We were a little dubious as the woman with the walky talky started hassling us in the bus station but followed her, and had a ticket to the highlands in our hand moments later. Another unsuspecting tourist was also herded to her booth, and the three of us crossed the road, had our tickets stamped and boarded the bus which thankfully had all its wheels and had large comfortable chairs and air conditioning. We gave ourselves a pat on the back for our good fortune and settled back to enjoy the journey.
As we set out, I was at first engrossed in my book, and only later became aware that out top speed was a whopping 40 kmph - on the motorway, and that the driver felt the need to spend the whole journey in the hard shoulder.
Every so often, the engine would make a disconcerting bang, the driver would stop, and pull open the cover to the engine (which was INSIDE the bus), poke a bit, put it all back and carry on once more.
It was becoming increasingly clear that only the power of prayer would make this bus reach the dizzying heights of the Cameron Highlands, and as if to prove it, we stopped once more.
This time it was the wheel. Not the tyre... the wheel. One of the rear left wheels had come off the bus in it's entirety!
We had no option than to wait for the next bus which came along an hour and a half later, and boarded this bus with anticipation... but it soon was noticeable that there weren't enough seats.
The three jolly foreigners were placed right at the back of the bus. There seemed to be what looked like a parcel shelf at the back of the bus, and we perched uncomfortably on here with our backs upright against the back windscreen, until such times as other passengers were randomly dropped off on the hard shoulder of the motorway and seats became available.
As we curved the continuous bends up to the highlands, I began to realise how doomed our first bus really was!! So thankful that we arrived in one piece... what an adventure!
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