Day DS5: You're Better Off Riding!

April 26, 2025

Songkhla to Nakhon Si Thammarat

It's not like I was planning to bike nearly 200km in one go today. This set the record for the longest distance I've done in my cycle touring career. It kind of reminds me of group fitness: if you know in advance what the workout is then you'll say fuck it and not show up. That's why they keep the intel a surprise.

You show up, you sweat, you survive. Same thing today. The plan was simple:

Bike 80 kilometers to Ranot, catch a minivan to the Don Sak pier, and hop the ferry to Koh Samui. Except — it totally went belly up. Once again, I learned the hard way: never trust the internet. The minivan service I'd seen online from web searches? Doesn’t exist.

ChatGPT and AI have revolutionized the internet anyway. The majority of chats with AI don't rely on web searches or if they do it's a last resort. They fully admit they make mistakes so the onus is on you to fact check everything.

As a proof of concept, here goes after the fact. No web searches, just a question

Me: How do you get a minivan from Ranot to the ferry terminal for Koh Samui?

AI: Short answer:You can't, at least not directly and not reliably. Ranot is a very small, very local town in southern Thailand. There are no official minivan routes from Ranot directly to the Don Sak ferry terminal (the main ferry port for Koh Samui) Most transportation from Ranot is regional only — meaning, at best, you can catch a local songthaew (truck taxi) or maybe a small bus to larger towns like Phattalung, Thung Song, or Surat Thani City.

I hope by now you're starting to realize it: Gone are the days of Google searches. When you have a question and need real information, AI should be your first stop. Admitedly it takes to re-train the brain on this, to break the habit of digging through outdated blog posts, broken links, and half-truths that come from "searching the internet". But after more than enough failed web searches, missed buses, and dead-end plans, I'm finally starting to get it: Ask AI first, then fact check if needed. The future isn't about finding information, it is about filtering it.

Anyways the day started with an amazing breakfast at 11am

It took a lot of getting lost: wrong turns, backtracking, second-guessing — but eventually, I retraced the route to the ferry that Chris had shown me the day before during our free cruise. That memory helped more than I realized.
It was like following breadcrumbs across the water.

And again, in keeping with our theme, GPS and Google Maps is about as unreliable as Google searches. They don't have a bicycle option for Thailand and most of the time the arrow points in the wrong direction and doens't move with you so you really have no idea where you're going.

But somewhere, whether it was good luck or good timing, I rolled up just as the ferry was about to leave.\n\nIt was already full. No real space left. But I was literally the last one they let roll on, and it was free for the bike. One small win to start what would turn out later to be a very, very long day.

Once off the ferry, I immediately recognized the road that looped around the low knoll Chris had pointed out the day before, then stretched endlessly north toward Nakhon Si Thammarat. Distance? 190 kilometers.

I thought: "That’s a hell of a long way… but no worries I'm not biking the whole thing in one day"

The plan was still in place: I’d stop at the Cafe Amazon in Ranot, cool down, and hop a minivan to the Koh Samui ferry terminal. Just 80 kilometers to cover. Easy day. It was a good thing too, because the weather quickly turned punishing. Super hot stretches that melted you from the inside out. Sudden thunderstorms that drenched the roads and kicked up humidity like a sauna.

I made several necessary stops just to survive: soaking wet with sweat, pounding bottles of water, stretching out under whatever awning I could find. But the further north I rode, the fewer places there were to stop. At first, I thought it was just a weird patch of emptiness. A gap between towns. But it wasn’t. It was a harbinger of what was about to come.

Getting closer to Ranot, I finally spotted something I desperately needed: a 7-Eleven that actually existed. After the hell of the last few hours I deserved a highball. I grabbed it, went to the counter and the clerk shook her head. “No alcohol until 5 PM.” I looked at the time. It was 4:49pm. For fucks sake. This was insane.

Gone were the days of the Deep South and the friendly people handing me free stuff and smiles. That generosity was behind me now. The shift was subtle, but unmistakable. More rules. Less warmth. A harder edge. It wasn’t personal. It was just a different world now. And as much as I understood it intellectually, it still sucked. This would later set the tone for others who were not just unfriendly, they looked at me on the bike as if I was a space alien.

I eventually found the Cafe Amazon and the supposed minivan stop.

There were people sitting on benches but none of them were waiting for a van. I started asking around. At a nearby 7-Eleven, the clerk — this time genuinely friendly — actually walked with me to the minivan station next door. They had a quick conversation. Lots of head shaking. Lots of "mai dai" vibes. The situation, it turned out, was dire

First, I'd need to take a van to Phattalung, then another van to Surat Thai, then find a transfer to the Don Sak ferry pier. And the kicker? None of these vans were leaving today.

It was exactly as I suspected: you had to be back on the main Hat Yai axis which I deliberately avoided a couple days ago due to the rain, traffic, and trucks thundering by. Songkhla instead was the right call for sure, but it meant that going any further without a bike would prove impossible.

