road trip Northern thailand, june 2022
2,500 kms +
The drive up to Phitsanulok took about 6.5 hours for the 500 kms. This is about an hour and a half longer than suggested by the app. It always is, as we have to stop for – wee, coffee, lunch, wee again, swap drivers, and look at something or other. The app must be the driverless car version.
Arriving at the hotel presented an immediate challenge in that the back lanes where the car had to enter were extremely narrow – where you give way because there is only one car’s width, then move forward only to find another car has appeared in front of you at the other end. Neither side fancies reversing along the lane with cars parked either side. The hotel guy says he will reverse our truck between the hotel pillars for parking, but he recommends that we leave it there for the next two days as it is unlikely that we will get in there and out again twice in the same trip. Okay, taxis it is then.
Phitsanulok is the usual commercial mix with a bit of history thrown in. It seems like most provincial capitals are like that – flyblown on the outside but quite photogenic at key spots. The famous wats are always key spots as they represent a town’s pride, individuality and community story, all in one. Any UK town has Victorian civic buildings, often in old blackened stone. They represent the town’s prosperity in times gone by. Here it is the wat, with newfound good fortune coming in the shape of a gleaming city hall, a provincial court, a Robinson’s and a Central Plaza.
Normally, a weekend night market is worth homing in on. In Phits it was the pits. Unless you are in need of a phone cover, plastic toy, Madonna-dominatrix bra or XXXL underwear, don’t go. Yes, I know, I could have bought at least three of those items…
Nan is another provincial capital 400 kms further on. The province is noted for its mountainous remoteness, flanking Laos as it does. The roads in Thailand are often superb, providing never-ending dual carriageways to belt along. There are roadworks now and then, but outside of the cities the traffic is usually lighter. Madcap pick-up drivers and trucks chugging up hills are a watch-point, but generally it is reasonably pleasant to cover big distances.
We are the only people in the hotel, the owner tells us that she is expecting a few more customers from October onwards. It must have been tough, this covid malarkey. We did try to get a massage but everywhere was closed – even calling the number on the gate yielded a, ‘The lady went home last week, she will be back at the weekend’. Nan is tranquil, a kind of Church Stretton to Phitsanulok’s Shrewsbury (in UK provincial terms). But there are zero tourists and much of the tribal clothing mini-mall was shuttered up. The brilliance of photography is that it can encapsulate a town in 10 shots, giving it a glossy-mag makeover. And really, there isn’t much to Nan town besides what the camera focused on.
Nan to Phu Chi Fah is a wiggly 4-hour drive, or 5 in our case. The wiggles require a lot of concentration if you don’t want your car toppling down a ravine like in a scene from Mission Impossible. You must resist the urge to stare sideways when you think you have spotted a Red-Whiskered Bulbul flitting from branch to branch. Let it go. Generally, we slow to one side to let the mad pick-up go past, even on an uphill sinuous section. It is simply less stressful that way for us and the madman. Win-win.
Huts are dotted up the valley slopes as we approach Phu Chi Fah. The idea is that you gaze down on a sea of clouds. Or, on this occasion, gaze directly through a fog of cloud. There are two ‘musts’ up here: one is watching sunset from the peak, and the other is getting up at 05.30 and trekking up in the dark to see sunrise. Ain’t no sun to set or rise, and the wind and the rain make the morning option considerably less than desirable. Many of the huts are glamping things, domes and such. Glamping can do one in this weather.
Well, the wind and rain sure did howl that night. Luckily the hut was made of concrete, although it was tested aplenty. In my half-sleep I thought I saw the ghost of Cathy scratching at the window pane. Perhaps it was a branch, but I can’t be 100% certain. Breakfast al fresco was congee - why do people eat that - a mystery to me? But my lemon filled Euro-cake saved the day for something to suck on with my coffee.
Driving up to the Phu Chi Fah base car park didn’t look very promising, shrouded in mist as it was. It is a 20-minute steep walk up to the view-point and a slippy one at that, with fog rolling in and clay under foot. Treacherous-minus-one was achieved courtesy of the trekking poles. There were a few skid-slips where you travel about six inches whilst flailing arms in every direction in an attempt to achieve balance. I always think that this action is like when birds hit a strong wind and instinctively manoeuvre wings and feathers to stay level. We as a species are less elegant. And birds definitely don’t fall on their arse.
