Tarmac, Throttle & Gavel: A Guest Rider’s Tale

By Edwin Van Poelje

Three days. 700 kilometres. Five Brethren, one muddy guest, and more bends in the road than you’d find in a Tyler’s explanation of the third degree.

There are moments in life that leave a permanent mark. Some are life-changing realizations. Some are quiet encounters that change your perspective. Mine, somewhere on a rain-soaked mountain road in northern Thailand, was mostly mud-shaped and located on my left side. But I’m getting ahead of myself…

The Widows Sons are not a motorcycle gang. I want to be very clear about this. They are Freemasons who love motorcycles, open roads, and the kind of honest conversation that makes you lose track of time entirely. Think of them as Brothers who’ve simply taken the working tools out for a ride, men who understand that leaning into a corner at exactly the right angle isn’t so different from applying the plumb line. It’s all about balance. It’s all about getting it right.

Day One, Chiang Mai to Pai: The Warm-Up That Wasn’t

We gathered at 0930 at Bonnies Deli in Chiang Mai, in the time-honoured tradition of Lodge meetings, everyone arriving separately and at slightly different speeds. Our Brotherhood of the Road:

The route out of Chiang Mai toward Pai is genuinely one of the most beautiful roads I’ve ever seen. Mountains, jungle, mist, curves that seem to go on forever. We stopped for coffee, stopped for tea, stopped because the views simply wouldn’t allow otherwise. Everything was going well. Brotherhood was confirmed. Spirits were high.

Then the rain arrived. Not a polite drizzle. A full, enthusiastic, thoroughly committed Thai downpour.

I was somewhere mid-corner when the Ducati and I arrived at a difference of opinion about the correct line through the bend. The road won. I met the mud at the roadside with some speed and considerably less grace than I’d have preferred. A few scratches, a bruised ego, and the Italian motorcycle still intact, which probably says more about Ducati engineering than my own riding.

The Brothers stopped immediately, confirmed I was in one piece and we carried on. Nobody made a fuss. Nobody needed to. From the back of the group, I noticed the corners being approached with a certain new thoughtfulness for the remainder of the day. Brotherhood, it turns out, doesn’t always need words.

We reached The Quarter in Pai that afternoon, found the pool, found cold drinks, and found, as I would keep discovering, that these men were remarkably easy to be around. Open, warm, interested in each other and in me. It surprised me. It probably shouldn’t have. We share the same foundation, after all. The road just makes it easier to see.

Day Two, Pai to Mae Sariang: Eyes Open, Mind Present

The second day was the longest, Pai through Mae Hong Son and down to Mae Sariang, around 270 kilometres of road that feels like it was laid specifically for motorcycles. Long, sweeping curves. Jaw-dropping viewpoints. The occasional rock on the road or tree across the verge to remind you that nature has its own agenda.

Here’s something I hadn’t fully considered before this trip: riding a motorcycle for seven hours teaches you to be present. There is no drifting off. The road simply won’t allow it. You are watching your line, reading the surface, checking your mirrors, and checking if all the Brothers are still riding behind me.

And then there are the infamous Thai delivery vans. Stacked impossibly high, driven impossibly fast, occupying whatever portion of the road looks convenient. They are the uninitiated world’s equivalent of an unexpected question at a ceremony, you know something’s coming, you just don’t know exactly when or from which direction. Eyes forward at all times!

Seven hours later, reaching Mae Sariang felt like hitting the jackpot. The bikes naturally drew curious looks from the locals, opening the door for some local talks. Our hotel sat right on the river, pool included and a cold drink was easily sourced.

But it was dinner that evening that I’ll carry with me longest.

I want to be honest about this without overstating it: I am not yet a Master Mason. I’m still learning, still working toward the degree that marks a Brother as fully entered into the Craft. But sitting around that table in Mae Sariang with these five men, after two long days on the road together, I understood something about Brotherly Love that no degree ceremony had quite shown me yet.

It isn’t a phrase or a principle on a wall. It’s what happens when men who share the same values and the same obligations are given the time and the space to simply be with one another. The conversation was real. The openness was genuine. I sat there, the most junior man at the table and felt completely at home.

It was my first experience of this kind outside my own Lodge. It changed something in how I think about meeting Brothers from other Lodges and chapters. We really do speak the same language, wherever we come from.

At the end of diner, we said goodbye to Indran, who had a 6 am departure back to Bangkok the next morning and went to bed after a long day.

Day Three, Mae Sariang to Chiang Mai: The Road Home

The final day was more straightforward, less winding, more speed and the easy confidence of a group that had fully found its rhythm together. The bikes felt natural. The road felt familiar. The Brothers felt like Brothers.

Lunch at The Ozark, a restaurant tucked into the mountains twenty minutes from Chiang Mai, was the final gathering, good food, good conversation, the pleasant feeling of an adventure wrapping up properly. Afterwards we split: some returning rental bikes, others heading home. Seven hundred kilometres done. All brethren back safe and sound.

What This Trip Actually Meant For Me

The Widows Sons was built on a straightforward but genuinely good idea, that Masons who love motorcycles should be able to combine both, and that the rides should give something back. This trip raised funds for Take Care Kids in Pattaya (takecarekids.org), a charity chosen with care, because charity is never just a transaction. It’s an obligation freely chosen and done properly.

As for me, I arrived as a guest with a borrowed motorcycle and I returned back with a few scratches, a much better understanding of what the Widows Sons actually are, and an absolute certainty about what I will focus on next. The Master Mason degree. And after that, if the Brothers will have me, a set of patches and a place in the line.

To Brother van Baal, thank you for the ride, the bed, and the trust. To Matt, Paul, Graham, Indran, and Frank, it was a genuine privilege. The square and compasses on a riding jacket might seem an unlikely combination to anyone looking in from the outside. But on those roads, with those men, it made complete sense.

See you in November for the next big ride!