The Reality
“Riding through deep sandy trails for kilometres on end in the hot sun is a test for any rider. Especially when you don’t have the luxury of support vehicles or emergency rescue if something goes terribly wrong. The backpack is your home and the three litres of precious water carried must be used wisely as there’s no guarantee the small villages we pass through will have supplies. It’s time to ride safe and smart as the only way out is the way you go in, by motorcycle, so treat it like your best friend. The last thing I need is to be towing or carrying someone out due to stupidity or carelessness. I’ve already mentioned that not all riders usually complete the Extreme Rally Tours due to either injury, breakdown or they’ve simply had enough, and the next 200 odd kilometres is definitely not the best place for this to happen”, were the words I roughly remember sinking in after listening to Ben over breakfast before the next leg of our Cambodian adventure got underway.
A Touch Of Gold
Ben gave us all white bread rolls and bananas to squeeze into our backpacks that already were filled with the essential ingredients such as a space blanket, inflatable sleeping mat, one set of clothes, torch, pocket knife, spare tube and extra water. This was to be our dinner once we found a camping spot later that night in the middle of the jungle.
When I first heard the word jungle I had visions of dark moist trails through dense forests with massive trees and vines hanging all around, but this perception quickly shifted after we left our first stopover in Sen Monorom and headed northwest to our lunch stop at a remote gold mining town called Me Mung that could only be accessed by 4wd or motorcycle. The terrain we covered varied from dry, slippery, downhill rocky sections through bushland similar to Australia, to open rice fields close to small villages, water crossings and the first hint of the dreaded deep sand trails close to Me Mung.
The gold mining town was like that of an 1800’s movie set with its old wooden huts, diesel smoke pouring out from engines, pits full of toxic water, steel cables, and shafts that run straight down through solid rock, which I was persuaded to go down, winched 250 metres in a small tin tub on rails by a thin steel cable. My head went close to touching the rock roof on several occasions, triggering slight panic, and when I reached the bottom a few minutes later I was greeted by seven workers who couldn’t speak a word of English.
The gold miners earn 15 per cent from the amount of gold dug from the mines, which is equal to a very good wage in Cambodia, but the toll of working in a dark pit with poor air flow and toxic fumes is a big price to pay. Mercury poisoning from the separation process is also common among the villagers, especially the villages down stream that cop the wash off when the rainy season hits. I spent 20 minutes trying to communicate with the workers in the cramped 10 by three feet wide pit and then caught the next tub back to daylight, which made me feel very relieved and thankful for the rare experience.
Welcome To The Jungle We rode on that afternoon through more relentless dry, dusty, sandy trails well in to the dark passing through small villages with two or three huts, and not once did I notice a clear sign to give direction, which is why we’d always pull up and Ben or one of the Khmer riders would confirm we were heading the correct way. As we were leaving one of the villages a local, who was clearly drunk, followed us on his moped with no helmet, loose clothes and wearing only thongs for protection. It was incredible to see how fast he rode through these deep sandy trails that most of us were having trouble with. By the time we pulled up several hours later in the middle of nowhere at around nine, completely buggered from riding in the dark, he just kept on going to the next village, which was hours away.
We’d only covered 100 odd kilometres to the camp destination, which was deep into what Ben calls “jungle territory”. Compared to the previous days cruisy 385 kilometres it was tough going, and hard on the bikes, which we gladly lent against the closest tree. It was then all hands on deck collecting wood for a big enough fire to last the night as the temperature dropped right off in the early hours of the morning. Then after we ate what supplies we had and cleared a space on the sandy trail to sleep, the last thing we expected to see was a family with two Ox and Karts making their way through camp in pitch-black darkness. They were taking rice to another village and travelling by night was a much cooler option. Ben had a quick chat to the father and before too long had Philippe, our motorcycle doctor on tour, treating him with some pills for a nasty skin irritation caused by worms he’d been carrying for a long time. They left into the darkness very happy, and we slipped underneath our space blankets for our first night out under the stars.
