Kampong Chang – April 11th, 2017
Jul 6th, 2017 by rallyadmin
The morning comes and everyone is raring to go. Literally. This town is such a dump (and we should know a dump when we sleep in one) that everyone is ready to go early. Bikes loaded, started (well most of them) and we’re off. At least some of us.
There are 4 ways out of this primitive crossroad hamlet: southeast (the way I came in), northeast (the way Clemo and the rest, minus Guv, came in, the northwest to Thailand and the southwest to Sihanoukville via some little hamlet that isn’t in any of the guides. Perfect. We’ll take the little hamlet that doesn’t register in any of the guides, is over 120 miles down a rutted, muddy jungle track and doesn’t appear to have any guesthouses. What could possibly go wrong?
It’s been raining here recently (the monsoon is expected in a couple of weeks) so the jungle tracks are muddy and the streams are fullish. I have some reservations about doing this. I’ve started to heal nicely and I really don’t want to crash and start the healing process over again. But, what the hey. Nothing ventured, nothing gained. Again, what could possibly go wrong?
We start down the road to the southeast and the road soon narrows to a seriously rutted track. There are puddles in the road and we are snaking our way between them making very slow progress. A few kms down the road, the surface turns to clay and its very slippery. Climbing out a rut, I crash again. Hard. On my left side. So much for healing. And so much for this jungle path. I’ve torn up my arm again and it’s obviously time to turn around, go back to the guest house”, clean up and head back the way I came up yesterday. We’ll all meet up in Phnom Penh.
I get back to the guest house just as Rysn and the rest of the boys are getting geared up to leave. Ryan’s a copper and has EMT training and he’s carrying a load of first aid supplies. He takes a look at m arm and springs into action. Antiseptic wipes, an antibiotic cream, a gauze wrap, a new shirt and I’m good to go.
Just as he finishes, the group that I had left on the jungle track appear. The track got worse the farther down it they went and they decided to abandon the route and follow us down the way I had come. I feel a bit less of a wimp for bailing on the route now that no one has done it. We all start to leave in small groups.
I’m only about 5 kms out of town when my bikes starts making noise that sound like a failed muffler. I stop and look down to fine the muffler and manifold just barely hanging on the now very loose studs. Back to town and find a mechanic.
Just as I get within sight of the crossroads, I see Clemo and Adrian in a small shop. I pull in and get in line. A few minutes later the Cambodian mechanic looks at my bike and points out that the muffler has departed the scene. No muffler or manifold. The bike was so loud with the muffler attached that I didn’t hear it drop off.
Back on the bike and back down the road to try and find the muffler. No joy. Someone behind me had probably seen it and stopped to pick it up. Spare parts are quite valuable up here in the wilds of western Cambodia. Back to the mechanic to see if he can source a replacement.
He can’t. He tries but the only muffler he can find won’t fit. It’s nearly noon and it’s getting pretty hot. We have well over 160 kms to go before we stop for the night. Time to go.
The road is hot and very dusty but the surface is good. We stop every hour or so for drinks and/or fuel and eventually make the main highway to Phnom Penh. Pinky and Bruce are in the lead, Adrian is somewhere ahead of us. We’re all spread out but all moving. Pinky and Bruce will try to source a hotel.
Clemo, Ryan, Adam and I are riding together and making pretty good time. And the bikes are holding up, more or less. It’s about 5 o’clock when the most disturbing event of the trip happens.
We’re riding down the main highway and there isn’t that much traffic. But there are a lot of animals on the road. AS we’ve seen throughout this trip and previous trips, late in the day, the farmers bring their animals home down the main roads in twos and threes and even occasionally in large herds. It’s getting towards dusk and evryone knows his and slows down on the road.
Except for the odd Lexus driver. Lexus are quite the status symbol in Cambodia. It’s the ostentatious “I’ve made it” symbol. More likely, the “my father’s made it” symbol. They’re generally the ones who come flying out behind us, horns blaring, trying to muscle their way through the clogged highways. You learn to dislike them very quickly. If this was 1975, Pol Pot would have gone for them first.
We’re riding in single file on the main highway at speed with almost no traffic. With no warning at all, a speeding Lexus SUV races past us nearly taking out myself and another rider in front of me. International displeasure hand signals flying but the driver just continues down the road and around the next bend. As we round the next bend, we can see a cloud of dust and the SUV stopped cross-ways in the road.
He’s obviously had an accident and as we come up on the scene, we see that he’s hit a herd of 5 water buffalo, killing 4 of them. The 5th only is standing but very seriously injured. The Lexus is destroyed, all airbags fired and the entire front of the of the car now displaced under the passenger compartment as modern Japanese cars are won’t to do.
The driver is in obvious shock but apparently unharmed for the moment. He’s standing there looking at the destroyed front of the Lexus with a look that speaks volumes. “Daddy will not be pleased.” And he, of course, is oblivious to the dead animals littering the roadway. Clemo yells somehting at him but the driver doesn’t respond.
The scene is too gruesome to look at and we almost immediately move on. AS we leave the accident site, we see the villagers from the next village down the road, running up to the accidents with one woman in the lead. The water buffalo are probably her family’s herd.
Whoever owned the animals has now, in an instant, been wiped out economically. This is a third world country where the rural people’s wealth is often measured in rice paddies worked or numbers of animals herded. I have no idea how much a water buffalo is worth to a poor Cambodian villager but I’m sure that it is worth more than the Lexus is to the young driver (or, more likely, his father) who just caused this terrible accident.
We don’t stay. I doubt that anyone is waiting for the local highway patrol to arrive and write up an accident report. Cambodia probably doesn’t have a law against texting while driving. I suspect that restitution will swift and severe if the looks of the crowd running up the road is any indication. In the past, Cambodians have shown that they are capable of exacting very serious “justice”. The wrecked Lexus is probably the least of the young driver’s immediate problems.
We stop for some fuel and drinks. The long day in the sun has taken a serious dehydration toll. I thought I had this under control this year but apparently not. I’m getting lightheaded and my hands are cramping. I’ve switched from bottled water to local energy drinks but they don’t seem to be helping as much as good old Gatorade would and I haven’t seen any good old Gatorade.
We move on, go a few kms and see that Ryan and Adam aren’t with us. We stop. Clemo turns tp go back to find them just as they limp up to meet us. One of their bikes has a flat and Clemo is going back with whoever has the ill bike to find a shop in the now gathering darkness. We carry on without them.
We get into Kampong Chang and raise Pinky on the mobile. He gives us directions to the hotel which is right on the main road. We see them flagging us down with cold beers. Into the parking area for the hotel, none too soon. I’m not sure how much more of this day I had in me.
Pinky hands me a medicinal beer (who cares about Gatorade now?). Someone takes my bike and gets my bag off. I don’t think I’ve ever been so happy to being treated like an old man. There must be some upsides to being the oldest guy in the group.
A couple of beers and I start to feel like I’ll survive. I make it through dinner but just barely. Some of the boys are headed out to find a bar. I just head to bed. What a long day.
Tomorrow, we split up. Adrian and I are headed to Phnom Penh. The rest are headed to Sihanoukville to return the bikes to Andy who will dispose of them when he gets back from the UK. WE don’t think that our bikes will make it to Sihanoukville. We’ll sell them in Phnom Penh.
What a day!
Obi-wan