Distance: 65.58 km
Average while moving: 16.3 km/h
Max speed: 38.6 km/h
An early morning start and it gave me an altogether different perspective of Pantai Kemunting. The fisherman were out and setting off. The strong winds of the last two days had been whipping up the waves so hard they had stayed on shore but this morning brought altogether calmer seas and they were setting off just as I was.
I rode through the quiet kampung. Where yesterday evening there were people zipping about on their bikes and scooters, and people milling about or fishing or sipping their teas and coffees at the stalls, this morning most of the kampung was still in darkness. As I rode, I could hear the insects chirping in the bushes and gardens, the occasional cockerel crowing and the muted rumble of waves on the shore to my left.
Much of the early riding was quite easy. I stopped near Tanjung Agas for breakfast. The terrain had been relatively flat and I was glad I'd stuck to the coast road. Just after the little place I had breakfast in was the Sungai Linggi, the river between Melaka and Negri Sembilan. I had crossed another state line and felt some measure of accomplishment.
The road thereon was flat for some distance then started to climb as I got nearer Tanjung Tuan. I found the turnoff to Tanjung Tuan and swung left onto the road by the army camp. The road sloped upwards and was lush and green on either side. After a short distance, I zipped down a hill and up the other side but quickly stopped when I realised there was a very steep hill immediately after. At this stage, I was a trifle weary and extremely practical. I doubted I'd make it up the other side and opted instead to turn around and head into PD instead.
Which I did. PD, as I rediscovered, has hills on either end and although I'd avoided the very steep Tanjung Tuan ones, I had to deal with the many that lead into town. I rode past a few big hotels, preferring a modest establishment. I saw a few possibilities, but decided to get further towards town, thinking it would be good to be able to observe the life of the town itself.
The last great hill was a long, fast ride into the town area and before I knew it, I had passed everything. No options except a typical town hotel was available at this end so I decided to turn around and head back again. As I did so, the whole episode began to take on the air of a comedy of errors - a drizzle started up, then turned increasingly heavy so I quickly turned in at a set of shops and decided to treat myself to a nice hot Teh-O and some lunch.
For the second major meal in a row, I had a Maggi Mee Goreng and although different from the scrumptious one at Pantai Kemunting the night before, this one was just as tasty. I don't care how much money Maggi makes, they deserve every cent. And I don't care how much money the stallholders make from frying up a packet of instant noodles - they too deserve every cent!
Once the rain abated, the comedy began anew. I turned back as planned, got about 2 km back and realised the hill I'd zipped down was really a very long climb back up so I turned around once again and decided to try my luck on the other side of town.
As I cycled along, my hopes were raised by a sign that announced the Glory Beach Resort. Now, Glory make good, decent biscuits, don't they?... It sounded like a nice small place. And there was even a sign for something else called the Legend Water Chalets. Hmmmm... promising indeed...
I cycled for mile after mile... quite some way out of town, and after a wrong turn that brought me to the refinery and the village that services it, I finally got onto the correct road, cycled about a kilometre down it... and found out the Glory Beach Resort was a humongous development with about 2000 rooms, a conference hall, 4000 slave workers pulling erect a statue of Ra the sun God... you get the idea. Appalled I muttered 'no way!' and carried on, a sliver of hope still remaining that Legend would turn out to be a nice rustic establishment over the sea.
I rolled into what seemed to be the Four Seasons. But I wasn't going anywhere else. This was it. I was whacked and I was staying here, regardless. The glass doors opened and a uniformed door man asked 'Can I help you, Sir?'
If there's one thing I do not expect in PD, it's to be called 'Sir'. Trying to look and sound as cool as possible, I said evenly, 'I think I would like a room' to which the doorman replied 'Certainly, Sir' and opened the door for me.
Acting as if a grimy bicycle was as natural a conveyance as a Mercedes or BMW, and a sweaty body in shorts and a sports shirt as natural as one dressed in a shirt, tailored pants and tie, I got off the bike, turned to the doorman and said 'Please keep an eye on my bike - it's important to me' to which he replied he would. Sir.
Inside, the service was just as polite and deferential so I found myself a willing fly to the spider's web of profit. I found myself agreeing to rent a room a few moments before I even realised I had no idea how much rooms cost here.
As things turned out, I rented a chalet for RM 280, and as I used my MasterCard, I enjoyed a 20% discount on top of that.
I rode the bike where they directed me, and found my chalet, opened the door and stepped into a world as removed from Ismah Beach Resort as was possible.
