2024 S. E. Asia

There was a loose plan. Get up at 6am, be ready at 7am and get the 169km done before the intense heat of the day between 2pm and 5pm.

7am, wake up having switched the alarm off an hour ago.

7.30am, clean and dressed in a T shirt, not long sleeves, I hit the road.

8am breakfast at the IPP petrol station. They are a chain that always has a Cafe Amazon, clean toilets and a 7 eleven shop. Perfect for fuelling the bike and myself.

8.30am, back on the road and it was yet another dual carriageway. However I knew it would reduce to one lane and then the twisty bits would start.

Despite being the main road I had it pretty much to myself and it was glorious, not hot and such a great condition road. Slicing left and right through fast flowing bends. It seemed hazy and then the feint smell of bonfire. I have been warned a few times that Chaing Mai is awful at this time of year. The farmers from Northern Thailand, Cambodia and Myanmar all burn stubble to prepare the land for farming. The geography of the area is such that all the smoke fills the air and swirls into the valley where Chaing Mai sits. But the whole region suffers and even 200km South I could smell it and see it.

I had considered this quite a bit and made the decision to carry on until it became too bad. Today was a lengthy trip and certainly nothing was concerning me at this stage. Added to that, this air pollution issue is solved when the rainy season starts, as it simply dampens the particles and cleans the air. Luckily or otherwise, rainy season may be just a few weeks away.

A short while later I came to the entrance of the Mae Moei National Park. According to mapping it offered waterfalls and views, that’ll do.

The road was epic and the staff at the park didn’t charge me to enter. The first waterfall was a short 500m walk through the snake infested forest, it didn’t say that but in my mind I knew. As it was the waterfall was just a stream.

It was hard work tearing myself away from the refreshing water,but with clothes and scarf soaked I headed to the viewpoint via an off road trail

That done, I made my way back to the tarmac and on to the next viewpoint.

And so the run back to the main road started. At this point I should tell you I have been feeling quite anxious about the tyres on Red. A couple of times I’ve felt the front wash out. I’m quite experienced and it’s not nice. So this was it. I knew the road was exciting and I was going to push it and see just how far Red would lean. The answer was not far. I was not imagining it and as I had ditched the fully armoured jeans, boots and body armour for T shirt, lightweight trousers and fake Sketchers, it was time to slow it down.

Back on the main road and hugging the river, the road was fun and looking across I could see Myanmar. The country that has been embroiled in civil unrest for decades. Although in recent years the ever changing and rewritten constitution has allowed more visitors and aid.

I did venture down to the water and got the sled stuck in the sand. Buried,  until I didnt need the stand to get off it, it was a case of grab the left handle bar and pull it round to face the return journey. Then get back on and ‘gun it’ through the sand to the firmer ground, back through the water inlet that I had riden through to get to the river and up onto the road again.

By now it was very hot and best laid plans of avoiding the mid day sun were gone. But I had made it to Mae Sariang and a great little hotel called Above the Sea.

My planning of these trips is sadly lacking, but I had done some, including messaging Steve Coupland, an ex pat who has been living in and exploring Thailand by bike for 17 years. Steve sent me a message asking where I was, he then promptly told me which bars are good and sent a detailed route for the next day.

The road to Umphong is a dead end, but it is known as the road with 1219 bends. It winds its way through the mountains, between the Myanmar border and the Klong Wang Chao National Park. At 190km the guide book says to allow 6 hours to reach Umphong. I would need a hotel but there is nothing shown on the booking sites. I’ll just go and hopefully find one.

I’ll spare you the little cartoon graphic of the road as it will crash the app and take forever to add all the waypoints.

Needless to say it was challenging and amazing all in one.

