We take a wrong turn immediately, but after that my obsessive planning pays off. After a few miles we link up with a series of bike lanes across the city. That is followed by some riding on main roads, but it’s completely unavoidable and I’ve made sure we never have to turn across traffic, even if it means going the long way round. Finally we make it to one of the expressways heading south west. It isn’t obvious unless you know to look, but there are a couple of expressways out of the capital that have a completely separate little road for mopeds running alongside them. Once we get to those we are well and truly on our way. The heat in Kuala Lumpur has been unbearable, but we are lucky to have an overcast morning when we leave, and we make lots of stops for the dizzying array of soft drinks here, with the delight of unregulated sugar and lids that come off bottles. But partway through the day Richard is really struggling. We went to an Indian bistro before we left, but he didn’t feel like eating anything, so the lack of energy catches up with him. I don’t have the issue of not being able to eat anything.

The following day starts well. It’s overcast again, we’re on some small roads, and we see our first monitor lizards and troops of monkeys. About halfway I start getting severe stomach cramps and am in serious trouble. There is nowhere at all to stop. In panic I go down a couple of small paths trying to find somewhere hidden away, but they lead to people’s homes. I’m virtually sobbing in desperation. We’re not remote enough for any secluded spots, but we’re too remote for any facilities, and I don’t think I’m going to make it to any. Like a mirage, we see a sign for a cafe 2km further on. I manage to hang on, God only knows how, and in this place almost (but not enough) in the middle of nowhere is an actual four-walled cafe rather than the usual shack, and this time I am almost sobbing with relief. There’s a shady garden where we rest, have something to eat, several drinks, and in my case just sit and be overwhelmingly grateful. Richard jokes that I will never forget this place. A man at the next table finishes his meal and comes over to say hello. When we say we’re from the UK he says “Oh no, this must be really hot for you.” It is indeed.

Before we leave, a group at another table sends over a plate of fruit for us, and then a couple of them, who turn out to be the owners, come over to say hello. They take some photos and a chat for a bit. They also commiserate with us on the heat when they find out where we’re from.

Within a few minutes of setting off again, Richard is having the same awful problem I had, but it’s a petrol station a few miles down the road which saves him. We reminisce that for both of us, all the almost disastrous events of this kind have been in Malaysia.

The heat in monstrous. By the end of the day it feels like my brain is being boiled, and I can barely form thoughts. I stumble half into a manhole and have to drag and scrape my bike up to stop it falling. We arrive at a guesthouse with my rear wheel making a worrying noise. I assume I’ve damaged the derailleur and cannot deal with it. But instead I’ve knocked loose the quick release lever and the wheel is half off. There’s no way it physically should not have come off or buckled under me, it’s only by some miracle that it and I survived. I don’t really believe in such things, but it feels like something has kept me safe and sound today, despite the misery.

Fortunately even the dingiest Malaysian places have a kettle, since we’ve determined to eat only packet food that evening. Even when I’m not well I can be found at night food markets and streets stalls, eating unidentified whatever. But I never want to go through today again, so pot noodles it is for me.

It’s a really hazy start to the next day, alongside truly remote plantation land. We’re cutting off a huge chunk of road by taking a little ferry across the Sepang river. It’s too small to take cars and isn’t an official ferry, so we have trouble finding it. We follow the directions I have, but it leads to a dirt track and we’re unsure if we should follow it. A guy on a moped appears out of nowhere, asks if we need help and then insists on showing us the way, even though he’s not going in that direction. He rides with us a couple of miles on the dirt roads, explaining that this is only accessible when it hasn’t rained. At the end there’s a huge troop of monkeys and he warns us to not leave anything loose that they can grab. He waves us off, and we board the little boat which for a five minute ride saves us about 20km on main roads.

We enjoy the next couple of hours on the small roads. Then it all goes to shit again as the clouds clear and we’re in the searing heat of the midday sun. There are fairly regular shelters for moped riders to use in the monsoon, and bus stops at every school, so we manage to scuttle from one bit of shade to the next, but in between it is like torture.

We head for Port Dickson, which is a resort town on the coast of the Malacca Strait, mostly used as a weekend getaway for people living in KL. We make the mistake of staying at a mid-range large hotel by the sea, thinking it will be nice. We’ve been to Malaysia before, but forgot that this is exactly the kind of place to avoid. Built a couple of decades ago, but not updated or cleaned since; smells of mould and damp; inexplicably noisy all the time. This one has the addition of a modesty dress code (for women of course, not for men.) Everyone is incredibly friendly though, and there’s a breakfast buffet.

It’s the same pattern the following day. The first couple of hours are okay, and then the sun really comes out. The air is so thick with the humidity that it’s almost difficult to breathe it in, like trying to drink treacle. The terrain is also a bit hillier today, which in any other conditions would be very manageable, but the heat and humidity are so draining. It’s only made bearable with the knowledge that we will take a few day’s off in Malacca and also take stock. It’s also a friendly day – we pass an army base with lots of soldiers passing on their motorbikes and there’s a noticeable uptick in the number of waves and helloes.

It has only taken a few days to reach Malacca, but it felt endless. We had planned to cross the peninsula a bit further south and then ride up the east coast, but we’re seriously reconsidering just going to Singapore and flying out, we’re enjoying it so little. Richard asks where we could go this time of year, and before the “A” is out of my mouth, he adds “Apart from Australia.” We’ve agreed that we’ll build up some time in cheap places before heading for Aus, but it’s so tempting.

Malacca is the nicest place we’ve been in Malaysia this time, much as I have a soft spot for the capital. It’s very low rise, less concrete, diverse and more laid back than other large cities here. It’s also kind of walkable in a country that does not cater in any way to pedestrians. Oddly though it’s the place where English has been the least spoken. Given that it’s very much a tourist stop, that was surprising. We walk Jonker Street and it’s a boiling mass of people, and the canal areas are pretty, but purposely geared to tourists. Off the main drag there are some gorgeous Chinese heritage buldings, and everywhere there are plenty of incredible places to eat. I tick a breakfast of bak kut the off my list of things I must eat, but we mostly haunt the cafes in Little India.

We set ourselves two days cycling from Malacca to make a decision about where we go. Our aim in Malaysia was always to cycle up the east coast, as that’s the part of the country we haven’t been to. At the two day point we can still head for Singapore and fly out, or we can cross the country to the other coast. Past that point we’re committed.

A playlist for the ride: