The phone alarm rings, it's 4h30, we quietly put the panniers on the motorbike, bungy up the beach mat but leave the beach chair behind. The pop-up tents make a good back rest. We eat the last of the cereal and one hour later are ready to ride.

There is no way to start the Tiger quietly, so with a blast on the now working starter motor she fires up. And out of the opposite bungalow leaps the hunky German in his jocks to wave us goodbye and good luck. Nice one.

It is fairly chilly and we have donned arm sleeves, like socks for your arms but without the hands, neck scarves and hi-vis stretch cotton hoodies. 6 metres from the front door we discover the huge metal sliding security gate is closed. Hop off, grind the gate back, hop on, by now we've woken everybody up. It's very dark, but we have super bright LEDlights as we ride along the not so empty streets, just one dog attempts to stop us, and the first stop is for fuel. Tiger's tank is 3 litres and we can do about 100 kms between refueling, which means routes are carefully planned using Google maps for petrol stops. We are riding a well travelled route up the West towards Ko Lak, cut east over the mountains miss out Krabi thru to Surathani. At the second stop near the Krabi junction we fill up and add more layers of clothing. By 9h30 we are starving and cold, the cloud never lifted, the sun never rose. A breakfast of pork curry soup, steam rice with green leaves that tasted like liquorice, followed by 3-in-1 sachet of coffee (coffeemate, coffee and sugar all in one bag, just add hot water) did the trick and we only had 17minutes to reach our destination so the phone got switched off and well hidden away from the damp cold environment. Wonderful thing, Google maps.

10 minutes later it began to rain. The waterproofs are buried in the panniers, oh well , we will just put on the handy ponchos. It's only a few more minutes to go. They are powder blue and flap bizarrely, I feel like a flying nun as I try to hold my poncho on and also pin down the one that B is wearing and obliterating his rear mirror viewing. We get soaked as the water forms rivulets and flows down our legs into our sandals and squirts out the side holes. We reach aT-junction and turn Right towards Surathani , after all we are going to the Surathani Railway station. Another 20 minutes no railway or sign to a railway in sight. Much thumping on shoulders in the slippery sliding congested road and we pull up under cover of a shop selling air conditioners.We are wet and cold and don't need one today thank you, but could you direct us to the railway station. We think he doesn't understand as he points us back along way we have just ridden, so I hop off, unpack the well protected dry phone, switch on, click on mobile data and go thro the Google map app. Sure enough, it's in the opposite direction . The Surathani railway station is in Phumping. Well who would have guessed that? Turn around, back to the T-junction, ah that's where we went wrong, should have turned Left. The traffic is normal for Asia, with scooter riders holding on to an umbrella with one hand while they weave and manoeuvre and hold onto accelerator bar with the other. 90 minutes after our '17 minutes to your destination' and we reach the station. It's 12h45, we buy the ticket for 2 people, sleeper with AC, ready to depart at 5pm. We have parked the bike in front of the cargo master who tells us to to come back at 3pm to buy the tickets for bike. The bike will be on the same train. We are wet and cold and by now hungry again. The rain is now very heavy and we shelter at a coffee bar that is called 'express love cafe'. We laugh, because we can, and try and work out what the express refers to: the coffee or the love.

There is a restaurant advertising free wi-fi which opens at 2pm . We shiver and wait. At last the owner of the restaurant sees us hanging around hopefully and he opens his doors early. We dash in with clean dry clothes and change in dining area before any more customers arrive. That's better, now for some hot steam rice and vegetables soup please.

It 3pm, time to buy the tickets.We try to get away with paying for a125cc bike but Mr. Alert station master thumbs through the magical Green Log Book and discovers that the cobbled together bike in front of him is in fact 135cc, so the price is doubled up into the next category for big bikes. Hardly a big bike, but never mind.

Now we are excited, its getting close to being warm, cosy and lying snuggled up in a comfy train bunkbed for 12 hours for the train ride to Bangkok.

The bike is unloaded and 4 panniers, 2 tents and the beach mat are plonked on a bench. The train is scheduled to stop for 3minutes only. Not much time then to find the carriage and carry it all aboard. B finds a 4- wheeled trolley with only 3 wheels, the empty socket wobbling like a loose tooth, and no handles. They broke a long time ago, so it's rather like pushing a lowbed on bended knees.

