Rob (aka "beemer boy" on ADVRider), Joe and I rolled up to Hat Lek, the Thai side of the border with Cambodia in late January 2004. Typical of the winters in southeast Asia, the weather was hot and dry. The other guys were used to the 95-100 degree heat, but I had to constantly look for shade and sip water from my camelback. We had three big bikes to move across the border. Joe was on his Africa Twin, Rob had his â03 GS ADV and I rode Robâs âoldâ bike, an â01 GS. The Thai side of the process was uneventful. We got our passports stamped out and then rode across âno manâs landâ to the Cambodian border. On the other side, a self-satisfied official grinned and demanded 1100 baht (Thai currency) for a visa. The official cost of a visa should be $20 or about 800 baht. We asked for a receipt, which is the usual way of not lining a corrupt officialâs pocket, but he smiled and said, âNo receipt.â Rather than making a stink, we just paid his price and got our passports stamped. Just as we were getting on the bikes to leave another official from a different office came out and demanded paperwork for the bikes. We were sort of expecting something like this to happen because the bike that I was riding had no license plate. Thatâs not necessarily a big problem, but itâs an invitation for some border official to hassle us, which is just what they did. 45 minutes of Asian style negotiation ensuedâno raised voices, no anger, but rather a test of wills to see who would crack first. âWe would like to leave now, we have a long way to go tonight.â âSorry, there is a problem. Please wait here.â âWhat is the problem?â âWe must wait for the supervisor.â Rob, our official negotiator, went round and round with these guys for 45 minutes and then they let us go. We hopped on the bikes and got about ½ a mile down the road before we were flagged down at another customs office. They tried to shake us down again, saying that we should have had carnets even though Cambodia doesnât require a carnet to bring in a vehicle. Every 10 minutes or so a bigger boss would come down and get an explanation from the previous boss. Eventually, the biggest dude showed up, thanked us for being patient and sent us off. We didnât have to pay any bribes, but we lost two hours of daylight to wrangling with Cambodian customs. At Koh Kong we left the paved road and picked up the dirt superhighway which had been built by the Thai army the previous year. It was a good 60 feet wide and relatively smooth at the beginning. We would discover later on that last yearâs rainy season had made for some serious ruts and potholes. The ride got a little bumpy in places, but I was having fun and I blasted down the road in 4th gear with the other guys taking a more cautious pace. One of the fork seals on the âoldâ GS didnât like the workout and gave up the ghost. Large quantities of fork oil were ejaculated over my riding gear and one big splooge made it all the way back to the right-side system case. What a mess! Once I realized what happened, I slowed down and gingerly picked my way between the potholes. In the distance to our left were the âElephant Mountains,â supposedly one of the places that remnants of the Khmer Rouge still inhabit today. After a while, we came to our first water crossing of the day. As we waited for the ferry to make it to our side of the river, a swarm of entrepreneurs shoved platters full of chewing gum and snacks into our faces in the hope of making a sale. I remember one little girl who had particularly good English. She introduced herself and asked what my name was. I was tempted to buy something from her for the effort, but she didn't have anything I wanted. Later on, I bought a roll of soggy peppermints from one of the others. Man oh man, that first girl was pissed. The look she gave me still sends shivers down my spine. We used a ferry only on the first crossing. For the others, we had to ride the bikes onto small boats which would take us to the other side. Rob, the first of us to ride onto one of the boats discovered that that boat would tip under the weight of the bike. Oops! I was the last to make this particular crossing and by the time it was my turn, the planks across the two hulls were wet with river water. I hit the ramp with sufficient speed to avoid falling over and then applied the brakes when halfway across the raft. Unfortunately, there was almost no traction at this point on the wet planks and the ABS chattered away until my front wheel stopped about an inch from the edge. I wasnât worried though because Iâve studied Rickyâs videos of how to restart a water-locked engine. We made a few more crossings and at each one a little town had sprung up to sell drinks, snacks and other necessities to passers by. The last crossing was made at night due to the two hour delay at customs and we finally hit a paved road after riding several hours over bumpy dirt. Paved roads are fairly rare in Cambodia and the Khmer (Cambodia is the name of the country, but the people are called Khmer) tend to treat the pavement like their own personal living room at night. We passed groups of people playing games in the road, lying down, chatting with friends and even cooking dinner. Not to mention dogs, cattle and other livestock. The biggest hazard in riding at night in Cambodia is that youâll run over some unsuspecting Khmer. To be continued...
in spirit, man. It's officially 0.3F here in New Hampstah. Nice report, great pics, and keep em coming!
