Igor The Troll

Off Road Motorbking

I like going to Cambodia because it is very rustic and the people are very friendly. The most interesting time I had there was when I rented an off road motorbike and drove through the back roads of Cambodia.

I rented the motorbike in Phnom Penh and planned to ride to Sihanoukville via Kampong Speu province back roads. Buying a local map at the market I set out to challenge the dirt roads of Cambodia. I laid out my trajectory, filled the motorbike with gas, picked up some bottled water, and set out for an adventure.

At first the roads where not too bad it was gravel and dry dirt, which I navigated with no problems. But the dirt was blowing in my face, so I picked up some Terminator sunglasses at a local store. The reason I refer to them as Terminator sunglasses because they were huge, sort of like the ones Arnold Schwarzenegger wore in the movie Terminator. They prevented the dirt from coming into my eyes, but at the same time made the desolated dirt roads look surreal, because of lack of light.

I tried to keep my speed around 60 kilometers at times going 80, when the surface was smooth. There were a few isolated houses between one small village and another. I kept the momentum going because I did not know how long it will take me to get to a major town, and did not want to get stuck in some isolated village. A village may not have a hotel. So, where would I sleep? At some points I had to cross small rives and streams. The best way to do it was to pick up speed so you do not get caught in the muddy bottom and slip.

After 5 or 6 hours on the back roads I came to a small village where I tried to ask directions. My reason for asking directions was that the road seemed to end all of a sudden. It became like a small walking path. I stopped by one house and asked a local man if I can go forward. I pointed to the direction that I wanted to go. He waved his hands signifying I cannot ride that way. He pointed in the direction that I just came from and in his limited English advised me to turn back. I was very tired, and it was turning late. I asked him if I could sleep at his wooden shack house. He vehemently objected. I was too exhausted and just plummeted to the ground next to my motorbike. I put my head on the grass and laid down quietly

After a few minutes on the ground a bunch of kids gathered around me. They were saying hello to me, trying to practice their English. I was a bit tired to talk but squeezed out a few friendly words. The kids were wearing school uniforms and looked really cute. In no time, the lady of the house came out of the wooden structure and started waving me to go away. I really did not have power to drive and took out a few dollars from my wallet showing that I am willing to pay for a bed. After a bit of comprehension and discussion with her husband, she invited me into her wooden shack. I was relived.

I moved my motorbike onto the property and walked into the wooden structure. I was surprised that there was no furniture and only a couple of hammocks. I set down on the floor and begin to communicate with my new friends. I learned that they are Khmer Rouge people. You know the ones that caused a revolution in Cambodia with Pol Pot. They did not speak any English and we were talking with our hands. I made a sign to my mouth and then to my stomach saying food. They brought out some dry fish and beef jerky. It was very little but I was grateful to get something to eat. There was one guy there with half a leg blown off by a land mind. He brought some rice wine. I drank some and felt like I was drinking diesel fuel. The stuff was crazy strong.

After my one legged friend had a few drinks of the homemade whisky, he started pointing to my bike and to the directions I wanted to go. He signified that there is a huge hill there with no road and all grass slope, but he can ride it. I knew it was the whiskey talking not the man, even though he did know a few English words. After talking for a few hours the family turned off the lights to get ready for sleep. They gave me a bamboo met to lie on.

In the morning I got up and decided to challenge the big hill. I gave a few dollars to my hosts, got my motorbike back onto the small path, and I was gone. The road was really a walking path, so I had to weave and zigzag in and out from one side to another trying to avoid rain puddles. Bang, the bike hit a puddle and I started sinking in the mud. I tried to maneuver it out. I tried to press the accelerator, but I felt the bike was stalling. I tried switching gears from second to first, but it was too late. The bike stalled. I came plummeting into the mud on my side.

I worked hard to pick up the bike, because the engine and the manifold were kind of hot and the bike was heavy. After managing it to upright position I restarted the beast. I got on top of it, gave it gas, but the wheels just kept spinning. I put some leaves and wood sticks under the back tire; but when I tried to go forward the debris was just kicked out and I was back sinking in the mud. After a few attempts I was loosing strength. The bike fell back on its side. I tried to pick it up and start it again. The starter made some clicking noise, but the engine would not start. I tried pushing the bike, but it was too heavy and had no traction. The bike slipped and fell into the mud again. I knew the battery was dead, frustrated I gave up.

I decided it would be best to walk back to the tiny village and get help. I left the bike behind and ventured back on foot to the village. After a few kilometers, I found an Ox carriage carrying timber to give me a ride back to the village. In the village, I found a guy with a motorbike. He spoke some English. I bagged him to come with me to my motorbike and help me start it up. After a bit of imploring I convinced him to help me. He borrowed a car battery that they used for electricity for lamps, and he and his friend took me on their motorbikes back to my bike. I set with one of them, while the other carried the big battery.

When we arrived at my bike, it was still there. I picked up the bike and pressed the start button. It worked, and the engine started. Apparently the starter contacts where wet, and after drying up for a few hours, the starter worked with no problems. I tried to move the bike out of the mud but failed again. That is when one of the local guys got on my bike. The other guy and me pushed the bike from behind, while he maneuvered the bike out of the mud. I was very grateful for their help. They asked me for a few dollars for gas, which I gladly gave them. I thanked them. I decided not to attempt crossing the big hill through mud and grass and turned back to where I came from.

