Border Tracks, Smuggler Trails and Fuel Panic — Sweating Through the Wild Backroads Near Sirindhorn Dam
Dates covered: 17.03.26 to 19.03.26
Day 3 and 4 — Khong Chiam to Det Udom
After arriving in Khong Chiam and successfully surviving several days of deep sand, buffalo navigation systems and enough Thai heat to slowly roast a medium-sized human, I finally did something unusual for adventure riders.
I rested.
A full day.
No riding.
No dust.
No helmet.
No wrestling with sand tracks that looked innocent on the map and then suddenly transformed into scenes from an enduro nightmare halfway through.
This was actually one important lesson learned from my experience riding sections of the Trans Euro Trail back in 2025, because one thing many riders underestimate is how exhausting continuous off-road riding becomes after several days, especially in brutal heat where your body constantly loses energy, water and common sense at the same alarming speed.
Sometimes the smartest adventure riding decision is simply doing absolutely nothing for a day.
So that was exactly the plan.
Eat.
Sleep.
Drink coffee.
Look at maps.
Pretend to recover like a professional athlete while actually just lying in air conditioning.
And honestly, by the next morning I felt fresh again and ready to point the CRF back towards home, although naturally the definition of “home route” still included as much dirt, gravel and questionable navigation as possible.
The alarm went off at 5 am.
Outside everything was still dark and quiet except for the occasional sound of scooters and barking dogs somewhere in town, while the air still carried that rare coolness you only get in Thailand very early in the morning before the sun wakes up and starts attacking everyone equally.
Coffee first, obviously.
Adventure riders who claim they can function properly before coffee are either lying or secretly insane.
At exactly 06:10 am the CRF fired up again and the ride began, with the plan for the day being relatively simple in theory: head close to the Laos border towards Sirindhorn Dam and then slowly work westward through whatever interesting terrain appeared along the way.
Now the Sirindhorn Dam is actually quite an impressive place once you understand its scale and importance for the region, because the dam was built on the Lam Dom Noi River and creates a huge reservoir surrounded by rolling hills, forests and farmland close to the Laos border, while also supplying hydroelectric power and irrigation water for large parts of northeastern Thailand.
But for adventure riders the real attraction is not the dam itself.
It is the terrain around it.
The entire area is a maze of little farm roads, forestry tracks, rubber plantations, eucalyptus farms, lakeside paths and isolated hills where you can ride for hours without seeing more than a handful of people, which in Thailand is becoming increasingly rare.
The first kilometres of the morning ride were smooth and easy, with fast gravel and farm roads carrying me gently towards the border mountains while the early morning light slowly turned the dry Isaan landscape golden.
The riding felt effortless at first.
Comfortable.
Relaxed.
One of those mornings where everything simply flows nicely and you begin thinking maybe this day will be easier than expected.
That thought lasted approximately one hour.
After leaving the easier farm roads behind, the track suddenly transformed into a technical single trail hidden beneath tall grass and scattered rocks, twisting through remote terrain in a way that immediately made me suspicious that this path probably existed for reasons other than tourism.
Honestly, the whole thing looked exactly like a smuggling trail.
And considering the Laos border was not very far away, it probably was.
The trail became rougher and rougher as it climbed into the hills, with loose stones hiding beneath the grass waiting patiently to throw the front wheel sideways whenever concentration dropped for even a second, while narrow ruts and overgrown vegetation constantly tried to drag the bike off line.
Some sections became so unclear that I had to stop repeatedly, climb off the bike and physically walk ahead through the grass searching for signs of where the track continued because from the seat of the motorcycle it often looked like the trail had simply vanished completely into the jungle.
Now this is exactly the type of riding that feels incredibly exciting while simultaneously making you question your life decisions every five minutes.
Because the deeper into those valleys and hills I rode, the more isolated everything became.
No villages.
No traffic.
No phone signal.
No people.
Just endless rough terrain and silence.
At one point I stopped on a ridge overlooking the valleys and suddenly realised something important.
If something went wrong out there, things could become properly serious very quickly.
This is one of the strange realities of solo adventure riding that sounds romantic when people talk about freedom and exploration around campfires, but feels very different once you are alone in remote terrain hours away from help.
