One Year Away

Joseph

Driver: “You want to go there from here?”
Me: “Yes, is it possible?”
Driver: “No, road is very bad.  You should go to the town, from there catch the bus.”
Me: “If I wanted to go directly how could I do it?”
Driver: “Road is very very bad.”
Me: “Ok, but there is a road?”
Driver:  Shaking head vigorously. “I think it’s too difficult.”
Me:  “But it’s possible then…?”
Driver:  Shakes head again. “Very far.  I think it is too expensive.”
Me:  “But it is possible?”
Driver:  Looks me in the eye. “Maybe…”

I had several conversations like this during our attempt to cross northern Cambodia.  We wanted to go  from the temples of Angkor in the West to the natural beauty of Ratanakiri in the East.  If you don’t happen to have a map of Cambodia in front of you, the temples of Angkor are at the top left, the capital Phnom Penh is at the bottom in the center and Ratanakiri is at the top right of the country.  Visiting these destinations is a common enough thing to do for tourists on the overland trail through Cambodia. The sensible way to go is from the temples back to Phnom Penh and then up to Ratanakiri, making a  V-shape.  This route would take 2 days and would be done mainly in air conditioned buses on paved highways or fast boats.

However, not wanting to backtrack to Phnom Penh, (and not feeling especially sensible),  I started to ask about going directly across from West to East.  The responses, while not encouraging did not seem to completely rule out the possibility of making the trip. 

So we asked about how much it would cost to get us to the remote town of Tbeng Meanchey in the north of the country, about
half way to Ratanakiri.  Our hotel and a travel agency both said that there was no public transport to it but that they could arrange for a private taxi to take us there.  The price they quoted would be a small fortune in Cambodia.  Determined to find a lower price we contacted Kimsan our tuk tuk driver and together we went on a mission to find someone with a car who would take us for less money.   We spent the next hour or so speaking to people he knew who owned cars until we hit on someone who agreed to drive us for a lower price.  We were told the driver had a good car and was an excellent driver. 

The next morning at 6 am we were met by the driver and Kimsan, who had agreed to come along for the ride.  I was dismayed when I saw the car, a tiny Nissan with tire clearance of about 6 inches.  Not exactly the kind of car I imagined taking on a rough road across a remote part of Cambodia.

The bumpy ride began almost immediately on leaving the town of Siem Reap.  Soon we were driving on a dirt track that was rutted and potholed so badly that our little car had to gingerly pick its way around them or risk getting swallowed whole.   

On the bright side though, the journey took us by some remote temples that see few tourists because the road to get to them is in terrible shape. We stopped at Koh Ker, a large temple complex from the Angkor era, and had lunch from a vendor who had setup shop just outside. 

After over 7 hours of nightmarish roads we reached our destination, Tbeng Meanchey.  A dusty town of 20,000 people with two restaurants.  Later, our kind guide Kimsan went to our hotel room and told us that the underside of the little Nissan had been damaged and needed repairs before making the journey home.  He gave us a hug and went off to join his friend to get the repairs made.

The next day we were planning on going to visit Prasat Prea Vihear, a large temple a couple of hours north of the city.  However, Penny wasn’t feeling well and we had seen plenty of temples already so instead I spent the day trying to find someone to take us the rest of the way to Stung Treng. 

Soon, the entire town must have known that two tourists wanted to get to Stung Treng.  We went
out for dinner and on the walk got stopped by a couple of motorcycle drivers.  One of them spoke English and I was able to negotiate a fair price with him.  They seemed a bit young but claimed to know the way and that their motorbikes were in good condition. 

The next morning at 6 am we set off.  The drivers put our large packs between their legs and we sat behind with our small packs on our back.  The “road” is actually a trail through the jungle.  At times when the main trail was blocked with a fallen tree or other obstruction the path around narrowed to be only a foot or two wide.

We soon reached our first stream.  There being no bridge, the motorbikes just drove across.  It dawned on me that wearing my hiking boots had been a bad idea when the motorbike I was on stalled halfway through the shallow stream and I had to walk across. 

We waited for a long time until the two drivers were able to get the stalled bike restarted.  It was
now about 7 am and we still had at least 5 more  hours of travel to reach Stung Treng.  I started to think that the whole adventure may have been a very bad idea.

However, after a few more stalls we finally reached the isolated village of Chaeb, which is at about the halfway point.  There our drivers decided that they would rather return home than continue the trip to Stung Treng.  They showed us to two other people who were going to Stung Treng and said that we would ride with them the rest of the way.  Seeing they had newer motorbikes helped me to agree to the unexpected change.

While we waited for our new drivers to eat lunch I made some balloon animals for a group of village kids that seemed to gather from nowhere.  My balloons ran out and it was time to leave again.  This time the motorbikes ran well and the trail improved a bit, things seemed to be going well.

Unfortunately, within 20 minutes of leaving the village we were on the side of the path with a flat tire.  Our new drivers didn’t have a pump with them so we sat down and waited. Luckily, a few minutes later three army guys on motorbikes came from the opposite direction and we borrowed their pump.  With the tire re-inflated we made only another 10 minutes before the tire was flat again.  This time the good motorbike made the trip back to Chaeb to buy a patch and glue to repair the tire.  We sat by the side of the trail and waited again.  Over an hour later the tire was repaired and we were on our way again.

After another 4 or 5 hours of the bumpiest and dustiest travel imaginable, and with a very sore backsides, we reached the Mekong River.  A short ferry ride across and we were in Stung Treng.

When we finally checked into the hotel at 6 pm the clerk looked at Penny and I, literally covered  from head to foot in red dust, and asked where we had come from.  “Tbeng Meanchey”, we told her.  Her face looked surprised, “How did you get here from there?”