Friday, October 22nd, 2021
3:45 a.m. Room 312 SOHO Boutique Hotel
Tak City, Thailand
I wasn’t wrong when I said that it could turn out to be a full day. That’s exactly what it turned out to be. Departure was smooth and enjoyable. I packed my big backpack precisely and carefully. My one concern from previous trips is that with the big pack hanging over the back of the scooter, it might cover up the signal lights and the brake light. To help prevent that, I introduced a third wrapping technology: once I was done packing and wrapping with my usual waterproof cover and straps, I then took some of my rope and wrapped it tightly around the whole thing to make as small and neat a package as possible. I believe this kept my rear lights visible.
I tried to be as organized with my daypack, but as the day’s events played out, it became clear that the Pocket 2 camera has also completely disrupted my usual daypack packing style. I had a system and routine worked out for when I was using just the Hero 7 and the Hero 9. But now that I was also occasionally needing to get at the Pocket 2, my systems fell apart. And I found myself fighting with my daypack all day long as I needed to find items that were buried deeply underneath other items. It was a bit of a mess, and this mess really caused a problem as I entered the city of Tak itself. But more about that when I reach that part of my story.
A related issue is my passport. Leaving from Mae Sot, it is almost guaranteed that you will need to present your passport at a checkpoint. And I ended up having to get it out twice on this trip. The convenient thing to do, and something I’ve done in the past, is to simply slip your passport into a pants pocket for the day. Then you have easy access to it. However, this is simply begging for disaster in the form of damaging or losing it. It’s always better to keep your passport not only in the safest place possible but always in the same place. Moving it around depending on the circumstances of the day is inviting the gods of mischief to interfere in your life and cause you to lose track of it.
And the safest place for me is inside my usual documents and ID pouch, which I normally keep at the very bottom of a special compartment in my bag, which I then lock. But (not to get too insanely detailed with this), doing so makes my knapsack so wide at the bottom that it doesn’t fit easily into the narrow space on the floor of my scooter. For that reason, it’s better to put this pouch inside the main compartment along with my camera gear. And it ends up at the bottom, of course. But then when I reach a checkpoint and the soldiers or police ask to see my passport, getting it out can be a hassle. It was even more of a hassle when I arrived at my hotel extremely hot and sweaty and flustered. It would have made my life so much easier if my passport had been in a more convenient spot. Yet, I know from experience that it is a bad idea to casually move your passport from spot to spot. There should be one place for your passport and one place only.
The first stop of the day was the Chao Por Phawo Shrine. It is located a mere seventeen kilometers from my guest house in Mae Sot, and I arrived there in short order. I enjoyed my visit to the shrine immensely, and it was the highlight of my day. I’d read a bit about it beforehand, and I knew that the shrine was dedicated to a man called Chao Por Phawo. That is his name, I believe. And he was a contemporary of King Taksin the Great. In fact, King Taksin appointed Chao Por Phawo to command an outpost in the hills near Mae Sot to defend against Burmese invaders. Chao Por Phawo apparently was a fierce warrior and great leader, and he was very effective in repelling invading armies. This shrine was built in his honor, and I’d read that it was the custom to make noise as you pass by. This noise is connected with Chao Por Phawo’s fighting exploits, and it is meant to mimic the sound of gunfire, cannon, and the pounding of horse’s hooves – the sounds of war. And in exchange for this tribute, whether the honking of horns or the setting off of fireworks, Chao Por Phawo will keep you safe on your journey. That is the tradition, and I was looking forward to seeing how it played out in real life.
I didn’t have to wait long for my answer. Even as I approached and then arrived at the shrine on my scooter, I heard the honking of horns from most of the passing cars and trucks. That honking filled the air during the entire time I stayed at the shrine. I didn’t hear any fireworks while I was there, but I noticed that some boxes of firecrackers were for sale at one of the shops. I bought a small box of 100 firecrackers and a lighter, and after some questioning and wandering around, I found the place at the temple where it was customary to light these. Even being an extreme dummy at times, I sensed that it wasn’t a great idea to simply light your firecrackers anywhere you pleased while people were praying and leaving their offerings. Even setting aside the annoyance and the possible danger, there would be a lot of firecracker debris to clean up. The staff there wouldn’t appreciate me blasting firecrackers in the middle of the shrine, where they would have to sweep up the resulting mess.