The journey wasn’t without issue. Red showed 250km of fuel left and mapping was set. I followed the mapping right up until, after 40km, the road got narrower and narrower, it went through the back streets of a village, soon turning to a dusty track and ended up in a makeshift car park.  Mapping said to go across the bridge. The bridge was a foot bridge with steep concrete steps up to it. On checking closely I had made a wrong turn. Simple fix, ride back and take the correct turn. Soon enough the twisty road started to wind its way up and down through the wooded mountainside. A sign told me Umphong was 170km away, but Red now said 160km range. I was going to have to take it easy and eek out the fuel. However the constant climb and descent did nothing for economy, no matter how careful I was with the throttle. I checked mapping and sure enough the next indicated petrol station had been built 10km too far away. There’s nothing for it, just keep going. It was a nice pace anyway, with corners hiding the oncoming traffic and pot holes.

As I crested a hill and left hand turn there was a town in the valley below, its size suggested it would need a petrol station. As luck would have it, this road runs right through the town. One of the very first shops on the left had a mud car park and a tiny wooden hut on stilts with an open hatch. Inside, I saw the unmistakable sight of old hand pumps and petrol. The filling tube was handed to me by a young lad. It was just a length of clear plastic tube that ran up to the glass container on top of the pump and a simple hand valve to let the fuel run down. He opened the valve and the clear plastic tube filled with petrol . He turned it off and I checked. The tank was almost full, that was good enough for me. I paid up and handed the tube back to him.

Stopping just short of Umphong for a coffee and again to escape the heat, I checked Google maps for hotels, there were a few so I picked one in the middle of town and headed there.

My room was on the upper floor and was really nice. At about £12 it was amazing value. Next I looked for somewhere to go and my navigation app said there was a bamboo bridge, tourist attraction, just 7km away.

There was about a kilometer of gravel track and a slope to the river. Red had no problem until the sand but full power and paddling with my feet got us there.

Each step was greeted with creaking and swaying. There was a steel cable up high which was my hand hold, but I’m not sure the locals would be able to reach it. The actual hand rail was very low and didn’t appear to be very well attached. Sometimes the creaking would be accompanied by a snap, as the old bamboo split along its length.

I’d made it across now I just needed to come back, this time one handed as I videos it with my phone. Unfortunately the video stopped before I got across.

Safely back with Red I rode back up the sandy hill and onto the track.

Returning to Umphong Town I found a place to eat before another shower to cool down and a decent sleep.

Next morning, all that remained was to refuel and head back……

I’m not going to lie, that graphic shows a journey of nearly 330km in a day and I don’t really remember much about it. I knew it was going to be mostly main roads and that is probably why I stopped at the first thing of interest. The old town of Ang Thong and its ruins of the temple.

Its kind of refreshing to see signs that say, photography is allowed but be respectful, it then goes on to list things not to be done. No shows of affection was one. I didnt want to kiss the statue anyway. Its not lost on me that my T shirt is Buddhist orange.

Back on the road and an hour or so later it went from two lanes to three as it wound its way up through the mountains. There were signs saying keep left. In the UK, lorries stay left as they climb steep hills, these were steep hills for sure, but lorries didn’t seem to follow any rules. I am guessing that most drivers are used to the surrounding countries that drive on the right. The result was some lorries crawled up the left lane, some in the right and weirdly a few in the middle. It was like playing a computer game dodging between almost stationary lorries billowing black smoke. 

Having made one such climb I saw another Buddha at the roadside, it was time for a break so I dived into the car park and into the shade of a tree.

I went to a stall to buy water. I only had a 500baht note and the stall holder had no change. He went to a neighbours stall and the owner came over. We had a talk in English and I explained the situation. He asked about my journey. After this short exchange he paid for my water and thanked me for visiting. I clasped my hands in front of me as if in prayer and did two little bows, thanking him in my best Thai. I waved as I left and both men waved back.

An hour later it was time to stop again for more refreshment. There was a hilltop rest area.

This time I checked they had change before I ordered my coffee. There was a Buddhist monk blessing the stall holder. As I understand it monks give up everything and live on charity. A blessing gets them a coffee, sort of thing. I had seen hundreds of them on my travels, often with little baskets to receive items. I checked with the stall owner, if money was an acceptable offering, he said it was. For the equivalent of £2, I was blessed as was Red and our journey, I think!

I arrived in Mae Sot, safe and watched over, apparently. My hotel was great and there was a huge shopping centre close by. It seemed totally out of place but it had air con, so I didn’t care. I ate there and then took a walk round the shops, finding Supersports on the 1st floor. They had a sale on giant shoes!!

My shoes had grip, I sat outside on a bench and swapped the boxed items for the steaming sweaty and let’s not deny it, stinky old ones. The boxed old ones went in a bin and I was done for the day.

It was time to leave Bangkok, the city could bankrupt me in days. I had one last place to visit. The 747 coffee shop. It was 30km in the wrong direction but I was keen to visit.

Coffee and aircraft, what’s not to like? The touristy thing tells you that you drive along the road and out of nowhere a 747 Jumbo Jet appears at the roadside. The fact is, it’s quite well hidden but, no less brilliant for that. As you drive through the gateway there is a roundabout. No road markings just a roundabout. It totally threw me. They drive on the left, like the UK but I have been on the right for ages now. Also in Bangkok you are constantly in traffic so following is easy. I quickly had to overlay a UK roundabout in my mind and then all was good. Not that there were any other vehicles using it at the time.

Fully refreshed on orange juice, coffee and a croissant, I had out stayed at least two bus loads of tourists, so it was time to get back on the road and head for Ang Thong.

I wasn’t expecting much as I was using main roads. The red sled sits at 100kph happily. We tootled along, the seat not as comfy as it looked. In fact it made me sweat and when I got off it looked like I’d wet myself! I couldn’t stand or even move as the seat is shaped. I was contemplating this, when my attention was taken by something sticking up above the trees. Unlike the 747 cafe this literally did just rise up.

I turned off and headed to the car park. The temple itself is surrounded by a small market area. I walked through, over the bridge, right up to and around the statue.

Somewhat relaxed and refreshed with orange juice from a stall I was back on the road and headed for Ang Thong.

Ang Thong was just a stop over and I saw very little of it. The hotel was very lovely with my own little cabin.

It was about 3pm, after an hour in traffic, when I booked into the rather nice hotel, I’d chosen in the heart of Bangkok. I went out for food at an Irish bar. I then walked along the main road looking for a shopping centre or shoe shop.

Nana Plaza is a courtyard surrounded by gogo bars, with security monitoring who enters. I was unsure but ventured in, I sat at the garden bar, a quiet area in the middle. I chatted to two Brits who told me the place is totally safe and if I didn’t want to buy ‘bar girls’ drinks no one would be offended. It wasn’t a late night as it had been an early start and I had to collect the bike tomorrow

It was relatively easy to buy a ticket and navigate to the correct platform. On the train, it was immaculate, with air conditioning and very clear announcements. Ten stops later I was a short walk from Emma’s Bike Rental.

Emma, (Not her real name) did all the paperwork and took yet more of my money. She showed me round the bike and pointed to a sign in the shop. ‘Your bike has keyless ignition, when you stop you MUST put the steering lock on or the battery runs flat’. Oh that was a concern, I really must remember that. With everything done and ‘Emma’ happy, I was a confident rider, she watched as I rocked the bike off its centre stand. Instantly my shoe lost traction and I slipped, almost dropping the bike. I hauled it back up and laughed, pulling a whoops face, before riding off, unsure which side of the road to use.

The ride back was slow and every stop was sure footed. The phone holder was dire and needed replacing.

Here’s an example of how chilled the bars are. I went to one close to my hotel. Almost instantly the hostess asked if I wanted a girl to sit with me. I said no as I was only there to watch the bike racing. They had two big screens, one showing Moto GP, the other the World Super Bikes. She said she would tell no one to bother me. I was absorbed in watching the races with my drink filled on request. At one point something caught my attention. Three girls under the screen all waving to get my attention. We laughed as I was so absorbed in the bikes.

Next morning I was off to Chatuchak Market. The biggest open air market in Asia. Once a major trading point in Bangkok it now houses very cute boutique stalls. I did find a phone holder for the bike. I had some lovely ice cream, but it was blisteringly hot, so I made my way to the two big malls close by.

None of these places had any hiking boots or shoes for me. So I hopped in a taxi and headed for Khoasan Road. This place is synonymous with back packers and gap year types. A huge trading area linked to a nearby river, the name Koa San means milled rice. Nowadays its very trendy and full of eateries, bars and stalls selling tat. It did have a huge shopping centre dedicated to cannabis and McDonalds.

It was time to head back. I needed to pack up the bike ready to leave tomorrow.

What a busy night that had been and that was reflected in my waking up at 11.30am. There was nothing for it but Shower and late breakfast. The hotel, Saigon Boutique Hotel is nestled off a main road and 8 weeks ago was a quiet little place, cheap and clean. It was still cheap, but just those few weeks had seen the whole area come to life as the holiday season kicked in.  I was here for two nights so I best get the next stage of my trip planned.

The first shock was that flights had trebled in cost as it was bussier and the busses no longer run to Bangkok, according to the agent at the travel shop. She (Han) was incredibly helpful, even finding a cheaper flight but with an 8hr stop over in Da Nang. So Thai Airways it was, a direct flight for US$327.00. Leaving on the 21st. I paid with a chunk of money from Lillys sale. I’d need another night in the hotel. Next I booked a hotel for 3 nights in Bangkok and organised a hire bike. All done on my phone, over a coffee with cheese and ham croissant. I then found a cash exchange to convert my millions of dong into Thai Baht. I had to guess how much to hold back for the next few days. The cash exchange looked like a jewellery shop and was surrounded by back packers all discussing the best exchange rate. It seems this is the best place in town with regard to rates and fees. Lucky find on my part.

The next thing to know is that my Sketchers have worn out, in fairness weeks ago. Several times, in Vietnam, I lost footing because the sole is so worn flat it aquaplanes on water. I was getting more and more concerned that my footwear was the most likely thing to cause me serious injury. The hunt was on. Saigon Centre is a big shopping centre just opposite the market, both were searched but nothing fitted the textile walking boot I was after. Next an outdoor adventure shop. They had one pair of military boots in my size. I then checked on the location of any Decathlon stores, well, what do you know, there’s one just the other side of the river. TAXI!

Look at all those boots, trainers and shoes. Not one pair in my size. On asking, I was told they only stock up to size 45 in every range, I’m a 46. I tried but, no. TAXI!

That evening, I was off to walking street, which also has loads of traffic that blocks the flow and kind of ruins the walking element.

The Station Bar had been my regular haunt and nothing changed that. Live music every night and great food.

Vietnam and Cambodia had delivered everything I had wanted. Now I was a bit apprehensive about Thailand, what if its not as good?

On the morning of the 21st at 6am I stood at the end of the road where my hotel had been and booked a ‘Grab’ taxi. My bags loaded in the boot and it was fairwell, again, Vietnam.

By the time I woke up I already had one person, eager to view Lilly in Ho Chi Minh City. I knew I had to be out of Cambodia today, so an early start as I also wanted to see Kepp and it’s national park.

All the time, being aware that I needed to make the border, I chose to ride around the National Park at Kepp. The path was narrow and easy to ride. The trees formed a canopy over the pathway but there was a distinct lack of wildlife anywhere. I think it’s safe to say I’ve been spoilt by Vietnams scenery.

A little disappointed, I made my way to Kepp Harbour for coffee. There was a lovely cafe on the pier. I sat drinking my orange juice when a familiar voice said “Didn’t sell your bike then?” It was the Australian lady I had met the day before at breakfast. She explained her husband and his mates had been out drinking all night so she was driving whilst they recovered. There was lots of coffee being ordered. I had a coffee and explained I needed to run. I had planned a little diversion from the main road on the way out of Kepp. It quickly turned to a dirt track and was a fantastic diversion through tiny villages of stilted tin roofed houses. It was difficult to tell what the trade would be. In places it looked like there could be rice grown, water inlets suggested fishing or maybe even croc’ farming. A thought that wasn’t wasted on me as I wound my way along the dirt track with drop offs either side into murky muddy water!

The border crossing came onto sight. It was still early, not even 1pm. I stopped as directed and the dance commenced. Here, there and back again.

I was through and back in Vietnam. This lower left hand corner of the country sees the ever changing estuaries of the Mekong River making their way to the South China Sea. Known as the Mekong Delta its constantly changing form makes it difficult to live in this area without substantial man made waterways. Running arrow straight for 50km at a time, this makes for a very boring ride. Even worse, the road aside the canal becomes a town. A busy, dirty town that goes on forever with a constant flow of smoking lorries, busses, cars and a million bikes. All of them constantly sounding their horns, as is the way in this country. It was hot, dusty and uncomfortable.

I really needed a drink and I stopped at a small roadside cafe. They spoke no English, so Coke is always a safe bet. I chose the cafe over a stall because there was a lot of shade and they would have toilets. I needed a toilet! I made my way to the loo, it was a shack behind the kitchen. The lock was broken, there was no loo roll but the most difficult thing to overcome was the loo itself, well half a loo, the porcelain bowl shattered with less than half the rim remaining. There was no way I could sit on that. Nothing for it I’ll have to hold it a while.

Drink finished I hit the road again. There was nothing of note just endless miles of township. I could see the mapping app said another 190km to Ho Chi Minh City. It was 3pm and I should really just stop and find a hotel but I wasn’t ready to stop. An hour later, it was still daylight and HCMC was closer still. I could just keep going and get back tonight, it would give me time to rest and then prep the bike for sale. I kept going.

At 6.30pm it was getting dark but I was only 40km away from my planned stop. The rules of bike travel include not travelling at night. I’d done it once in Vietnam and that was bad, this time I was travelling on well lit streets into a city. It made no difference, the roads were manic with a lot of vehicles having no lights. I was so close, I just kept going but at a grateley reduced speed and senses on high alert. I was really tired.

7pm, I arrived at the same hotel I stayed in at the beginning of my Vietnam leg. Luckily they had room. No sooner had I been to the loo and had a wash, than I had two more messages from people wanting to buy Lilly. I put both on hold whilst I contacted Phi to see what time he wanted to view the bike tomorrow. He was keen and knowing I had arrived asked to visit straight away. 40 minutes to be precise. I agreed but then had to grab my tools and go to work. Lilly has a phone mount, charger and camera mount that I carried from the UK, they needed removing and the chain needed adjusting. Done in double time I put the tools away and cleaned up again. I was starving hungry so I went across the road to order food. A complimentary bottle of beer was handed to me as I checked the menu. I was about to order when my phone rang. Phi was at the hotel. I quickly handed over some money for the beer and went back.

Phi looked over the bike, drawing breath at the mileage “it’s very high”. “No its 79000km and its a Honda, you know that’s nothing for here”. He looked at the engine “Oil leaks from here”, pointing at the head gasket. “Yes it’s that head gasket which was replaced a few weeks ago but the heat here doesn’t suit a rubber gasket and they leak, it’s not bad and I just do regular oil changes”. He nodded. After a short while, he made an offer. I showed him the two other people who wanted to visit and he accepted there would be no discussion on price. With that he asked for 5 minutes to go to the cashpoint. I wasn’t expecting to see him again, but good to his word, he turned up with millions of Dong and just like that Lilly was gone. Our last journey had been 370km in a day. Lilly had been an awesome bike.

