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Day 7 – Battambang – Siem Reap and Ankor Wat
I’d placed the alarm on the other side of the room knowing that was the only way I’d force myself of bed as it was set for 4am. Rather than waking straight away, the alarm for a short time slipped in to my unconscious mind and was ignored as something happening in the background of the surreal world of my dreams. Eventually though it nagged its way through my conscience and I admitted defeat and let go of the dream. Stumbling across the room I stubbed my toe then bent a finger back making a grab for the alarm. My colleagues (and my children) have occasionally commented on a passing resemblance to Mr. Bean. This could have been one of those moments. A fine start to the day.
Today we are heading to Siem Reap by boat. It’s too far for a single days bike ride by road and it will at least give our backsides some respite after yesterday’s experience. The boat will take around seven hours and having boarded in pitch black we set off in the chill of the night. Most of the others lay down to shield themselves from the cold breeze and try to get some more sleep. Ola and Ange are working on their laptops organising the next stages, the charity admin and the logistics of it all as they have been doing tirelessly from the start. I have been sitting watching the stars and reminiscing about days long ago when I worked with boats and there wasn’t a single saddle to be sat on for miles in any direction.
The sun eventually decided to rise from its lazy bed having decided a lie in was in order what with it being the weekend. Once up it wasted no time in sweeping away the night chill, seeing to its ablutions and getting its kettle on. From the start we’d passed small fishing boats and we could now see they were worked by men, women and children. A single occupant per boat crouched at the stern pulling and relaying nets. On the river banks, those just woken were either washing in the river or preparing breakfast. It could possibly conjure romantic images of a simple and idyllic life uncluttered by modern trappings, stresses and strains but from where I’m sitting it looks like a pretty harsh existence to me.
Six hours later we left the river behind and headed across the lake. In the distance we couldn’t at first see any shoreline giving the impression we heading out to sea but an hour later we were docked and once again preparing to mount our bikes for the final leg to Ankor Wat. The cycle there was about 15km and uneventful but we were driving through unaccustomed city traffic so caution was at the fore. On arriving at the entrance to Ankor Wat our photo tickets were processed and the journey round and then through the surrounding parkland took us passed the amazing 1000 year old temples.
A brief water stop just before the end allowed us time to organise ourselves in to pairs to finish in what we hoped would look like a neat column of cyclists. Our reception as we ended our journey in front of the stunning Ankor Wat temple itself didn’t disappoint. The partner of one of our number, Matheus, funds and works in a nearby school and had arranged for fifty eight of her school children to spend the day at the temples then greet us. They cheered us in as we came to a halt and if you can imagine being politely swarmed over this is what they did as they closed in around us and presented us with hand drawn pictures and balloons.
Having taken the obligatory pictures, we strolled through the temple with the children until it closed for the day. It wasn’t until they boarded their bus and we boarded ours that it really sunk in that the ride was actually finished. Against all logic I found myself wishing we’d be getting up in darkness again for another days cycling tomorrow.
I haven’t mentioned this before but I’m not a keen cyclist. I know some people really enjoy it and I’m not averse to the odd Sunday potter about in the park on two wheels however anything over a couple of miles should for me involve a different form of transportation. Almost any form of transport except a bike will do, I’m pretty easy about it. Why do the bike ride then? I guess I figured if I’m going to ask people to donate money to the charity it should involve some sacrifice on my part and not doing something which would normally be a hobby. A couple of years ago I did a ride through Kenya and swore after that I wouldn’t get on a bike again to do another. It has been painful, uncomfortable, hot and dusty. My backside, legs and wrist have certainly been pushed at times to their limits but it’s also been a great experience. My cycling buddies, our outrider Fredrick, medic Narin and support driver Mr D have been nothing short of awesome. The scenery incredible at times and the people we came across couldn’t have been friendlier or nicer with the never ending waving and hellos to us. I’m still not planning on getting back on a bike anytime soon but if I was to it would be here.
Tomorrow we board a bus for a six hour journey to Kampong Chan and Monday 8am begin a two week stint teaching at the English Bootcamp.
Thank you for taking the time to read this and for all the fantastic support, messages and donations we’ve received. We still have a way to go before we have raised enough to rebuild the school so if you haven’t yet donated and fancy popping a couple of quid in towards the school you can donate at www.justgiving.com/cambodiaschoolbuildingproject.