I eventually tracked down a large enclosed area in the back where firecrackers were meant to be exploded. Once I’d found it, it was laughably obvious. It was set up a bit like a gun range. And there were mountains of firecracker debris swept up into piles at the sides. There was a convenient wire strung across one section, and I deduced that you could hang your string of firecrackers from this wire with the fuse facing down. And then you could light the fuse easily and back away to a safe distance. I ended up misjudging what a safe distance was and stayed too close. These firecrackers were small but they packed a punch. And I should probably have been many feet farther away from them when they started to explode. I felt the percussion in my chest and a few bits of debris actually hit my arms. I was quite startled at both how loud and violent the explosions were and at how short a time it took for all 100 of the firecrackers in my string to go off. It was not so much a series of 100 pops but one large explosion. It happened so fast.
I don’t know if the spirit of Chao Por Phawo appreciated my efforts and my tribute and bestowed me with a safe journey, but I certainly enjoyed the experience. I can’t even remember the last time I lit my own firecrackers. Firecrackers were a big part of my boyhood, of course. But I don’t think I’ve lit any firecrackers in my entire adult life. I’m probably forgetting a time or two, but it seems like these were my first firecrackers in forty or fifty years.
I spent quite a bit of time at this shrine taking pictures, shooting video, reading about the history of the place, and then setting off firecrackers. I even found a trail at the back that seemed like it might go up into the limestone hills and to a large cave that I spotted. The trail didn’t actually go to the cave, but all of this together amounted to a lot of time.
The next small adventure of the day was the trip into the countryside, which I’d dubbed the Loop to Nowhere. That was a wonderful if short ride. The countryside was much more beautiful than I’d expected, and I was delighted by everything I saw, from the village houses to the farms to the bridges over the rivers. In my mind, I pictured myself relaxing in air conditioned comfort at the 227 Coffee shop, taking in the rice field scenery, and typing away on my tablet. I had even made sure to attach my tablet to the portable keyboard cover so that I’d be able to record some thoughts as I enjoyed my coffee there. I did find the 227 Coffee shop, so it does exist. Unfortunately, it was closed.
At one point on this Loop to Nowhere, I encountered the delicious smell of roast chicken, and this reminded me in a powerful way of just how hungry I was. I had been a bit ill the previous day, and I hadn’t eaten anything at all. In fact, my last meal would have been at noon on the day before yesterday, so by the time I smelled this chicken, I hadn’t eaten a thing for 48 hours. My plan for the day was to have a meal at the Muser Market a few kilometers up the highway, but this roast chicken was not to be denied, and I pulled over to see if I could get some.
I think this moment was the beginning of the more difficult part of the day. Apparently, I have a very limited gas tank when it comes to experiencing life. I’m full of energy and very excited to engage the world in the morning. But once morning starts to shift into afternoon, I’m less enthused and certainly less energetic. And I’d kind of set myself up for failure, because I’d been awake since two in the morning. I’d gotten out of bed insanely early that morning. I also have to factor in the fact that my world often seems to lack tables and chairs. Even the humble bench often fails to make an appearance. When I was seduced by the aroma of this roasting chicken, I was thinking I could sit down, if not in comfort, at least at some kind of table and rest and relax while eating. But when I walked up to the chicken stall, I saw that it was takeaway only. There were no tables or chairs or even benches anywhere. The Thai customers, as I saw later on, just drove up on their trucks and motorcycles, grabbed some chicken, and then drove on.
The chicken was also disappointing. I was hoping for actual chunks of chicken in some form, but this stall sold just this kind of weird, flattened rib cage affair. I’d encountered this multiple times, and, try as I might, I don’t have the technique to get much actual food from these things. It’s all bone as far as I can make out. I can gnaw at it like a creature of the deep jungle, and I can get some great barbecue flavor, which goes nicely with the sticky rice, but that’s about it. There’s barbecue sauce but little else. And with nowhere to sit, I had no choice but to perch on my scooter, and in the full force of the midday sun, gnaw on this flattened rib cage and try to find something to chew on. I ended up a mess. I got barbecue sauce all over my face, hands, and clothes, and I started to sweat badly, and the whole experience ended up exhausting me rather than giving me energy for the rest of the day.
