I've not written for awhile. PJ turned out to be most comfortable, and very busy indeed. I will fill you in shortly...
Another reason is that I got a little weary, tired, even a trifle down. And it all started at Morib. Years ago, Morib was a nice, easy place to get to when we could not afford the time to go all the way to PD. Now, it is sad, tired, slowly disintegrating. Walking out from the Impian Morib the morning of Oct 14, the dream quickly fell apart.
The grounds behind the Impian Morib, and between it and the sea were unkempt. A sea wall had been built, so there really was no beach where I was and although the tide was on its way out, there was no way to go down.
I walked down a well-trodden path, behind the Seri Morib which I had dropped in yesterday thinking it was a hotel only to find the building I walked into was also falling apart, with missing ceiling boards and damp on the walls. From the back I realised parts of the building were still in use but I had not notice the day before.
As I walked along this path that snaked between Casuarina trees and tall grass, I came upon two breaks in the wall where steps had been built to allow access to the beach that formed at low tide. The steps were broken, the ground caved in. I walked on.
A few hundred metres on, the path opened up into a well kept area with a broad grassy verge with benches and shelters. Sticking up tall at regular intervals I saw wooden towers which would give a panoramic view of the sea. Over here, there were steps down to the sea too. My hopes raised a little I strolled on and as I got closer, yet again I saw signs of neglect. Some of the shelters had missing roof pieces, the towers had broken steps and railings and were clearly unsafe.
The same sad story continued on up the beach to the hawker centre. A couple of pavilions sat forlornly in pools of rain water.
At the hawker centre, some stalls were just beginning to open and I had a hopeful look, but no food was to be had yet as it was too early. I gather this centre comes alive in the evenings at night.
In the end I walked back and had lunch at the hotel, a dish of Nasi Goreng Kampung which promised much but which ultimately failed to deliver - from dry slices of cucumber to soggy crackers.
Gan had offered to pick me up shortly after lunch and I couldn't get away quick enough.
From the moment I'd entered my home state, the welcome had been muted, weary. From bad roads with no shoulders to ride on right to the sorry state of Morib, I was hitting a particularly down patch in my ride and I was looking forward to meeting friends and family to scrub the bad feelings I had out of my awareness. At least for a few days.
After a few hundred kilometres of some very nice roads, great scenery, fantastic people, my home state was turning out to be the counterpoint to all that.
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Another reason is that I got a little weary, tired, even a trifle down. And it all started at Morib. Years ago, Morib was a nice, easy place to get to when we could not afford the time to go all the way to PD. Now, it is sad, tired, slowly disintegrating. Walking out from the Impian Morib the morning of Oct 14, the dream quickly fell apart.
The grounds behind the Impian Morib, and between it and the sea were unkempt. A sea wall had been built, so there really was no beach where I was and although the tide was on its way out, there was no way to go down.
I walked down a well-trodden path, behind the Seri Morib which I had dropped in yesterday thinking it was a hotel only to find the building I walked into was also falling apart, with missing ceiling boards and damp on the walls. From the back I realised parts of the building were still in use but I had not notice the day before.
As I walked along this path that snaked between Casuarina trees and tall grass, I came upon two breaks in the wall where steps had been built to allow access to the beach that formed at low tide. The steps were broken, the ground caved in. I walked on.
A few hundred metres on, the path opened up into a well kept area with a broad grassy verge with benches and shelters. Sticking up tall at regular intervals I saw wooden towers which would give a panoramic view of the sea. Over here, there were steps down to the sea too. My hopes raised a little I strolled on and as I got closer, yet again I saw signs of neglect. Some of the shelters had missing roof pieces, the towers had broken steps and railings and were clearly unsafe.
The same sad story continued on up the beach to the hawker centre. A couple of pavilions sat forlornly in pools of rain water.
At the hawker centre, some stalls were just beginning to open and I had a hopeful look, but no food was to be had yet as it was too early. I gather this centre comes alive in the evenings at night.
In the end I walked back and had lunch at the hotel, a dish of Nasi Goreng Kampung which promised much but which ultimately failed to deliver - from dry slices of cucumber to soggy crackers.
Gan had offered to pick me up shortly after lunch and I couldn't get away quick enough.
From the moment I'd entered my home state, the welcome had been muted, weary. From bad roads with no shoulders to ride on right to the sorry state of Morib, I was hitting a particularly down patch in my ride and I was looking forward to meeting friends and family to scrub the bad feelings I had out of my awareness. At least for a few days.
After a few hundred kilometres of some very nice roads, great scenery, fantastic people, my home state was turning out to be the counterpoint to all that.
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