The reality started sinking in. I’d have to overnight in Ranot, a place that sucks. The charm of the Deep South was gone. The kindness buffer was gone. And now I was stuck, sweaty, tired, and staring down a long, useless evening in a town that didn’t want me, and that I didn’t want either.

Next I got out the Ride Apps. No drivers available. Even if there were it would cost over 2000 baht just to ride 100km. I tried countless times anyway and run down the battery of my phone that was already drained from listening to all the hiphop music on the road.

So I assessed my options: I still had a working bike, I still had energy. I was battered but not broken. There was over 100 kilometers to go to reach Nakhon Si Thammarat and I could arrive just after midnight.

I found some backroads and pushed north. What I saw was stunning: the sunset was happening all around me, the soft light spilling over open fields, endless stretches of green, the whole world silent and glowing. t was quiet.And I was experiencing it all from a bicycle, just moving slow enough to feel every shift of air, every shade of color. On one hand, I was still furious that there was no alternative transport and that my plans had failed. But this?

This was a reward I could accept. Maybe, in fact, this was better in the end. Dusk continued to fall.With hardly any phone battery left, the best I could do was plot the map mentally and hope for the best. Luck was on my side. Many of the backroads were actually lit up at night, a small miracle in the middle of nowhere. But I was famished.Food stops were rare, just a couple of shacks selling basic buns. When I did stop, people were not friendly. They asked me in Thai if I was just a local living nearby, biking out for snacks. What does it look like? What a dumb question.

I told them I was cycling to Nakhon Si Thammarat. Blank stares. One obvious truth about Thailand revealed itself again: people here are deeply provincial. If it’s beyond their province, it might as well not exist.

Eventually, at a crossroads in the middle of nowhere, there it was: a small pizza restaurant. After hours of empty roads and dead-end shacks, here was a real kitchen, lights on, doors open. I ordered a box of pizza — basic, but it might as well have been a Michelin meal in that moment. The lady running the place was quite friendly and eager for selfies to post on Facebook. Two shy girls were there too, giggling and whispering. They said I was handsome. I wasn’t in the mood for flirting. I barely had enough energy to sit upright. Still, when they asked for selfies, I said sure why not.

“My friend wants to talk with you.”

I smiled and said “Go ahead, don’t be shy. I don’t bite.” Although truth be told, I once had a girl who actually bit my arm hard in the bedroom, but that’s a story for another day. These girls, though? They were genuinely shy, so shy that even simple conversation seemed like a dare. I wasn’t feeling it either. I just wanted to eat a few slices, pack up, and bounce. Some days you chase adventure. Some days you just chase calories.

The shop lady said, "How can you get to Nakhon Si Thamarat tonight? It's stil 65km" The time was already 8:15pm. I didn't really care.

About 10 kilometers later, the main road finally reappeared. It was long, flat, straight, dark, and hardly any traffic whatsoever. About 35 kilometers outside the city, I heard it: thumping music. Whisky bottles clinking. A roadside party in full swing. There was a live band and the female lead singer was absolutely drop-dead gorgeous. I assessed the situation: crash the party? Very easy. Get drunk? Even easier. But then the logistics hit: if I was going to do this I would need a place to stay first. I scanned for resorts or guesthouses nearby. Many places advertised “24 Hours” — but when I rolled up, they were all closed, gated, and silent. No phone numbers to call either

I figured, “It’s okay. There’ll be other chances.” But as the night wore on, there weren't. I found myself wondering: Was this a case of bad logistics or was I just making excuses for what was now my own shyness that had cost me an adventure. No easy answers. Just the hum of the bike wheels spinning under me in the dark.

By this point, everything was closed. Even the Mini Big C which is normally a reliable late-night spot had a woman standing outside who simply said: “Closed.” So there went any chance of grabbing even a cold, non-alcoholic drink. Options? Exactly one: 7/11. Thank God a few still appeared every so often along the route.

The thought hit me hard: How could you survive in Thailand without 7/11?They’re not just for snacks. They’re not just convenience stores. In many parts of Thailand, they are the only functioning late-night grocery store, restaurant, pharmacy, and hydration stop all rolled into one. The locals all know it too. I saw families buying full meals, full grocery baskets, and shopping as if it were a supermarket. 7/11 wasn’t a luxury. It was a lifeline.

Finally after what felt like an eternity of darkness and silent pedaling the city of Nakhon Si Thammarat appeared on the horizon.

I wasn’t in the mood to search for hotels.No price comparison. No careful scouting. I rolled straight into the first luxury hotel I could find. The security guard greeted me with a smile and helped me park the bike,didn’t even blink at how wrecked I looked. The price? 1,500 baht.Including breakfast. A steal. I'll take it. They offered massages too: 800 baht for 30 minutes. Hard pass. After a day like this, I didn't need pampering. I needed sleep

Today's ride: 198 km (123 miles)
Total: 649 km (403 miles)

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