2024 S. E. Asia

I was ready to move on. I had a great time in the Capitol city but it was more expensive and my hotel, although comfy, left a lot to be desired. As it was by 10am I was on my way travelling through the streets I had walked endlessly. The sun was shinning and the oppressive heat made me wonder if there is another option other than kevlar jeans and boots. The stifling heat giving way slightly as the roads cleared and I could go faster. 80kpm or 50mph is Lillys happy place. I know I could push her to 100kph but, no need I miss enough as it is.

Annoyingly I travelled 150km without taking a single photo, looking back the journey was uneventful, not dull because its never dull. The roads, although paved and straight throw up a few moments that see you dealing with huge ripples in the tarmac or pot holes that require a quick stand up and lift the front wheel over, whilst the back end crashes into the far lip of the crater. No punctures to date. The traffic is, I believe, slightly more hectic than Vietnam. Often three abreast coming towards me as lorry overtakes a car, which itself is overtaking a tuktuk or any combination of vehicle, including farm and plant machinery.

I had prebooked a hotel for a night. Just on the outskirts of the town centre, or is that in the town centre? Anyway near the river and night economy. The Sunny Hotel was sunny for sure. My room was massive, on the third floor with a balcony overlooking a large school. With a choice of two double beds and a lovely bathroom. I was quickly settled and off for a walk to the river.

The Prek Kampong Kandal river was, as with most large rivers, the centre of trade in the past. Kampots biggest export now is pepper, I’m no expert but I think its the peppercorn, I saw plenty of adverts for pepper tourism. Other things to know about Kampot include yet more French government and Kmer Rouge issues, but we’ve done with that.

The Riverside has a promenade and it was lovely walk on a Saturday evening. A market at the far end selling many ‘delicacies’ to the bug hungry locals. A huge paved area saw 30 ot 40 children whisking about in various electric toy cars, bikes and horses. It was fun to navigate on foot, hopping out the way of the little tearaway as they screamed and shouted at the helpless tourist.

There were plenty of resteraunts with much better prices than the Capitol city. After eating, a walk around the bars and into the only one playing live music. The female singer, Kelly, is English, it was her last gig before returning to the UK and she was giving it the full last gig performance. She had an electric acoustic guitar, if that’s even a thing, accompanied by electric guitar, drums, synth’ and a box drummer, she was banging out huge tunes really well.

At 11pm I paid my tab and wobbled back to the Sunny Hotel just in time to watch the Formula 1.

I want to say I was up early, I had found a mountain road and was advised to get there early as the traffic builds up. It was suggested 6am. So 10.30am I left in search of an expectantly busy mountain.

To my great relief there was very little traffic, allowing me and Lilly to wind our way leisurely up the hillside through the lush green of the densley packed trees, a small clearing every now and again, affording us great views across to the coast.

Out of nowhere this huge statue appeared. On stopping to walk up, I was joined by Maria from Spain, she was travelling alone and had just hired a scooter to ride the same route. We left the bikes side by side and strolled up. We had almost completed the same journey through Cambodia at the same time. We both stood there in flimsy clothing discussing the imminent rain fall. I know nothing of the statue other than it was very big and hadn’t appeared on my planning phase.

When I got back to Lilly she stood alone, either Maria had gone or my advice “Yeah its safe anywhere, I leave Lilly all over the place she is always there when I get back”, was wildly wrong.

My next stop were the cascading waterfalls, short diversion and a few dollars entry, where the ticket sales lady handed me an entry ticket, showing the falls in full flow, but forgot to mention that there was not a drop of water to be seen in dry season.

I walked back to the massive cafe, which housed at least 50 tables, with 4 chairs at each, but not one customer. I bet it’s heaving during the rainy season.

Back on the bike and across a large section of dirt road before linking back to the tarmac. Headed this time for the Bokor Palace Hotel and township at the peak of this mountain.

When the Kmer Rouge were overthrown they retreated here and fought a bloody war for months before surrendering to the Vietnamese liberation army.

Its called urban dark tourism, this sort of thing. I call it ruins at the top of a hill that afforded a really nice ride. I bumped into Maria who confirmed her scooter had not been stolen.

And so, as the clouds rolled in, I was headed back, pretty much the way I had come. I whisked through the clouds which lightly dampened my clothing and instantly dried as I got further down. The ride was easy and flowing right up until the monkeys!!!

Having not killed a single monkey, I continued back to the hotel.

It was Sunday night and I headed out for some food at a groovy sky resteraunt that used IBC’s with lights in to create the loft warehouse look.

