The one armed biker

When we arrived at our hotel in Sen Monorom. I was shown to my room on the back of a moped, helmet in hand, being ridden by a one armed man talking on a mobile phone. There's comedy sketch material in there somewhere.

Bus Ra

After the day's riding we had time to visit the waterfalls at Bus Ra. Another enjoyable ride along the dirt tracks ended at a touristy spot with drinks and food sellers plying their trade. Descending a set of steps leads to a picturesque waterfall. There are not many people around and we strip down and jump in. The water was cool very refreshing after our hard day from Snoul this morning. A group of young locals seem to be doing a photoshoot and they are an interesting sight as they move from place to place posing as they go in their grass skirts (even the men) and hair pieces. We dry off and pose for a photo ourselves at the top of the waterfall.

Biking extremes.

Our bikes and a typical local bike.

Offroad in the Phnum Prech Reserve

Turning off the King's Highway, we enter the trees and follow a trail towards the jungle. It starts out with a gravel track, easy enough, winding through villages, keeping the pace down to reduce the dust created in the village. The gravel gives way as we start climbing to a rutted path, which is more challenging to negotiate. The ruts get deeper, muddier and strewn with large rocks. This is the most difficult terrain I've ridden, so I keep the pace down to prevent an off; my off in India almost ruined my trip and I don't want to risk that again.

The bikes are proper offroad machines, 250cc with big knobbly tyres and bouncy suspension. They tackle these conditions easily... or rather they would in the right hands. Alas, these hands are not those. And like many others I struggled at times. At other times I got into the groove and zipped along coping with the muddy ruts, rocky paths and sometimes at the same time low hanging bamboo branches. Dealing with these whilst simultaneously absorbing the bumps with springy legs is quite a task. Not only do you negotiate these at the same time, you are constantly looking 10-20m ahead to plan your route. Failure means either falling off, or being whacked in the head or body with stiff bamboo; both painful.

Perhaps even more difficult than going up is coming down in the same conditions. Keep the speed low, lowish gear, weight back and only use the rear brake if you have too. At least that seemed to work for me, although there were a few sticky moments.

Either side of the tough rocky ruts there were long stretches of dirt road. The dirt was reddish-brown coloured and each biker left a trail of red dust hanging in his wake (this trip was all male). It was important to leave sufficient gap for the dust to have settled so that the obstacles, such as ruts, rocks, cows, or people could be seen. These dirt road sections were also shared with cars and lorries so these were an additional hazard.

We stopped to take in fluids frequently as it was 30-35C, and riding in these conditions is hard work, so were all sweating profusely.. We'd turn up on mass at these stops on our dedicated offroad machines and I couldn't help smiling when locals on tatty 110cc step-through mopeds, two or three on each one, turned up just after us. We encrusted with padding and protection, they in their flip flops and t-shirts. The only token protection would be a hat to keep off the sun.

Ducky, my rubber duck mascot, enjoyed the ride and still has a grandstand view strapped to the top of my headlight. The brown patches at his base in no way reflect his reaction to the few hairy moments he saw, they are the dust from the road. Probably.

Vietnam border

The second day of riding sees us briefly touch the Vietnam border as we head along the King's Highway. We stop at Kaow Se Mai for petrol. The bikes are filled using metal watering cans. They also sell petrol in used Pepsi bottles.

Cambodian rubber trees

At first glance it looks as if there's a low mist hanging in the woods, but it's not. This is a rubber plantation and the dark lower parts of the trees have been tapped.

Tapping is done by cutting a diagonal channel in the trunk which then weeps a milky sap which is latex rubber; a small bowl fitted below collects the product. It's important not to cut all the way around the tree or it dies. When one channel was scraped to demonstrate, it was surprising to see just how fast it flows. Imagine a tap dripping once every two seconds or so. Eventually that strip becomes unproductive and a new strip is cut just below the first one. When you reach the bottom of the tree, you start over from the first cut as the tree will have healed itself after a few years.

The trees live for about 32yrs, but can only be tapped after seven. It then provides 25yrs worth of rubber, and they are usually replaced when they reach 32yrs. I was going to give you a factoid about how many trees it takes to make one car tyre, but apparently tyres are made with synthetic rubber from oil/gas. Oh well.

Something stuck in my teeth

And I think it's remains of the spider leg I had a lunchtime. It was quite crunchy. Ooo err!

Another view of Wat Nokor

Lunch today

On the road a couple of hours, we stop for lunch. Not sure what to expect of the food and there's a tacky model of a giant black spider at the front of the stop, so it looks like a typical greasy chopsticks cafe..... Only this one is a little different. Real, big black spiders are on the menu! A few brave ones ordered a bag full and tentatively tucked in. A look and feel for the apprehensive, a leg for the brave and the whole body for those with a real palate for adventure food - only one of us did this and he was French (sorry Hugues, had to say that). And if you're wondering, I ate a leg; je ne comprend pas Francais.

Wat Nokor

One of the many temples or "wats" in Cambodia. This one used to be the centre of the region, and part of a large town. Now it's just a small village in a what is now a predominantly muslim area of Cambodia.

This is hard labour for a Monday morning

Seen just behind the killing fields. This field work looks hard enough to kill you.

The Killing Fields

After the horror of S-21 we ventured to the other horror that is collectively known as the Killing Fields. While the purpose of S-21 was to extract information from enemies of the Khmer Rouge regime, and death was not the primary intention, the Killing Fields were for one purpose only: death and disposal. Pure and simple.

