Mersing to Kuantan

Things go a little bit wrong. More than once.

I had read about a small town up the coast noted for its rustic charm so decide on a day trip. There are no buses directly there, but plenty to the town across the river, Tanjung Gemok. Since there are many more buses from Mersing to my next destination than from Tanjung Gemok, I decide to return to Mersing rather than stay up there.

It’s a short ride in a rather nice bus operated by Sanwa Express. It drops me at a shop corner which is apparently the bus terminal and I walk back across the Endau River which seperates Johor and Pahang states.

There’s not a lot going on in Endau - a fancy new bus station not yet in operation and, just off the main road, a street of old shophouses. That’s about it, apart from the row of fish processors lining the river.

I stop in for a coffee - the owner sits and chats with me as I drink it, telling me that this is actually Malaysia’s largest fishing port, with around 600 fishing boats operating out of it. He also tells me that he bought the shop a year ago for 20,000 ringgit - about $NZ7,000. He’s a very friendly fellow and I enjoy our chat, but it’s time for lunch.

Up a couple of doors, there’s a place with a small collection of food stalls and I have a delicious pork curry. The day’s going well, but there’s not much to keep me, so I look up a bus to get me back to Mersing. Things go a bit wrong at this point: there are no buses back to Mersing available online. I message Sanwa Express: no reply. Hmmm. I walk back to the bus stop where they dropped me off - a few guys lounging on their motorcycles confirm: no bus. Hmmm.

I follow a Youtuber who has hitched around Malaysia so know that’s possible, and there’s even a truckstop nearby, with several trucks parked while their drivers have lunch. While I wait for one to come out, I stick out my thumb and try to look friendly, rather than someone beset by too much heat and concern. I wave at any bus passing through: none stops. A driver does come out, but tells me he’s going to a different destination. Looking at the map, I realise that there are several major turnoffs before Mersing becomes the primary destination, so decide to walk to the edge of town, a couple of km. Thinking this might turn into a walk all the way, I stock up with water - it is 36 km and around 2 p.m. so I really hope it doesn’t come to that.

Right at the south end of town I find a bus stop for the Malaysian only bus service down to Mersing, and see a bus will be along in about an hour. Worth trying. I had talked to one of the drivers yesterday - he said he’d allow me on board but others would not. While waiting, I check out the possibilities on Grab, which aren’t too bad - about $30. That becomes plan B, if the bus doesn’t work out. When it comes along, the driver doesn’t seem to care whether I’m Malaysian or not, just that I’m “registered”. I have no idea what he means, but he takes my phone and downloads an app, which wants all sorts of information. He drives while I input the information - it’s not successful but I don’t care, the bus takes me to Mersing. For free.

It’s obviously a retired city bus, which takes on bumps in the road in an unusual manner: instea of swallowing them, or creaking, it bounces then the top half of the bus slaps back down onto the chassis with a mighty metallic slap. Suspension is beyond shot!

Back in Mersing, I decide I’ll go to the fancy upstairs historic themed bar for dinner and a drink, rather than what I normally do. The menu is eccentric, a mainly “western menu” with a few “traditional” Malaysian dishes which even I can tell are not. They are either trying to attract a western crowd - this is a major ferry port for the islands - or trying to give the locals something exotic. No one else is here apart from a couple who come in after me. So I have some pretty average chicken wings and chips with a small beer (they don’t do the normal large bottles) and grab a cold beer from the 7-11 opposite my hotel.

I spend much of the next day on a Transnacional bus going the 200 km up the coast to Kuantan, the largest city on the East coast (and Malaysia’s 14th largest), with 550,000 people. The road has very few passing opportunities and a lot of the traffic is very slow, so it takes more than five hours to get there. Well, almost there: the central bus station is 6 km out of the city, and it’s quite a wait for the bus to take me in. I have a chat with a fellow waiting, who tells me the bus is always 30 minutes late. I think maybe he’s a bit out of touch: while Google says the bus will be at 5:30, I find RapidKuantan’s official timetable on Facebook, which tells me it will be at 6:05. It is.

I’ve picked a guest house just by its location on the map - it seems central. It’s not - it’s a 30 minute walk from downtown in a residential area, where the main sounds are dogs barking and the occasional nearly elderly foreign tourist shouting in frustration. My guest house has no onsite staff. Unlike other places, they don’t have a lockbox with a key: they’ve gone hi-tech, and installed a check in machine, almost exactly like those you find in airports. You slide in your passport, allow it to tale a photo, input some details about your booking and it issues a card to allow you into the buildin and your room. Except it doesn’t: it says “I can’t do that right now, go to the front desk”. There’s no one around, the door is locked. All I have is three different numbers to contact: I send messages to all three. Half an hour later, none have even been opened. All credit to Agoda - I ask them for help, and almost immediatley the owner, a Mr Chua, video calls me. He has to turn the machine off and on again from wherever he is (sometimes that’s all it takes, folks) and guides me through the process of checking in.

I see that there are a couple of bars nearby: surely I deserve a drink? It’s horrible in there: three guys shoting at each other as the play pool and a very loud soundtrack. My night of difficulties is not yet over. Back at the guesthouse, I pop in to the toilet, leaving my door open but the wind blows it shut, with everything I own inside, including the card I need to get in. Still no one about, and now no way to contact Mr Chua. Hmmm.

After an hour of sitting about, things go a bit better: some guys come in. They are from Bangladesh, working in KL, but here for reasons they can’t explain (not enough English). I know the machine will give me another card if I give it 20 ringgit, so I try to get one of them to pay for the replacement, knowing I have plenty of cash to pay him back. It turns out the fellow running the place (not the owner) is also from Bangladesh, so there’s a long conversation where they try to get him to come let me in. Eventually, my guy gives up on this, pays the 20 ringgit and I’m in my room!

I spend the next day exploring downtown Kuantan - it’s at the head of the Kuantan River, although I never make it to the coast. Most commercial activity is spread along the two major roads running one way through the centre of town, along the river. While there are some very large malls a few blocks away from the river, they’re not doing very well at all - most shops are shuttered in the larger one.

It turns out that Jalan Besar is the site of Kuantan’s café culture: a lot of shophouses have been converted into coffee shops, restaurants, kopitiams and other places to eat. It’s pretty amazing to find so many good looking places all clustered together. My first stop is at a place called Garage Coffee. The coffee is very good, but served in a takeaway cup.

Almost immedietaly next door is Notis, with a very different vibe and actual cups for the coffee: time for another.

The river isn’t particularly attractive, but they have a promenade along it for maybe a kilometre, with some nice parkland at one point, aplay area at another and a few foodstalls. Oh, and a 188 metre high tower.

The promenade comes to a rather abrupt end at a security fence, so I need to back track. I’m getting a bit peckish, so I head back to where the malls are, because there’s an evening market nearby.

There are plenty of choices, but I can’t go past the deep-fried chicken whole leg I see near the start of my wander through the market. It’s still quite hot, crunchy and juicy. Yum. This is not, however, dinner - that is at the Chinese run 888 Foodcourt near my guesthouse. The importance of being Chinese run is that they have beer! I actually make three visits here - for a quick chicken rice with kopi O breakfast, now for duck noodles with beer and later on for a most delicious curryy mee (it has a wonderfully deeply flavoured broth, lumps of real chicken and slices of some other meat - possibly liver, but not from a chicken, and bean sprouts for helath).

Cheers!