This is also when the camera-troubles segment of the day started. Things had gone smoothly during my trip to the shrine, but my Hero 9 battery died just as I arrived at this chicken shack. I was going to pop the GoPro off the scooter grip and film a bit of the chicken shack as I ordered, but the battery died right then. I went through the uncomfortable and sweaty process of changing the battery in the hot sun, but just as I started filming, the memory card filled up!
Instead of messing around with tiny microSD cards at the side of the road in that uncomfortable space, I decided to take out the Pocket 2, which I’d strategically placed at the top of my knapsack. Unfortunately, my strategic placing hadn’t lasted. When I’d had to present my passport at the checkpoints and rummaged through my knapsack, my Pocket 2 case had gotten submerged into the depths of my bag, and it took some time to dig it out. And then removing the camera from its bag and then from its case and then turning it on and then attaching a microphone was a more complex procedure than I’d bargained on. And then I ran into a bit of a handling issue. After years of working with a GoPro, I’d worked out my own gear and systems for handling the camera in awkward environments. When I need my hands free, I can quickly and easily clamp the GoPro to a convenient counter edge or tree branch, or I can plop it down on tripod legs. Failing that, I can just grip it between my knees or put it down on the ground. But none of this is possible with the Pocket 2 at the moment. Once it is in my hand, by its nature as a delicate gimbal-based camera, it has to stay there. I can’t just put it on the ground. I can’t even put it on a flat, clean, and dry surface. I certainly can’t risk trying to hold it between my knees.
And it’s not like this was a familiar and easy situation to deal with. I was trying to order this chicken and pay for it in a language I don’t speak, and I was doing that while trying to figure out what was being sold and in what units and whether any of it was actually fully cooked and ready to be purchased. I was also trying to be friendly with the chicken-seller and engage with her. And there was another customer there, a woman, and she wanted to talk to me. And we had a funny moment when I pointed at some chicken that I wanted to buy, and she jumped in and said that she had dibs. That was her order. It was the best chicken on display, and I couldn’t have it. And this was all happening in the hot sun at the side of a somewhat busy road with pickup trucks racing by. With all of that going on, I found it impossible to remember that I was holding a very expensive and very delicate Pocket 2 camera in my hand. I would suddenly realize I was one second away from slamming the camera into the barbecue grill or sticking it under my arm to hold it while I got out my wallet. I’m so accustomed to using a rugged GoPro that my brain and body have muscle memory for all this behavior. And that’s fine with a GoPro. But you can’t do that with a Pocket 2. You have to be aware of it all the time. It became clear that this was not the appropriate environment for a Pocket 2 camera. Using it while ordering barbecued chicken at the side of the road in Thailand is like trying to do brain surgery with one hand while solving a Rubik’s cube with the other. It’s a balancing act requiring dexterity and a presence of mind that I don’t possess.
By the time I was back on my scooter and completing the Loop to Nowhere, I was a physical and mental wreck. I was so hot and so sweaty and quite flustered. And the GoPro Hero 9 chose that moment to overheat and shut down. And this continued to happen for the rest of the day. One brand new problem I’ve managed to introduce to my life is that while I’m riding the scooter on the highway and the GoPro encounters a problem, I don’t know which problem it is. The GoPro emits a loud beep, and a warning message will appear on the screen and then it shuts down. But I can’t look at the screen to read the warning message while I’m riding. It could be one of three things: it might have overheated; the battery might have died; or the memory card might have filled up. I pull over to the side of the road to deal with it, but then I end up staring at the GoPro, unclear as to what the problem is. Is it too hot and I just have to wait for it to cool down? Do I have to replace the battery? Or do I have to replace the memory card? And how do I figure this out? I have to turn the GoPro back on in order to check the memory card. And if the GoPro won’t turn on, is that because it’s still too hot or is it because the battery died? It’s a real puzzle. I eventually figured out that the GoPro had overheated, and I just kept riding to allow it to cool.
My next stop was the scenic lookout point on the main highway. At least here I was able to get my bench or stool and table. Even better would be an actual chair with a backrest, but I’ll take what I can get. And my bench in the shade overlooking the mountain scenery and the Loop to Nowhere valley below was paradise compared to gnawing at my flattened chicken rib cage in the hot sun. I ordered an iced green tea and basked in the experience of drinking it. Who knew I was so thirsty? I guess any normal person would have guessed that I had to be thirsty after so much time at the shrine and on the Loop to Nowhere in the hot sun. But my body is a strange beast. It never seems to tell me what it is I want or need until it is right in front of me.
