After months of anticipation, panic buying and multiple goodbyes (though very little in the way of physical prep…) it was finally time to get going.

I managed to get a taxi for my unwieldy cargo and planned to have a couple of days to acclimatise, assemble the bike and pick up anything I’d forgotten (…or had seized by airport security!).

The place I was staying was a little out of the centre in a neighbourhood of old Chinese shophouses and Peranakan architecture. I loved the retro signage and the low rise delivery trucks that made the rounds. Mosques, Hindu and Buddhist temples competed for space, whilst the pavements were full offerings for the Chinese August ‘ghost festival’. English is the common denominator though, often with delightful ‘mom and pop’ phrasings like Sister Wa’s Restaurant, Mr Lim’s Coffee and Tea Dust Delivery Service or Mr and Mrs Mohgan’s Super Crispy Paratha (where I breakfasted one morning).

I had the local news channel on loop whilst faffing with the bike and it was refreshing to see almost no reference to Brexit; Kashmir and Hong Kong taking precedence instead. My room had a little balcony tagged on which was totally private with a fan and sink. Perfect for building a bike in your underwear, though less than ideal when screws and washers drop 4 floors!

I was anxious to get started but did have a few jobs which led me on an excursion to a bike shop out of town. I was super excited to have a legitimate reason to explore the suburbs which I’d seen a lot of through some Singaporean photographers I was following on instagram. The floral overpasses, pastel colours of the concrete housing blocks and well kept doorways were all really fun, whilst the omnipresent pronouncements of the state me entertained.

The night before I left I remembered that I’d removed the hooks from my panniers to keep them safe in the flight. I’d taken such meticulous steps to ensure this vital part’s safety that they were now nowhere to be found. I searched franticly through several bins (containing the bike packaging) and spent far too long sweating over cable ties and Velcro before I’d jerry-rigged a solution to lash the luggage to the bike.

I thought this was the final hurdle before setting off and proudly took a step back to take a photo of my heavily laden steed. My confidence was immediately crushed though when I realised that I had never actually ridden a bike with four panniers. It seemed preposterously heavy just wheel around and prone to slump and collapse at any minute, like trying to shift a drugged elephant.

There was nothing I could do, I felt weighed down by all the gear but also totally ill equipped. I had nowhere else to go so hoped for the best and ploughed off toward the East Coast Park cycle track which would take me around Changi Airport and to the tiny Changi Village ferry terminal. It felt like an achievement to get to the end of the road!

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• 

The causeway is the most obvious and well used route across the border to Malaysia, but I’d heard about the old wooden ‘bum boats’ which still make the crossing. Setting forth into one of the world’s busiest shipping lanes in something akin to a narrow boat was certainly a romantic idea, but not for the seasick and the cabin was soon thick with a fug of Tiger Balm which I was glad of! Whilst the captain cut the engine on the bigger waves my fellow passengers enquired about the bike – initially staggered by my plans to cycle to Thailand! But my credibility was soon shot once it was translated to the whole boat that today was in fact my first day on the road.

After an hour or so a huge petroleum plant came into view. We docked whilst the last of the day’s “bum boats” set off to make their own bumpy crossing back.

For me the whole of Malaysia lay ahead!