Thanks again
John
Day 6 – Moung Ressy – Battambang
The first half of today really shouldn’t be written about. We left town on the support bus as the roads were apparently too dangerous to cycle on. Don’t know what they meant. On the 15 minute journey to the start point we only saw two accidents. The first a lorry on its side, windscreen smashed and its cargo divided between the roadside and the field its rear end had come to rest in. Half a kilometer further on a relatively new car on the other side of the road had carved a path through some bushes and was curled sickeningly around a tree.
The dirt road we were on was covered in small but treacherously loose rocks. These eventually gave way to mere half buried rocks set close together. Picture a road cobbled with half to two inch high rocks at an assortment of angles and a couple of inches apart laid by sadistic road builder with a tooth ache and piles and heart set on revenge. Any attempt to cycle at speed was pointless and the constant stop-start movement pushed the legs to the limit let alone the backside. Painful doesn’t even start to describe it and the first half of the day was for me the worst of the entire trip. It took as long to do the first 21km as it had taken for twice that on previous days. Thankfully the surface improved after our first major break and eventually we hit a mettled road which took us in to Battenbang. I can describe very little of the countryside as it took all our concentration to avoid rock after rock and hang on to the bikes over the teeth chattering, bone shaking terrain.
Battambang is Cambodia’s third largest city and after the ride from hell we were all over the moon to find the hotel we were in was the best accommodation since arriving in Cambodia.More good news was to come. Part of the bamboo train route was nearby and was open for about a 5km stretch. Looks like there was still a chance to experience the train. We quickly showered boarded the support bus.
The bamboo train was a great experience. The tacked together ‘carriages’ we sat cross legged on rattled and shook as we headed down the warped tracks propelled by the small petrol motor who’s accelerator consisted of a makeshift stick used to lever the engine away or towards the axle so the drive belt tightened or loosened accordingly. The brake was another scrap of wood suspended from the carriage by old bicycle inner tubes that the driver would push on to the rear wheels when he needed to slow down. About 1000 yards after the start we came to a stop behind five other carriages on a bridge as a train was coming the other way. This Mexican stand off was resolved not by the single train giving way but the six carriages facing it being dismantled and laid by the side of the track until the single train had passed. Once through the drivers quickly reassembled the trains and we set off again. The train is still used for transporting bales of hay and suchlike however it’s mostly now for tourist. It will be a shame when this quirky and fun mode of transport finally gets retired next year. I hope they change their minds.
For now, goodnight all.
Day 5 – Pursat – Moung Ruessey
I’d managed to get very little sleep even though exhausted. The surrounding area was very noisy, the room hot and sticky and even when I did manage to drop off, vivid dreams repeatedly found me sitting suddenly up in bed confused as to where I was. Another early start and I was still only half awake by the time we set off. However today was to turn out to be my favourite so far.
The plan was to follow a canal in Kandieng District, built in 1976 during Pol Pot’s rule, it cuts a straight and unswerving line for 50km. We joined it 5km along and hit the obligatory dirt track as a gorgeous orange and impressively large sun rose above the tree line. The canal also made an impressive but somewhat daunting sight. Looking straight down the canal it seemed to stretch to the horizon. The sandy dirt tracks either side were to be our cycle tracks and proved for much of it to be hard going.
For the first few kilometers the sand filled potholes caused the wheels to slip and slide and made maintaining a decent speed impossible. For the entire length of the ride there was no shade and it turned out to be the hottest day so far. Some stretches made easier going and some entertaining as we navigated deep ruts and dips carved in to the road by trucks working on renewing a section of the canal. The trucks were a worry as they trundled along the narrow path leaving little room to pass and even less inclination to accommodate cyclists. At one point a large flatbed truck with a digger on the back was leaning so far over as the path sloped that as I went passed I felt I had to crouch low on the bike to make it and an upwards glance confirmed that part of the digger was indeed leaning over me. For a few seconds I peddled bit faster and my bum got a bit squeakier.
The reason this became my favourite day so far was the countryside. The canal is now used to irrigate the surrounding rice fields and the square areas of young, verdant shoots stood out dramatically against the browner scorched and sandy land in between. The fields stretched away on either side of us as far as the tree lines on the horizon. Ahead and behind, the canal disappeared in the distance giving the impression of 360 degrees of horizon. Along the canal we occasionally saw families working the fields, fishing, washing and generally scratching a living where they could. At regular intervals there were small constructions consisting of horizontal sticks supporting flattened plastic bags and containing a small amount of water. At night the bags look white and attract flying bugs which drop inside the trays and are unable to escape. These bugs are fried and act as a food supplement to for the local people. Any extra are sold by the roadsides as snacks to those passing through the area. It crossed my mind that in such a remote location that some of these people had probably never been out of the area they were born in and this was a very remote area). I wonder how the next generation of children will fare as the western world creeps in and the multinationals continue to build huge factory in Cambodia to take advantage of the cheap labour. On a couple of occasions signs saying a particular field had been certified clear of landmines were a poignant reminder of the architects of the canal as were the not so infrequent sights of some of the older inhabitants with limbs missing from a time before the mines were cleared.