The train arrives, there noise and pandemonium, and we are at the wrong end of the train. I grab the tickets, waving them frantically at anybody in a uniform and start running towards where the appointed carriage is, followed hotly on my heels by a charging senior citizen almost on the ground pushing a falling apart trolley, no handles and 3 wheels. I leapt on board and B threw the luggage in after me. The bike was still standing on the platform. As the whistle blew, the guard shouted "next train". "When, What time ?" I shouted back. "Tomorrow, 6am". And then we were gone out of the station and could only trust that we would see Tiger again.

We found our way to the train restaurant and ordered 2 hot chocolate drinks, in paper cups. Impossible to hold for the heat, flimsiness and extreme swaying, shuddering and bouncing and rattling. The train's suspension was working overtime to keep the train on the rails. By now we were laughing hysterically and slurped the hot drink in time to the swaying. En route back to our bed/chair nature called and I stopped at the toilets. The faster the train the cooler the breeze that blew up the toilet outlet, a 100mm open hole to the tracks below. There were bars across the window from which dangled a roll of pink loo paper. I pondered about who would want to break into the loo and where was I supposed to throw the paper? Down the hole onto the track, I guess.

At 7pm the railway attendant, a tall bedding man, made his way down the carriage converting seats into bunks, and making up beds from crisp clean folded sheets in sealed plastic bags. At last we could rest. We kissed goodnight and I hauled myself up the ladder to the top bunk, pulled the shiny silky curtain closed and the blanket over my head. Bright lights overhead shone thru the gaps in the thin curtain and the freezing AC blasted icy air over me. I pulled my neck scarf up over my head like a tea cosy and curled away into the furthest corner of the bunk. Bliss, peace and warmth and just as I dozed off a heart thumping shrieking broke all sound barriers. The curtain flew open and this voice shrieked "gillongothayblngecatglklaaaaaa...., " then moved on to the next unsuspecting sleeping beauty. I froze in terror. Did she really need to employ such a hard sell for her supper dish? As she moved down the carriage her voice faded into the distance, but I was now wide awake, adrenalin flowing in shock. I peeped into B's bunk beneath me, he hadn't heard a thing and was fast asleep. Oh well, try again. Then the train ground to a screeching halt at another station and the carriage door opened and stayed that way. The rickety-rackety noise intensified. Without disturbing anyone I stuck my foot out from under my curtain and with the ball of my foot pushed on the glass interleading door just managing to drive it closed. No noise, try again to sleep. And so it went on throughout the night. Stop, door open, noise, foot out trick, no noise, sleep , on and on. At about 2am we were both woken by the beep,beep,beep beep of somebody playing a games on his mobile phone, so B and I in unison started to echo the beeps everytime the phone beeped. The message got thru and the beeps stopped.Eventually I suppose we did sleep because at 4am Mr. Bedding man cluttered down the corridor slamming beds back into seats and creating piles of used linen in the way and woke us up. Our beep-beep chatty Chinese/Thai neighbour introduced himself and told us his life history, even offering some mouth fresheners to start the day.

It's 5am and the train pulls in to Bangkok exactly on time. The train has to arrive on time because the track is a single line carrying trains in both directions with regulated sidings controlled by a signal man pulling massive levers. We gather our luggage and are informed that trolleys are pre-booked and pre-paid so we lug the stuff into the waiting area hoping that Tiger will also be on time on the next train. There is a massive photo exhibition with plenty of monks strolling around all in memory of Thailand's recently departed King. Schools, hospitals, banners and posters throughout the country are in mourning and draped in black ribbons. We take it in turns to wander thru the displays and glance anxiously at the clock. To alleviate any chance of nodding off, we click on to hostel bookers.com and book and pay by card for a room near the station. So easy.

It's 6am, the train from Surathani pulls in, B goes off to investigate and true to form the Tiger is delivered on time in one piece as promised. We re-load the bike and head off in the direction of Chilli house, arriving sharply at 7am ready for a shower and sleep. "Room ready at 2pm". Oh no. We freshened up a bit in the locker room for left luggage at Chilli house and with a laugh set off luggage free to find somewhere for breakfast before passing the day away at the Burmese Consulate. Roll on 2pm.