Endurance
Rising from a restless and nervous sleep due to the fear of mozzie and little creature bites it was time to jump back on board my Honda Baja XR 250 for another 200 kilometres of dusty sandy trails north to a town called Ban Lung. All the riders were starting to be really tested by this stage, and it’s where the individual’s previous experience, patience, and state of mind played a big factor on how they handled the terrain.
Riding through sand is hard at the best of times, and then when you add on 10 to 15 kilos of extra gear it becomes even harder, especially for those like Hendi, a Real Estate owner from America who was hitting the off road seriously for the first time. He had plenty of dirt road riding experience before joining the tour but the sand was a whole new level to deal with. What Hendi did have on his side though was a very level head and strong will power, which saw him ride at a comfortable pace, mostly sitting down, but consistent the whole way without many crashes. This not only preserved his energy but kept him from holding up the flow of the tour. Jay on the other hand, an electrician from Sydney with also little experience, went about things a little too aggressively and at some stretches crashed up to four times in a kilometre, which really took a toll on his patience and body for that matter. At one point later in the tour he found himself flying off a 15-foot high embankment, where a dirt road was being cut through, from not concentrating far enough ahead. It also didn’t help that he was racing side by side with one of the local Khmer riders who knew the territory well, and his poor old Baja 250 was definitely hating life after only a quarter of the way through the tour.
I found that the more I let go of the bike while standing up through the sand the easier it got. It’s not like the old 250’s have a lot of power so I just had to keep the momentum going and not back off as soon as the bike wanted to veer off in another direction. It was also important to keep the fluid up as riding up to eight hours in the hot sun dehydrated the system very fast. An hour before we arrived in Ban Lung we all were rewarded with a rare dip in the water after crossing four at a time across a 100 metre wide river on two canoes with planks across the top. This was a little freaky at first but half way across you realise this is just the way it’s done in Cambodia, and the locals really do know what they’re doing.
A Turn For The Worse
My 200-kilometre ride from Ban Lung, west to Stung Treng, and then the seven-hour boat ride up the Mekong River towards the Laos border the following day was one of the hardest missions I’ve ever encountered. The reason being is I suffered a severe bout of food poisoning from eating something as simple as a Pizza in Ban Lung. The food in Cambodia is generally very tasty, but the hygiene from polluted water they wash and prepare food with is a bit of a worry, especially away from the bigger cities and into the smaller towns and road side food stalls. I could hardy throw my leg over the bike when I departed, and then laying on my back for the boat ride, which had diesel fumes wafting up my nose the whole journey, I thought my adventure was well and truly finished. I did actually have the option of missing the boat trip and catching up with the group once I felt better, but when you’re on a tour that only comes around maybe once in a lifetime something inside you pushes you on trusting things will soon improve.
And they eventually did after Philippe pumped me with several different coloured tablets to settle my stomach. Without Philippe, who is a mad trail-bike enthusiast and a French doctor working and living in Cambodia who joins most Extreme Rally Tours, some of us would not have made the journey. Philippe also treated many of the local kids along the way with worm tablets. Over 50 per cent of Cambodian kids have worms and most families can’t afford the tablets that only cost a couple of cents to buy to fix the problem. Many of them die from dehydration after a bout of direah they’ve had for only two to three days. It hits you hard when you see these living conditions first hand, but at the same time you get a feeling of admiration to see them all so happy leading the simple life they do. I reckon it would be cool to send many of the kids in the western world over for a week’s holiday to show them how lucky they have it. Definitely a big reality check for sure!
Landmines
“Now there’s landmine signs up ahead on the left so whatever you do don’t veer off the trail as the last thing I need is someone running over one of those buggers. And wait here for the next rider to come and tell him to pass the warning on to the next”, yelled Ben to me through his helmet before screaming off ahead into the darkness on his Honda CRM 250.