The view to Laos was actually the view to my muddy trainers, such was the visibility at the top. Important to have tried though. The drive down to Chiang Rai involved dropping below the cloud-base and then above it again as we crested two mountain chains before hitting the plain. Lots of steep switchbacks, one extended one being a 1 in 5 gradient or 20% in Euro-ese. Had to turn off the A/C to help the engine with that one. Clear roads though, and again we were the only ones at the resort. Go to Phu Chi Fah in June to avoid the crowds. You won’t see anything, mind.
You get into the rhythm of things on a road trip, in the sense that looking at a sign that says 129 kms to your destination, you think, ‘Pff, no bother.’ Having just knocked off a couple of 400 km jaunts your perception is altered and so is your mind-set as to what constitutes an arduous drive. Rather like coming off the motorway having been cruising at 70+ mph, suddenly being on that 50 mph country road seems like you are dawdling.
The drive up to Mae Salong was probably the most difficult, and downright dangerous, that I have ever done. The app took us unwittingly up a route normally only used by Nepalese Sherpas, llamas and the Iberian Ibex. The road itself was like a concrete driveway that you see going up the steep bit to the garage at the side of someone’s house which happens to tower above the road skirting a seaside cliff. There is usually a car at the top (a rusted Ford Fiesta) with two house-bricks wedged under the wheels.
So, the sign said, 8 kms of winding road to the tea plantation. It doesn’t sound much but when you are chugging away up a blind corner and hoping that nothing is hurtling down the other way in the middle of the road, it is an eternity. Either side of the road was a vertigo-inducing precipice. The bends were so tight that my hands were crossing over on the steering wheel like a racing car driver, to leave my arms entwined like Mr Tickle (Mr Man with elasticated arms). They then uncrossed and wound the other way for the next bend.
At the very top was a T-junction, do a hill start with wheels spinning, and turn right for the plantation. Only when I got back did I realise that that was where the Kuomintang village was. Oh well, perhaps next time (knowing that there will never be a next time). I also didn’t know that we were only 6 kms from the Myanmar border at that point. The 93rd Division of Chiang Kai Shek’s Nationalist Army got trounced by Mao’s forces apparently, hence the high-tailing it over the border. The things you learn. Tea plantations are very nice to look at but I suspect that for the best photos you need lines of tea pickers slaving away to bring it all alive. Still, we were treated to a mini-tea tasting to see if we could tell the difference between Oolong No. 12 and Oolong No. 17. I couldn’t, but we bought a pick-n’-mix gift tea set anyway.
The drive between Chiang Rai and Chiang Mai was horrible last time (a few years ago), with swathes of red earth and contra-flows for miles on end due to the enormous roadworks under way. Those big yellow tractor-things that have a giant cheese-slicer underneath were everywhere scraping away the red clay. Now though, it is clear dual carriageway all the way. It feels like you are driving through the Black Forest or somewhere. The roads here in a country over 2,000kms long, knock spots off the equivalents in the UK. There have been massive road-building projects everywhere these past two years. Obviously, planners were capitalizing on the lighter traffic due to covid.
Two thirds of the way along towards Chiang Mai there is a hot springs place called Doi Saket. For 100 baht each you get a VIP private room to sit in a sulphurous bath whilst looking at the cows in the fields outside. You can also lower six eggs in a basket into the ultra-hot bit outside. We have been here before and I recall that the effect was that one’s skin felt very smooth for about a week. Here’s hoping.
Chiang Mai is livelier than last time we were here at the height of the lockdown, when everything was shuttered up. Wualai Market had plenty of farangs milling about – masks compulsory. The market was banned last time! The hotel that we are staying at is very pleasant and good value, with quite a few fellow guests. Last time we were here we were the only ones at the hotel, with breakfast being an orange-juice carton and a croissant from 7-Eleven as catering wasn’t allowed.