I had a quick shower and went to The Station Bar for food. It was 11.30 when I clambered into bed absolutely exhausted.

Back at the hotel, Lilly stood exactly where I left her and my luggage safely stored, all of which appeared to be no problem to the staff, a family run facility that undoubtedly will feel the pressure of trade as the high rise hotels expand more and more. The owner, his wife and two girls, hope they can survive as its all they have. The girls attend school and seem to be doing really well. It made me wonder if they would want to take on the business, is the cultural norm of taking on the family business stronger than the lure of pastures new, sold to them by the Internet and a more easilly accessed world?

I decided it was too hot to wear the rucksack and strapped it atop the roll top bag on the rear rack. Riding up the hill away from the hotel the front wheel skipped lightly with minimal weight bearing down on it. But that means more weight on the rear wheel and tyre. Whilst mulling that over in my head I completely missed my turning. A quick divert saw me running parallel to the sea front. For me, Sihanouk was just a gateway to the Island, and nothing had changed that view on return. I looked at the beach, the sand more grey than that on the Island and endless Chinese resteraunts adorned the front. I felt no need to stop.

I knew ahead were the 30km of roadworks but the further I got away from Sihanouk the more fresh tarmac I saw. At first I was baffled, surely they haven’t resurfaced this road in less than a week? But then the new tarmac would end and minutes later start again. I was hopeful as I was 20km into the return journey and no sign of the unsurfaced road but also no sign of the petrol station and coffee shop, I remembered so well.

There was advanced warning of a roundabout, at which point it all came flooding back, sure enough the roundabout that had signalled the end of the unsurfaced road, now signalled the start.

Eventually I rode back into Kampot and the Sunny Hotel. Promoted to the 6th floor the room was excellent.

I’m not sure I’ve mentioned this but my time with Lilly is coming to an end. I cant take her to Thailand for legal reasons. So I listed her for sale on a Cambodian bikes for sale site. An Ozzy guy Richard made contact and we arranged to meet in Kampot.

I contacted Richard and he asked to view Lilly the next morning. That was fine by me. It was Saturday night and from what I’d been told there was a big biker meet in town this weekend. 

Washed and in clean clothes I made my way into the heart of the night life. It was very quiet, no rows of bikes, no leather clad bikers, nothing. I mean there were the usual rows of scooters but nothing bigger than 400cc. In the party bar of last Saturday I sat alone with live music supplied by a lone guitarist. The street was quiet and even the bar staff didn’t understand why. I even played myself at pool. I won!

It wasn’t a late night, early the next morning I made my way to Richards hotel and had breakfast there whilst waiting for him. There was an Australian couple there who had rented a scooter, we had a chat about each others trips and me selling the bike. In due course Richard came down. He is quite a big guy, ten years younger than me maybe. He told me how he had an XR250 which was falling apart. He wanted something more economic but able to cruise at 100kph. Inside, I wished he had told me that earlier as Lilly clearly wasn’t going to be the bike for him. He took a test ride and we hung out together for most of the day, getting odd jobs done on his XR250, although the engine was on its last legs. In a spare moment I listed Lilly for sale in Vietnam as that would be my next port of call, having realised her visa ran out the next day whilst mine still had 5 days left.

Well this will be quick. I had 4 days on the island. I did very little because I didn’t have to.

I was shown to the arched chalet just behind reception. Beautifully decorated and very cosy, I unpacked, not something I get the luxury of doing all the time. A shower, shave and application of sun lotion before making my way to the bar, ordering a  Captain Morgan and coke. Then I sat on the table on the beach. It was very hot and the drink floated down with chunks of ice.