After a rather bland and expensive pasta meal I headed for the bar I was in last night. In a complete change it was very quiet. I had a drink and chat with the manager, whilst a very drunk American, played himself at pool and somehow lost!

The next day I did little more than walk round the various markets perusing their mountains of clothes and shoes, trying desperately to avoid the meat aisles. The stench, an advanced warning and the flies a secondary reminder of the horrors ahead.

I looked at watches, for a long time I always had an analogue watch strapped to the handlebars of my bikes, but with the advent of LCD screens that became obsolete, however Lilly isn’t blessed with a clock and the one on the phone is tiny when using navigation. In the end I walked away. I don’t need to know the time, it’s a holiday.

That evening I sat down for a meal in a bar / resteraunt. Open air with tarp covering to the street. I love how pavements offer no pedestrian access, just more seating and scooter parking. Long story short, I was with two Brits, an American and a girl called MaKara. Now I don’t know much about politics, but I do know not to discuss it over beers. I ate my Spaghetti as the conversation got louder and louder. By now I was ready to leave as people in surrounding resteraunts were starting to look on as voices raised in heated debate. MaKara approached “come and sit inside with me I don’t like this shouting”. We went inside and spent the rest of the evening chatting, laughing and enjoying each others company. The others had quietened down and I thought I should rejoin them as we had previously arranged an impromptu walking tour. I turned to check in, but they were gone. No issue, I was happy chatting. At 32 MaKara spoke really good English, she lives in a house with her entire family, including her two children from a, now, failed relationship. Her outlook on life was so positive. She has worked at the resteraunt for just two weeks, today was her day off and she came in to spend time with her new friends. The night slipped past in an instant and before long it was time to go our seperate ways. A hug and a selfie with a promise to meet tomorrow for lunch.

The next day I rode out into the rural area outside the Capitol to take a look. It was very much little villages that struggle to survive in the shadow of their bigger Capitol city. But people were happy to be selling drinks to me if nothing else and the smiles all seemed genuine.

At 1pm Sat down for lunch at MaKaras place. In due course she joined me for lunch. Soon enough it was back to work for her and for me, a boat trip after a very long afternoon walk that saw me back in the area of the small ferry crossing. I’d seen a promenade all lit up and full of people when I did the tuktuk tour. However during the day the place was a ghost town of bars and small resteraunts that remained closed until after sunset, their frontages bare of customers and dark under tarpaulin covers.

The boat tour was interesting. An hour long, there was a bar and snacks stall onboard. The boat sailed up to the harbour bridge illuminated with the Cambodian flag it looked very good. Honestly, that was the highlight. I spoke to no one and was barely acknowledged by others in their groups. There was no commentary or guide, just an hour looking to the banks of the river, that I had already spent several nights walking along.

That done it was time for ice cream, I’d previously found a great little ice cream parlour. Coconut and white chocolate was my ice of choice. I sat in the shop window watching people go past. As I was down to the last few scoops a small girl appeared at the window, hands held out begging. She saw the ice cream and her eyes lit up. She indicated she wanted it. I held it towards the door and she nipped in to take it. No thanks, nothing. Outside she tasted it, pulled a face and gave it to her sibling. Oh well that was extreme generosity on my part, I’d rather give hard cash than ice cream.

I started walking back to my hotel when there was frantic ‘beeping’ and a scooter pulled up next to me. It was MaKara, she had been headed home when she saw me. I suggested a quick drink at her workplace. ‘Hop on’ she said. The tiny Honda groaned as I climbed on, 150kg between us and I was about 100 of them. Clearly MaKara hadn’t riden with a small elephant on the back before, as we weaved and wobbled between tuktuk, cars and mopeds. I’m sure she was glad it was over when we got there. We laughed at her first pillion experience, although like everyone she takes her children out on the bike. It was a brief drink and chat before we once again headed our seperate ways.

I’m going to be here a few days. The first day was spent moving hotel. I had booked one which was slightly further out of the city, it was more expensive but looked very nice. On arrival I found I had failed to select the right room and had opted for a broom cupboard with no window. To upgrade cost me a lot. Once in my room it was very nice. The aircon struggled to cope, cooling the bigger room.

I headed out on foot and found I had effectively moved from a nice hotel in a nice area to a more expensive hotel away from anything with dodgy aircon and a resident gheko, but it’s a non refundable booking.

Speaking with the resident tuktuk man, he was available to do all the big ticket items the next day.