Went to the celadon factory near Bo Sang as I wanted to replace the vase I bought here when we lived in Chiang Mai, but managed to reduce to 1,000 shards in a rare bout of dusting. Being a Sunday, it was closed. We did find one that was open but the prices were eye-watering, like a thousand quid for anything above ornament size. You would also need to factor in the cost of extended therapy after breaking one of these whilst dusting. Perhaps counselling as well, or at the very least advanced dusting classes at the local night school.
Home: with just over 2,500 kms covered (1,550 miles) in 10 days, I can thoroughly recommend a road-trip adventure, but would also say that you do need to research the places that you are driving to in order to prevent it becoming aimless. And also, to avoid the annoyance of missing out on wonderful stops because you didn’t know they were nearby, or more usually that you had never heard of them. It also cuts out any prevarication: ‘Shall we do this/go there/double back/stay here?’ If you have mapped out the drives then away you go to your booked hotels with nary any dallying.
Some of the drives were long but then again this is a big country. I was reading that during the Rattanakosin Kingdom (the current one in its fourth iteration), when first established in 1782, Siam also had the vassal states of Laos, Cambodia, the Shan States and the Northern Malay States. So, it could have been a much bigger drive. It did make me wonder how you would control a vassal state, as we drove through mile upon mile of a forested unoccupied landscape. Just post an army in outlying garrisons and squeeze the locals for money, I suppose.
You have probably also experienced the glitches that Google Maps can produce. As you faithfully follow the blue route and ignore the grey ones which say, ’20 minutes longer’, you are often on a side road and left wondering why you aren’t on the speedy A Road that you can see in the distance. As you turn this way and that on the Lakes Estate, before ambling along a pathway next to the allotments by the river, you aren’t very grateful for whatever minutes have been saved. We had several of these misadventures. Here’s the worst one:
Coming out of Kamphaeng Phet, we followed the blue line which said cross under the motorway bridge, turn left then do a U-turn left to join the traffic on the highway in the direction that you want to go in. Calamity. We got to the U-turn to join the main road and it was for motorbikes only, with a width between barriers of about three feet, not big enough for a car. Worse, this was a one-way side road, and lined up in front of our front bumper were 14 motorbikes and six cars, all trying to get to work. Our truck was the exact width of the road so they couldn’t go past. Each bike rider and car driver had a think-bubble above their head saying, ‘FFS’ in big letters (possibly ฝฝส).
Reversing a car in a straight line for 70 metres is of course a necessary and handy skill. When you have got a posse of unhappy fellow road-users inching you backwards, it becomes a pressurized manoeuvre to be sure. Wrong navigation calls usually lead to a short, animated and high-pitched argument, and are the source of much disharmony in relationships. On this occasion I was happy, as navigator, to take it all on the chin. If you find yourself in a similar situation on the roads in Thailand, here is a local tip. Wai repeatedly to each unhappy face as you reverse – it takes the sting out of things.
Highlights in no particular order: The Blue Wat (Wat Rong Seua Ten) and The Goddess of Mercy Wat (Wat Huay Pla Kang) in Chiang Rai; Mae Salong (perversely); The Temple of the Floating Pagodas (Wat Chaloem Phra Kiat Prachoemklao), and Kampaeng Phet Historical Park.
On this website you can find photoblogs on each of the unique places and wats here:
- Highland Areas: Mae Salong, Phu Chi Fa.
- Historical Sites: Chan Royal Palace, Kamphaeng Phet Historical Park.
- Wats A-M: Wat Huay Pla Kang
- Wats N-Z: Temple of the Floating Pagodas, Wat Ming Muang, Wat Nang Phaya, Wat Pa Lelai Worawihan, Wat Phai Rong Wua, Wat Phra Si Rattana Mahathat, Wat Phra That Chae Haeng, Wat Phra That Khao Noi, Wat Phumin, Wat Ratchaburana, Wat Rong Seua Ten
It is sometimes difficult to remember the exact names of those wats, what sticks in the memory are things like: ‘The one with all the paintings,’ ‘The one with the big lady Buddha,’ ‘The one with the Hell Garden,’ and so on. To get to all the special wats you have to drive past 20 ‘regular’ wats, these being notable and exceptional for whatever particular reason.