The original Muser Market was just three kilometers up the road from the scenic lookout point, and I arrived there quickly after I finished my green tea and got back on the road. My plan for the day included this idea that I would really sink my teeth into this market experience. I wanted to spend some significant time there and experience it more fully than just simply wandering through it with my camera. However, it didn’t actually happen. For one thing, it was just too hot to fully relax. Plus, I wasn’t able to find a starting point for experiencing the market. There was nowhere to sit and relax and get my bearings and perhaps order a snack. I couldn’t get comfortable. I still enjoyed the visit very much. I found the produce for sale and how it was displayed visually very interesting. And I walked through the market aisles and let my GoPro take it all in (until it overheated again). All the people operating the various market stalls appeared to be women. I’m not sure I saw any men at all. And these women were clearly Muser or part of some other hill tribe. I say that because of how they were dressed but also because of how they were much more outgoing and much more willing to engage with me than normally happens in Thailand. I found that all the women spoke to me and smiled at me and told me the prices of their wares and encouraged me to buy something and not just wander around like the doofus with a GoPro that I was. The women called out to each other with comments and good natured laughter as I walked past. I was clearly an event of some interest in their day. I ended up buying one thing: a puffed-up bag of some kind of crispy pork snack. I have no idea what it is. I haven’t even tried any yet. I stuffed it into my fridge here at the SOHO hotel, and then I forgot about it until just now.
At one point, I ran into what felt like an air conditioned section of this open-air market. It felt awesome. A cold wind appeared to be blasting over my body, and for the longest time, I couldn’t figure out where it was coming from. I looked everywhere for an air conditioner vent or even a reason why this part of the market would be air conditioned while other places weren’t. And then I realized that I was simply feeling fresh air that was coming up from the nearby valley outside and blowing through this back part of the market. It made me realize how much hotter the interior of this market was than the air outside. And that probably contributed to my relatively short stay at this market. I was eager to get back on my scooter and have a 60 km/hr wind blowing on my face and body.
It was after this market that I encountered the section of Highway 12 with all the landslides. There were a lot of landslides, but I wasn’t really delayed by any of them. There were several work crews with heavy equipment removing the landslides from the highway, but the road was open, and with just short delays, I was able to ride right through it. The interesting thing was that all the landslides appeared to happen at precisely those parts of the surrounding slopes that had been held in place with reinforced concrete. And I guess that made sense. Those areas had been reinforced with concrete precisely because they were deemed to be the most at risk for a landslide occurring. And they were right. The landslides did occur there. Unfortunately, they took the concrete and embedded wire right with them. Then again, it’s not like all of it came down. Only parts of it had broken free. Perhaps the landslides would have been much worse without the efforts made to hold the land back.
It was as I was entering Tak City proper that the real struggles of the day began. I had been nursing my GoPro Hero 9 along as best I could, preserving battery life so that I’d have just enough to get me to the hotel. However, I failed, and my third and final battery emptied, and I had no choice (assuming I wanted to keep filming) to switch cameras. I considered breaking out my Pocket 2 and taking a chance on mounting it on my scooter’s grip. But I decided not to risk that. It was only a short ride from there to my hotel, but I don’t think the Pocket 2 is designed for the kind of vibration it would experience mounted on a scooter.
Luckily, I have a Hero 7 and multiple batteries for it. I decided to put my Hero 9 away and replace it with the Hero 7. I love that Hero 7. It is such a workhorse. It was produced before GoPro went nuts with their GoPro Media Mod design (which made all GoPros physically worse). However, my nature as a doofus popped up again, and the switch to the Hero 7 became problematic. For one thing, I had pulled into the driveway of a business in order to do all this. It seemed fine to me at first. There was plenty of room. But just as I was dismantling all my camera mounts and had the contents of the knapsack spread out on the tarmac, a large truck pulled up and wanted to make the turn into that business. Without intending to, I was in everyone’s way. This truck passed me twice, on the way in and then, in reverse, on the way out again. And the passenger rolled down his window and pointed at me and then at the brutal sun overhead. This often happens as people tell me (as if I’m not fully aware) of just how hot it is and how I really shouldn’t be out there in the sun. He was being friendly, of course, and he smiled and shook his head in wonderment at what this odd foreigner could possibly be doing out there in that heat at the side of the road.
The switch to the Hero 7 wasn’t easy because it involved changing the entire mount and moving the GoPro Mic Adapter from the Hero 9 to the Hero 7 and moving the Rode Wireless Go and then testing everything to make sure it was all working. Unfortunately, my tests failed, and the test video clips had no audio at all. I thought there was a problem with the settings or the Mic Adapter connections, and I played around with all of that for a while. But I could get no audio at all. And then I realized that the Rode Wireless Go microphone battery had died as well. THAT’s why there was no audio. The doofus alert was sounding loud and clear.
I put the Rode away and got out a lavalier mic. It’s the same mic that I’ve been using with the Pocket 2. I got that set up and did some tests, and I still couldn’t get any audio. All I got was a loud static and interference sound. I had no idea what was going on. I went into the settings and checked everything. I turned everything off and back on again. I did every test I could think of. But I just couldn’t get it to work. So I put the Hero 7 away, as well.
And then I wondered if I could eke out just a few minutes of battery life from the Hero 9 batteries. Now that they had cooled down, maybe they would run for just long enough to get me to the hotel. I put in the first battery, and it read 7% power. I quickly got set up and got back on the road and started speaking into the camera to record a brief conclusion to the day’s events. But mid-sentence, the GoPro shut off. That battery hadn’t lasted very long. I had put the other batteries in my pocket, so at least I didn’t have to rummage through my knapsack to switch to another one. I quickly did so, and this one read 6% power. I tried again to film my arrival in Tak City, but this battery also died mid-sentence. The third battery had no power at all. I had no choice but to switch to the Pocket 2.
I decided to just ride into Tak, and then I would get out the Pocket 2 when I turned off the main highway and get on the smaller roads along the Ping River. But the bridge over the Ping River was impressive, and, perhaps unwisely, I stopped right in the middle of the bridge to get out the Pocket 2 and film some of the river. I say that was unwise because the traffic was heavy and fast and loud, and it really wasn’t safe to stop there. And then when I got off the bridge and into Tak City proper, it was impossible to turn left onto the small riverside road as I’d planned. At least it wasn’t possible legally. There were signs saying that the typical Thailand U-turn was not allowed. And I was forced to ride into the busy main thoroughfares of Tak.
I hadn’t been into this part of Tak City before, and I didn’t really enjoy the experience. I remembered seeing this road in one of Brett Hall’s videos, and he talked about the awkwardness of its design. This main road has dedicated bike and scooter lane on the far left sides. But next to them, it has an entire lane for parking. Maybe this design makes sense on paper. Maybe it’s logical and efficient. But it just seemed to invite chaos and accidents. You could try to ride in the actual scooter lane, but I realized it was far too dangerous. And this strange parking-only lane just made things even more confusing. I had no idea what was going on. It was certainly not a place where I wanted to be messing around with the Pocket 2 camera.
I finally got to the SOHO Boutique Hotel, and then just getting off the bike and getting ready to check in at the hotel was a challenge. I not only had to get the Pocket 2 out and get it up and running with a lavalier mic, I had to get the GoPro mounting system off the scooter grip and put it away. And because it broke the other day, I had it wired in place permanently with gardening wire. And my knapsack was such an overpacked jumble by this point, it was nearly impossible to make room to put away my GoPro and GoPro mount. I finally got all that done, and I was finally making my way towards the lobby of the hotel when I remembered that I would have to show them my booking confirmation, and that was on the phone that was packed away inside my knapsack. So I had to stop and remove my knapsack and rummage around inside it to get my other phone. And this was hard to do because I had the Pocket 2 camera in my hand attached to a lavalier mic, and I couldn’t just put this camera on the ground. I had to turn it off and put it away in its carrying case.
I finally got all this done. I was sweating and so hot and so flustered by this point that I could barely think straight. And then I remembered that I also needed my passport. And my passport was inside my documents pouch buried way at the bottom of the knapsack. I had to go through the whole procedure all over again. I was so overwhelmed by all this that I told some of this story on video into the Pocket 2. And then I could finally begin the check-in process.
