Cambodia: Bridges To Battembang Part II

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The morning after the storm was cool with mist rising from the warming moist earth and at 7 O'clock the river water level was low enough for us to pick our way across. Sophat instinctively seemed to know where the trail was and strode ahead, carrying our belongings while I was only to carry the river filled bottles of water in my small pack. Based on the information from the hunters we were prepared for an 8 hour hike estimating a ridiculously optimistic pace of 5km/hr, with me wearing clogs!

My focus was on not twisting an ankle and sparing my knees from further pain by attempting to limit flexing them, a rather impossible feat given the terrain. With eyes cast down most of the time, I decided to wear the helmet for protection and concentrated on taking one careful step at a time. When the pain became severe I would pretend that I was fleeing from the Khmer Rouge and trying to make it to the Thai border through conditions much worse than this. To make it to the Thai border to escape the Pol Pot regime was to risk death from many types of mines and sharpened bamboos stakes sticking up from the forest floor. We had it easy so long as we didn't stray from the path!

Hoping to cover as much distance as possible before the sun appeared above us, Sophat was off and I was left to my thoughts. The call of the male gibbon accompanied me and was later joined by the rhythmic bark of a munchuck deer. A civet cat as big as a medium sized dog crossed our path and the snappiing of bamboo alerted Sophat to a small herd of wild pigs snorting and scuffling deeper into the nearby foliage. Sophat startled a snake from the path and pointed out the fresh paw prints in the mud of a large cat chasing a deer. Bird calls were everywhere, in fact the forest had become a bloody noisy place!

I watched as Sophat drank water from the leaves and unopened buds of various plants, and I did likewise although I was sure that puddles and streams would be abundant in this region after a massive storm. It was interesting to try it anyway. When he came across berries he would pick bunches of them, bite into one which he would then eat if not horribly bitter. After eating a couple of them he would wait an hour concluding them fit for food if no ill effect was experienced during that time. So we ate green berries and drank from every available water source. I took comfort in the belief that medicine was probably available to me back home to rid me of any parasitic organisms taking up temporary residence within. Sophat on the other hand could do with a few more varieties to help him lose weight!

We came to dread the inevitable up hill treks and then to dread the slippery downhill sections and finally to dread the entire experience. Slipping into a state of trance I was only brought back to reality by the sting of the salt seeking wasps, the sudden twist of my ankle, a need to duck low under the overgrown trail or the bite of a leech latching onto my leg, although most attach undetected only to drop off when full, leaving a bleeding site difficult to staunch, laced as it is with an anti-coagulant.

Rest breaks were few because of the stiffening experienced by my body if movement ceased for long. Sophat asked me if the locating yells to each other were acceptable. Yes they were fine but I told him that I was waiting for the excited yell oF "Ju! Poum (village)"! A short tome later I heard that very cry, immediately dismissing it as mere teasing. Sophat came into view as I emerged from the undergrowth and sure enough there was a wooden house ahead of us. The relief was almost palpable and didn't abate when we learned that we had only reached an isolated farm building. These were real people and moreover, they just happened to have a motorbike..that worked and, for the price of a litre of petrol a boy of about 10 took each of us in turn to the main farm house, where two other boys delivered us to O'Soum village some distance away for 5$ apiece, but not until we had gulped down a bowlful of noodles each.

O'Soum village is small but the people responded well to my clowning around as relieved as I was to be back among people. Sophat and I teased each other about our ordeal and they happily joined in, delighted that I could speak their language albeit at a rudimentary level. When asked about our situation, I expressed my sadness at having to part with the bike which is when they asked exactly where we had left it. It's difficult to be accurate about the particular rock formation or tree grouping that may identify the site of an abandoned vehicle, but we did recall the absence of terrible bridges as we set out on the hiking part of the trip. We were then informed that they could possibly retrieve it for us and asked a mere $200 for their pains. A fortune for them but not for me! Wondering why they wouldn't just find it and fix it for their own use, or sell it for what it is worth, I didn't get my hopes up but agreed without further ado to pay them if they were sucessfull. It was then up to me to find the bike key in our bags, hand it over and thank them for their offer of help. They were to phone sophat if they were able to get the bike to the nearby town of Braumowey (or similar) and Sophat would come back this way to pay them, possibly get an on-site fix performed and buy petrol if the bike was ridable. If not he was to arrange a pick up truck to bring mimself and the bike back to Phnom Penh. With these details settled we now had to pay two more drivers to take us to 'Braumowey' so we could find a taxi to Pursat, from where we could catch the public bus back to the capital city.

The two and a half hours by small bike was another moto cross experience and removed any remaining skin from my tailbone. I still can't sit down comfortably. The bike I was on slid out many times from under us after the typical afternoon rainstorm began and I insisted on walking across a couple of the so called bridges, which took some concentration to keep my own balance. There people amaze me with their balance and coordination when on the bike over such unpredictable terrain. If the sport of moto cross was available to them, they would excel.

We arrived at our interim destination and I presented each of the drivers with the $15 they requested and our helmets that I was tired of carrying. They definitely had great need for the protection they would offer and they were delighted with the gift. This hopefully meant that future crazy foreigners meeting disaster would be cheerfully helped. in a manner of friendship and for the profit both. Photographs were taken and they set off for the long return trip while we haggled for the price of a taxi to Pursat. Once an agreement of $35 for the three and a half hour trip had been reached, I ate two helpings of sticky rice with sweet coconut milk before lying down on the back seat of the taxi to sleep...or so I thought. Dirt roads and perhaps the heaviest rain I've yet experienced put the finishing touches to my battered body, but I was still high on the fact that it was all over now. It was figuratively downhill from here on out.

Pursat is a dingy place and the guesthouse next to the bus station was worse still. The next bus to PP would leave at eight in the morning, cost $4 each and take around four hours. Not much sleep was to had on the top floor with a corrugated tin roof between us and the thunderstorm above. The electricity generator was next to our rooftop room, a steady drip of water from a leak above me soaked a portion of my bed and the entire room smelled of excreta. Heck, after a night in the wilds, I wasn't about to complain ....too much.

As usual each bus seat had been sold at least three times making conditions cramped, but being the only foreigner I earned a seat to myself while everyone else had half a seat or a stool in the gangway, oh except for Sophat who actually spreads over a seat and a half which incidently left me on half a seat after all!

Our story provided entertainment for our fellow passengers, who were delighted to be traveling in the company of a talkative 'Barang'. I was back to being famous again and the feeling stayed with me as we reached the city, hopped of the bus early before it reached the station and walked to my PP city home from home, Dara Reangsey Hotel. Time for much need rest and food before preparing for Operation Bike Rescue and the inevitable repairs that would have to be made, but all that could wait for a few more hours at least .......or could it? That evening the call came that the bike had been found. Four young men from the village had taken until midnight after we had left and managed to haul it to O'soum village. It would be at the nearby town in the morning!

Goodbye Sophat. He was on the same day bus back to Pursat with money in hand, while I turned on the telly in my room, turned up the aircon and crashed!

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