I wish to offer a modest defense of the ferry boat crash. Andy and Joe were both looking askance at the first double little boat ferry as shown in the picture, with Joe saying " Hey Rob you go first..." I had crossed on these boats before, so I thought no problem. However...... before the boats had been sitting partly on the riverbank offering rock solid stability when you rolled on. Now they had changed to a full floating position. So now when I rolled on at the CORRECT speed ( don't listen to Turkish ) the back half of the platform dipped down a couple of feet causing an instant crash. However now that Joe and Turkish saw the pitfalls they were able to board with no problems. Did not hear until later about my old bike almost going swimming
You guys rock. I have a friend that did a "round the world" trip last year and he said internet cafes were pretty common. Is that what you're finding? Are you getting decent bandwidth or is it dial up equivalent?
The town of Sihanoukville is lined with beaches on three sides. There are plenty of resorts, casinos and other tourist attractions, although it would probably seem run down by Disney standards. Some of the resorts are operating, like this one apparently built for Chinese gamblers. One of the main intersections in town is a traffic circle which has this interesting statue in the middle. Elsewhere there are large abandoned structures which were built and then abandoned as the country tore itself apart thirty years ago. Compared to the rural parts of Cambodia we rode through the day before, Sihanoukville was a metropolis, with convenience stores, restaurants, hotels not to mention rooftop bars owned by scruffy Australian ex-pats. The Khmer are a friendly people but seem to be more guarded than the Thai. As weâd ride by on big bikes in Cambodia, many people would stop and stare, probably never having seen anything like it before. The same thing would happen in Thailand too, except that people would smile and cheer, âHallo! Hallo!â These Khmer girls were particularly friendly and waved for me to come over and sit with them. Hereâs the little stand opposite the lion statues. You can buy a little bit of everything here from something to eat, a cold drink, or even some kinds of medicine. You donât want to drink from the soda bottles in the rack thoughâthatâs gasoline. Wandering around Sihanoukville, you never really know what youâll run into. Finding the tail of some sea serpent coming out of the beach was weird enough, but watching an entire family take a bath right next to it was even more unusual. Next to the beach was a group of houses that were more typical of the rural areas of the country. Unassuming shacks with dirt floors and lots of barefoot kids running around. The sunset over the Gulf of Thailand was very nice. Here a young boy goes fishing in the shallows. Heâs using a discarded plastic water bottle as his reel. Next stop, Phnom Phenâ¦
I'm getting great bandwith. But I'm sitting at home in Oakland, California with my cable modem. I got back from a month-long trip in southeast asia several days ago. But you're right, internet cafes are relatively common, even in places like Cambodia. Finding a net cafe with decent bandwidth is more of a challenge since most of them seem to share a single modem between many different machines.
Hey man, I thought your landing was just great. The little toe swirl with your left foot was very creative. I give you 9 out of 10.
Oh the memories - excellent report. I spent 13 months in Cambodia flying helicopters for the UN in 92-93. Would love to go back, 'specially on a bike. Bring it on guys.... Here's a pic I took in Phnom Penh on the first day of the rainy season in 93.
Outstanding pictures and report! Out of curiousity how much did the various ferries cost you? Was there much haggling and was there much competition for your business? Regards,
For a bike the ferry costs were $ .50 on the big ferry, and the price got popped up to $ 1 for the special tippy motorbike specific ferry. Only fair as he had to make a special trip for one bike, or you could put on two bikes if you were daring.......
Great trip - waiting for more - i spent a good bit of time in NorthEastern Thailand with UN programs - '80-82, great places and people - unfortunately never got to Cambodia, the Khmer Rouge were still hang'n around pretty heavy - ...
