Up the Mekong, in Search of Colonel Kurtz

The Bike and I chartered a boat up the Mekong, headed out of Cambodia and into Laos. Kurtz was somewhere upriver. We were joined by East and West Germans, a Czech Buddhist and a guy from Limerick. It was a rag-tag bunch, but we were confident we could get the job done.

Motoring against the flow of the Mekong, we felt gooks eyeing us from everywhere. We saw them sometimes, but their clever deception of smiling, waving and fishing didn't fool us. We stayed frosty.

When we find Kurtz, I can only begin to imagine his state of his mind. I've begun talking to myself and sometimes I wonder about The Bike's opinion on matters. When The Bike answers me, I know someone will be headed up river - this time looking for me.

I carry The Bike onto our ride upriver. "I'm done for! Save yourself!" cries The Bike. "No way I'm leaving you brother!" I growl back.


The Bike and I stay frosty and alert for enemy activity.


We spot a long-tailed rocket boat, but they don't bother us none.


The team disembarks at the Lao border.


Meet the mighty Mekong.


We make it across the heavily fortified border. Luckily I spotted the garrote just in time.

This post pays homage to Mr FFC.

Phenom-enal Water Festival

The Phenom Penh Water Festival takes place over 3 days and is the biggest weekend in Cambodia. Millions descend on the capital to watch almost 500 boats compete in non-stop racing on the Tonle Sap river. There are several different designs of boat but the most common contain around 60 blokes paddling furiously, meaning that tens of thousands were participating in the event.

Two boats race in the fast-flowing center of the river, while finishers make their way along the banks back toward the start.


At the start line dozens of boats jockey for position while they await their turn to race. There was much whistling and hand waiving, but everyone seemed to know what was going on (except me).


The chain-smoking leprechaun in the bow keeps time for the rowers...


.. while several chaps at the back with longer paddles steer the boat. You can see offerings in the bow - I think to appease the spirits.


Waiting for your race slot is an exhausting business.


Each day was topped off with fireworks and barges with huge light displays which paraded up and down the river.

Gun Phun in Phenom Pehn

What do you get if you cross tourist dollars with Cambodian commandos who have too much time on their hands and a base full of guns and ammo? A whole load of gun totting fun!

Ice Cube's favourite - AK 47, assault rifle. The safest place to be while I was shooting was directly behind the target. With a full clip of 30 shells on full-auto I managed to only wing the target twice :-S


This tripod mounted M19 was a lot of fun, but not as much as the Degtyaryov light machine gun I also tried, which had tracer shells too.


My 30 dollar grenade which I got to toss in a water-filled ditch. Die frogs and other insurgent pond life!


Our commando hosts were lovely, family chaps who's kids chipped in by setting and retrieving targets (they were small and much harder to hit).


Don't touch gun!
Very me, don't you think? Sadly, posing only since they were out of ammo for this M16 with under slung grenade launcher.

Cambodian Riviera

The flight from Bangkok to Phenom Penh was considerably quicker that my previous trip out, and a lot less effort. The 5 days it had taken by train and bike were swallowed up in 75 minutes. So the plane takes about 10 minutes to cover a day of cycling. I must remember to fit that saddle mounted turbofan next time.

I switched one Matt power for a handful of horse power and headed down to the south coast to kill a couple of days before the Phenom Penh Water Festival. The towns of Kampot and Kep used to be the place to hang out for well-to-do Cambodians before the war and Khmer Rouge regime. The place is full of dilapidated French colonial buildings and abandoned villas. Very atmospheric and picturesque. Things are visibly picking up however and I'm sure you'll see it in the Thompsons Holidays brochure very soon.

Downtown Kampot with its French colonial charm. Kids are everywhere. The majority of the Cambodian population is under 25.


Volleyball is a popular street game, something Cambodia shares with Nepal.


Quite a crowd gathered for the game, with players and spectators serviced by noodle sellers.


This abandoned villa in Kep is now home to squatters.


Forget the car which runs on water, in Cambodia, my awesome little Honda ran on Pepsi! I hear diet is better for the environment.

Back in Bangkok

After 500 km I reached Phenom Penh, the capital of Cambodia, of which more in another post. It was strange seeing Westerners again and as I cycled the busy streets looking for a guest house I felt a little sense of achievement at having got here under my own steam - so far I've not seen another Western cyclist on the roads of Cambodia.

Soon after I arrived, I was off to the airport to fly back to Bangkok to see my buddy Moleskin Matt get married. What a fun and fascinating time! Moleskin met his wife Poom while he was working in Bangkok several years ago. He's quite the South East Asian connoisseur, speaking Thai and having completed several of his own cycle odysseys in Thailand, Laos and Vietnam. It was great to catch up with him and meet Poom, who is predictably as terrific as young Moleskin. A perfect match.

The ceremony itself was the third of the week, following civil and Buddhist proceedings. It unfolded over several hours during which the number attending slowly swelled from a hundred to around 600 as family were joined by friends and finally business associates. It was fascinating and much fun and has been a perfect break from the bike for the weekend. Cheers to Poom and Matt!

Poom and Moleskin spent most of the many hours of the ceremony kneeling and greeting everyone with hands pressed together in sawadee. This was the 'pouring of the water' part of the ceremony.


On your knees boy! (as the KLF would have said, had they been invited).


This was the grand finale of speeches, toasting and over 600 guests.


The cake has nine layers, for luck. The 18th was similarly a most auspicious day on which to be married.


It was a very grand and spectacular occasion with ice sculptures and everything!

Ankor. Wat on Earth?!

So it turns out the road from hell leads to somewhere close to heaven. The temples of Ankor, just outside Siem Reap, are something indeed. There are dozens of enormous, spectacular and diverse temples scattered throughout the countryside of jungles and paddy fields. The jungle has invaded them all but has been removed from only some. For the others, it has become an integral part, both binding the stones and splitting them apart, and only adding to the spectacle and atmosphere.

The temple of Ankor Wat is the headline act and certainly an awesome spectacle. Up close it amazes with endless intricate stone carving and detail.


The Bayon is adorned with hundreds of images of the Buddha which double as portraits of the commissioning Ankorian king. The temples are a mix of Buddhist and Hindu, sometimes both at once, as the Ankor civilization oscillated between the religions.


There are many working temples inside and amongst the ancient sites where monks are busy having fun as only Buddhist monks do.


Ta Prohm has been completely overrun by the jungle which has a permanent grip on the temple. It makes for an atmosphere of pure Tomb Raider, unsurprising since scenes from the movie were shot here.


My personal favorite, Preah Khan, is pure Indiana Jones.


By comparison, Pre Rup would seem to be pure Beastmaster (I'm thinking of the final scene on the temple steps where the bad guys are vanquished while the good guys lose only a male ferret in the battle. No ferrets were harmed in the taking of this photograph).


Preah Khan was very quiet and atmospheric. One of the few inhabitants was this girl with her pet - some kind of strange, nocturnal animal (answers on a postcard please). Stranger and stranger are the temples in the early evening.

Into Cambodia

I flew into Bangkok with my bike in a box in the hold. My vague plan is to cycle across Cambodia and Laos and into Vietnam. I've not planned much beyond the first week since I'm sure I'll do a better job of figuring it out as I learn more about the country the bike and me. I've already found out quite a bit. I'm flying solo on this trip while Mary stays at home for a few weeks.

My first job was to get to the Cambodian border. I took the train to avoid the maze of traffic around Bangkok. It was then a simple 7km cycle from the station at Aranyaprathet to the border and a fairly straightforward visa process. Once inside Cambodia the fun began.

