I had moved out of the Wiang Inn Hotel in favor of Mercy Hostel just down the road. I do like the comfort and privacy vibe, but I don’t need much beyond that. Private rooms with full bath in a hostel in Thailand in the off season is about $22.

One thing I just had to accomplish on this trip was that I wanted to tour around the countryside aimlessly on a scooter. I had to explore in a freeform style, if even for just a day. There are many easy tour options with backpackers in hordes all doing the same thing. That certainly has it’s place, but in this case to explore the unknown I had to get on my own. Or, as much of the unknown as I care to handle.

The guy from Cycles Rental had intrigued me with the idea of an extended motorcycle expedition. You could tour endlessly around Thailand, into Laos, Myanmar, China. The country roads are open and endless. He rented serious, heavy bikes that would definitely be more than I needed to handle this time. I just needed a day or two to get “it” out of my system and whet my appetite for more. He mentioned that Mae Sai and anywhere between Chiang Rai and Laos would be a good place to start.

After a short while, renting a scooter in Asia becomes a very routine activity. (Remember of course, you will need an international driver’s license to avoid ticketing at checkpoints.) I grabbed a scooter from a shop around the corner at about $7 for the day. I certainly can’t argue with that.

I was so impressed with the robust 4G connectivity around Thailand that I planned to rely on GPS and my iPhone 6S for navigation. Their network seemed to blanket every square inch of the country. I also had a GoPro and a backup battery – which pretty much saved my ass at the end of the day when muy devices wouldh ave been dead. Logistics can be difficult enough, so when you make a decision that ends up saving your ass you should be quite proud of yourself!

My general route included three destinations: the Mae Sai border directly north; then head southeast to the “Golden Triangle” – a tourist stop at the junction between Thailand, Laos, and Myanmar; then further southeast hugging the border of Laos to a panoramic viewpoint called Doi Pha Tang. There are several viewpoints in this area but this one seemed to grab my attention because it was so just so damn remote.

The day was full of mystery as I blasted north out of Chiang Rai at about 8:30am. I was happily anticipating the automobile exhaust burning away as the open countryside took over. I hugged the slow lane, and eventually the grimy auto shops were replaced by pineapple stands. The sweet taste of a secret world began to take form.

Mae Sai turned out to be kind of another city shithole. Or at least, what I found on the surface. Based on a couple videos I had seen, I was expecting more of a tranquil and scenic border point, but it turned out to be another chaotic chokepoint of heavy traffic, toxic auto exhaust, and endless roadside shops selling dishwashers, generators, bird cages.

I only had a day, so I immediately abandoned the idea of finding something of interest in Mae Sai. I took a turn onto Mueang Daeng Road (that’s 1041 to you and me) and headed for The Golden Triangle. And this is where things began to open up again thankfully. The green fields begin to stretch openly in every direction. The roads are good and traffic is very light.

The Golden Triangle sounds like a more of a fascinating place than it actually is. The main road passes through a concentration of tourist shopping stalls – small sculptures, textiles, handbags, etc. All stuff you browse but feel no need to purchase. There are plenty of shuttle boats for tourists, snack stalls, and pf course several altars for worship with offerings. But with all this, nothing much to see or do.

Where were the young glossy Thai maidens illuminated brightly in the traditional Sampot Hol skirt, or a sinhs or sabai style skirt, beckoning me to dine at their sumptuous culinary oasis? I stopped and strolled for a bit, and took a few selfies. The Mekong River is the backdrop, which was really just another wide, brown, lazy river. Myanmar and Laos were on the opposite side, and it looked pretty much the same.

I am well aware that no matter where I visit, I am missing out on 95% of what that place has to offer. You simply can’t see everything, so it depends on what your goals and priorities are. Be selective and focused. I had my wanderlust. In this area there are luxury hideaways and restaurants tucked up and away that could certainly offer a delightfulful experience. But I was here for a different reason: to fill my mental cup with visions of a serene landscape. What is out there? That is what I came to find out. 

By now it was midday, and I began to review my resources. Scooters have great mileage, so I was ok for now. Starting to get a little hungry. However nothing really called out to me here so after a fresh coconut snack I hopped back on the wheels and pushed on.

It would be several hours to get Doi Pha Tang, a good long haul. I assumed I’d pass through towns with restaurants along the way. My GPS was incredible, guiding me accurately along the route like a watchful birdie on my shoulder.

The roads opened up again. I held my hand up and out into the air. In the distance beyond the flat fields were hazy rolling hills. I stopped at various places to be still. Descending on the distant hills was an opaque mass of dark clouds, and I began to consider my options should a downpour occur. In a field were some workers. One noticed me framing my camera and waved to me, as if to say “Welcome to Thailand!” I waved back. So peaceful it was out here.

At one random side street I decided to take a detour, whereever it went. They don’t see foreigners around here, and I’m a tall white Americans who sticks out like a sore thumb, as if I meant to be here.

There were quiet little homes, simple structures unbothered by any urban civilization. Another small temple over there. Eventually the cracked pavement gave way to orange, rutted ground. Just where the hell am I going anyway? Unless I came across a pickup full of armed men, I didn’t really care.

I am surrounded by forest. Beyond the woods and canopied road, there is farmland here. Rows of trees neatly planted over here, a small shack over there. They are farming something but I cannot tell what. All is quiet. Despite the clues of some form of agriculture taking place around here, I see no people.

I park my bike and walk up a small hill that leads to a clearing. I stand in silence for several minutes.

As I stood alone looking out over a valley in the middle of nowhere Thailand, I began to reflect on experiences that uprooted my life from ten years earlier. That’s private. I burst into tears. What the fuck am I doing here? All the years before have somehow led me here. We seek and seek, and we do not always find answers. For me, my spirit felt cleansed in this emotional catharsis. I have found nothing, really, but I will never forget this moment. There’s nothing much up here, so I head back to the main road.

By now it’s late afternoon and I am starving. I pass through one town or another, but everything that looks like a simple outdoor restaurant is actually a small vegetable market, and I don’t need ten whole papayas right now.

Finally I found a small open roadside restaurant. A woman was there still preparing a variety of foods – an array of meats, vegatables, a menu, this and that. I pointed. “Chicken?” She nods. “With rice?” I don’t know if she understands me, but she nods. “Actually this looks good, I’ll take that.” I said, pointing to something else. “Pork.” She says. I nod, just give me something, whatever you have!

I sat down and she soon brought over the most perfect plate of food I have ever seen. Sliced pork over rice with vegetables, and a simple hot chicken broth. Simple, tasty, nourishing.

I was so touched by how perfectly this little hunger problem got resolved. Ah the serendipity of semi-aimless travel – wondrous little surprises can happen at any moment. I thanked the woman profusely “Khob Khun Krab. Khob Khun Krab. Khob Khun Krab!” We took a selfie together, and it wasn’t tacky, she was smiling. She’s probably never seen an American blasting through on a bike before.

The bill? 30 baht, or $.88. Less than one dollar. I gave her 40 baht and motioned for her keep it. She professed, but I insisted. It was a wonderful, warm experience of nourishment and kindness. Maybe I’m over sentimentalizing the experience, but it’s really these simple moments that mean the most.

I still had another hour at least to reach Doi Pha Tang. Eventually I turned off the main highway 1155 onto 4029, a smaller country road again. The sun was getting lower. As my elevation gained, it got cooler. I’m now on a windy road again, zipping past homes, schools, temples, children playing. I was amazed at the convenience of my scooter, blasting me along effortlessly.

The road twists and curves, and I lean in as we gain elevation. As dusk approaches mosquitos are invading my face now like kamikazes – another snack. There are small villages along the way. The sun is setting behind me now, and the afternoon makes the hilly landscape glow. The area is mostly deserted except for a some kids on scooters. There are a few guesthouses, really just shacks serving travelers who want to spend the night close to the viewpoint. But there are no people about, everything seems shuttered.

Finally I’m at the end of the line- a parking lot. There is a cement entry platform that leads to a long stairway carved into a wooded hill. A mother and several children pass me as they return from above. We greet each other and I point up the stairs implying the viewpoint in that direction, she nods and smiles.

It’s very cool now and getting dark. A fog drifts down over my head as I climb the last hill. At the top is a small shrine, the dead remains of flowers and offerings littered about. I am suddenly filled with a surge of energy as my adrenaline matches signals finally arriving at this mysterious place.

Looking out to the east over the cliff into Laos, it’s a total whiteout – a complete, impenetrable wall of fog. I see nothing. I have never seen a wall of fog quite so opaque. There is simply no possibility of catching a glimpse of the scenery. A result of my mindfulness training, I am ok with this. It simply is what is. I can’t get upset about it, it’s a wonder to simply be here.

It was right around this moment I remembered a key detail about this spot that I had brushed aside! Doi Pha Tang – an exceptional sunrise viewpoint. Sunrise. It’s 6:30pm. In some lapse I thought sunrise, sunset, what’s the difference? It’s all beautiful right? But this may have made all the difference. Oops.

Fog seeping into everything gave the place an eery weight. Crags of rock, hidden caverns in the cliff, the spacebetween branches – none of it was safe from this penetrating wall of fog. It was definitely sacred in some way. And I was completely alone here. Once again I spent some time in silence casually contemplating the purpose of my existence, and then decided I had to make the push home.

