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.
Earth, Wind and Tyres 