Going off the beaten (motorcycle) track. Mae Sariang to Tak.
Our day began in half dreams. We were woken by the sounds of amorous cats at 3am. Chanting monks at 5am. These wove themselves into our awakenings, turning it strange and surreal. We woke up properly at 7am, the strangeness fading as we realised where we were, and our surroundings grew more concrete. Coffee, as always, helped.
Today was to be a big day. We were riding 333km to Tak, our longest ride so far. We were headed south now, off the loop, and going back towards Bangkok. After bidding farewell to our hosts, as well as to Mike and Mariet, we twisted the throttle and set off.
Well. Today’s roads were my favourite. The loop had been spectacular but also sort of curated. It’s a big, famous motorcycle route attracting people from all around the road. So the roads were perfect: smooth and a joy to ride. At stops, you had a lookout with snacks. This journey here was still breathtaking, but the roads were local roads, the views there simply by the juxtaposition of mountain and road. There were no lookouts, and we stopped at the scenes we could. Many of them were on winding roads where there was no verge. We were skirting the Myanmar border, and the landscape was wilder, more untamed. The tarmac was potholed and rough, a reminder that we rode on a path less frequented by tourists. We were free to explore, stop and go as we pleased, the only boundary set by the time we had before returning to Australia.
We rode through spectacular scenery punctuated by small Thai towns, little more than a collection of houses and a small shop. If they were more significant, they’d have a Seven-11. Despite the joy we felt in this, it was also conflicting. We were supposed to be doing slow travel. Slow travel is purposefully going slow, allowing yourself to engage with the towns and country that you’re in. On our modest 160cc bikes, the journey felt unhurried, yet paradoxically, it also felt swift. I recalled discussions in the Thai Tourism Reddit group, where travellers often tried to cram multiple destinations into a short trip, trying to get in the southern islands, Chiang Mai, and Bangkok—and not too touristy, if you don’t mind. In contrast, we had nearly a month here, exploring just a fraction of the Isaan and Northern Thailand, and still, it felt like we had barely scratched the surface. Slow travel, to us, meant immersing ourselves in each moment, each mile, not just ticking off destinations. And yet here we were, whirling through these towns. We stopped for maybe half an hour at a splat with a shop with mostly bare shelves. Dalma was tired and needed a nap. But I stayed away, watching the progression of cars and vehicles, patting a dog, saying hello to local kids. Isn’t that what we wanted?
One of the reasons we ride is the freedom and independence of motorcycles. I’ve never felt as liberated as I have riding, whether in Australia or overseas, where the decision to stop at a place for a few days or to go on is ours alone. It’s said that on a motorcycle, the journey itself is the destination. It’s the sense of freedom on the open road, not just about getting from A to B, but about the adventures in between. Dalma and I have had this discussion. For her, motorcycles are tools that open up ways of travelling and being. For me, motorcycles themselves are a liberation from the mundane, a break from the ordinary, where every sense is engaged and every moment is a brush with independence. Whether I am riding for work or for pleasure, each ride is an adventure. Riding a motorcycle is not just a mode of transport but an expression of freedom. There is a world out there, and the road is the key to unlocking it, revealing its mysteries one kilometre at a time. Each turn, each decision to accelerate or slow down, reflects personal choice and autonomy.
The final stretch was along Route 12, a major highway, but it swung around serpentine. Trucks lumbered slowly, allowing us to zip past with a friendly wave. My bike had developed a quirky starting fault, and we couldn’t pause to change the GoPro batteries. A part of our journey went undocumented, but that was okay. Sometimes, the essence of an experience lies in living it, not capturing it.
Arriving at our destination, we were a mix of exhaustion and elation. It had been a seven-hour odyssey. We were tired. Turning off the motorcycle felt significant, like punctuating the end of a long sentence. Our hotel in Tak had big rooms, comfortable beds, and was conveniently located near a shopping center and a restaurant. We dropped the bags, showered, and ate a Thai early dinner. Two nights here would be a brief but welcome respite, a chance to recharge before we embarked on the next leg of our adventure.