Bike sunrise by the beach
The route isn't particularly interesting but it's enjoyable in the peace of pre-dawn.
The main problem in the dark is the sudden swarms of insects that smatter my face. I swallow one and spend several minutes riding along trying to fish the remnants of another out of my eye. They help to explain why I hear so many insect-eating Nightjars, both Indian with their call that sounds like somebody has dropped a ping-pong ball, and Large-tailed with its "chonk.....chonk.....chonk". They more-or-less stay in one place so I can count them as I pedal. Over the 21-kilometre route the Indians win 6-3.
Across the flat paddyfields and saltpans of this part of Thailand the only climbs are over canal bridges, which barely register a bump but still manage to annoy me slightly by dropping my speed a few kilometres per hour. I love doing this trip but never claim to love everything about it. The two consecutive 7-kilometre straights that seem never-ending and test my patience are the worst part.
If I sound a little grumpy it's just how it is before coffee.
Monks on their morning alms round
This early there is very little traffic but some people are standing by the side of the road holding pots and bags of food. A couple of monks are purposefully walking towards them to collect their offerings. Elsewhere I pass a small market where food sellers are busy setting out their stalls. I have to be wary here as their preparations spill out into the road and I'd hate to get covered in curry this early.
Market spilling into the road
Lurking street dogs with empty bellies and poor road-sense are another reason to leave a good safety margin. Joggers in dark clothing are also a hazard, although, they might argue that the danger actually lies more with the speeding metal on two wheels. Let's discuss it over a drink sometime.
Distracted dog hazard
I am over-taken by a group of local cyclists, all men at least 20 years younger and possibly 20 times fitter. They have light road bikes rather than my heavy tourer and I feel a strange urge to make sure they understand that is the real difference. But, of course, there is no need and I turn my head for each of them to nod, smile and say hello. They are happy to greet me in English, although the guy at the back gets a little muddled with "Good after... er... morning". They and their laughter then drift away.
Overtaken
I know they won't be going swimming. Nobody else does at this time of day. The beach might not be mine but the sea will be.
I plough on, racing the increasing glow in the eastern sky. I want to be there and in the water before the sun first peeks over the horizon and there is always a point where I think I will be too late. This little target helps motivate me to keep pushing as the fatigue starts.
Approaching dawn on a quiet road
Hopeful dog hazard
Slipping through the small town of Haad Chao Samran to the last winding kilometre passed more roadside dogs that eye me with both suspicion and hope, I then turn into the army resort that's my destination. The young recruits are already out sweeping the place tidy. I lean my bike against the usual beachside tree and stripe down to the swimming trunks I already have on.
Walking across the sand I can just see the edge of the sun so I did kind of make it on time.
Sunrise at Haad Chao Samran
Then the absolute bliss of entering the water. This is the one and only time when entering the sea in Thailand reminds me of swimming back in my native England. Every other time the sea here feels strangely warm, not quite how it should be. But now, at dawn, in the cool season, after a good workout, I am hot and the water is cool. Perfect.
Swallows skim over the calm water, feeling comfortable enough to fly surprisingly close to my head. Five metres away a tern plunges with a pleasant sploosh sound while a flock of cormorants fly over on their daily commute to somewhere fishy.
Sunrise at Haad Chao Samran
A gal and her guy are taking sunrise selfies a hundred metres up the beach but other than them I see nobody. I loll around enjoying my reward for getting up at five and pumping pedals before breakfast.
Twenty minutes later the beauty has faded from the sky - the sun really does move quickly here in the tropics, so I drag myself out and immediately feel the chilling effect of the air. Lovely. I will be sweating again soon. I towel down, get dressed, wash my feet and head home.
It always takes me at least ten minutes longer on the way back. With the sun comes a breeze and at this time of year it likes to make me struggle as if extracting payment for my blissful swim. At times I dislike the journey back enough to think about giving up with this trip. But at the same time the extra effort means that arriving home feels so good and the breakfast that has been on my mind for the last half an hour is always the best breakfast ever. Before I've finished it I am already planning when next to race the sunrise down to Haad Chao Samran.
Best ever breakfast. Deserved.