Day 3. Mr Buntha was ready and off we went, headed to several small sights and then Choeung Ek or better known as Phnom Penh’s killing fields. Another preserved site that details the horrific execution of Cambodians by Cambodians. When Pol Pots democratic party of Cambodia came to power, the population was 7 million. The Kmer Rouge killings saw 2.5 million people killed. Nearly one third the population, slain by a maniacal dictator, who came to power with the support and funding from America. The logic was that Pol Pot sold them his democratic dream but had no intention of stepping away from being a communist dictator. His paranoia meant that anyone with an education may undermine him and must be killed. Not just that but one of his moto’s was ‘if you don’t want the grass to grow you must remove the roots’, effectively, if you kill one opponent you must kill their entire family.

Pol Pots army was made up of supporters and those forced to fight or die. Most of those forced were children, as young as 8yrs. Early teens became executioners, killing up to 300 people per day at this site. The methods were barbaric, bullets were expensive, so most were killed by blunt force trauma. Its the site of the ‘killing tree’ where babies were killed in front of their mothers. Something I thought was just myth.

With that done we headed back towards S21 the school, turned interrogation centre.

S21 or Tuol Sleng Prison is probably the most well known Kmer Rouge interrogation centre. Where prisoners were tortured until they admitted being spies for Russia or America and effectively signed their own death warrants.

The criteria to find yourself detained was very loose. If you were educated, a manager, religious, a teacher, if you wore glasses that made you look intelligent and even having a pen in your shirt pocket were all true reasons people were detained. Several tourists including a Brit passed through and were never seen again.

8 men survived the ordeal. The man on the far left was a mechanic and was spared so he could maintain the lorries and typewriters in the prison. Another was a sculptor who was tasked to make endless busts of Pol Pot. 4 of the survivors were children who hid in piles of clothing taken from prisoners. They were hiding for the last ten days that the prison remained under Kmer Rouge occupation.

Two of the survivors visit the site daily to promote their books. Now in their late 80’s early 90’s the men look like shadows, wearing the physical scars and mental trauma of hard lives just surviving.

When Cambodia was liberated by the Vietnamese, Pol Pot went into hiding in the mountains. He lived out his life in those mountains until the year 1998. But let’s not forget that the United Nations General Assembly recognised him as the rightful leader of Cambodia and again funded him.

Its a humbling end to the tale. This country, in which everyone knew someone who was killed, decided those Kmer leaders would face trial, but no death sentences, because there had been enough killing of Cambodians by Cambodians.

The term Genocide was born out of this time. You have to think, this happened in my lifetime and we should have learnt the futility of conflict, but we haven’t and nor have we stopped genocide, its happening right now in full view.

Let’s not get ahead of ourselves just yet as I was in Battambang for three days. I had already done the sites so on the second day I just went out and rode some trails outside the town. It was all very basic stuff, no real challenges. Of course you have to stay on main trails as, let’s not forget those mine fields.

Each night I could be found in the genuinely quiet Pub Street at KC’s enjoying great food and a few drinks

My final full day and I was off to find that bridge. Although shown on Google maps it was way off the main roads and was proving a challenge to locate. The day was, as expected, crazy hot. As I got closer the tacks became more challenging and then Google told me I had arrived

It had been a nice ride out. I headed back to another killing field in Battambang

I was ready to leave, I was sure I’d seen it all. As I bid farewell to the hotel manager, he came out to see me off, giving me a new scarf as a gift and wishing me good fortune.

If you think that graphic looks long and boring you’d be right. I had planned to take two days to complete the 300km but there was so little to see enroute that I ended up doing it almost non stop. Arriving in Phnom Penh at 6.30pm. The issue was I hadn’t booked a hotel for that night. Quickly resolved I found myself in the very nice Angkor Hotel.

Let’s see what tomorrow and the next few days bring.

I was up early and had time for coffee and English breakfast.

At 9am Mr Bunther and his tuktuk were ready. Backpack stuffed with sun lotion, hat and zip on trouser lower halves, we set off.

The French really wanted control of S.E.Asia so they could have a go at China and try to own its valuable trade links. But that was always a step too far.

Ta Dambong was a farmer who struggled to understand his purpose in life, he was guided to a tree which had a magic stick within. It gave Ta huge power and he used the stick to overthrow the King. Many years later, after doing much good in his province, Ta was challenged by the King’s son, Ta threw the stick and ran away into hiding. The ‘lost stick’ (Battembong) was never found, but a great city grew where the stick landed.