Crash badly?
Problem.
Bike breaks down?
Problem.
Get lost?
Big problem.
Especially in terrain where almost nobody passes through regularly.
For the first time on this trip I genuinely started wishing I had a riding buddy with me because while solo riding gives incredible freedom, there are moments where having another rider nearby changes the entire risk calculation dramatically.
Eventually common sense won the argument.
Reluctantly, I decided to turn around.
Not because the trail was impossible, but because the risk level simply did not feel smart anymore for solo riding in that terrain.
Adventure riding is supposed to be fun.
Once it starts becoming survival planning, it is usually time to rethink things.
So I carefully worked my way back out of the mountains, sweating like mad while wrestling the bike through rocks and hidden ruts until eventually, after nearly two exhausting hours, I rolled back into what felt like civilisation again.
Honestly, I was absolutely drenched in sweat by then.
Not the glamorous adventure movie kind of sweat either.
This was full tropical suffering.
Helmet soaked.
Jersey soaked.
Boots probably growing new ecosystems inside.
And once back on the main road, another reality returned immediately.
Riding highways on a lightweight dual sport motorcycle is incredibly boring.
The CRF can do it, sure.
But it feels about as natural as using a chainsaw to butter toast.
So every single time I spotted a dirt road leaving the highway in roughly the correct direction, I took it immediately without hesitation.
And honestly, that decision completely saved the day.
Because instead of endless dull asphalt, I suddenly discovered fantastic riding areas hidden around the reservoir and surrounding farmland, with beautiful little lakeside spots, flowing gravel roads through eucalyptus forests and narrow sandy tracks twisting between endless rows of rubber trees.
And unlike the sketchy border trails earlier, these areas felt playful instead of risky.
Fast enough to enjoy.
Remote enough to explore.
Safe enough to relax slightly.
In those plantation areas you could easily burn an entire tank of fuel in a single day simply riding random tracks and exploring connectors because the road network seems endless, with little trails constantly splitting off into new directions while hardly anybody else appears around you.
This is exactly the type of riding area where time completely disappears because every corner makes you curious about what lies ahead.
Another hill?
Another lake?
Another hidden trail?
And the riding itself became genuinely enjoyable, with flowing gravel sections, small sandy climbs and enough variety to keep things interesting without crossing the line into dangerous solo enduro riding.
Honestly, those plantation tracks turned out way better than the border trails.
And I already know for certain I will return there again.
The fuel situation meanwhile kept becoming increasingly strange because the ongoing Iran war continued affecting fuel supplies in Thailand, creating occasional shortages and random panic buying in some regions.
Normally on a small CRF I would not even think twice about fuel planning over distances like this.
Now suddenly every available petrol station felt important.
Throughout the day I filled up three different times, not because I urgently needed fuel at each stop but simply because fuel was available there, which had suddenly become a much more important detail than usual.
At one station I arrived only to discover completely empty pumps because they had already run out of fuel entirely.
That definitely changed the mood slightly.
Adventure riding is fun.
Adventure pushing a motorcycle through rural Thailand because the country temporarily ran out of petrol sounds significantly less fun.
By early afternoon the heat returned aggressively and exhaustion started catching up with me properly.
The body can only absorb so much heat, vibration and concentration before energy levels collapse completely, especially after several days of off-road riding.
So I decided enough was enough for the day.
Quick search on Google.
Quick booking.
The closest cheap resort nearby showed rooms for only 400 baht.
Perfect.
Well… at least it sounded perfect online.
Reality turned out slightly different.
The room was absolutely filthy.
Not “slightly dusty but acceptable” dirty.
More like “has this place ever been cleaned since construction?” dirty.
Now people who know me understand something important: I genuinely do not care about luxury while travelling.
Fancy hotels mean nothing to me on motorcycle trips.
Simple rooms are fine.
Basic food is fine.
Cheap places are fine.
But one thing I absolutely need is cleanliness.
And this place was testing my standards heavily.
Still, after a day like that I honestly did not have the energy to care much anymore.
I cleaned myself first, washed off layers of dust and sweat, then collapsed onto the bed and immediately disappeared into one of those deep exhausted afternoon sleeps where you wake up confused about what country you are even in.
