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Published: October 25th 2008
After the whole rural village experience, Dave, Shannon, Chelsea, and I needed some urban recovery time and ended up wasting a couple of days in Phnom Pehn doing nothing but partying and lounging around Okay Guesthouse. A day later than we planned, the girls and I finally booked our bus tickets down to Sihanoukville. Dave stayed in Phnom Pehn and had decided to help a local village by building a water well, in which they desperately needed. I was really astonished at his tenacity, he had managed to get some small donations from friends back home, and $200 and a week later, had built a water well. Good work Dave, and his Canadian friends who made it possible. (He's currently trying to build more).
We arrived in Sihanoukville without any problems, however once we got off the bus, we were hit with a barrage of tuk tuk drivers trying to get us to go here or there depending on who was paying them commissions. Just as surprising, other westerners were also in the action, handing out flyers for guesthouses. I guess some people will do anything just to travel a bit longer, or tide off going home. We arrange to
stay at a place called Monkey Republic, mostly based on price, and the free beer you get upon checking in. We hire a couple of motto's to take us, and not surprisingly they first drive us straight to their "commissioned" guesthouse. No the sign doesn't say Monkey Republic, and NO I don't want to look anyhow. After seeing that we weren't easily fooled into a higher priced accommodation we are driven over to the Guesthouse we originally asked for. The girls and I talk of how nice it was to have Martin our tuk tuk driving friend around in Phnom Pehn, and how we had already forgotten the hassles of motto drivers, it’s hard to find the good ones, but they are out there, and probably busy with loyal customers.
We spent the rest of the afternoon at the guesthouse; they have free pool, some movie rooms, good music, and most importantly cheap beer. During dinner we meet Scott, from Washington, and end up heading down to the beach for the evening. We find even cheaper beer, and watch some local guys spin poi (fire on a rope). Chelsea also practices poi, and I snook off and paid one
of the guys a small amount to come and invite her to play on the beach. Chelsea said she hadn't done it with the fire burning in quite some time, and was a little nervous, but once she had the ropes in hand and on fire, her confidence was back, and she gave us (and other tourist) a good show.
The following day our new found friend Scott, the girls and I rent two motto's to see some of the surrounding beaches. The roads all but disappear on the way south east out of town, and we end up riding on sand and dirt trails. Scott had only driven a motto a few times, but did well with Chelsea on the back. About 20 minutes, and a few close calls we arrive at a deserted beach a few kilo meters long. The water was crystal clear, the bottom completely sand, and you could walk a hundred feet out before the water was over your head. We spent an hour or so lounging in the sun and swimming. We head back towards town and stop at a restaurant (probably gets more business in high season) and enjoy a cold drink.
On the way out I explain that it’s the girls turn to drive us around. Eager to learn both accept the challenge, and we slowly made our way back into the country side looking for another beach. Neither girl had driven a motto before, but both had been on the last adventure to Martins village, and were keen riders. Personally hats off to them, both mottos had gears, and they had to negotiate sandy patches, potholes, and a few cattle during their first try. I felt completely safe most of the time, and Shannon tolerated my back seat driving. At one point she was faced with this steep ass hill, with huge crevices from the rain, loose rocks, and boulders. She hesitated for a second and asked if I wanted to drive up the hill, absolutely not. She gave it some gas; we recklessly swayed from one side to the other, and ran out of juice half way up. As we started to roll backwards, she locked the front brake, but it’s so steep that were still moving slowly backwards. I ask her to put it down a gear and give it a bunch of gas... she does and
we make it up the rest of the way. After learning out in those conditions we head back to town, the confidence of pavement underneath the wheels, she grabs gear after gear and we fly down the road, anyone watching would have thought she was born on a motto.
The next day we head off a different direction out of town and tried to see a national park which was close by, however the guy running the boat tours was charging what we considered too much so we decided to head off to a waterfall instead. Just off the main road, the heavens open up on us, and we decided that going 15 kilo meters down a slipper red clay road was probably not worth the hassle, and headed back to town. Scott and Chelsea received a flat tire, and we were pretty wet upon arriving back in town. I spent the rest of the day lounging around, and we arranged a private taxi to Kampot for $5 each, where as the bus was $7? No one had any problems with riding in an air con private luxury car over the bus for less money.