The Bamboo railway runs between the outer villages of Battembang. Originally used to bring goods and cattle to the area, it runs on an active railway line with scheduled trains.

If a train comes you simply dismantle the Bamboo train, let the big one past and rebuild yours. We didn’t see a train but you still have to turn the whole thing round when you want to go back the way you came.

Martin was the guy I met at the station and we shared the cost. Martin is travelling S.E.Asia and has an impressive 18 months to complete it.

After I returned to the tuktuk, Mr Bunther took me to his aunts home, where they make rice noodles.

Despite being outdoors and covered the place was a furnace of boiling pots and machinery. The process is a continual cycle taking 36hrs from raw rice to the prepared noodles. Working every day, the lady produces noodles for local resteraunts and families. They certainly didn’t look to be wealthy off the back of it.

Next we went to the killing cave and bat cave (no, not that bat cave). It was all in one complex, firstly some depictions of Buddha cut from the rock face. Then a short drive in a 4×4 to get to the temple at the top. Another temple taken over by the Kmer Rouge and used to exterminate anyone with, or trying to gain an education. Their treatment was brutal and deaths undignified. No photos taken.

So, just after sunset, the cave that sits to the right side of the big statue is the scene of a mass exodus of bats. They leave at sunset and return 8hrs later, having eaten their fill of insects, mostly mosquitos. Approximately 1 million tiny bats exit in just ten minutes. It was an incredible sight.

Then the fun of getting back in the dark on terrible roads and manic traffic. Mr Bunther had been an absolute gem, full of so much knowledge, both about his home and the area.

I was in no rush to leave Siem Reap having had a late night playing pool and drinking more than usual.

So a lazy start, packing slowly and ditching a heap more clothes that I won’t use. Starbucks for great coffee with a ham and cheese croissant. That done I loaded up the bike, said goodbye to the lovely staff at Angkor City Boutique Hotel.

The road looked dull on the map and it was. Just straight for 80km at which point, I had added a more interesting section.

Despite the lack of anything interesting, it was still a long time in the saddle in very hot conditions. The wind was like a hairdryer blowing hot air in my face, I still wear bike boots and kevlar jeans. As well as long sleeve top to protect me from the sun. I have a scarf that stops my neck getting burnt. At each stop, I try to get my drink with ice, once consumed I scoop a handful of ice and wrap it in the scarf to try and have some cool water running down my back. Today however despite reaching back to feel the ice still in the scarf, I think it was evaporating before it got to my neck.

Battambang, pronounced Bat-em-bong, resembled a scene from a western.

Once in the hotel, sorry, Royal Hotel, I hit the aircon and went for a shower. I spoke to the hotel tuktuk driver and arranged a day out tomorrow. Later I found there’s a Pub Street here. It’s nothing like Siem Reap but better prices and fantastic food.

04.00hrs came round mighty quick but I was up and ready for collection.

A quick chat with the guide as he opened the minibus door and I saw the only seat was next to a young female. “Mind if I sit here?” “No, go ahead”. I noted a strong Australian accent. “Where you from then?” “Newcastle” she replied. “Thats North of Sydney, isn’t it?”, “Yeah sure. You’re from Australia, right?”, “Errr No!” We had a good laugh at me once again being mistaken for an Ozzy.

20 minutes later we all clambered for the best view.

Angkor Wat foundations are volcanic rock and sand. They rely on water to maintain their integrity and not crumble. Both the moat and four big pools in the middle support that requirement.

In the very centre of the complex is the, Buddhist center of the universe. If you put a compass on the floor the North entrance is exactly at magnetic North. Built in the 12th century, that is incredible accuracy.

I’m not going to lie, I really wasn’t that fussed about Angkor Wat at the start but within an hour I was totally sold on it and it’s incredible history. I ended up with over 100 photos, so consider yourselves lucky there’s only a few here

Next was another temple, 2 of 5 we would visit and again I wasn’t sure….

The king of the time built this as a memorial to his mother. The centre attrium had a gold statue of her and in the walls holes were drilled and precious stoned placed in them before being sealed up with clay. All these have subsequently been stolen by actual Tomb Raiders. Another 100 photos. Well it can’t get better than that, can it?

Well it can’t get better than that, can it?

Well yes, the Bayon Temple has no less than 65 towers each with four faces on them.

Nothing will top that, surely……..

OK the last stop was just, a very impressive city gate with Demons and Gods on each side of the road bridge. The BMW club of Bangkok were there and I had a chat with them. That ultimately made us late leaving.

It was now back to the hotel for a rest before the afternoon tour. I showered and dried my clothing as best I could.