So, all in all, a great trip. Changeable weather and things not quite right just add to the adventure aspect. Already mentally mapping out the next trip!
Arriving at the hotel presented an immediate challenge in that the back lanes where the car had to enter were extremely narrow – where you give way because there is only one car’s width, then move forward only to find another car has appeared in front of you at the other end. Neither side fancies reversing along the lane with cars parked either side. The hotel guy says he will reverse our truck between the hotel pillars for parking, but he recommends that we leave it there for the next two days as it is unlikely that we will get in there and out again twice in the same trip. Okay, taxis it is then.
Phitsanulok is the usual commercial mix with a bit of history thrown in. It seems like most provincial capitals are like that – flyblown on the outside but quite photogenic at key spots. The famous wats are always key spots as they represent a town’s pride, individuality and community story, all in one. Any UK town has Victorian civic buildings, often in old blackened stone. They represent the town’s prosperity in times gone by. Here it is the wat, with newfound good fortune coming in the shape of a gleaming city hall, a provincial court, a Robinson’s and a Central Plaza.
Normally, a weekend night market is worth homing in on. In Phits it was the pits. Unless you are in need of a phone cover, plastic toy, Madonna-dominatrix bra or XXXL underwear, don’t go. Yes, I know, I could have bought at least three of those items…
Nan is another provincial capital 400 kms further on. The province is noted for its mountainous remoteness, flanking Laos as it does. The roads in Thailand are often superb, providing never-ending dual carriageways to belt along. There are roadworks now and then, but outside of the cities the traffic is usually lighter. Madcap pick-up drivers and trucks chugging up hills are a watch-point, but generally it is reasonably pleasant to cover big distances.
We are the only people in the hotel, the owner tells us that she is expecting a few more customers from October onwards. It must have been tough, this covid malarkey. We did try to get a massage but everywhere was closed – even calling the number on the gate yielded a, ‘The lady went home last week, she will be back at the weekend’. Nan is tranquil, a kind of Church Stretton to Phitsanulok’s Shrewsbury (in UK provincial terms). But there are zero tourists and much of the tribal clothing mini-mall was shuttered up. The brilliance of photography is that it can encapsulate a town in 10 shots, giving it a glossy-mag makeover. And really, there isn’t much to Nan town besides what the camera focused on.
Nan to Phu Chi Fah is a wiggly 4-hour drive, or 5 in our case. The wiggles require a lot of concentration if you don’t want your car toppling down a ravine like in a scene from Mission Impossible. You must resist the urge to stare sideways when you think you have spotted a Red-Whiskered Bulbul flitting from branch to branch. Let it go. Generally, we slow to one side to let the mad pick-up go past, even on an uphill sinuous section. It is simply less stressful that way for us and the madman. Win-win.
Huts are dotted up the valley slopes as we approach Phu Chi Fah. The idea is that you gaze down on a sea of clouds. Or, on this occasion, gaze directly through a fog of cloud. There are two ‘musts’ up here: one is watching sunset from the peak, and the other is getting up at 05.30 and trekking up in the dark to see sunrise. Ain’t no sun to set or rise, and the wind and the rain make the morning option considerably less than desirable. Many of the huts are glamping things, domes and such. Glamping can do one in this weather.
Well, the wind and rain sure did howl that night. Luckily the hut was made of concrete, although it was tested aplenty. In my half-sleep I thought I saw the ghost of Cathy scratching at the window pane. Perhaps it was a branch, but I can’t be 100% certain. Breakfast al fresco was congee - why do people eat that - a mystery to me? But my lemon filled Euro-cake saved the day for something to suck on with my coffee.
Driving up to the Phu Chi Fah base car park didn’t look very promising, shrouded in mist as it was. It is a 20-minute steep walk up to the view-point and a slippy one at that, with fog rolling in and clay under foot. Treacherous-minus-one was achieved courtesy of the trekking poles. There were a few skid-slips where you travel about six inches whilst flailing arms in every direction in an attempt to achieve balance. I always think that this action is like when birds hit a strong wind and instinctively manoeuvre wings and feathers to stay level. We as a species are less elegant. And birds definitely don’t fall on their arse.