Crossing the canal at intervals were sluice gates, which double as bridges, to control the flow of water. The heavy steel shutters were raised and lowered by three manually operated corkscrewed pipes protruding about 12 feet above the gates. The hollow steel pipes had slits down one side and as the wind blew across the top of the pipes it created sounds in the same way as blowing across a bottle top. The sounds however were not like anything I’ve ever heard before. The changing wind speed and direction created an eerie collection of noises ranging from gentle humming to almost alien like warbling to a roaring cacophony. It switched in a heartbeat from a pleasing cantata to a demonic opera then just as quickly dropped to the gentle whisperings of a hundred hidden voices. I was completely fascinated by the sounds and could easily have sat all day listening. I would imagine though that in the total darkness the night would bring here that the sounds would give rise to stories of ghosts and phantoms and the souls of those passed before.
Due to difficulties with the support bus making the rendezvous point we decided to continue along the canal to its finish point. This meant an extra 20km in all but for me it was worth the extra despite the heat. The support bus duly met us at the dam where the canal ends and although I and three others boarded, four of the team decided to continue an extra 25km to Moung Ressey where we were to spend the night. I was initially tempted to join them but the heat and the bumpy ride had taken its toll and I decided to err on the side of caution as we were warned that the road to the town was in very poor repair and my wrists were feeling the strain of the lumps and bumps of the last few days. The fingers on my left hand were numb from compressing the nerves while holding the handlebars and I also confess that my backside was also killing me in ways to painful to describe.
Moung Ressy is a small market town. On reaching our destination we found we couldn’t bring the bus to the front of the guest house as the foyer not so much opened in to the market as the market spilled in to the foyer to the point where one half of the foyer houses a dental practice which is separated from the guest house residents area by a waist high glass counter. The patients are on view to the residents and market alike as they lay helpless in the dentist chair.
It’s once again getting to the point where my eyes are so heavy I need to sleep. I think we have a lay in tomorrow and don’t have to meet until 6.30am. Bonus!
.
Day 4 – Kampong Chhnang – Pursat
Slightly later start today, 5.45am meet for breakfast and actually sitting down at a table. Guess what? Today did bring tea. Had to supply the tea bag, sugar and milk but they had hot water. Result!
Today we should be on our shortest day, around 45km, then a section where we load the bikes on to the bamboo train and travel 30km before getting back on the bikes for a 15km finish. We started off and navigated our way through what was basically a roundabout with a park in the centre that had traffic circulating in both directions at once. Interesting start to the days ride involving the aim, close eyes and hope school of cycling.
We reached the village where we were due to board the train by 10am.. We’d made decent time in spite of a wrong turn that added an extra 6km to the ride. Frederick is our outrider. Swedish, bald and standing at 6ft 2” could be an extra in a Mad Max film other than his friendly and gentle nature. He checked with the locals and was told the train would be an hour late. Near the station was a school so we made an impromptu visit and introduced ourselves and explained what we were doing. We spent the next hour entertaining the children while Frederick tried to confirm that the train would actually be there at 11am. He returned with bad news. The ‘officials’ had decided to send a maintenance train the length of the track to check it was safe. It was then to re-check on the way back. Only then could the bamboo train leave. All in all this seemed to suggest a few hours wait which wasn’t practical. We collectively made the decision to skip the train which was a major disappointment. The bamboo train tracks were laid in Franco times and is exactly as the name suggests. A flat, table like carriage without sides made of bamboo and two supports which rested on the axle, powered by small petrol motor. Passengers and freight sit atop the bamboo, riding on rails about two inches above the ground, defying all logic as to how the carriages remain on the tracks. The bamboo train is finally being taken out of service for good next year so to miss out on being able to ride it before part of Cambodia’s history disappears was a huge disappointment.