Tonle Sap is a fresh water lake measuring 109km long and 100km wide in the rainy season, but now the dry season just 60km wide. That’s a massive difference between seasons.

The village of Chong Khneas sits within the water basin of Tonle Sap. The houses or ‘kampong’ are built on stilts

Back on the boat we headed out onto the Croc infested lake to watch sunset

After sunset, we zoomed back, against fading light, using the very accurate navigation channels marked by bamboo and polythene bags. Did I mention crocodiles?

Day one done…….

Day 2 and I had spoken with Mr Sany the hotel night porter and freelance tuk tuk driver. He suggested a few places and I had one in mind. We met at 10am outside the hotel. I had placed most my clothing in to be laundered, so I needed long trousers and long sleeve shirt. I don’t want to get burnt. Minutes later I was in the market buying said items for less than £12.

To the cashpoint and get a takeaway coffee. I’m sat in the tuktuk, lording it up as Mr Sany takes me through the traffic. Its nice not to be in full riding gear.

The first stop was Apopo, a Belgium based charity, the founder of which had always kept pet rats and knew they were very intelligent animals. With the ability to smell things up to one metre underground. Using positive reinforcement, the rats are trained to detect minute amounts of explosive that would indicate a land mine. The rats are very well cared for and love being handled. Training takes a year and each rat works for up to five years. No rats have ever been lost to a mine. They form a small but vital part of mine clearance, helping return valuable land to the people.

Even now, 25years after land mines were banned, 3 people a month are maimed or killed by the munitions left over from decades of war and unrest. Cambodia is one of the most heavily mined regeons of the world.

I got to hold Greg but not before we all had to wash our forearms. Greg was no fool he knew my upper arms had delicious watermelon sun screen on them, he licked at that as I held him.

The next stop was the killing fields. This was a former hospital taken over by the Pol Pot regime and used as an extermination centre for this area of Siem Reap. The stories were harrowing and the mass graves shocking. I took no photos.

Then onto the war museum. It was an open air exhibit with mostly old tanks and personnel carriers but there were two aircraft. An elderly gentleman sat inside the entrance. “Sir, do you want a guide?” I didn’t really but I crumbled, “OK that would be fine”. He asked me to take a seat in the open as he explained a bit of history. Nothing I didn’t already know but he was engaging. He is known as ‘the cat of war’, having survived 9 attempts on his life. We set off on the short walk through the rusting hulks of badly damaged machinery. It was little more than a scrap yard.

Each weapon we stopped at, the cat, would explain what it was and then roll up a sleeve or unbutton his shirt to show the relevant scar from his encounter.

At the far end was a display of land mines and various write ups on the wall. The cat revealed how he had shrapnell on this left knee cap and had lost his lower right leg to a mine. He didn’t feel the need to show, as he explained how he lost a testicle as well.

After that, he left me to continue alone as he isn’t able to stand for very long. I was glad as the various wounds and amputations were making me queazy. As I left the museum I thanked ‘the cat’ and pressed some dollars into what remained of his right hand, careful not to squeeze or injure him more.

Day three was a lazy one. I took Lilly for an oil change. The mechanic swiftly did that, then used the old oil to lubricate the chain, then adjust the tension. I pointed out that Lillys side stand was worn and she leant over way too far. Quick as a flash, the stand was off, pinched in a vice, then refitted with a washer to take out the remaining slack. The mechanic grinned from ear to ear, proud of his work. Vigorously shaking my hand as he took the equivalent of £7 off me which included a tip.

The day rolled into evening, I had eaten loads, drank more than I usually do and ended up playing pool in a dodgy bar off of beer street.

Tomorrow I move on again.

As ever, coffee is a priority and I was loading up ready to head to last nights coffee shop. In the hotel car park a conversation started between me and about 5 or 6 Asian guys, smartly dressed in shirt and tie. They liked to hear about my journey and planned journey. It was all very casual. I saw one snapping a photo of me, looking like a human dust cloud as I headed off waving goodbye.

Outside the coffee shop was a Police checkpoint, they all stood as I approached, “here we go!” I thought. But no, they saw I was looking for a parking spot and simply moved their gazebo aside for me to park. I had Mt coffee and picked up a small tub of biscuits. On leaving I had a quick chat with the officers who were looking at a 12hr shift with only the gazebo to stave off the heat. I gave them the biscuits and headed off.