Swimming is such a faff, but it needed doing. So hat, glasses, phone, T shirt and sandals piled on the chair, I strolled into the water. It was crystal clear with tiny translucent fish darting about. The water as warm as a bath lapped around my ankles as I made my way in. The firm yellow sand smooth and perfectly visible, didn’t get any less visible the more I walked. I had gone quite some way but still the water was only shin deep. My back was burning in the heat of the early afternoon sun and I knew I wasn’t able to get factor fifty to every part. Each step I took I bent my knees a little more, like some comedic fake stairwell into the depths. By the time my ankles hit my backside I was still fully torso exposed. Nothing for it, just fall backwards into the water. It was bliss.

Later in the afternoon I walked along the beach in the direction of the waterfall, knowing full well there’d be no water. Sadly, off of the main beach there was the inevitable heaps of plastic collecting on the shore.

The evening brought with it a cool onshore breeze and delightful food at the resteraunt.

That night, after the bar closed, I discovered there was Netflix in the chalets and on recommendation I binge watched The Gentleman series.

Day two was much a repeat of day one and day three as per two. Obviously there were other restaurants to test. I also met up with Ken and Patty from Queensland, Australia. They have been holidaying in Vietnam and Cambodia and we had visited many of the same venues. They were great fun to spend time with. Having shook hands with Ken we had a good laugh at how we both clamped each others hands in a vice like grip. No limp lettuce shakes here.

My final day was just the same but the Netflix had changed to F1 drive to survive by this time and Ken &Patty had gone, headed to Phnom Penh and a flight home. On my last night the staff put on a fire show. It was all fun and laughs as the guys tried new tricks, dropping the fire batons and each other on occasion.

And just like that in the blink of an eye the morning came and time to say goodbye to the staff and board the ferry back

It had been absolutely the best choice to come here and just take some time to relax without having to book the next night’s hotel, plan a route, research what to see and all the other things that go with being on the move constantly.

With the island still visible off the back of the ferry, the mainland was coming into sight. The skeletal high rise buildings, that you can see through, to the hills behind and a cityscape you hope will benefit the locals and not just the investors.

It was going to be an easy ride, nice roads and no hurry. I had booked myself into a cheap hotel in Sihanouk very close to the ferry port. After a bit of a faff I also managed to book a few days at Eden Resort on the island of Kaoh Rong Sanloem. I had heard it was great and quieter than the party island next door.

I said goodbye to the staff at the Sunny Hotel and loaded the bike up. A simple routine of strapping the roll top bag to the rear rack and then adding bungees, just as an extra support. With a rucksack on I headed to a corner cafe for breakfast. As I sat down in all my bike gear a very French voice said “You’re a week early”, “Am I, a week early for what?” “The bike meeting here is next weekend, it’s very big”. As luck would have it I will be passing back through next weekend, so maybe I will stop again.

Setting off proper, the roads where their usual straight, single carriageway in each direction, coated with just enough dust to colour everything sandy yellow. Traffic was light and the hundreds of parasolled stalls empty, each has a large cool box and glass display. The cool box is filled with ice, delivered each day and various drinks lay in it. The glass display unit normally houses a collection of the drinks they stock.

There were plenty of lorries on the road, mostly carrying gravel, piled so high that it spills off, until it reaches a level where it mostly stays on the pointed mound protruding past the safe load level. I deal with lorries as swiftly as I can. There is often a lane for scooters and cyclists to the inside and a quick overtake isn’t an issue, alternatively a standard overtake down the outside is also doable. However there are times I see scooters travelling down the right side in the scooter lane, their speed matching that of the lorry. It can go on for miles. I’m sure the scooter is in a blind spot and the rider is showered in stones and dust. It’s just not worth it.