The road from Poipet to Siem Reap, my first major destination, was pure hell. Stones and bugs peppered windshields but all I had was teeth and Raybans. Holes, sand, stones, mud and dust made the going very slow. Above all other trials was the dust, which gets everywhere - in your lungs, in your teeth, in the bike, in your gear. I ended each day with my clothes, skin, and bike the same color as the locals. All the color of Cambodian dust.

On the train from Bangkok, approaching the Cambodian border.


My first portrait of the bike. Not quite the same subject appeal as Mary I'll admit, but she does have lovely lines of her own, and 27 speeds.


In my international league of photo-enthusiasm - where the shy Tibetans are the yardstick of reticence - Cambodia makes it's entry straight in at the number one spot with a bullet, beating India and Nepal into joint second place. These kids were absolutely beside themselves at seeing their picture on the camera screen. Although they lived beside the 'highway' the buses don't stop in their village and so I guess they'd perhaps never seen a digital camera. I hope the bike continues to work it's magic like this.


150km of the dusty road from hell.

Baja California

The day after Wendy and Isaac got married, we made a break for the Mexican border. We weren't fugitives from the law, but we drove like we were. Our destination was La Paz in Baja California and we covered over 1800 miles to get there.

The Baja peninsular is everything you expect a desert to be: Sandy, *lots* of cacti and flocks of circling vultures. The only characters missing were Wile E. Coyote and that irritating Road Runner chap.

The roads were long, windy, bad and stunning. Much fun to drive. They were also littered with all sorts of debris and road humps that looked exactly like the ones we'd encountered in India, and just as vicious. I wonder who exports to whom? Our little Audi, with its low suspension and Michelin Alpin snow tyres, was not entirely suited to the terrain and inevitably, we bent the suspension again - the third time. You might leave your heart in San Francisco, but you'll likely leave your transmission in Baja.

The road was long, twisty and thin, and there were a great profusion of cacti.


Baja peninsular is narrow, but surprisingly long. We drove over 3300 miles! - and only sailed 100 :-(


This big, hairy, inverted carrot is unique to Baja (no jokes about Mary please). Ciros grow only an inch each year and some are over 250 years old!


There are many big-ass cacti in Baja.


Military checkpoints abounded and we were stopped and searched many times. These wooden figures marked the approach to a checkpoint and were very disconcerting at night. I wonder if the soldiers make them during arts and crafts time in basic training? There's clearly an influence from South Park, although it's not clear if this is consciously acknowledged by the artist.

Sea of Cortez

Our final destination in Baja was La Paz on the Sea of Cortez where we rented a bareboat for a week and sailed the southern islands. Our home was Explorer - a little Beneteau Oceanis 36.

After 3 days of light air sailing our wish for more wind was answered with a vengeance. A northerly storm blew up in just a few minutes as we pulled into a northerly anchorage. We made a last minute break for a protected southerly cove where we were sheltered on our own for 2 days. To be marooned on alone on a desert island sounds idyllic, but winds gusting "20 to 70 miles an hour" and a boat heeling against it's anchor, have a way of ruining the moment.

After a second night with 2 anchors out and an abortive attempt to brave the breaking swells, our third night brought 2 other boats into the cove and reduced winds. The next day (which Mary described as "the worst of my life", which I'm sure it wasn't really) saw us motor sail for 8 hours though a large and uncomfortable following swell which tossed the boat about constantly. Mary also described the experience as "hair bitting" but I'd go so far as to say it was "nail raising".

We shared our first night's anchorage with this rather handsome schooner.


Mary enjoys a sundowner in the cockpit. The calm before the storm.


Explorer lies at anchor in the distance as we duly explore Isla San Francisco, our refuge and trap. Looks deceptively calm in the lee of the island, doesn't it?


Explorer at anchor and her tender on the beach.

First Wendy, then Isaac, then Photos.

What a great weekend! A pre-nuptial grill, nuptials, cocktails, dinner, dancing and some good times. And the best man's speech brought the house down! Here's a taster.

Wendy and Isaac's Wedding