Last week in my 2025 SE Asian Travel Blog we sweated durian juice all over Penang’s backroads. This week we’re back on the peninsula in Malaysia’s capital: Kuala Lumpur — a city where skyscrapers loom over roadside nasi lemak stalls, and somehow, despite the madness of eight-lane traffic, it’s a legit cycling playground.
I’ve been coming to KL long enough to know two things:
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If you don’t start riding before dawn, you’ll melt into the tarmac like a forgotten scoop of ice cream.
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Every climb worth doing has a roadside stall selling teh tarik (sweet, frothy tea) to undo any watts you just burned.
KL isn’t an easy cycling city. It’s busy, it’s hot, and you’ll swear at traffic more than once. But give it a chance, and you’ll find some of the most iconic climbs in Malaysia hiding just beyond the urban sprawl.
The Gateway Climb: Genting Sempah
Ask any KL rider where to go first, and they’ll send you to Genting Sempah. It’s about 15 km long, steady, shaded, and somehow both forgiving and punishing depending on how much ego you pack. At the halfway mark, you’ll find the famous roadside stall: kopi, kaya toast, and packs of cyclists comparing heart rates like they’re race results.
Push over the top, and you’re rewarded with misty jungle roads, monkeys watching your every pedal stroke, and that glorious feeling of leaving the city chaos behind.
Batu 18 to Genting Perez: Local’s Choice
For those in the know, the Batu 18–Genting Perez stretch is the real KL treat. It’s rolling, jungle-lined, and much quieter than the city climbs. The road twists through greenery, the air is cooler, and you almost forget there’s a megacity just down the hill. Almost.
It’s the kind of road where you start riding “steady” and somehow end up in an unsanctioned time trial with a bunch of uncles in matching kits.
Putrajaya & Broga: Big Loops and Fruit Stops
South of KL, the Putrajaya Loop is the local bunch ride mecca. Smooth, wide roads with hardly any cars in the early hours make it perfect for fast pacelines and oversized egos. It feels like riding around an empty Formula 1 circuit — only with fewer marshals and more coconuts.
If you’ve got the legs, push further to Broga Hills. It’s a rollercoaster of short climbs through palm plantations, punctuated by fruit stalls selling mangosteens, bananas, and the occasional coconut big enough to bathe in. Pro tip: carry cash, or you’ll be begging your mate for a sip while he smugly sips his coconut water.
Culture on Two Wheels
KL riding isn’t just about the roads. It’s the rhythm:
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Roll out at 5:30 a.m. with blinking lights and bleary eyes.
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Survive traffic like you’re playing a real-life video game.
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Smash yourself silly on a climb.
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Collapse into a plastic chair at a mamak stall with roti canai and teh tarik that tastes better than any sports gel.
It’s sweaty, chaotic, a little dangerous — and totally addictive.
Why KL Works
KL isn’t Penang’s breezy island vibe. It’s more intense, more urban, more raw. But that’s exactly why it’s special. Within half an hour of dodging Grab scooters and honking buses, you can be in the jungle, climbing shaded switchbacks while cicadas scream louder than your quads.
It’s cycling in its purest Southeast Asian form: unpredictable, sweaty, and always ending with food. And honestly? That’s all I need.