The view to Laos was actually the view to my muddy trainers, such was the visibility at the top. Important to have tried though. The drive down to Chiang Rai involved dropping below the cloud-base and then above it again as we crested two mountain chains before hitting the plain. Lots of steep switchbacks, one extended one being a 1 in 5 gradient or 20% in Euro-ese. Had to turn off the A/C to help the engine with that one. Clear roads though, and again we were the only ones at the resort. Go to Phu Chi Fah in June to avoid the crowds. You won’t see anything, mind.
You get into the rhythm of things on a road trip, in the sense that looking at a sign that says 129 kms to your destination, you think, ‘Pff, no bother.’ Having just knocked off a couple of 400 km jaunts your perception is altered and so is your mind-set as to what constitutes an arduous drive. Rather like coming off the motorway having been cruising at 70+ mph, suddenly being on that 50 mph country road seems like you are dawdling.
The drive up to Mae Salong was probably the most difficult, and downright dangerous, that I have ever done. The app took us unwittingly up a route normally only used by Nepalese Sherpas, llamas and the Iberian Ibex. The road itself was like a concrete driveway that you see going up the steep bit to the garage at the side of someone’s house which happens to tower above the road skirting a seaside cliff. There is usually a car at the top (a rusted Ford Fiesta) with two house-bricks wedged under the wheels.
So, the sign said, 8 kms of winding road to the tea plantation. It doesn’t sound much but when you are chugging away up a blind corner and hoping that nothing is hurtling down the other way in the middle of the road, it is an eternity. Either side of the road was a vertigo-inducing precipice. The bends were so tight that my hands were crossing over on the steering wheel like a racing car driver, to leave my arms entwined like Mr Tickle (Mr Man with elasticated arms). They then uncrossed and wound the other way for the next bend.
At the very top was a T-junction, do a hill start with wheels spinning, and turn right for the plantation. Only when I got back did I realise that that was where the Kuomintang village was. Oh well, perhaps next time (knowing that there will never be a next time). I also didn’t know that we were only 6 kms from the Myanmar border at that point. The 93rd Division of Chiang Kai Shek’s Nationalist Army got trounced by Mao’s forces apparently, hence the high-tailing it over the border. The things you learn. Tea plantations are very nice to look at but I suspect that for the best photos you need lines of tea pickers slaving away to bring it all alive. Still, we were treated to a mini-tea tasting to see if we could tell the difference between Oolong No. 12 and Oolong No. 17. I couldn’t, but we bought a pick-n’-mix gift tea set anyway.
The drive between Chiang Rai and Chiang Mai was horrible last time (a few years ago), with swathes of red earth and contra-flows for miles on end due to the enormous roadworks under way. Those big yellow tractor-things that have a giant cheese-slicer underneath were everywhere scraping away the red clay. Now though, it is clear dual carriageway all the way. It feels like you are driving through the Black Forest or somewhere. The roads here in a country over 2,000kms long, knock spots off the equivalents in the UK. There have been massive road-building projects everywhere these past two years. Obviously, planners were capitalizing on the lighter traffic due to covid.
Two thirds of the way along towards Chiang Mai there is a hot springs place called Doi Saket. For 100 baht each you get a VIP private room to sit in a sulphurous bath whilst looking at the cows in the fields outside. You can also lower six eggs in a basket into the ultra-hot bit outside. We have been here before and I recall that the effect was that one’s skin felt very smooth for about a week. Here’s hoping.
Chiang Mai is livelier than last time we were here at the height of the lockdown, when everything was shuttered up. Wualai Market had plenty of farangs milling about – masks compulsory. The market was banned last time! The hotel that we are staying at is very pleasant and good value, with quite a few fellow guests. Last time we were here we were the only ones at the hotel, with breakfast being an orange-juice carton and a croissant from 7-Eleven as catering wasn’t allowed.
Went to the celadon factory near Bo Sang as I wanted to replace the vase I bought here when we lived in Chiang Mai, but managed to reduce to 1,000 shards in a rare bout of dusting. Being a Sunday, it was closed. We did find one that was open but the prices were eye-watering, like a thousand quid for anything above ornament size. You would also need to factor in the cost of extended therapy after breaking one of these whilst dusting. Perhaps counselling as well, or at the very least advanced dusting classes at the local night school.
