For the final stretch up the coast, we enter the north eastern states of Terengganu and then Kelantan. They are controlled politically by The Malaysian Islamic Party (PAS,) who have always held sway in the rural and less developed parts of the country, and have long dominated Kelantan. But there has been a recent surge in Malay religious conservatism, which has given them more widespread power and influence. The party’s recent greatest hits include praising the Taliban, expanding implementation of Shariah compliance, and endorsing a couple of public canings in Terengganu state.

The day is brutal. When it gets past 10am there’s not a single second that’s enjoyable, and before that it’s touch and go. When we’re actually moving we create our own gentle breeze. It’s no better than a fart in a sauna, but at least it’s something. Stopping in the sun is when the heat becomes completely unbearable, such as at traffic lights. I have never known anything like the amount of time red lights take to change in Malaysia, but it feels like longer than a root canal, and even less pleasant.

There’ve been lots of monkeys crossing the road recently, so when I see a soft, brown heap lying in the road ahead, my heart sinks. It’s directly in my path and I don’t want to see it, and in this heat I don’t want to smell it either, but it turns out to only be a dead towel. 

We arrive at a kind of motel, and the woman who greets us is very kind and helpful, but the room is a pit. The carpet is infested with ants, window slats are missing, not everything in the bathroom is fully plumbed in. There’s a can of bug spray, so we use that liberally before getting in our sleeping bag liners because the sheets are worrying.

It’s our final day of cycling up the coast. We carry the bags to the bikes and already we are both soaked through. I haven’t even turned a pedal and sun cream is running down my face and into my eyes, and it only gets hotter from here. 

We get to a petrol station and shop in need of more drinks. Usually I march straight into the air conditioning, but can’t even walk that far, instead collapsing down on a kerb nearby. The sweat is pouring down and running off my elbows and ankles, and pooling on the floor at my feet. We still have 60 kilometres to go today. Richard arrives with cold drinks and is followed by a man from the shop who welcomes us to Malaysia and gives us several packets of snacks “on the house.” 

We turn the corner and there’s a sign, not quite a billboard, but large, depicting two men holding hands and burning in flames. I can’t read the Malaysian words above, but the English word “homosexual” is clear, as is the overall meaning. I’ve been long since wrung out physically, but it’s at this point I emotionally cut off and am completely done with this.

The day’s end has the most agonising hours on a bike I think I’ve ever had. There is no shade, there is nowhere to stop. The sides of the road are ditches and jungle, there isn’t even anywhere to pull over and just get off the bike. Finally, after a couple of hours of nothing, there’s a path to an abandoned building, where we just sit numbly. Neither of us can speak. We’ve set ourselves too much distance for these days and we are completely broken by it.

We finally make it to Kota Bharu, which signals completion of the east coast. I feel no sense of achievement whatsoever at this, just relief at having made it. These few weeks in Malaysia have taken something out of me I don’t think I’ll get back.

In Kota Bharu we have a couple of days to rest. We head for the cultural centre, which puts on displays of various traditional arts and crafts, although what is shown on each day can vary. Top of my list is the shadow puppet theatre, which we don’t get to see, but otherwise I am hopeful to see some kind of performing art. Many traditional folk dance and drama performances are banned or altered in Kelantan by PAS, because they are seen as un-Islamic. The only place performances of some are allowed are at this cultural centre for tourists. Sadly that means there are fewer and fewer custodians of this cultural heritage as the years go by, but that I suppose is the idea.

First on the programme is a game of gasing pangkah, which involves large, heavy wooden spinning tops, which are thrown a bit like you’d skim a stone, and then controlled by a piece of rope wound round the player’s wrist. The idea is to land the spinning top onto a mat, and the next player has to try and knock it away with theirs. Everyone is reluctant to participate, but the players are jovially persuasive. A couple of us (including me, but not Richard) manage at least to land the top and keep it spinning on the mat. I believe this makes me the winner of the two of us.

We are then treated to some traditional music, followed by a performance of the Silat martial art and some folk dancing. It’s one of the best days I’ve spent in ages, and it’s heartening that the performers are young, so this at least is being passed on and kept alive by a new generation.

We get to Penang and plan to stay for a couple of weeks to spend some time cycling round the island. We settle into a routine of late breakfasts at an Indian cafe, and evening food from the hawker food stalls. We’ve had a rough time in Malaysia, but Penang feels like a different country. It is relaxed and diverse, and it’s nice to be settled somewhere good for a bit. It also gives us a good opportunity to carefully consider our options and do some proper research. We probably made a mistake with Malaysia and don’t want it to happen again. We set our sights on each destination, then rule it out once we’ve done our homework. The weather in Borneo is about the same as here. The winds across Java aren’t manageable going the direction we’d need to go. Beijing is experiencing 40 degree heat, and then it floods. One by one every other option falls away and our hearts can align with our heads: It’s Australia.

A playlist for the ride: