Ascending back up a very large mountain in a direction we were unfamiliar with, Tommy and I began to worry as the sun was now a reddish color among the grey, smoky sky, meaning we had about thirty minutes of sunlight left. Believe it or not, riding a motorcycle in a foreign country at night was not the biggest worry on our mind; what we were now worried about was if we were going to be able to make it to a gas station in time. With both of us on empty, we finally reached the summit and were forced to shut our engines off and coast down the winding road. Cruising down the mountain, we would often hit straight a ways where we were forced to come out of our streamline crouched position to then begin running alongside our bikes to reach the next descending corner. This carried on for about an hour, down further and further until we finally reached a village where we looked at the map one last time before we lost all sunlight. Unfortunately this village did not have a gas station, but after a bit more charades and hand motions with the locals, we figured it was about fifteen kilometers further and we might have hope on finding one in an actual town.
On we went, sparing as little gas as we could on now a pitch black forest road, praying that we would reach a gas station in time. Riding on fumes, we barely putted our way into a small town. Never to have been more happy to see a gas station, we pulled in and filled up our tanks with smiles on our faces, knowing that we had about three hours more of riding time before we had to even begin worrying about filling up again. More than enough gas to get us the rest of the way home, we both thought. Unfortunately that thought was far beyond optimistic and became borderline comical mixed with a bit of anger when we found out how lost we actually were.
We couldn’t have gone a worse direction. Not only were we twice as far away as we originally were, we now had locals telling us that we wouldn’t be able to make it back that night due to the unregulated fires that burn throughout the forest. In total dismay, Tommy and I looked at each other and began contemplating our two pitiful options: We could stay in this Podunk town and wait till morning to figure out getting back to Chiang Mai (most reasonable option); or we could chance getting even more lost by trying to retrace our steps in a dark national forest, which just happens to be on fire (most terrible option).
Well, of course we went with the second option and boy did we regret it. Heading back up the winding roads, which we soon found out was an express way at night time for local transporters. Now if you’re optimistic, you’d think, “Well at least there are people around”, but if you’re a realist, you would realize that when you’re on a little scooter with giant, overloaded trucks barreling down a one lane road, in the middle of the night, that this situation might actually be slightly less than great. Getting back to the ranger station that originally pointed us in the wrong direction, we refrained from confronting the guy about the issue and continued on our way in what we thought was the right direction.
Arriving at a crossroad, and the first street light we had seen in half an hour, we pulled out the map to see where we were. After deciding that this squiggly line would take us to that squiggly line and then onto that thicker line, we turned down the road with the street light and began heading through the hillsides. Now, we could tell they were hillsides for two very odd reasons. The first was because of the large flames that were scattered about, hundreds of feet above us and below us. Luckily the closest we got to any danger of the fires was a smoldering tree by the road, or a small dry bush that was fizzling out.
The second, and probably the only good thing that came out of this night ride through Doi Inthanon national park, was seeing the amazing night agriculture that took place along the hillsides that weren’t burning to the ground. Rows and rows and rows of these tube-like structures covered the produce and were lit up with bright white lights. It looked like something right out of a Sci-Fi movie. This went on for kilometers and kilometers as we pressed on through the night, up and down roads that were bumpy and jagged and demanded caution around every turn. With the lit up tubes now long gone, and even the forest fires nowhere to be seen, we knew we were way out there, somewhere in the hills of Northern Thailand. As the blackness continued to grow, we almost hoped for another burning bush or even another large, reckless truck to swerve around the corner. We just wanted to see something, anything that was familiar to us out here in the middle of nowhere.
Luckily we had each other for support, because that was literally all we had until finally spotting a sign in the distance. Excited to see what it read, I raced ahead to get a glimpse of what it might say or where it might take us. To my utter disappointment, the sign was in Thai. Of course it was. What tourist would have wondered off this far? What need was there to put a sign in English when you’re hundreds of kilometers away from anywhere an English speaker should be? It’s alright, the sign probably read, “Ya, you’re really lost” anyways.
To make matters worse, looking back I could see that Tommy was struggling on his bike as he approached. A bit angry that I had raced ahead, he showed me that he had a flat tire. This night just got a whole lot worse: A flat tire, less than half a tank of gas, in the middle of the night, in a forest that we couldn’t be more lost in and happens to be on fire. With Tommy hugging his handlebars, trying to put as little weight on his back, flat tire as possible, we putted down what little road there was to drive on in a direction we didn’t even know was correct. Stopping at yet another crossroad, there stood the ominous single road light that beaconed the chance at becoming even more lost in this gloomy forest. With no street sign to have us even begin to try and decipher the squiggly Thai lines, we simply pointed one way and continued on. Hours went by with nothing more than a few unreadable signs until we finally reached a small village that happened to have a hospital. Thank God neither of us were injured, and actually needed medical assistance. Even more luckily, there happened to be someone that spoke decent enough English to communicate where we were and how much further we needed to go. Continuing on, we got maybe twenty minutes out of town, when all of the sudden flashing red and blue lights came barreling towards us. Pulling as far over as we could, the car raced by us, only to come to a screeching halt as it began reversing towards us quickly. Perfect, now we probably violated some Thai law and got reported and were about to get arrested. As the car came closer, we realized that it wasn’t a car at all. It was a police truck. A bit confused and scared, Tommy and I took a step closer to one another readying ourselves for what was about to happen next.
Two “officers” approached us wearing somewhat of a uniform and shouted “Hey, you lost American yah?” in a tone that clearly eluded to how we were the only ones dense enough to get into a situation this bad. “Uh, yah that would be us” I said with a bit of skepticism. What better opportunity to take advantage of us then right now in this moment, dressed up like cops driving a flatbed truck, just waiting for us to hand them the keys to our bikes to take us back to their “police station”. The “officers” then proceeded to tell us that they had gotten a phone call from a hospital saying that there were two American guys out on the road with a flat tire.
With this first sign of legitimacy, we asked them a few more questions before finally letting them load up only Tommy’s bike onto the truck. Following behind them back to the police station, it seemed as though Tommy and I were more so chasing after them, going well over eighty kilometers an hour trying to keep up. Finally arriving back into an actual city though, we began to see street signs in English and eventually we found ourselves at the police station as promised.
It was well after two in the morning, as the police began to question why we as far out into the forest as we were. We really didn’t have a good answer, and I think they let us go without too much more questioning out of pity. Leaving Tommy’s scooter at the police station for the motorbike company to pick up in the morning, Tommy and I hopped on my tiny scooter, strapped on our helmets like scene straight out of a “Dumb and Dumber” movie, and headed back to our guesthouse. As we began heading down the now slightly empty road, we couldn’t help but break out in laughter and relief thinking we did it. We had just created our first crazy lifelong memory in Thailand.
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