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Average while moving: 16.3 km/h
Max speed: 38.6 km/h
An early morning start and it gave me an altogether different perspective of Pantai Kemunting. The fisherman were out and setting off. The strong winds of the last two days had been whipping up the waves so hard they had stayed on shore but this morning brought altogether calmer seas and they were setting off just as I was.
I rode through the quiet kampung. Where yesterday evening there were people zipping about on their bikes and scooters, and people milling about or fishing or sipping their teas and coffees at the stalls, this morning most of the kampung was still in darkness. As I rode, I could hear the insects chirping in the bushes and gardens, the occasional cockerel crowing and the muted rumble of waves on the shore to my left.
Much of the early riding was quite easy. I stopped near Tanjung Agas for breakfast. The terrain had been relatively flat and I was glad I'd stuck to the coast road. Just after the little place I had breakfast in was the Sungai Linggi, the river between Melaka and Negri Sembilan. I had crossed another state line and felt some measure of accomplishment.
The road thereon was flat for some distance then started to climb as I got nearer Tanjung Tuan. I found the turnoff to Tanjung Tuan and swung left onto the road by the army camp. The road sloped upwards and was lush and green on either side. After a short distance, I zipped down a hill and up the other side but quickly stopped when I realised there was a very steep hill immediately after. At this stage, I was a trifle weary and extremely practical. I doubted I'd make it up the other side and opted instead to turn around and head into PD instead.
Which I did. PD, as I rediscovered, has hills on either end and although I'd avoided the very steep Tanjung Tuan ones, I had to deal with the many that lead into town. I rode past a few big hotels, preferring a modest establishment. I saw a few possibilities, but decided to get further towards town, thinking it would be good to be able to observe the life of the town itself.
The last great hill was a long, fast ride into the town area and before I knew it, I had passed everything. No options except a typical town hotel was available at this end so I decided to turn around and head back again. As I did so, the whole episode began to take on the air of a comedy of errors - a drizzle started up, then turned increasingly heavy so I quickly turned in at a set of shops and decided to treat myself to a nice hot Teh-O and some lunch.
For the second major meal in a row, I had a Maggi Mee Goreng and although different from the scrumptious one at Pantai Kemunting the night before, this one was just as tasty. I don't care how much money Maggi makes, they deserve every cent. And I don't care how much money the stallholders make from frying up a packet of instant noodles - they too deserve every cent!
Once the rain abated, the comedy began anew. I turned back as planned, got about 2 km back and realised the hill I'd zipped down was really a very long climb back up so I turned around once again and decided to try my luck on the other side of town.
As I cycled along, my hopes were raised by a sign that announced the Glory Beach Resort. Now, Glory make good, decent biscuits, don't they?... It sounded like a nice small place. And there was even a sign for something else called the Legend Water Chalets. Hmmmm... promising indeed...
I cycled for mile after mile... quite some way out of town, and after a wrong turn that brought me to the refinery and the village that services it, I finally got onto the correct road, cycled about a kilometre down it... and found out the Glory Beach Resort was a humongous development with about 2000 rooms, a conference hall, 4000 slave workers pulling erect a statue of Ra the sun God... you get the idea. Appalled I muttered 'no way!' and carried on, a sliver of hope still remaining that Legend would turn out to be a nice rustic establishment over the sea.
I rolled into what seemed to be the Four Seasons. But I wasn't going anywhere else. This was it. I was whacked and I was staying here, regardless. The glass doors opened and a uniformed door man asked 'Can I help you, Sir?'
If there's one thing I do not expect in PD, it's to be called 'Sir'. Trying to look and sound as cool as possible, I said evenly, 'I think I would like a room' to which the doorman replied 'Certainly, Sir' and opened the door for me.
Acting as if a grimy bicycle was as natural a conveyance as a Mercedes or BMW, and a sweaty body in shorts and a sports shirt as natural as one dressed in a shirt, tailored pants and tie, I got off the bike, turned to the doorman and said 'Please keep an eye on my bike - it's important to me' to which he replied he would. Sir.
Inside, the service was just as polite and deferential so I found myself a willing fly to the spider's web of profit. I found myself agreeing to rent a room a few moments before I even realised I had no idea how much rooms cost here.
As things turned out, I rented a chalet for RM 280, and as I used my MasterCard, I enjoyed a 20% discount on top of that.
I rode the bike where they directed me, and found my chalet, opened the door and stepped into a world as removed from Ismah Beach Resort as was possible.
Post to del.icio.us
1 comment:
argh... ah well, as I will shortly post, the stay was very relaxing indeed. Still, I did go into town but must have missed the sign for the rumah tumpangan. :-(
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