Still getting over my sickness I’d already had a prick of a day when my left peg hit a hidden tree stump at 80 kilometres an hour and sent me cart wheeling through the air to a thump and the bike landing on top of me. At the time all I could think about was my seven grand worth of camera gear being completely stuffed, but thankfully it was OK as it was tightly secure in a sturdy bag strapped to my waist and escaped the impact. My wrist didn’t though, and sprained as it was I rode several kilometres one handed until it loosened up enough to grip the bar. With this in mind and the fact that it was dark and one of the longest days of riding so far on tour, passing landmine filled areas with 70 per cent control had me a little concerned. Especially when I passed the first signs on the left and decided to keep to the right side to be safe and all of a sudden looking ahead a few metres to see more signs appear on the right. To top this off the 4WD type trails were filled with the deepest sand yet, which sent my concentration levels to new highs.
I was the one who put my hand up for the adventure though, and later talking to Ben about the landmines he informed me that the signs don’t necessarily mean there’s definitely landmines there. Its just land that hasn’t been checked as yet, but in saying this it’s still quite possible some could be in the area. He also said that more people die from trying to pull the landmines apart for the metal and explosives because there’s good money to be made, and that more people die from snake bites in the rainy season than the mines, which are designed to only injure and not kill.
Temples
One of the things I looked forward to most before embarking on this adventure was visiting the many ancient temples that Cambodia is famous for. And as the tour made its way to the fast evolving tourist destination of Siem Reap in the northwest, where Laura Croft strutted her stuff filming Tomb Raiders at the infamous Angkor Wat temple, we were lucky enough to visit and camp at the remote Preah Khan ruins 150 kilometres west of Siem Reap that are only accessible by motorcycle or 4WD.
For those of you who read chapter one you would have seen a rider entering through the gateway to the ancient ruins, which is where we camped in a timber shelter. Preah Khan means sacred sword, which usually refers to the sword of a king or god, and is a complex of ancient temples and structures of the supporting city that surrounded them. The first siting of these ruins and large temples leave you in total awe and amazement of how they were built so incredibly close to 1000 years ago. I felt blessed to be able to spend a few hours climbing through the ruins checking out the delicate carvings in stone that resembled Buddha and Hindu faces, and goddess-like forms. And even more so because there wasn’t a tourist in sight, un-like the thousands that swarmed through Angkor Wat and the surrounding temples when we visited them during our next stop.
Last Men Standing
We started the tour with a total of 21 riders. We lost one the end of the first day because he couldn’t keep the pace. A few left half way through and took the shorter route back to Siem Reap due to fatigue or they’d had enough. The doc also left us at this point to fulfil another mission. Another three riders had planned to finish up at Siem Reap before the tour started, which left us with 14 riders to tackle the final stage over the Cardamon Mountains through the south western region of Cambodia.
Ben was feeling a little uneasy that he still had so many riders left. He is very proud that on most Extreme Rally Tours the majority don’t make it past Siem Reap, which is by far the most comfortable stop of the tour. I had well and truly made it through my sickness and was feeling confident I’d be riding my Baja 250 all the way back the remaining 800 kilometres to the Flamingos Hotel in Phnom Penh where it all started. The long hard-packed dusty roads full of deep potholes that lead us to the gateway of the Cardamon Mountains tested our machines and us all the way, but the trusty Baja 250’s that had only received one or two oil changes and a clean filter along the way somehow just kept going. This was until Ed, one of the Aussie riders, who actually had a later model XR 250 broke down right before the mountains and had to be loaded up on a truck and transported back. This seemed to trigger others to take the easy route back for fear of braking down, which left us with only eight, and Ben feeling a little more confident that his reputation would remain.
But like all good stories should end something out of the ordinary happened to the bad guy once we’d made the spectacular journey over the mountains to Koh Kong, which was full of tricky hill climbs up deep rutted logging roads, flowing moist trails and scary bridge crossings that were slapped together with pieces of trees that had planks 200 millimetre wide on top for you to ride across (check TBAM #4 cover shot). The man who lead us all the way through jungle terrain, and to remote villages that hardly ever see a white man, to hidden temples, and across rivers in canoes, blew up his engine with only 200 kilometres to go. I couldn’t help but scream with laughter as he hid behind his helmet and climbed into the front of the Ute, and if I remember correctly that smile stayed with me all the way back along the hazy, smoggy main roads to the Flamingos Hotel in Phnom Penh with the four remaining riders who survived the 2005 Extreme Rally Tour. Thanks Ben! Goba.