And since it could go no other way, by the time I was finally ready with the Pocket 2 in one hand and my phone and passport in the other, a large group of people had moved ahead of me to also check in. One couple was standing at the check-in window waiting. And there was clearly a problem with their reservation. The clerk was on the computer and working intently to track down some information or otherwise fix the situation. This went on for a while.
Meanwhile, a large family group had entered the lobby and were next in line. And I knew that check-in for this complex group was going to take some time. As is my habit, I decided to just sit down and wait. I was so hot and so uncomfortable that the last thing I wanted to do was physically stand in a lineup. I prefer to sit and wait until the window is completely clear. But the risk is that if you don’t take your place in line, more and more people can keep coming in, and you will never get to the window. And that’s kind of what happened, and I sat there for what felt like a long time. And though the women working at the hotel were sitting in what I assume was a sealed and air conditioned area, the hotel lobby was open to the world. And it was hot. I sat there with sweat pouring off my face, trying to keep track of my passport, my phone, my knapsack, and my Pocket 2 camera. I was not in a comfy chair, either. I was sitting on a hard and heavy metal stool, and I perched there as I waited, my back aching.
Finally, the rush of check-ins subsided, and I was able to take my turn at the window. The woman there gave me a nice smile, and she indicated that she sympathized with how long I had been patiently waiting. The check-in process was fast and efficient and professional on her part, and I was soon on my way to the third floor to room 312. Once there, I needed to go back to my scooter to get my full backpack. There was no way I could have dealt with that upon arrival on top of everything else, so I had left it where it was while I checked in. So I dropped off my knapsack in my room and went back down to the lobby. But in the time it had taken me to move into my room, the long-threatening rain clouds had finally arrived, and it was thundering rain outside. I had no choice but to just go out into that heavy rain and deal with my backpack. And now all of my careful work in securing the backpack to the scooter worked against me. Removing it wasn’t a simple matter of unclipping a hook or two. It took a while to undo all the straps and hooks I had applied, and I was soaked to the bone by the time I managed it. On the positive side, I hadn’t brought the Pocket 2 camera with me. So I didn’t have to worry about it getting wet. And the soaking from the thunderstorm felt refreshing. I really didn’t mind getting wet.
Finally, I was back in my room with all my gear, and I could strip out of my wet clothes and set about the process of unpacking, getting organized, and plugging in all my chargers for the Rode Wireless Go, the GoPro batteries, and the Pocket 2. Once this was done, I showered and made a cup of coffee and sat down on the bed to investigate further why the Hero 7 wasn’t registering any audio from the lavalier microphone.
And I think I found the answer and the solution, though I’m still a bit confused. While testing in the hotel room, I was still unable to get my lavalier mic to register on the Hero 7 with the Mic Adapter. I ended up with a loud static-like noise, but not no actual audio. I forget the brand and model of this lav mic, but it’s a half decent one. I’ve used it consistently with my Panasonic G85, the GoPro Hero 9, and the Pocket 2. And it worked fine. But it won’t work now with the Hero 7. So I assumed the problem lay with the Hero 7. Since I could find nothing wrong in the settings and nothing was wrong with the lav mic or the Mic Adapter, I figured the Hero 7 had to be broken. And that was disappointing.
But then I remembered that I have a second lavalier mic. This second one is a Boya. I don’t often use it because the cord is unbelievably long, and it is hard to untangle it and put it in your pocket. I got out the Boya and I plugged it into the Hero 7, and to my delight, it worked fine. So there was nothing wrong with the Hero 7. And there was nothing wrong with the other lav mic. Both worked fine. But the combination of the two wouldn’t work. I thought about this for a while and did some more testing, and then I realized that the Boya lav mic has a TRRS plug (TRRS stands for Tip-Ring-Ring-Sleeve). And the other lav mic has a TRS plug (Tip-Ring-Sleeve). And that appears to be the problem. The lav mic with the TRS plug works fine with the Hero 9 and my other cameras. But it won’t work with the Hero 7. So I guess the answer to this mystery is that the Hero 7 requires microphones with a TRRS plug. The Hero 9 will work with both a TRS and a TRRS. But the Hero 7 only works with the TRRS plug. I’d never come across this information before, but that appears to be the case.
And with that discovery, the trip from Mae Sot to Tak City had officially wound down and come to an end.