Total distance for the day ended up around 196 kilometres with roughly sixty percent off-road riding including technical single trails, rocks, sand, gravel and endless plantation tracks.
An absolutely brilliant day.
But also an exhausting one.
Day 5 — Det Udom to Rasi Salai
After a night spent inside what could generously be described as a “questionable budget accommodation experience,” I woke up slightly stiff, slightly grumpy and very ready to get back on the motorcycle again because sometimes the road simply feels cleaner than cheap hotel rooms.
Coffee fixed the mood immediately.
Coffee always fixes the mood.
Gear on.
Helmet on.
06:10 am again the little Honda CRF started buzzing happily, clearly much more optimistic about life than I was after that room.
Not far outside the small town of Klang the concrete roads disappeared and turned into gravel once again, which immediately improved the entire atmosphere of the ride because somehow gravel roads just feel correct for small dual sport motorcycles.
The farm roads out there were genuinely enjoyable to ride, with gentle curves, flowing sections and enough loose surface to let the bike move around playfully underneath while dry wind carried dust across the empty landscape.
Now objectively speaking the scenery was probably not beautiful in the traditional sense because most of the region consisted of dry rice fields baked hard by the hot season sun, with brown grass and dusty farmland stretching endlessly into the distance.
But honestly, I did not care at all.
I was there for the riding itself.
And the riding was fantastic.
Over the previous days I had developed a simple but very effective strategy whenever possible: every time an interesting dirt road appeared heading vaguely in the correct direction, I took it.
Left.
Right.
Random farm track.
Interesting gravel road.
Sandy connector.
Why not?
That approach once again resulted in roughly seventy percent off-road riding for the day despite technically travelling between two larger points.
And it kept the ride constantly entertaining because no section lasted long enough to become boring before another little dirt road appeared inviting exploration.
One major highlight came north of Sisaket where I found long fast gravel roads that felt almost purpose-built for lightweight dual sport motorcycles.
Straight sections.
Hard-packed surface.
Almost no potholes.
Almost no traffic.
Just endless visibility and enough confidence to let the CRF stretch its legs properly for a while.
The little bike absolutely loved it.
Dust flying behind.
Engine buzzing happily.
Front wheel dancing slightly on the loose surface.
Those are the moments where you stop thinking completely and simply ride.
Originally I had planned adding another loop further away before heading home, but the fuel situation still remained unpredictable enough that I decided not to risk unnecessary detours.
Because while adventure riding encourages exploring unknown roads, running completely out of petrol in the middle of nowhere because of a regional fuel shortage seemed slightly too adventurous even by my standards.
So instead I started following Highway 2083 back towards home.
Luckily I found fuel once again at a tiny rural petrol station because by then many places were either limiting sales or already empty.
Interestingly Highway 2083 was currently under major construction with workers expanding it into four lanes, which normally would sound annoying for motorcycle travel except for one important detail.
The unfinished lanes were still unsealed.
Which meant technically I did not need to ride on tarmac at all.
Instead I simply rode along the construction side on hard-packed dirt and gravel, turning what should have been a boring highway ride into a surprisingly enjoyable high-speed off-road cruise all the way home.
Honestly, it felt brilliant.
Wide open visibility.
No traffic.
Fast gravel.
No need to constantly dodge cars.
Just smooth flowing riding under the hot Isaan sky while the CRF happily floated along the unfinished road surface.
After around 180 kilometres and roughly five hours of riding I finally arrived safely back home in Rasi Salai feeling tired, dusty and completely satisfied.
The trip overall had actually been quite short.
Too short honestly.
But even within those few days I had discovered some genuinely fantastic riding areas, especially around the Sirindhorn Dam region with its endless eucalyptus and rubber plantation tracks where you can disappear for entire days simply exploring random dirt roads without seeing another rider anywhere.
And those are exactly the places worth returning to.
Not famous tourist roads.
Not crowded attractions.
Just hidden little dirt tracks somewhere in rural Thailand where adventure still feels real, maps still occasionally fail and every turn might lead either to an amazing new riding spot or directly into another mildly questionable life decision.
#dustysocks