Originally, those killed at S-21 were disposed of there. But soon space became limited and the situation in an urban environment risked spreading disease. The site at Choeung Ek a few kms from the city was then used as a destruction line. In all there about 20,000 mass graves dating from this period containing an estimated 1.3 million bodies. On top of that, widespread starvation resulting from the enforced ruralisation of the masses resulted in a total death toll of around 2-3 million. Out of a population of 8 million at that time it was a huge chunk of people
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Central to the site is a large stupa, which outwardly is just another temple, pretty though it is. It's only when you get closer do you realise it contains thousands of human skulls, some bearing the scars of their cold blooded murder. Little is mentioned about the method of death, but one cabinet shows tools used. Typically victims were beaten with a bamboo stick, metal rod or spade, then their throats would be cut using a simple farmers palm knife. The helpless, and certainly dying, individuals were then rolled into an open grave, which was then filled, whether or not they were still alive. This continued as hundreds and thousands were delivered from S-21 and other holding areas.

Probably the worst thing is the Killing Tree that was used to kill babies by bashing their heads against its trunk. Brutal, senseless, and utterly cruel. It was numbing knowing that these things had happened at this spot. The peace that resides there now as a tribute to the millions dead must have been in stark contrast to the screams it once heard. The guards would play loud music from speakers hung from the "magic tree", to drown these noises. Although this was officially sanctioned death, the authorities did not want it publicised.

Cambodia is a country and people that have been tragically wronged in recent history. I hope the rest of my journey here is on a more positive note. I've heard the people have a nature unlike anywhere else. Our guide, Zeeman, came here about 20years ago from Wales and fell in love with the place enough to make it his home. That says something.

Dommie and Ducky ready to rock

Office S-21

Before meeting our mounts for the next ten days we had a morning to 'relax' in Phnom Penh. A few of us decided to visit two infamous places associated with Cambodia's recent and brutal history: Office S-21 and the Killing Fields. The latter is perhaps well known from a Hollywood film of the same name, which I confess I have never seen, but will now try to.

Office S-21 is the rather bland name for Pot Pot's Khmer Rouge torture centre in Phnom Penh. Formerly the Tuol Sleng primary school, it had a pleasant lawn area surrounded by three storied buildings with open walkways and balconies; it looked as though it had been hastily converted into a detention centre. Door openings were knocked into the walls between classrooms and were left like an unfinished DIY project. Wooden framed cells were constructed, each less than a metre across, but at least with enough space to lie down - but that was likely to have been little comfort after a session of beating. The doors themselves looked flimsy with tiny hinges and bathroom door bolts. But one wonders who would've dared to break out knowing that layers of barbed wire awaited them and perhaps even more intense tortue. Crucially the windows were glazed in order to mute the sounds of agony that must have escaped from within. The balconies were strung with barbed wire to prevent people committing suicide - the torturers obviously wanted to be the one controlling death.

The lower floor rooms contained panel after panel showing photographs of victims held here, interspersed with gruesome post death images; graphic descriptions of the horrific torture methods were displayed alongside. The photos were of very ordinary looking people: docile, unsmiling, fear etched deep into the eyes of many. Yet others displayed a muted defiance in their expression. Men, women, children; nobody was immune from incarceration. One strikingly beautiful girl made me wonder if she had been singled out for 'special' attention, here or elsewhere. Perhaps not, as the Khmer Rouge regime seemed to be almost puritanical in its approach to everything, with emotion and lust consigned to the ways of Western decadence and not good for the cause.

From 1975-1979, intellectuals and anyone who was not an ordinary worker was ruthlessly targeted. Spectacles were associated with education and wearing made you a marked man or woman; I wonder if Cambodians now have notable better eyesight than other nations as a result?

"Duch", the man in charge of the facility, is still alive. After the regime fell he was jailed and only as recently as 2010 was sentenced to 35yrs in jail for his part in torturing 16000 people. He is the only senior leader to recognise his wrong doing and asked for forgiveness. Pol Pot himself, the architect of the disastrous Khmer Rouge social experiment - for that's surely what it was - died in 1998 certainly without the punishment he deserved.

Rooftop view of Phnom Penh

Breakfast TV this morning was replaced by the view into peoples' lives as the restaurant terrace overlooks both the mighty Mekong river and many Phnom Penh balconies. Life is noisy below, having started it's crazy bustle around 5am. Like India, the dominant sounds are the many horns - the universal language of the road in developing countries.

It's cool in the breeze but I know the temperature will climb to around 33C today. Fortunately, it's not too humid. We're heading for the Killing Fields this morning, before we pick up the bikes later.

Packed and everything fits

Well, I'm packed. Everything fits into my holdall bar the knee pads (not quite a hold all then). Feeling slightly anxious as I've heard this is going to be a hard trip; almost like I'm heading into battle. I pity those who really are going to war, it must be hell. Waking at 430am tomorrow; not because I have to, it's part of my jet lag mitigation. I hope it works. It's only 9pm now, but it's past midnight in my world. Night night all.

Not another test?

Last day at work. My office moves while I'm away. Double packing then!

Biker Dom is packing for a new adventure 1200km through the trails and jungles of Cambodia. Been pricked by vaccinations, stung by the invoices and all I need now are some fiendish mozzies zap with DEET.

Departing on Saturday with the Cambo Enduro mob from London Heathrow T3, 18:15. Wish me luck, it's gonna be real dirty!