What Goes Up Must Come Down

With the flu finally behind me it was time embrace adventure tourism Chiang Mai style. In anticipation of my good health I signed up for a downhill mountainbiking trip the day before.

A hearty breakfast, a hair raising climb up Doi Suthep, a crummy safety lecture from some American wanker and then it was time to get kitted out with chest pads, arm guards, gloves, helmets, knee guards and elbow guards before careening down 1600 metres of rain rutted paths.

With two Kiwi girls, a couple from England and two crazy Thai guides we cruised down the mountain for more than four hours stopping off to recharge at a coffee plantation en route.

While we were kitting up I was thinking the padding was a bit over the top but little did I know that I would come a cropper not once, not twice but thrice. And I've got bruises on my knees and shins to prove it.

The tracks had been heavily rutted out by recent rains which made them tricky but for the most part they were incredible. Awesome stretches of hell-for-leather downhill through lush jungle, then some uphill parts, a little slowler technical downhill and then some more spped. We even passed a small Hmong village. One of my stacks was actually in front of a couple of kids in the village who found me most amusing amusing in a Three Stooges kind of way.

On the way we saw a Hmong (hill tribe) couple cleaning carrots up for the markets so our guide snaggled a couple for us and then later we feasted on fresh pappaya freshly cut from the tree. The little trip ended with a peaceful but spicy lunch by a lake.