Pengerang to Mersing: 121 miles

After oversleeping several hours, my first proper stint of cycling began in Pengerang.

Until recently a sleepy fishing port, the town now sits in the shadow of a giant 80km2 Petronas oil mega project. Cheap flophouses for migrant workers line the dusty highway, giving a gold rush kind of feel to the place, whilst wooden fishing boats bob nonchalantly in front of the giant drilling platforms.

Although just the start, this picture was typical of the whole east coast where global mega business and the quiet of ‘kampung’ village life flickered in and out of view.

The oil works soon gave way vast palm oil plantations – lots and lots of them. The road was long and straight, running frustratingly close to the coast, which teased me with only the occasional sea view.

As the temperature rose, I was happy to finally see a road down to the beach and paused at a little café for lunch. Not knowing a single Malaysian dish by name (and with no menu to point at), I stood awkwardly doing my best to look hungry until rescued by a local family who helped me order. The father of this friendly bunch turned out to have been the principal contractor on the road I would be riding on. He asked if I had a puncture repair kit. I suppose my inability to order a meal (a survival necessity for a long-distance cyclist!) and my slapstick attempts at parking the heavily loaded bike (which is about as easy as balancing an aeroplane against a tree…) hadn’t filled him with confidence. “It’s a lonely road man…You won’t see much out there…”. He reminisced about his construction days, saying that elephants would creep out of the jungle at 4am, crossing his new road to go down to the sea. “Don’t worry though…they won’t bother you!”.

He was right, it was a lonely old road. Though I can’t imagine any elephants are living in the palm plantations. Compared to the sections of jungle I later rode through, the plantations were sadly quiet and sterile, with none of the usual squawking and commotion of the wild.

After 20 miles or so I reached a beach and was waved over by a bunch of friends to share some durian and rambutan – a huge gesture, this the ‘king of fruits’, and also big pressure on me given its divisive nature!

Pretty tasty overall – though I think there’s too much hype about the smell. (They’ll call security in some places if show up with durian!)

I had planned to find some accommodation in the first village I came across, but as with many of the beach towns on the coast, the ‘resorts’ were often mysteriously shut, abandoned, or falling down whilst the ‘homestays’ usually had nobody home…

Armed with a ‘Speak Malay’ app and Google Translate, I asked around for somewhere to stay. It was agreed that camping on the beach would be fine, but that camping under a little neighbourhood pavilion would be even better! Sounded good to me 🙂

Several people came down to check on me. One man showed up just to show me how the light and socket worked. He told me about his job at one of the big farms I’d passed that broke up the palm plantations, apparently exporting pineapples and deer to New Zealand, (though I can’t have got that right…). Later a young boy came by on a BMX to ask my name and tell me he was seven. Very sweet 🙂

The pattern of palm plantations, empty beaches and quiet (or shut) resorts continued all the way to Mersing. I pulled over at one the next night which promisingly offered camping, giving the owner (asleep in his office) the fright of his life. He was incredibly nice, exceptionally chilled out and also somewhat perplexed. ‘Are you sure you want to stay here?’, he laughed. He said I could camp on a little platform in the garden for the measly sum of 10 Ringgit (£2) – really not worth it for him as I would be the only guest.

We sat around and chatted whilst I tried to offload as much of the 1kg of rambutan I’d impulse bought earlier in the day. After showing some family photos, he insisted I stayed in a room at the camping price then rolled up a few hours later with his friend (in a Proton! Malaysia’s car of choice) proposing a trip to town.

His friend (on the left below) was a super gentle guy who said he was a farmer – I didn’t believe him until we were several tractors deep into his camera roll, but ended up getting to see selfies of him with around 15 different crops! He complained that local people don’t want to work (“…they want air conditioning…”) – so he struggles at harvest time.

In addition to offering me a more or less free room, the resort owner (Dee Dee – on the right above) then insisted on paying for the meal! A gesture that left him totally out of pocket and much worse off for having had me stay.

I was totally bowled over by how kind and generous people had been on this first leg and rolled out of Mersing with the beginnings of some bike pain and a big smile.