The trip started with me on the back of Jim’s motorcycle, going to get mine.  Jim’s a good rider.  In fact, he’s an extraordinarily good rider, able to handle virtually anything which came up roadwise during the day with apparent ease. 

While still on the flats among commercial development, the mountains suddenly appeared dead ahead.  It was like being in Yosemite Valley without knowing the walls were there, and suddenly the mist cleared.  My heart went into my throat -- and I still thought we were going to be on easy roads.

Curve, curve, curve into the mountains.  Past an elephant camp!  Magnificent creatures roaming around with tourist buses.  Up.  Ears started popping.  Fantastic views; I stopped for photos and Jim would wait patiently for me to catch up.

Then the road got a little more challenging.  Meaning downhill to hairpin turn and it’s not there.  Something would be there, but just not a road.  Now you want a picture, but I have to ask you -- how the heck was I gonna do that?  My adrenalin was kinda up by now, and when I saw something I didn’t like, I just wanted to get through it, thank you very much.  I know now, in retrospect, that if I’m going to take writing seriously, then saying “screw it” about important aspects of the trip isn’t an option.  But I said “screw it” and concentrated on my safety.  I got some photos too, as you’ll see.  In the meantime, here are a couple of peaceful moments:

Jim had warned me the night before about road wash-outs, gravel, and cobblestones, but I didn’t believe him.  Wrong.  We finally came to the top of the hill to encounter the famous cobblestones.  They disappeared downwards and by now I knew enough to know that there would be curves, and at the bend there would be ruts and potholes as well as cobbles.  Great.  And there was still a little traffic, if you can call a Thai on a scooter every five minutes traffic.

Well, I thought, this must be like the rappel off a cliff which finishes the adventure tours Greta and Scott used to lead.  So down I went.  I did fine.  My training on the country roads and my gravel driveway at home served me amazingly well.  The only really close scrape I had was when I forgot to drive on the left coming down that rutted cobble road with two Thais on a motorbike coming up, looking scared and gunning their motor.  It was like some ridiculous game of chicken and at the last minute I veered left to where I should have been.  But there were many times only a miracle kept me between potholes, out of ruts (or in them), and from sliding in the mud (rare, thank heavens).

So this isn’t sounding like much fun, but actually it was for a long time.  Spectacular, extraordinary and I was getting a major thrill out of doing what I really had no business attempting.  Jim and I stopped for lunch at a little place where the road was still paved, and I had one of the best meals anywhere -- you can’t get much more locavore than that and it was cooked hot and fresh to order.  All was well.

Then we went off the paved road and the next two hours or so were pretty tough.  I don’t know why we didn’t turn back right away, but I thought the tough part was short and Jim had no way to know that the road had washed out during the rains (he lives in Scotland half the year).  He knows it now.  It was blistering hot.  At one section, where two heavy concrete tracks went uphill, one of them had washed out, and the only vehicle we’d seen in an hour or so met me coming up and wouldn’t give me the track -- well, I brilliantly stopped the bike and poor Jim had to run them both up.

At this point we reconnoitered.  Now, I have a lot of faults.  But I’m really good in a situation like this one.  Worst case, I would have sent Jim for help and managed house or barn room or a tree for the night.  But it wasn’t what I had in mind and Jim wasn’t up for it.  He suggested we should possibly go back, where at least we knew road conditions.  I was absolutely not up for that.  I was physically and emotionally done in.  We’d been riding for five hours, almost non-stop, and two of them had been continuous stress.  So we elected to go on, and conditions improved almost immediately.  After what we’d just done, the sudden deep potholes in the now blissfully paved road which happened just when you looked away to admire -- well they were manageable and we were once again making some time.

I have to stop here and do justice to Jim.  If I had to be stuck on a motorcycle in difficult conditions, he’s the guy I’d want to be stuck with.  Never impatient, always considerate.  Maybe not as sure all the time of where he was as I might have liked, but always super competent to handle the bike and our immediate situation.  He got me into trouble, but he got me out again.  I really couldn’t have asked for more.  That’s Jim Spence, www.motorcycletoursthailand.com

On this last hour or so of the trip, I was able to look around again some, and Jim had given me exactly what I asked for -- incredible, incredible sights which few foreigners ever get to see.

There was one more sad, and challenging note, and no, guys, I didn’t photograph that one either.  Someone died on this road; just ahead of us a young Thai man must have hit one of those potholes I was trying so hard to avoid.  We had to drive around his body.  He’d been there long enough to have a group of local people around him; there was nothing we could do.

And that, folks, was on the good road.

Postscript:  I am now one week’s more experienced with southeast asia roads (off main) and I realize that what I encountered was much more routine than I thought.  At least, the only road from eastern to western Bhutan is not in that much better condition.  People just deal, and they do work on road maintenance pretty much continually, which helps.