The evening sun bids a fiery farewell as it sinks below the horizon.
IS Sekinchan worth a second look on two wheels? Absolutely.
When the invitation came to join a group ride through Selangor’s emerald rice plains and coastal trails, it was an easy yes.
There’s something quietly compelling about Sekinchan – a small town steeped in sea breeze, golden light and the scent of ripening grain.
But this time, we weren’t just passing through. We were staying the night, guided by locals and promised a secret sunset view that few outsiders ever get to see.
The ride was organised by Johnny Ng of My Bicycle Shop in Shah Alam. Fourteen riders had signed up, all drawn by the simple allure of a countryside escape.
But what made this ride different was Johnny’s friend, Farmer Lau – a Sekinchan native and seasoned cyclist who has pedalled solo across Asia on a folding bike.
Two cyclists ride back through the paddy fields under a velvet night sky.
This time, Lau would lead us through backroads, orchards and, eventually, to that elusive “secret spot” by the sea.
Our base for the trip was the charming Padi Sentral Homestay, tucked right at the edge of the padi fields, where the wind dances through tall stalks and birds skim across the waterlogged plains.
As the late afternoon sun warmed the landscape, we clipped in and rolled out towards Bagan, a fishing village, for an early seafood dinner.
The pace was easy, the chatter light, and the scent of saltwater began to creep into the air as we neared the coast.
Dinner – fresh prawns, crispy squid, steamed fish with the perfect balance of ginger and soy – was a feast.
Midway through, Lau made a quiet promise: “We’ll make it in time for sunset. Trust me.”
And we did.
Surrounded by waves of rice and wind, two riders find joy in the wide, open calm of Sekinchan’s rural heart.
Back on the saddle, we navigated a busy stretch toward Pantai Remis, the breeze now thick with brine and petrol.
But soon, Lau veered off-road, leading us down a narrow path lined with swaying casuarina trees and the distant rhythm of waves.
Then, like a curtain lifted – there it was.
The sunset.
It wasn’t just golden. It was molten. A fiery orange orb sinking into the Strait of Malacca, casting long shadows across our bikes and turning the water into a mirror of flame.
Phones came out. No one said much. We just watched.
We lingered until dusk, reluctant to break the spell, before cycling back under a deepening sky to our homestay.
As a parting gift, Lau handed each of us fresh guavas from his orchard – crisp, sweet and still beaded with dew.
The next morning, we set off on a slow ride into town for breakfast: strong local kopi, kaya toast, and noodles done just right.
A cyclist approaches Padi Sentral, Sekinchan's unmistakable concreta beacon set against asea of ripening padi.
Then it was off to Lau’s guava farm for a personal tour.
Beneath the shade of fruit trees, he walked us through the rhythms of farm life – pruning, grafting, harvesting – a cycle shaped by weather, soil and time.
It was humbling.
By midday, we were back at the homestay, bags packed, bikes loaded and hearts full.
Sekinchan had offered more than a good ride.
It had given us a moment of stillness – a rare kind of connection to place, to people, to pace.
Sometimes, a second look reveals everything.