We were due to continue cycling after the bamboo train so we decided to cycle a separate route to make up for those kilometres we would now miss. This meant choosing a route that would take us closer to our original destination. This decided we cycled again through the dry dusty countryside which seemed to be getting dryer and dustier by the minute. So dry and dusty that around 1km from our destination we hit a wooden bridge about three feet wide which looked like it would barely support a dog let alone the bikes. The track which ran parallel which was once used by vehicles to avoid the bridge was now a sand pit which meant there was no way the support vehicle could make it through. So near and yet so far. Frederick rode ahead to see if was worth the bikes carrying on and the support vehicle turning round to find an alternative route and meeting up at the end. He returned to say the road ahead was so sandy he doubted the bikes would get through it. Time to retrace our steps again. We backtracked to a junction we’d stopped at hours before and took a fork in the road and eventually hit the main road. Due to detours the planned 45km finished with us having cycled 74km. On par with the previous couple of days.
At the time of writing we are safely in our nights stop over but so exhausted I can barely keep my eyes open to type so its difficult to recall individual incidents but one that keeps popping in my head was at a water stop where I noticed a spiders web strung between two trees. It’s owner sat in the middle of the web waiting for its prey and was impressive to say the least. An oblong body around an inch and a half long with a bright yellow stripe across its body and an angry red flash on its abdomen. Its legs spread like a wagon wheel with each slightly bent knee sporting a yellow dot. I asked D, our Cambodian support driver, if it was poisonous. His nonchalant reply reminded me of the sort of thing my mother used to say – ‘only if you touch it’.
Day 3 Kampong Speu – Kampong Chhnang
(No I’m not making these names up)
Darkness. Again. . Out guest house was on one of the main highways through the area and heavy traffic thundered by as we gather outside. We cycled in pitch black about 500 yards along the roadside to meet Ola and Ange who had left earlier to arrange breakfast which we once again ate at the road side. Picture standing on the side of the Hammersmith flyover having a picnic but with more dust.
It didn’t take us long to get out of town and on to another dirt road taking us back across country. Much of today proved similar to yesterday so I will save you the stage by stage description. The few moments of note during the ride today were running over the second large snake of the trip (wasn’t worth stopping for as someone had beaten us to it and it was pretty flat by the time we came across it, stopping for water by a school and chatting with the children, being educated in the ways of the cashew (surprised to find the nuts grow on the end of a larger fruit but only one nut per fruit which must take an entire tree to make one packet. This can’t be right. There are so many cashew packets to fill and so few cashew trees). I was grateful to Adam for taking over the falling over duties (he excelled at this falling off twice in one day – minor cuts sustained). A cow jam in a narrow section of road and finally the end of the third days riding. Today though was very hot and the sun made for exhausting cycling. By the time the support van had dropped us at the guest house for the night we were all exhausted but as today was ride was the shortest so far at 72 km we arrived slightly earlier than previously and set off to check out the market in Kampong Chhnang.
The market it next to the river which is home to a floating village. At first glance it’s a ramshackle collection of pontoons with small structures built on top and narrow cabined boats with family’s cooking, washing and preparing their wares for sale in the market. As you scan further along the river you realise just how far it stretches and is home to a few thousand inhabitants.
Having found the only place in town serving food that wasn’t a wooden shack we ate and returned to the guest house to prepare our blogs and give the mosquitos their evening meal.
Let’s see what tomorrow brings. Still looking for my first cup of tea since arriving so maybe it will bring me one of those.
Day Two – Takeo to Kampong Speu
This morning began with the alarm going off and having left it on the other side of the room, me doing my best to kill it with the power of thought. Didn’t work. My feelings last night of looking forward to today were replaced by ‘In the name of Jesus, Mary and the wee donkey why the hell did I sign up for this.’
Shortly after, the group were massed outside the guest house and loading the support bus to take us to the start point for the day where we bought a selection of baguettes, cheese, yoghurts and cereals and had breakfast by the roadside before setting off to cover todays planned 75km.
After the first section of 21km at what felt for me to be breakneck (or legs) speed along tarmac we stopped for a brief rejuvenating break then started down a dirt road for the next 16 km stretch. This brought us to a small but busy market village where we bought the obligatory bananas and washed them down with rehydration salts diluted in our water bottles. The weather had actually been kind to us so far today staying overcast although still warm and shortly after starting the third section a fine rain descended having two affects. Firstly it kept us blessedly cool and second it kept the dreaded dust down. Having struggled so hard through the first section I was actually pleasantly surprised to find I was coping ok. The road was wide, straight and flat and although sticky from the rain the country side and the surprising number of large and very ornate temples in such a remote area meant enough distractions to keep the mind off the fatigue.