Home: with just over 2,500 kms covered (1,550 miles) in 10 days, I can thoroughly recommend a road-trip adventure, but would also say that you do need to research the places that you are driving to in order to prevent it becoming aimless. And also, to avoid the annoyance of missing out on wonderful stops because you didn’t know they were nearby, or more usually that you had never heard of them. It also cuts out any prevarication: ‘Shall we do this/go there/double back/stay here?’ If you have mapped out the drives then away you go to your booked hotels with nary any dallying.
Some of the drives were long but then again this is a big country. I was reading that during the Rattanakosin Kingdom (the current one in its fourth iteration), when first established in 1782, Siam also had the vassal states of Laos, Cambodia, the Shan States and the Northern Malay States. So, it could have been a much bigger drive. It did make me wonder how you would control a vassal state, as we drove through mile upon mile of a forested unoccupied landscape. Just post an army in outlying garrisons and squeeze the locals for money, I suppose.
You have probably also experienced the glitches that Google Maps can produce. As you faithfully follow the blue route and ignore the grey ones which say, ’20 minutes longer’, you are often on a side road and left wondering why you aren’t on the speedy A Road that you can see in the distance. As you turn this way and that on the Lakes Estate, before ambling along a pathway next to the allotments by the river, you aren’t very grateful for whatever minutes have been saved. We had several of these misadventures. Here’s the worst one:
Coming out of Kamphaeng Phet, we followed the blue line which said cross under the motorway bridge, turn left then do a U-turn left to join the traffic on the highway in the direction that you want to go in. Calamity. We got to the U-turn to join the main road and it was for motorbikes only, with a width between barriers of about three feet, not big enough for a car. Worse, this was a one-way side road, and lined up in front of our front bumper were 14 motorbikes and six cars, all trying to get to work. Our truck was the exact width of the road so they couldn’t go past. Each bike rider and car driver had a think-bubble above their head saying, ‘FFS’ in big letters (possibly ฝฝส).
Reversing a car in a straight line for 70 metres is of course a necessary and handy skill. When you have got a posse of unhappy fellow road-users inching you backwards, it becomes a pressurized manoeuvre to be sure. Wrong navigation calls usually lead to a short, animated and high-pitched argument, and are the source of much disharmony in relationships. On this occasion I was happy, as navigator, to take it all on the chin. If you find yourself in a similar situation on the roads in Thailand, here is a local tip. Wai repeatedly to each unhappy face as you reverse – it takes the sting out of things.
Highlights in no particular order: The Blue Wat (Wat Rong Seua Ten) and The Goddess of Mercy Wat (Wat Huay Pla Kang) in Chiang Rai; Mae Salong (perversely); The Temple of the Floating Pagodas (Wat Chaloem Phra Kiat Prachoemklao), and Kampaeng Phet Historical Park.
On this website you can find photoblogs on each of the unique places and wats here:
- Highland Areas: Mae Salong, Phu Chi Fa.
- Historical Sites: Chan Royal Palace, Kamphaeng Phet Historical Park.
- Wats A-M: Wat Huay Pla Kang
- Wats N-Z: Temple of the Floating Pagodas, Wat Ming Muang, Wat Nang Phaya, Wat Pa Lelai Worawihan, Wat Phai Rong Wua, Wat Phra Si Rattana Mahathat, Wat Phra That Chae Haeng, Wat Phra That Khao Noi, Wat Phumin, Wat Ratchaburana, Wat Rong Seua Ten
It is sometimes difficult to remember the exact names of those wats, what sticks in the memory are things like: ‘The one with all the paintings,’ ‘The one with the big lady Buddha,’ ‘The one with the Hell Garden,’ and so on. To get to all the special wats you have to drive past 20 ‘regular’ wats, these being notable and exceptional for whatever particular reason.
So, all in all, a great trip. Changeable weather and things not quite right just add to the adventure aspect. Already mentally mapping out the next trip!
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