Cruising downhill now, the blanket of hills behind me were now disappearing into shadows. Tiny lights from homes dotted the countryside. Chiang Rai was probably two to three hours away. And at this point my gas was low and my battery lower. I pulled out the backup battery and charged my phone. Thank god I have this extra battery! And I would have been completely lost without the GPS. Sure, back in the day maps worked just fine. But in today’s world we have simply become accustomed to the aid of technology.

By the time I got back down the mountain to flat road it is fully dark. My phone is my only guide, and it glows in the darkness. Pitch black now, my mission is simply to get back to Chiang Rai in one piece. I had already been on the road about nine hours, most of that actually on the scooter.

Suddenly I notice in plain thoughts where I am. I am nowhere. No one knows where I am, not my family, my friends. Does anyone really care anyway? The road that appears to be a main artery back to civilization deteriorates into another windy, hilly, pitch black country road.

I stop my scooter. I’m here, I may as well take it all in. There are shrubs hugging the road and shadows and darkness everywhere. I look at a hill to the east perhaps two or three miles distant and see a small orange glow and nearby, a streetlight. Scattered along the hillside are other small dots of orange light – homes. All is quiet. Crickets buzz around me. Again the thought occurs to me as if in disbelief: what am I doing here? And I understand that I am exactly where I intended to be, and it is perfectly ok. I wanted to be in rural Thailand by myself, and here I am.

I momentarily consider my status. Low on gas. It’s been a long day. I’m hungry again, and I’m mostly running on adrenaline. The sweat and humidity on my skin from the fog is starting to dry into a gritty sheen. Am I safe? I feel safe. What happens if I run out of gas? Well, maybe I walk to find a village. I find some people. I don’t panic. It’s ok. Even if I am stranded for the night somewhere, I don’t think there are any wild predators I should be aware of.

I get back on the scooter and rev it up. Along this endless route I pass through a couple other villages – along a main road with some lights, closed little businesses, fences, homes, stray dogs, chickens.

My sole concern right now is finding a fuel station. I’m riding through another town, this one active with kids playing outside in the night. I pass groups of children, some teenagers, hanging around playing with each other like I used to do.

In a moment of what I can only describe as the most peculiar cosmic coincidence, there is a brightly lit kiosk of sorts on the side of the road as I am coming around a corner down a hill. From a distance it looks like a slot machine. In the pitch black darkness, yellow, red and green lights illimunate controls and features.

I pull off to take a look, and I’m pretty sure it is the thing I need. I get a little closer. A hose. A nozzle. A keypad. It’s a self service gas machine! Holy smokes! But how do I use it? I have no idea how to use this machine. Is it functioning? I can’t read Thai.

Just then one of the little kids comes by and I wave him down. In this moment I’m not concerned as much with language barriers, I just need some fuel. He comes over and I motion around what I need like a monkey. I point at him, I smile, I’m sort of laughing.

He runs off and yells to others, and two other kids come by. One takes charge and shows me exactly what to do. Luckily I had a pocket full of coins as well. He shows me how to simply remove the nozzle, put in some coins, and it pumps until your money is run out. Sure, it seems plainly simple now – but this is another amusing and endearing aspects of foreign travel. Things look sort of familiar, but you still have no idea how to utilize or operate them, mainly becuase you simply can’t read the instructions.

So this little kid helps me fill up my scooter just in the nick of time. I thanked him profusely, gave him a few coins, and most importantly, high-fived him. He smiled and ran off. Another insignificant experience I will never forget.

Back on the road, the route back is longer than expected. I wonder if I should stop for food somewhere. I pass town after town, but everything looks closed. Eventually there are more full service fuel stations. I am blasting at full speed under street lights, through dark patches. By the time I reach Chiang Rai it’s about 9:30 and my body is craving a rest. I am completely wasted. I stop at a 7-11 and get some snacks and a couple large bottles of beer. Back at the hostel finally, I take posibly the most rewarding shower of my life. I’m proud of myself for this day. Maybe I didn’t see every significant landmark along the way, but I sure as hell covered a lot of ground. And I got this specific piece of wanderlust out of my system.

I have planned many trips where I am utterly obsessed with building in all the best sights and excursions, stressing over what I might miss, and obsessed that it needs to meet my expectations of a mind blowing experience. But when you do that you only set yourself up for disappointment. You’ll never hit all the sights. It might rain. The bus might be full. The route may be farther than you thought. It’s closed. You got scammed. You’re tired. You had a list of things had to hit, so you’re racing around. That’s more stress than you need, and all the while you’re not taking deep breaths and just enjoying where you are. Sounds cliché but it’s absolutely true!

Travel on your terms!