After a light lunch we headed off the main (dirt) road and on to what in England would be a farm track but in Cambodia is a B road. Some very deep pot holes, lumps and bumps actually made it more enjoyable as we kept a decent pace and had a little fun with the terrain. The next 16km went much faster then I’d expected, then it was on for the final push as the road eventually flattened. After about 5km I took my first tumble of the ride although not thankfully serious. The two riders ahead of me had to brake suddenly and although I stopped just short of them the gravel caused a skid which left me leaning as I stopped. This shouldn’t have been a problem but my right foot didn’t come clear of the peddle strap. Following the ‘oh s***’ moment when you realise there’s now nothing you can do, gravity took over. I glanced down at the road. The road glanced back and obligingly offered to break my fall. Not too much damage other than grazes, some bruising and a little embarrassment which was soon forgotten as we hit the last section of today’s ride and eventually our overnight stopping point at which point I was perplexed to find that I wasn’t fit for collapse but actually felt pretty good. Must be getting used to this legs going round and round stuff although I don’t want to speak too soon, still a long way to go. Oddly enough I sustained worse bruising on the undamaged arm overnight when a mosquito bite (I’m hoping it was only a mosquito anyway) left a bruise about twice the size of a 50p piece. If anyone ever thinks they are too small to make a difference try sleeping in a room with a mosquito.
Having quickly showered we convened again to head by bus to visit an orphanage on the outskirts of town. It was started and is run by an American couple, Cathy and John and was an impressive operation. They housed, tutored and looked after 240 HIV positive children on site and had other sites based across Cambodia. Their outlook was incredibly positive and the children were happy, well looked after, being properly educated and were given genuine opportunities to integrate back in to society despite their illness and the stigma that unfairly accompanies it. Very glad we stopped off there to see them and I hope they can continue in the long term.
After dinner we retired exhausted to bed with our alarms set once again to wake us before the sun rose.
Day 1 Kep – Takeo
The only street lighting in Kep – a small cove like resort town which is our starting point for
the 500km bike ride – is along the main strip which gives host to a fish market, some very
small fishing boats and around twenty identical restaurants lining the beachfront. A lack
of street lighting is common in Cambodia but the speed at which day turns to night and plunges the surroundings in to darkness never fails to
surprise. It’s as though someone has suddenly dropped a heavy drape across the sun to put it to bed
as day time’s old partner in crime takes its place.
Unfortunately for us no one had undraped the sun yet when we arose in time for a
5.15am breakfast. Having eaten, we loaded the support bus with our belongings and
mounted our bikes for the short ride to the starting point of our 500km ‘adventure’.
Having taken the obligatory team photo, during which a small stray dog took it on himself
to adopt us we set off on the first stage which was to prove deceptively pleasant in the
cool of the morning. The road was tarmacked and mostly free of potholes and our canine
companion even obliged by running ahead of the group and scattering a small troop of
monkey blocking the road ahead. Alas our companion was not to stay with us and nor was
the pleasant smooth road surface. After our first water stop at around 12km we turned off
the main road and on to a red soil dirt track to head across country.
The surroundings were beautiful however we did not have the time to take in most of the
scenery as we had to spend much of the time concentrating on avoiding the scattered rocks
and pot holes which made the going far tougher than before. We rose steadily through
remote farmland and the odd village, passing pepper plantations and various fruit farms
until we hit the higher jungle area. Even though we were cycling uphill the ride was interesting
and not too taxing but once we reached the jungle the land plateaued out and surprisingly
this proved much harder going than the slower uphill ride.
Wherever we passed, local people especially children shouted excited hellos and we
responded in kind waving and smiling. We must have made a strange sight. Eight identically
dressed cyclist covered head to toe in red dust passing through their villages and extremely basic
settlements. I don’t know the Cambodian expression for it but if this was England it would
sound something along the lines of ‘hey, check out this bunch of looneys’.
Although being Cambodia the greeting were always with smiles and the utmost
friendliness. The children giggling and laughing at what must be a very strange sight to
them.
After 60 km we eventually and with great relief turned back on the a tarmac road. After
lunch we hit the final stretch but as the heat was now topping 30 degree and without the
shade of the jungle it proved uncomfortable and exhausting.
The relief after finding out at our penultimate water stop that we only had another 10km to
go for the day was tangible within the group. I hit the finish exhausted having experienced at various times in the day cramp, nausea and dizziness (due to the
heat) and what felt at one point like a complete lack of feeling in my legs as they turned completely to jelly.
At the time of writing this and having eaten and showered. The unpleasant feelings have
subsided and the memories of the smiling faces on the kids we passed, the beautiful
countryside and the fantastic camaraderie within the group which showed throughout
the day means I’m sitting here typing feeling strangely excited about tomorrows leg of our
fundraising trip. With an earlier 5.30am start tomorrow it’s time for bed.
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