Sen Monorom was the target after some much-needed rest in Ban Lung, some 114 miles to the south. I'd heard many things about the road to Sen Monrom, in particular its difficulty. I was relishing this after my experiences on the road from Siem Pang to Pakalan, only feeling a little apprehensive.
The route started promisingly. A local chap told me to head for the nearby waterfalls at Ka Chang before picking up the ox cart track to Sen Monorom. The waterfalls were pretty and the track promising, with a small creek and lots of rocks and dirt for the XR250 to play on.
Something went wrong however, and I soon ended up on what was very clearly a highway build in progress, with workmen, earth-movers and building materials littering the edge of the road, while road signs in Chinese characters and Chinese plant machinery made clear the influence of the regional superpower in Cambodia. In places the track would regress to sandy, wet and muddy tracks, but on the whole I was on a graded, unsealed road. Frustrated as I was by this, I suppose that it turned out to be a good thing, in light of what was to come.
Coming along the road, it became apparent that certain sections had not been finished and drainage systems unfinished. As a result, detours through drainage channels and rice paddies were necessary, not normally a problem, it seemed, given the tracks. However, some of the channels were filled with water, shallow in some places, deep in others and, sometimes, covering treacherously sticky mud below.
Having become stuck at the entrance to one detour (needing the help of passing soldiers to get myself out of a pickle) and becoming tired, disaster occurred innocuously some ten miles later, when a detour through a wet paddy field was needed. The route was clear, with a well-worn track leading into the trees, but I managed to get my bike bogged again. It was around midday and I suddenly felt zapped. I removed my helmet but it did no good; I felt cold, clammy, weak and faint. I could barely move the bike.
I sat on the ground, having set the bike on its side stand, sheltering from the sun, under which I was suffering. I felt terrible and questioned the whole (as it seemed at the time) foolish venture, having quaffed the rest of my water. In time, two gentlemen on a scooter came past and took pity, with one of them helping me to push the bike off the muddy paddy and leaving me in the shade of the trees, gratefully accepting an unexpected two dollars from me for his help.
I could hear voices in the trees and pushed the bike further into a small clearing, where a house stood. The inhabitants were lazing in hammocks about the place and gestured for me to sit down. "Koh Nhek! Koh Nhek! Koh Nhek!" I exclaimed frantically; they laughed and pointed further down the road. I sat awhile, politely refusing tea and in the end having to lie down for half an hour, which made me feel marginally better. After some tea and listening to their joking about my appeals for Koh Nhek with other Khmer travellers, I set off again, still feeling distinctly iffy. That feeling subsided after I drank some grape juice in Koh Nhek. How strange; low blood sugar and a touch of dehydration, perhaps?
The ride from Koh Nhek was distinctly more straightforward, save for a hill outside Sen Monorom which resembled a water slide covered in mud, so difficult it was to ascend. I watched four wheel drives and earth movers sliding back down the hill before giving it a go myself, making it up to the top with only one fall. I reached Sen Monorom in the dark and took the first accommodation I found: an avocado farm.
The route started promisingly. A local chap told me to head for the nearby waterfalls at Ka Chang before picking up the ox cart track to Sen Monorom. The waterfalls were pretty and the track promising, with a small creek and lots of rocks and dirt for the XR250 to play on.
Something went wrong however, and I soon ended up on what was very clearly a highway build in progress, with workmen, earth-movers and building materials littering the edge of the road, while road signs in Chinese characters and Chinese plant machinery made clear the influence of the regional superpower in Cambodia. In places the track would regress to sandy, wet and muddy tracks, but on the whole I was on a graded, unsealed road. Frustrated as I was by this, I suppose that it turned out to be a good thing, in light of what was to come.
Coming along the road, it became apparent that certain sections had not been finished and drainage systems unfinished. As a result, detours through drainage channels and rice paddies were necessary, not normally a problem, it seemed, given the tracks. However, some of the channels were filled with water, shallow in some places, deep in others and, sometimes, covering treacherously sticky mud below.
I sat on the ground, having set the bike on its side stand, sheltering from the sun, under which I was suffering. I felt terrible and questioned the whole (as it seemed at the time) foolish venture, having quaffed the rest of my water. In time, two gentlemen on a scooter came past and took pity, with one of them helping me to push the bike off the muddy paddy and leaving me in the shade of the trees, gratefully accepting an unexpected two dollars from me for his help.
I could hear voices in the trees and pushed the bike further into a small clearing, where a house stood. The inhabitants were lazing in hammocks about the place and gestured for me to sit down. "Koh Nhek! Koh Nhek! Koh Nhek!" I exclaimed frantically; they laughed and pointed further down the road. I sat awhile, politely refusing tea and in the end having to lie down for half an hour, which made me feel marginally better. After some tea and listening to their joking about my appeals for Koh Nhek with other Khmer travellers, I set off again, still feeling distinctly iffy. That feeling subsided after I drank some grape juice in Koh Nhek. How strange; low blood sugar and a touch of dehydration, perhaps?
 |
| Certainly not feeling like I did. |
The ride from Koh Nhek was distinctly more straightforward, save for a hill outside Sen Monorom which resembled a water slide covered in mud, so difficult it was to ascend. I watched four wheel drives and earth movers sliding back down the hill before giving it a go myself, making it up to the top with only one fall. I reached Sen Monorom in the dark and took the first accommodation I found: an avocado farm.
No comments:
Post a Comment