Bikes, Boats, Battlestar Galactica

So, two months before my initiation into the life of the chronically under-employed, I was lucky enough to visit Myanmar for a couple of weeks. It was beautiful, friendly and full of pagodas. And hot like you might imagine it is on the surface of the sun (I mean, I’m no scientist, but I’m just saying).

We took an over-night bus from Yangon to Nyaungshwe (which turned into an over-night/over-day bus due to the unfortunate breakdown in the mountains). Even though it was a gazillion degrees outside I somehow managed to convince my travel companion to rent a couple of bikes and take a tour across/around Inle Lake the next day. So, equipped with a little hand-drawn map from our guesthouse, and all the water we could carry, we set out in search of the lake, a vineyard, and those wild local fishermen who paddle with oars attached to their feet.

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If you biked fast enough, you created a breeze and sweat a little less. No joke.

We did the whole Myanmar thing and stopped at every pagoda and lookout point that we stumbled across. At least at first. I mean, after the first several dozen the heat starts to win out and there’s this little part of you that dies while screaming DEARGAWDNONOTANOTHERPAGODAPLEASE.

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This is where I dropped my phone and then proceeded to run over it with my bike.

Eventually we made it to a little village where we ate lunch in a local restaurant (which may or may not have been the culprit in the violent food poisoning we contracted later that evening). Despite the fact that Myanmar only opened to tourism a few years back, the locals are already pretty tourist savvy and wasted no time to offer us a boat ride across the lake. Obviously we were all HELL YEAH because we were hot and tired of pedaling and boats.

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All aboard.

We threw our bikes on the back and gave our driver about the equivalent of $8 US and he took us through a winding maze of houses on stilts and water gardens. I was pretty convinced that with all of our weight (which felt much too high as the driver had us sitting on chairs he had brought aboard) we were going to topple over at any of the sharp turns. But we didn’t.

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Bikes, boats and breeze. OMG.

As our luck had it, the boat broke down in the middle of the lake and i got the privilege of helping our driving get it running again by handing him tools and holding random pieces of equipment. We were stationary long enough for Andre to snap this:

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A most precarious melange of fishing and ballet.

Once on the other side of the lake, we hoisted our bikes up onto a dock taller than my head and somehow managed to climb up without incident. Guys, it was really beautiful, all the houses on stilts and water gardens and lo and behold, only a few more kilometers down the road we found a vinyard with reasonably priced Myanmar wine (much better than the even more reasonably priced Myanmar whisky) and a view.

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The view from the dock nomnomnom

 We watched the sun set, but amidst all the magic we forgot that we needed to cycle back, and then it got dark. So we teamed up with some other wheely tourists and cycled home in a pack with our cellphone lights to guide us through the Myanmar countryside. That night we proceeded to get my first bout of food poisoning in over six months of travel, and the magic stopped abruptly for a couple of days (but returned in the form of an e-bike through old Bagan. Seriously. Google it).

Stay tuned as we continue to travel back in time to the Himalayas where I wander around with a bag on my back through the mountains like it’s a great idea!

BACK!

 

Hi! So it’s been a year since I’ve visited this place. Since my last post, which is only Part One of an epic British journey, I’ve cycled to Gaspe (Remember? The trip that never happened?), hiked through the Himalayas and thrown a bike on the back of a boat in Myanmar.  A friend recently commented that I had been up to quite a lot recently and didn’t I have a blog for that?

Riiiight.

So maybe it makes sense to start from the now and then move back in time? I’ve been back for almost six weeks now. And last weekend two of my friends got married and saw it appropriate to invite not just me but my cycling partner to their wedding. I use the word appropriate because we were obviously the ones to yell BIKE TRIP and consequently show up on bikes: smelly, sunburned and paniers full of PBRs.

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Rosemont to Oka loop

Going someplace, and then retracing your steps back is decidedly the inferior way to travel, so we opted for a loop from Montreal to Oka (wedding territory) through Laval on the way there and through Hudson on the way back. A solid 120km all in, which is perfect for cyclists that chronically wake up late and start drinking early.

Sometime dangerously close to noon we were on the road, heading Montreal North (which is more accurately known as north west to the rest of the world). After skirting through Laval’s bike lanes to nowhere, we crossed into Deux Montagnes and made it to the venue a good 45 minutes before wedding time. Just enough time to pitch a tent, kill a few PBRs and change into our wedding clothes. Sadly I don’t have any pictures because we probably had heat stroke and let our phone batteries die. But we cleaned up as well as could be expected and the whole thing was beautiful.

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The bridge from Laval to that place across from Laval

Weddings being weddings, we stumbled into the tent at some unknown hour and were doubly sweaty and disoriented when the sun came up way too soon. In our typical style, we accepted a ride into town for breakfast and all the diner coffee we could drink before returning to pack up the tent and prepare for the trip home. This time we left early (before 11am!) and zoomed down to oka in time to catch the ferry across to Hudson.

The trip back was longer but even more beautiful, not necessarily because we avoided Laval, but because we hugged the shoreline (not to mention tailing packs of cyclists in spandex) most of the way. Hudson became all the mysterious variations of Vaudreuil, a quick roll across the top of L’Ile-Perrot and then Finally Montreal. We arrived home the same way we arrived to the wedding, sweaty and tired and a little sun-delirious.

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