Second (and probably last) scooter day, we decided to head up north, for a couple of cultural fixes and the prospect of seeing fishermen bring in their catch in the late afternoon, highly recommended in Lonely Planet. Needless to say, when we got there in the late afternoon there were no signs of fishermen on the beach or anywhere else other than the harbour, nor any boats out at sea. So that was that.
Next on the agenda was Samudragiri Pichchamal Viharaya – a pair of stupas looking out over the sea: one an old, tumbledown sort of affair, t’other modern and stark white. We climbed up the former, to find a naval chap posted in the lookout on the top. He seemed very pleased to see us; I think we were the most exciting thing to happen all week. We keep coming across these poor buggers – navy or army, conscripts presumably, posted to these remote places where they hang around like hermits, ptobably for weeks on end. Anyway, it proved a very nice spot, with great views over the sea, and of the other stupa, set against the bay – three miles of sandy beach, with not a soul to be seen.
Returning to ground level, we found the other bay full of crystal clear water, with little fishies darting around in shoals. I set off around the rocks, in hope of some decent snorkelling prospects, but returned disappointed – nothing very interesting, amd certainly nothing close to previous adventures in Thailand. Maybe we’ve been spoiled. As we frolicked, we were joined by three local boys – lots of smiles and splashing about. One of them asked to borrow my goggles, and I did my best to adjust them to his very different head, but sadly without success. They leaked whatever I did. Still, they all had a go, and doubtless got at least a taste of the goggled experience. All very amiable and friendly. Then, as we were getting ready to leave, the older one asked for money. Not in any kind of nasty, much less aggressive way. But it did rather deflate us, and spoil the mood. And yes, I refused. Meany.
We set off up the coast toward destination #2: Girihandu Saya: ‘Probably the oldest Buddhist site in the world, built during the Buddha’s lifetime, though little known and hardly visited.’ We hoped to get lunch en route, not least on account of having had no more than a bread roll for breakfast, but the one place listed on Google proved to be closed, and we encountered no others. We’d run yet again into the double whammy of Ramadan and mosque-time, and everywhere was shut. Oh. Now what.
With no other option, we headed south, deciding to stop at the first open place with edibles. There! A bake house. That’ll do. But when we turned the bike round, it turned out to be a cake house, selling literally, and only, cakes. Oh. Onward. Ten or fifteen minutes on, we came across a place that was open, and offered paper-wrapped packages of a kind we’d seen before, which turned out to be takeaways: spicy rice, plus dall, plus a bit of salad, all wrapped up, with a little plastic bag of chicken curry. Unpacked onto a plate, it proved to be a fine lunch, and we munched away with relief. Then, as a strange bonus, we discovered that by pure chance, the recommended back route to the Buddhist site ran literally past the place. So off we set.
We arrived to find a sleepy bloke in a sleepy hut, who sold us probably the only tickets of the day – 1,000 a pop – and started wending our way to and up the many flights of ancient stairs to the site on the top. Which proved very lovely and serene, and well worth the effort. Coming out of season makes for a whole nother experience: the whole time we were there, our only company was one mangy dog and half a dozen monkeys. And it really was almost surreally quiet. Just the occasional bird tweet, the odd butterfly, and peace.
Then back for a bit of r&r – Virle in the room, with a long shower and some time out, me down to the beach for one more swim.