The great escape; riding through knee high floods
A picture of Hatyai city on the day I escaped. The source is from the local news.
Route: Hatyai to Penang
Distance: 220km
Time: 3.5hrs
Thoughts: The flooding waters put pressure on the wheels and make it hard to navigate at intersections where the water flow was strong, but a firm hand works well. I had to maintain constant throttle at gear one to prevent water from being sucked into my engine.
Every trip cannot be complete without some kind of adventuresome jeopardy and this one was no different. The last time I was in Okinawa, I was stuck in a 1 week typhoon that was circling the island, refusing to dissipate its angry vortex. The trip prior to that in Amsterdam, I had to escape from some human traffickers at 3am in the night, far away from the city centre. In fact, such things have happened so often that I almost come to expect them with fond anticipation—it almost feels unnatural if something crazy doesn’t happen!
So when I returned to Hatyai in wild, stormy weather, half of me was nervous but the other half was in a pleasant state of anticipation; the same way one feels before a roller coaster ride. Being ever the optimist, I gave the weather two days to settle down, even though the forecast wasn’t very sunny. Yet, one can never be too sure with something as fickle as the weather.
Eventually after two days of waiting, I had had enough and decided to ride out on the third. The friendly receptionists were worried as reports of flooding were coming in. They asked with much concern if I was sure and also assured me there would still be a room for me should I change my mind, coming out on the porch to send me off with well wishes and sweet gifts. Among a throng of other hotel guests waiting for their taxis, I set off during a lull in the weather, seeing them wave goodbye as they gradually disappeared from my side mirror.
At that stage, I was more dismayed about riding in the rain than worried about any sort of flooding at all. But my hopefulness was preemptive, because I hadn’t gone very far when the roads started closing off one by one. The military was deployed to redirect traffic as the water levels rose ever higher. Traffic jams were building up but lucky for me as a biker, I could ride between vehicles. I followed the other kapcai scooters, riding through knee high floods, never quite knowing if there was a pothole underneath the muddy deluge, all the while battling the increasing pressure of the oncoming waters on my steering wheel.
My throttle hand was quite exhausted from constantly engaging it in gear and my hips were cramped from tension. By this stage I had completely given up on keeping my shoes dry. I must have been riding for about three hours what normally takes only one, when I finally arrived at the Bukit Kayu Hitam border checkpoint to Malaysia. The relief was so palpable it poured over me like a huge wave.
I HAD MADE IT!
I passed the Malaysian customs official my soggy passport and he greeted me with a friendly welcome. We made some small talk about my trip to Chiang Mai and I told him I feel like I’ve come home. With a warm smile, he handed me back my water logged passport. I rode all the way in silent relief under the still rainy skies and made it to my cousin’s house in Penang, with energy to spare for the famous Penang hawker dinner. That night, I ate like a ravenous pig.
Many people have asked me about my feelings of riding through the floods. I write this in retrospect but you know, it reminds me that life itself is a ride through unpredictability. The weather is simply a mirror of our inner journey—bright and sunny at times, cloudy and stormy at others. Yet it is in those moments of utter vulnerability, that we discover the truths about surrender and resilience. I learn to adapt, lean into the winds and flow with the floods rather than fighting it. As we embrace what comes without resistance, our ride itself becomes a form of meditation—a moving prayer of trust and presence—realising once again, that freedom isn’t found in controlling the journey but in surrendering to it fully. There is something very liberating in being vulnerable and none but the weather teaches this with utmost effectiveness.
And while the escape was somewhat harrowing, I wouldn’t have it any other way, just as I wouldn’t have my typhoon and human trafficking experience any other way too. I got so much more out of it than I lost. This was exactly how it had to happen and I’m glad for it. Would I still go on my road trip if I knew in hindsight I would have to go through this—absolutely and I wouldn’t change it for the world.