The road to Phnom Phen, the capital of the country, was pretty good. Most of it was paved although we did have occasional stretches of flat Cambodian dirt to contend with. Here's an example of one of the zillions of huts you see in the country. They all have blue signs that have the name of one of the political parties that are vying for power. The city of Phnom Phen is a crazy mixture of waterfront hotels and restaurants catering to westerners while only a block away, the city reverts to a rough looking third world grittiness. Here's where I stayed. Right around the corner (literally), the asphalt gives way to broken bricks, there are piles of refuse to step over, and locals hawk all kinds of wares spread out on plastic tables shaded by umbrellas. As always, the Khmer people are friendly and curious, especially when three westerners show up on big motorcycles and start to do mechanical repairs on the sidewalk. Beemer boy picked up a nail in his tire on the way in and was eager to use the fancy new plug kit he'd been bragging about. As he was fiddling with his tire, a crowd enveloped the bike to watch. There was a lot of whispering and pointing, but nobody got in the way. Unfortunately, beemer boy's fancy plug kit didn't work. After trying three times to repair the tire, he gave up on the new gizmo and dug out the old reliable BMW kit, which did the trick: The little rubber plugs that he was trying to drive into the puncture kept shearing off. Good thing his "old" bike, the one I was riding, still had the BMW kit. Early the next morning, I took a stroll along the banks of the Mekong river and was surprised by the amount of activity early in the morning. I watched a disco exercise class and had to hurry out of the way as an elephant came down the sidewalk with its trainers (no pictures of that, unfortunately). The remainder of the day I spent sightseeing, if you can call it that. Of the many things that one could visit in Phnom Phen, there were two that I wanted to see: the killing fields and the S-21 prison used by the Khmer Rouge. S-21 is a small complex of buildings in the middle of town that was originally built as a high school. In the mid-1970s, the Khmer Rouge took over Phnom Phen and converted the school to an interrogation center also known as "Toul Sleng" which roughly translates into "poison hill." While the Khmer Rouge was in power, some 12,000 people were eventually imprisoned at Toul Sleng. About half a dozen survived. The rest, including women and children, either died during interrogation or were taken six miles out of town to one of the killing fields. Every prisoner was photographed when they entered S-21. Many of the former interrogation rooms are now filled with bank after bank of portraits. This photograph of a mother and her child is an example. Neither one survived S-21 and the look in the mother's eyes suggests that she knew what would happen. There are thousands upon thousands of photos like this. In a way, the feeling I got walking through those rooms was similar to seeing the Vietnam memorial in Washington DC for the first time. The sheer number of names, or in this case photographs, tells the story as much as anything else. The methods of "interrogation" are well documented and don't need to be repeated here, but the depths of cruelty and brutality that occurred in S-21 are numbing and far beyond what I thought human beings were capable of. After S-21, I got on the bike and rode 10kms out of town to the "killing fields" of Choueng Ek. This was a quiet area much like a park. In the middle was a tall structure built as a memorial to those who were buried nearby. The building, at least three stories tall, was filled with human skulls sorted into categories like: "khmer female", "european", "infant" etc. The surrounding area contained many fenced pits where human remains had been excavated. Small wooden signs documented how many bodies were found in each hole. Approximately 9,000 people were buried at Choueng Ek, spread across the area of a soccer field. Each year the rains wash away another layer of soil and expose more of what lies below. As I walked on dirt paths between the mass graves, I could see half-buried fragments of clothing poking through the surface. Bits of gray trousers and blue shirt collars. Drab colors that you'd expect to find in a poor country where conformity was preferred to fashion. A group of children were playing together near the back of the "park." They had fashioned a ball out of bits of trash that they tied up in what looked to be a plastic grocery bag. I played catch with them for a while there among the remains of their aunts, uncles and grandparents. Those of you who have seen the movie, "The Killing Fields" and remember the blue plastic bags can appreciate the irony. Visiting S-21 and Choueng Ek was sobering to say the least. I didn't take any pictures at either site--at the time I thought it would be disrespectful and superfluous. Looking back on my visit to Phnom Phen, it's mind boggling to understand how the Khmer people have been able to deal with the legacy of Pol Pot. I can't claim to understand what they went through, but I do appreciate that their view of the world must be very, very different than mine, and that's reason eough to listen to their story. Next stop: Siem Reap and Angkor Wat.