at any point I could be in serious trouble for having an illegally-imported vehicle. At about this point his boss wandered over, too. (Ummm… weren’t you dealing with VIPs?). It was all explained to boss who sagely and seriously nodded in agreement that I was going to have to go and get the paperwork which I suspect would have taken up to a couple of weeks of messing around.
Then, out of nowhere, the “blind eye” turned into a stamp and signature on my Carnet. Even though Thailand doesn’t do Carnets. Very strange. Surely this should notch up as a Victory Of The Smile.
I correctly guessed there’d be a final checkpoint where my papers would be required by a security guard as I exited into Thailand with my bike. That was still a potential hiccup, given that from what I’d just learned he won’t have any idea what the Carnet is. Would that just throw us into a repeating loop on all that had just happened?
A few scenarios went through my head as I idled towards the guard and prepared my Smile Smile Smile for another tricky conversation. And then. Then I was simply waved through, by a bored guard who I suppose presumed I could only have got to this point with the right paperwork.
A quick reminder is probably pertinent that a similar thing happened through Immigration with my Passport paperwork. The net sum of all that is that I could have simply ridden right through without any paper trail for me or for the bike, and no one would have been any the wiser. I say “could have” in a loose sense, as of course I couldn’t possibly do that in practice as it would leave my conscience in convulsions which would surely physically prevent any actual progress towards the illegal entry.
It was all very surreal and strange.
Oh – and please keep this as our little secret, as I don’t want to get any Customs officials in trouble or draw attention to my bike’s status. 🤣 Ah the joys of being a nobody with so few people are interested in my story. 🤓😊
First stop only 100 metres or so from the Immigration exit, I found a store that sold me a Thai flag to fly behind my bike, with a private little ceremony right there on the side of the road to replace the Malaysian flag. Then also with the new Thai flag sticker on the top box, I was on my way.
All in all it was several hours through both sets of Immigration and Customs, so I then didn’t then make as much progress up north into Thailand as I’d hoped or expected. But that’s ok. I’ve taken the soft option of a cheap hotel tonight, partly to allow a bit more riding progress before I pulled the pin for the day.
And with that, I think I should hit publish and turn the light out before pumpkin-o-clock. Tomorrow I’ll head further north towards Bangkok, perhaps stopping along route if there are interesting things to see.
[Still no photos in my diary posts. Hopefully Warwick you’re getting a little closer to a solution? Thanks so much for persisting!]
1 Comment
The adventures! Lots of stories to tell, and great to see some of the positives continuing to flow in amongst the challenges. Keep focused on the positive- it will hopefully keep the concerned / fierce faces away. 🤣