I was only expecting 2 hours maximum on the road but then the road just stopped and became a dirt path of jagged stones set in the compacted earth. It was uneven and the stones looked like small daggers reaching to slash the tyres. I was stood up riding as carrying the bag on the rack really loads up the suspension. Stood up I can flick the bike to avoid those rocks. I can lift the front over the pot holes and ruts, of which there were plenty. It looked as if the road had been paved but that paving had now been removed. I hoped it was just resurfacing work and would be over quickly, after all this is the main road between to large towns and a commercial port. Twenty minutes later my eyes and mouth full of dust, I was sure it couldn’t go on much longer. My feet were aching from being stood. The locals all remained sat on their mostly overloaded scooters. Their bikes banging and clattering as they made good progress on this ‘rally stage’. Suddenly Lilly coughed and cut out. I was expecting it as I knew I’d need fuel, switching to reserve she was happy again. I tucked into the next petrol station which had a coffee shop attached. With Lilly fueled it was now my turn. The air conditioned shop felt like stepping into a fridge, bliss. The walls adorned with colourful images of the plethora of coffees available.

A cappuccino please, No, not have. A latte? No, not have. Orange juice? No!What followed was a point at pictures exercise, followed by her saying No. Eventually she pointed to an iced coffee on the menu and quizzically asked “Yes?” “Oh yes please”. It was just easier than trying another. I sat in the cool and sipped my very cold iced coffee. At the end scooping the remaining ice into my scarf and slipping it round my neck. The ice cold water ran down my back which was a shock as I was generally already chilly in the shop. Outside however it was a very welcome trickle of water for the next 15 minutes of dust and dirt track. After 30km of bumpy, dusty riding the paving returned. Slowly the buildings started to be far more modern structures and shops appeared, road markings and signs showed the way to Sihanouk and the tiny hotel called Reaksmey Meanrith Guesthouse. I had booked a one night stay before heading off to the beach island. I asked about leaving the bike in the courtyard for a few days and it appeared to be no issue to staff. In fact nothing was an issue. The owners daughter was tasked to show me to my chalet. She ran off, key in hand as I lifted all my kit onto my shoulders and tried to locate her. The hotel is a bit like a holiday camp, two rows of chalets facing each other. It was very nice in the room. The aircon was a bit rubbish, like an asthmatic mouse blowing through a straw.

What became quickly apparent was the massive Chinese influence in this beach town. The waterfront lined by endless empty Chinese resteraunts. Then there were tens of high rise hotels being built. The whole place felt disjointed and out of place. I found the ticket office for the ferry to the Island. The guy was great but he couldn’t change a $100 bill. Actually a common issue in a country that uses two currencies but, annoyingly, the ATM’s all dole out $100 bills. So I paid a deposit for the 11.30 ferry. His parting words “Be here tomorrow at 11am and pay the rest”. It seemed fair enough.

10.30am I was there waiting. A tuktuk driver asked if I needed help. I explained 11am I was going to pay my ticket and board the ferry. He quickly dispelled that theory as the ferries don’t run from here today and the office is closed. I waited and sure enough at 11am, nothing happened and that didn’t change.

At that point I jumped in his tuktuk and we sped to the other ferry terminal. On arrival it is clear there are loads of operator shops for equal loads of ferries. At 11.30am I found the right ticket office and handed him my receipt. There was some banter about not knowing the man, but then he was able to process the ticket. Not before ringing the guy on his day off to berate him for his stupidity. If I’d had a watch, I would have held it aloft and tapped the screen. Pretty sure, I’d missed the ferry I walked to pontoon 6 of 6. The ferry was still there and was just about to board us. 4 x 250hp Suzuki outboards adorned the rear of the semi covered boat

Once we were all aboard, those engines fired up and once out of the harbour they were given full throttle. The bow lifting and the boat climbed up into the plane, skipping across the waves, sometimes getting bogged down or rolling violently as the waves failed to behave. I was loving it, unlike the Chinese man on the far side of the craft who had literally gone yellow!

Within an hour, and much to the Chinese gents joy, the engines throttled back from their 1000hp roar. The boat dropped serenely back into the sea and the water slapped at the Hull as the driver piloted us to rest alongside the long wooden pier.

I knew I was staying at Eden Resort and wondered how far I would need to walk. Well, as this was The Eden Resort private pier, the answer was not far at all. Infact I was checked in and being shown my room within minutes.