I must say
that the only reason I headed to Kampot was because Chelsea had received a recommendation from a friend who claimed a place called Bodhi Villa was one of the best guesthouses in Cambodia. Also as it was East, we decided to try out the Ha Tien border crossing into Vietnam against the advice of our guide books, this meant we didn't have to head back to Phnom Penh for a third or fourth time, and that we could check out Phu Quoc Island in the south of Vietnam with little back tracking. It turns out that Bodhi Villa was as good as it was talked up to be, and I nicknamed it “Hotel California”. It’s located in Kampot along the Teuk Chhou River and Huge the guy who runs the place ensures everyone is having a great time. You can rent floating huts right on the river, dorm rooms, or garden huts. I ended up in the main building as they were quite full. Huge has a proper ski boat, but it was not running due to the lack of marine mechanics in Cambodia. We did take advantage of the river and made frequent dips into the cool water throughout
the days, and at night.
The first day we rented some motto's (This is becoming a standard for me) and headed off in search of some caves in the area. My motto received a flat tire on the way, and we had to wake a roadside motto mechanic to get it fixed. These guys really know their stuff, within 10 minutes they have the rear tire fixed, without even turning a bolt. It costed me the equivalent of $2. If it were back home, I would probably need to leave my motto overnight, and take out a loan to pay for it. So back on the road we head off to the caves, at the entrance is a pack of local kids who will follow you in and point out the way. There are two thoughts on this; one is that you can do it alone and save money; however I don't mind paying what amounts to small change if the kid is willing to work for it. It turns out in this case I was glad we did, the kids provided flashlights to those that didn't have them, and also showed us the correct way throughout the tunnels,
so this meant less backtracking, and probably better footing. When we left the cave, the kids of course tried to get a couple of dollars each, but settled for two between four of them.
As we are heading back to the guesthouse, I receive yet another flat tire, and we are soon met by the kids who point us to another repair shop. This time no hole, we think that either one of the kids friends, or someone else must have let the air out while we were in the caves. Didn’t really matter, all we lost was 10 minutes, a confused tire repair guy, and $1 for his hassles. We head back through town and arrive back at Bodhi no problems.
That night the four of us, and a bunch of others at the guest house watch the sunset from a viewing platform on the roof of the main building, Huge the owner asks if any of us are interested on seeing this remote waterfall one of his local friends was taking him to for his first time. That sounded really cool, Huge has been in Kampot for around 5 years, and here he is going to
some waterfall he hasn’t even been too, let alone other tourists. Absolutely we all agree. He explains that we will motto as far as we can, park the bikes, and that it will be an hour hike through some harsh jungle, and that he’s bringing a machete. I love doing this Indiana Jones stuff. The majority of us party a bit, and get to know each other better that night, go for a few swims in the river and go to bed at a respectable time.
In the morning more mottos are rented and we figure out who’s going on whose bikes. We head out to what is going to be an amazing journey. I used to think the roads were insane on the way to Martins village up until I saw and drove, these back roads towards the waterfalls. They consisted of muddy narrow windy roads, with massive potholes. There is 6 bikes all winding back and forth and around each other all trying to pick the best way through. Then it happens, the road turns to complete sand, and I’m not talking about the nicely pack variety. You basically put both feet on the ground, keep the
motto in 2nd gear and ski whilst you drive. Every once and a while the front tire would dig in a little too deep, the handle bars would twist, the bike would rocket to one side, and then while correcting it, the weight of the person on the back would cause an over correction and you would be wobbling back and forth a few times till the bike slowed enough to regain control. Then feet back on the ground feeling more secure you would regain speed again. At parts there were cattle trails through the field and we would weave in and out of trees, and small brush to escape the pure sand road. This was also hazardous as there would be stumps, rocks, and narrow pass ways though the bush. At one point we head off the road onto a little trial, it continues to get narrower and narrower, until there is a ledge on one side with a 5 foot drop back to the road, and on the other side barley missing my handlebars, a barbed wire fence, (WHAT AM I DOING). Pick your poison, both options sucked, and ensured a rapid heartbeat.
At one point the
local friend of Huge’s, stopped and got all the girls (so happened to be the passengers) to hop off the bikes. “It gets a little tough going from here on” he explains. (WHAAAAT!!). So we head off through this field, mud is everywhere, and there is no trail, I’m beating my motto up so bad, I actually laugh a little, so glad this isn’t mine. Driving it like I stole it we head to a narrow rocky trail, that unless there was already a few mottos in front of me going up it, I would not have thought it possible. I watch Andrew slam off a rock and fall into a deep crevice his motto on top of him. He recovers and pushes while giving it gas past the hazards; I stand up give it a little gas, and weave my way over the highest parts of the trail. This isn’t an easy task as the trail is only three feet wide at best, and choosing your path usually consists of putting one side of your body through parts of the jungle. After 15 minutes of intense motto driving, something that really should have filmed and put on You-tube, we
arrive at a little shack in the middle of the jungle. The owner allows us to leave our mottos under his care.
