After a while I start worrying about fuel and a peek into the tank confirms my fears. Berating myself for failing to top up before leaving the more travelled roads, I continue on my way (what else can I do anyway) with the bike running on fumes, hope and prayer, searching hopefully but fruitlessly for a source of fuel.

Arriving at the next junction, I stop to consult my map. I undertake the slow process of comparing the Thai writing on the sign posts with that in my map book, standing sweating in the sun with nothing but dense bush in all directions. Out of nowhere appears a policeman who, upon hearing the story of my plight, directs me down the opposite road to the one I am planning to take to a village where there is a petrol station. When I see the name of the village I realise that I have been about to take the wrong road anyway and that this man has kindly saved me from potential disaster.

I fill up thankfully and then, of course, there is a petrol station every twenty kilometres.

I am now also on better roads and making good time although once again the butt pain is extreme. I pass several guest houses at which I foolishly do not stop as I am set on reaching Loei today. This almost brings about calamity as it is dark well before I get there and I have no idea how much further I have to go. I am exhausted, cold, hungry, lost, and running on willpower. I'm not even sure if I'm still on the right road but I force myself to keep riding, now suffering from the cold as the sun is no longer present to take the chill from the cool mountain air. I reach the crest of a mountain pass and wrestle the bike through the twisting descent.

Eventually the road levels out again and I decide to stop at the next eating place I see. When one finally comes along I slow down, kick the bike down a gear, pull onto a gravel driveway, and try to kick down a few more gears. Once again the clutch jams, the rear wheel locks and I am unceremoniously dumped in the dirt. As the proprietor of the restaurant peers down at me in concern it is all I can do to look up and say 'Sawasdee Khrap' (Hello Sir).

This is my less than dignified entrance to the outskirts of Loei. Helpful hands pick up the bike, freeing me from under it, but now the clutch has failed completely so, with no other productive option immediately available, I sit in the open air restaurant under a concrete pillared shelter and nurse my injured pride over chicken fried rice and Singha Beer.