On a long straight stretch of road I saw two white 4×4 cars coming up behind me. It’s not unusual for vehicles not giving you much room but the road was really clear and these cars slowed right down. As the first one passed there were 4 guys, windows down, cheering and waving. As the second one passed with the same exuberant whoops and cheers, it dawned on me it was the well dressed guys from the hotel car park. I waved and cheered back, laughing out loud.

Back on the road, the bike cruising happily and that let’s my mind wander, still concentrating but thoughts swirl in my head. I’m riding a bike that cost less than the phone clamped to the bars, weirdly I had two phones on the bars, charging, along with my 360 camera that equates to about a years wages for the people I had met, so far. This little bike has taken me on a huge adventure and I was loving it. At this point I was jolted back to reality as a bus coming towards me was overtaking a scooter, with a lorry looking to overtake that and a car overtaking the lorry. Barely enough room for all of us, but we got through.

I have worked in tunneling for about 7 years and that has allowed me to save money like a man possessed and thanks to that, I have been able to travel. I enjoyed my time tunnelling and hopefully that trade remains open to me if I overspend.

I had booked a hotel in Siem Reap, knowing I would want to be staying for a few days. When I got there it was excellent. Just a minute from Pub Street that is the centre of the nightlife. I found a Mexican resteraunt and had enchiladas.

It was Saturday evening and there was a big procession in town. I didnt know it but it marked the passing of Budda. That in itself would have an impact on tomorrow’s trip.

Having had a few beers, about midnight, I headed back to the hotel to see what time I was being picked up…… 04.45hrs

What a great day this was going to be. Headed out of Stung Trend it was already obvious it would be another gloriously hot day. A huge bridge spanning the Mekong River was a modern and impressive site compared to the French Colonial style townships I have mostly seen.

The great thing about a detour is that it throws up new and interesting scenes.

The three lads were rightly proud of their builds. Made from scraps of wood, string, bottle tops and tooth picks. I was really impressed and despite no other words than hello and bye. It was a heart warming encounter. They will grow up to be masters of recycling, repurposing and maintaining the things they have, as all these people do. Rural Cambodia has no throw away culture, everything is used until it can no longer be used, at which point it is repurposed (baring the enormous deluge of single use plastics).

My second detour led me 30km to a waterfall on the border of Cambodia and Laos, where the mighty Mekong flows.

After the 30km back to the main road I needed yet another drink.

The math’s doesn’t compute to me. There are literally thousands of roadside stalls all the same. How do they earn enough to support themselves. There are rarely other people about when I stop. My trade brings in pennies. I suppose there’s no rent to pay as properties are handed down.

I was getting closer to Preah Vihear. Although still 29km away, the bike was purring along and I was in my happy place. I saw behind a bike with flashing lights. I slowed and waited, it drew alongside, it was a Yamaha MT. I gave the rider a thumbs up, relieved it wasn’t a Police bike with flashing lights. He slowed and we managed a fist bump. He then rode ahead of me, slowly getting further ahead. Then all of a sudden I was back with him. I knew I hadn’t sped up, so clearly he had slowed down. He signalled left and flagged me down to stop at a roadside shack. His name is Janal, although it looks a whole lot different in Khmer. A thoroughly nice guy whose female friend owned the shack (Not girlfriend or wife he told me). He got me a large bottle of water and paid for it, refusing my offer to pay. He works for a big drinks company that supply bottled water, various soft drinks and beer to Cambodia. After our chat in English and Google Translate, we rode together to Preah Vihear, where we went our seperate ways, but not before becoming FB friends.

I booked into my charming hotel, found a resteraunt and a coffee bar. Day done I hit the sack.

With no pressure to get the kilometres done I headed to a coffee bar for breakfast. It was just gone 9am and already very hot.

Quite early on, I saw this temple on top of a hill. I only wanted a photo or two, so I left my crash helmet on and climbed the, reiculously perilous, metal stairs up.  By the time I got up there I was a sweating mess. However it was worth the climb. Its a temple under construction.

The only riding kit i didnt take up the metal staircase were my gloves. The only bit I needed were my gloves, the handrail was burning hot. It dawned on me I had used the workmans temporary stairway which was, rickety and not good in bike boots. That called for a cold drink and my scarf to be soaked in water.

The road was straight and dull, so I added a 16km detour along some trails. Incredibly hot the trail was either soft dusty powder or jagged stones. It was a challenge to get the fully loaded bike through without getting a puncture

And so I rolled into Stung Trend and got a hotel. On the bank of the Mekong River its a busy little town with a market. It stayed busy into the late evening but also remained oppresively hot (Not complaining).