The girls, who had to hike, arrive only 15 minutes later, this goes to show how slowly we had been cruising along this nightmare trail. We have a five minute break and start to hike up to the waterfalls. The trail starts out half decent and then crosses the river, we walk along the banks, and people are slipping on rocks, ten of us bumbling around trying to make our way up this river. We have to climb over big boulders, hoist each other up small cliffs, and over small waterfalls. I actually manage to keep my hiking boots relatively dry with some acrobatic moves, some vines, and the help of others. We arrive at the first set of falls after about 45 minutes and take a break. Another 15 minutes later we arrive at the main attraction. The waterfall is 70 feet high plunging over a cliff and into a huge pool of water. The trees roots go all the way to the top of the cliff, and produce tree’s another 70 feet taller. The whole
place is green and entangled in vines, tree roots, and massive boulders. In the middle of the cavern sits as 20 foot cube, entangled in tree root and vines. At first it is amazing with how perfectly square it is, and then on closer inspection you notice that it is human made, with rocks and a sort of cement. Its anyone’s best guess as to when it was made and why? All that I know is that it has been there for well over a hundred years.
We all spend a couple of hours swimming and basking around the falls, the girls (smart move) brought fruits, breads, and snacks for everyone. Andrew managed to climb half way up the cliff and jumped into the main pool. Huge feeling partly responsible for everyone asked that no one else try, as he is all too familiar with Cambodia’s medical facilities, and emergency response. (There is none). After everyone was done swimming and taking photo’s we all head back down the river. It pretty much the same story as the way up, however there was a bit more falling, and a bit more cursing. Shannon kept reminding me, you have to drive
back out, she’d say grinning. As if that’s what I want to be thinking about. The drive out was just as insane, however the practice from the way up, and the confidence that it will only get easier the closer we get to home, I manage to keep the two of us on the road/paths, and home safely.
That night we celebrate with a big party, Igor and a few others we met decided that we should have a BBQ and have a big group feast. An excellent idea, Shannon, Igor and Scott head into the market, buy a bunch of beer, and all the food to feed 12 people. Anyone who knows me understands that I didn’t have much to do with the cooking or the organisation of the food. But I was good at eating it, and ensuring the beers were well tended to. (Thanks to those that cooked and organised) We all shared stories about the day, and went for a few more dips in the river. It ended up being a long night, I was constantly pushing others into the river (Hilarious) and then I got mine. Chelsea, who is usually very laid back, decides
that it’s my turn; she catches me off guard, and knocks me in. I fall onto a guy wire holding the dock in place from the current, and end up with a big gash across my right leg. It’s still not healed 25 days later, but it wasn’t her fault, no-one would have known the wire was there during the night, and if I hadn’t knocked her in a few times, she would have left me alone. I should mention, no lesson learnt.
The following day Chelsea, Shannon and I were going to try the south border crossing into Vietnam. We were joined by Igor (Latvia), Anton (Russia), his wife Azahara (Spanish), and Tegan (Australian). The seven of us all hired two tuk tuks from Kampot to take us to the border. After a few good buys and a little doodling around we manage to leave Bodhi Villa around noon. The tuk tuk ride towards the border was about an hour down a pretty crap road, and it was hard to imagine that we were actually going to an actual border. We passed through some small villages and civilization seemed to be diminishing rather than increasing. The road narrows
to one lane in places, and hasn’t been maintained in years. The tuk tuk drivers who are suppose to take us to the border stop at a corner, where conveniently there are 7 motto drivers waiting to take us the rest of the way, well this means more money. Options scarce, and a midday sun beating down on us with all of our bags, we pay and are told that they will take us across the border, and to the bus station in the first town in Vietnam called Ha Tien not far from the border at all. We get to the border and it looks pretty run down, it wasn’t even open to tourist until fairly recently. The Cambodian exit stamps where relatively painless, but getting into Vietnam was a bit of a hassle.
At the first check point a border official checks all our passports for Cambodian exit and Vietnam visa’s, we all have everything in order, however he keeps Chelsea, Igor and my passport while giving everyone else’s back. We ask what the problem is and he says, “Your countries currency”. Well I don’t have Canadian dollars on me, and Igor didn’t have Latvia currency on
him. We fumble around a bit, and I try and give him some Cambodian riel, and he’s not interested. He wants money that is either worth more, or he’s looking for souvenirs I don’t know. Eventually Tegan hands him a $5 Australian note, and he hands over our passports. The rest of the process is painfully slow with counter after counter of officials looking at your passport, flipping through every page, looking up at you, repeating the above, then sighing then finally stamping it and letting you proceed.
I must say my first 25 minutes in Vietnam were less than welcoming or pleasant.
Adventures to be continued in another blog
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