Normally, I avoid main routes like the plague, but I was determined to reach Dan Sai early and my bike had only recently been retrieved from the garage (after being there for 3 months!! Long story…), so the direct route made sense. I set off early, in the hope of beating the heat. It felt good to get back in the saddle again.

The main route to Dan Sai is fairly straightforward, with scenic landscapes gradually transitioning from the bustling city to open countryside roads. It was wonderful to ride in the cool morning air with the lush beauty of Monsoon Season all around me.

I was happy to be riding, so I kept on going with very few stops. I was aiming to reach Dan Sai by midday. The thought of the festival’s vibrant costumes and rich local culture, filled my mind as I navigated the winding roads. There’s something really quite meditative about riding, especially when riding solo—it gives you time to reflect whilst dialed into the ride.

As I neared Dan Sai, the road buzzed with activity. Motorbikes and tricked-out scooters darted in every direction, making the last stretch a bit disconcerting- even thought it is something I have experienced before. I just remained alert.

Given that I had only just retrieved my bike from the garage meant that all the accommodation for Dan Sai had been booked up. Fortunately, my friend David Unkovich (The GT Rider) has many connections in the area, and a lady who owns a local chicken noodle shop agreed to help, promising to find a family to host me.

However, when I arrived, things didn’t go as planned. The daughter working at the noodle shop was unaware of the arrangement and couldn’t reach her mother. So, after a long morning ride, I was left baking in the midday heat, anxiously wondering if I’d have a bed for the night.

Initially, I felt flustered, but I reminded myself to stay calm, take deep breaths, and go with the flow.

Eventually, after a couple of hours, the mum was found, and the location of my accommodation was revealed. It turned out to be a simple, humble wooden Thai home a short ride outside of town.

Once I had cleaned up and felt refreshed, I rode into the town to meet up with friends who were also attending the event. The streets of Dan Sai were already buzzing with life. The atmosphere was charged up, readying itself for the main parade the following day.

As the day unfolded, the crowds intensified. The temple zone had been transformed into a fun party zone with music and dancing, and the open-air museum displayed interesting costumes.

At my accommodation, I was met with a warm welcome. The elderly couple who hosted me were incredibly kind, offering me a glimpse into their everyday lives. Being welcomed into their home was a humbling experience. In truth, I did find it a little hard to sleep in someone else’s home, though.

Also, the wooden walls had wide gaps so I became a mosquito buffet, and when I needed to use the bathroom, every inch of their home creaked and squeaked, making me concerned about waking them…as you can see from this video clip taken at 2am…

As dawn approached, the village awoke to the sound of roosters crowing, lively conversations, and the hum of daily routines. The early morning noise was a stark reminder of how early life in rural Thailand begins.

In truth, my sleep had been pretty much nonexistent. Something in the environment seemed to have triggered an allergy, leaving me with blocked sinuses and an itchy feeling. I spent much of the night sneezing, and trying to do so quietly so as not to disturb my hosts. But, I’m not complaining—just sharing how it was.

Phi Ta Khon is one of those unique rural Thailand festivals that really is still a relative hidden delight. It is a fusion of religion and playfulness, combining age-old tradition with modern elements. The town was already buzzing and gearing up with the sounds of music and dance.

I made my way through the crowds to a street-side restaurant to meet up with friends who were there for the festival, also. The restaurant provided the perfect People-watching spot, and a conveyer belt of funny and interesting sights passed us by.

The only downside to this day is that some kind of allergy had been triggered by something in the room I had been sleeping in. This, teamed with my lack of a good sleep, left me feeling less than my best. Despite the festival’s vibrant energy, I was battling a persistent tiredness and discomfort, which dulled my enthusiasm.

Nevertheless, the Ghost festival still offered moments of pure joy. The creativity on display, the warmth of the locals, and the sheer vibrancy of the event were truly infectious.

The return journey started off well. The early morning mist was stunning to behold, and the air was fresh and cool.

However, as time went on, my bike, which recently went through an ongoing drama of (bad) repairs, started acting up. Actually, it’s so upsetting to talk about, that I will bypass this for now.

As I rode through the familiar landscapes, my thoughts drifted between the beauty of the festival and the reality of my current situation.

The connection between rider and machine is a delicate one, and when that trust falters, it can turn an enjoyable ride into a test of endurance. My bike and I have been together for 10 years, and I always kept her in great condition. It was a sad ride back, thinking that I likely now will have to say goodbye to her.

But, despite the challenges, there was a sense of calm that settled in. The road ahead for my bike is uncertain, but I reminded myself that this is just part of the bike life journey.

As I finally rolled into Chiang Mai, I was relieved to have made it back. I had visions of being stuck on the side of the road and having to arrange for my bike and I to be transported back.

On the upside, Phi Ta Khon Ghost festival had left its mark on me, not just the memories of colourful costumes and lively dances, but the experience of the mum at the noodle shop helping me out and the kind elderly couple who opened their home to me.

The journey was a reminder of why I ride. It’s not just about the destination, but the experiences along the way—the people you meet, the challenges you face, and the stories you carry with you. And as I parked my bike and took off my helmet, I knew that despite everything, it was a ride worth taking.