I rode my motorbike back to a big village, got some gasoline, and had lunch there. I did not want to go back all the way to the highway, so still looked for a way to head south on the dirt roads. I asked the local people at the restaurant if I could go straight down from where I was to Kampong Speu city. They said yes. I got back on my bike and drove to something that looked like a bridge. The bridge was bombed out and only had the beginning parts protruding into the river. I saw some locals on the other side. I screamed out to them if I can cross through the river. They motioned to go ahead. I rode down from the levy to the river beach and accelerated into the water.

The surface was sand, so I head traction. But I knew if I would slow down I would be swept by the current and would fall. As I was crossing the river, the water got really deep. At one point the water got up to my chest, but I kept going. The locals on the other side were standing there looking at me with amazement. I think they knew that it is very deep and did not think I would attempt to cross. For them it was more of a challenge to the dumb tourist. With a little luck I passed the deep section of the river and started coming closer to shore. All the locals started to applaud me as if I was some sort of a hero. I made it to dry land!

I drove all the way through the night. It was a bit scary with only headlamps gleaming the dirt road. Had a few raccoons cross my path at times. In the morning I came onto a paved road, had breakfast, and headed toward Sihanoukville. On the highway I realized my gas tank was leaking. It had a small crack and gas was sipping out at the rim, where the cap is. Worried about having a spark ignite the fuel, I applied a temporary solution. I bought some adhesive glue and patched it up. It did not last too long. Every 20 or so kilometers I had to redo the treatment.

In Sihanoukville, I took a bit of a break. I got my gas tank welded and replaced the back breaks. I ate good food and took a walk on the beach. I only stayed there one night and headed out to Kampot. I was told there is an abandoned casino at Bokor Hill Station, on the way to Kampot. I decided to visit it. It was located in the national park. I had to pay 30 usd entrance fee, but I was too cheap. As I was driving to the entrance gate, I picked up speed and winged it. No problem, the gatekeeper did not bother going after me.

I drove up the 3,000 meters mountain to the top. At first the road was asphalt, but it quickly turned it to gravel and small boulders with mud. Towards the end it started to rain. The raindrops were a bit painful beating my skin. I arrived at the top of the mountain. The place was desolate and engulfed in fog. There was a few abandoned buildings:. An old radio station still had its antenna protruding into the air, looking ominous. There was an empty skeleton building that used to be a casino. I walked into it to dry myself a bit. Inside I found a guard who advised me that there is a guest house where I could sleep. It was getting late, and I could not see myself riding back down the mountain today.

It felt creepy! The rain kept falling, at times very hard at times light. The wind would raise its ugly head making it almost intolerable. I do not know, I was just going in circles or something. I had to drive for about a half an hour or so until I came onto the guest house. Once inside the guest house, I got out of my wet clothes and put on some damp clothes that I had in my backpack. I set down by a stove and wormed myself up. The place had very little food. The people who stayed there brought their own or reserved food to be prepared. Being that I did not have a reservation, but showed up all of a sudden, I can only buy some instant noodle soup. It was better than nothing; I also scavenged some chicken from the other guests. I was dead, and I went to sleep.

The next day, after getting up I headed off the mountain. There was no food to eat at the guesthouse, but it was a great sunny day. I was energized. I slowly weaved down the path trying to avoid jagged rocks. I was on the asphalt road. I picked up speed. I figured being that I got in without paying, I might as well go fast through the exit. I did not want trouble. I was going very fast, I pressed the front break to slowdown. I hit the ground. Ouch, it hurt badly. The front wheel got locked, because I applied the front brake when I was going down hill. I only tapped it a bit, but because I was using it a lot on the way down, it overheated and locked.

My shoulder was dislocated and the bike was damaged. The front fender was crooked and the mirror was broken. Persevered I got up. I was full of resilience. A park ranger saw me fall and came to check if I was alright. I told him, I am fine as, I got on the bike and slowly limped away from the accident scene. My shoulder was in excruciating pain, but I knew I had to keep going. I rode the motorbike past the park’s gate. I was free.

In pain, I slowly drove to the nearest town. I checked into a small hotel. It felt a bit better. I took the bike to the repair shop and for about 20 usd got it fixed really well. They fixed the fender, replaced the mirror, and put new front brakes. I felt relieved. I decided to slow down for the rest of the journey. I visited Kampot beaches and ate delicious barbequed seafood on one of the beaches. The trip was coming to the end, and it was time to return back to Phnom Penh. The next day I drove about 200 kilometers back to the capital.

Off road motorbiking in Cambodia was one of the best adventures I have ever had. I was wild. I was free. I was innocent. I knew I did a bad thing by trying not to pay the park fee, but I did it as an act of civil disobedience. The price that they were charging was very exuberant compared to the Cambodian economic living standards.

Tags: adventure, asia, cambodia, civil disobedience, travel

This entry was posted on Wednesday, December 31st, 2008 at 5:35 am and is filed under adventure, asia, cambodia, civil disobedience, travel. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.

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