The Mighty Cardamoms

October 08th – 17th

Early in the afternoon, after a first failed attempt to cross the Cardamoms, we got to Pursat. It has in fact no real appeal, this town. None at all. But we did get the chance to visit a women handicraft center, where we bought some artefacts. It’s amazing to see these women use their skills, bent over their work for hours a day, it’s a wonder they are not all blind and hunched by the age of thirty.

Later that day and all through the night, the torrential rains poured down on Pursat and in the morning, the river was in town. The army did try to block most of the water off the main streets using sandbags but it was of little help. But people don’t seem to mind, or even care, as they go on about their day-to-day business, with wet feet and pants rolled up to the knees as if nothing had happened. Six months a year, they’ve got wet feet, the rest of the year it’s a scorching sun. I wonder what’s worse.

The road to Koh Krong is a tough one, we were warned, but we should be okay. Apparently so. Plus it’s not that far, merely three hundred ks through the mountains and rice fields. Doable in one day.

Right, off we go. We have food, water, fuel, veggies and fruit, plenty of music in the iPod and four mighty BF Goodrich tyres, all in perfect condition. Meh.

Six hours later we reached half way, Veal Veang, a tiny town with a couple of decrepit guesthouses, and nothing else to see or do. Still, the road to town was pretty enough, through the fields and the villages and, oh yeah, mud. And more mud. But Troopy made it through as if we were on tarmac. Well almost.

The owner of the guesthouse was kind enough to let us share his meal, with the family, though he spoke very little English. He did teach me how to sew my pants back, Cambodian way. Remember 80% of what you are wearing right now as you are reading this post come from a Cambodian factory. You may be lucky enough, or smart enough, to have bought a “work safe environment” and the garment wasn’t made by slaves, but by workers who earn a decent salary and work decent hours; but it’s more likely that, without knowing, the clothes, shoes, bags, etc that are in your closet are the product of a shameful trade. Sadly, this is the main income for the country, and it’s a difficult debate. How do you prevent someone from working overtime to buy food for their kids, when there are no other jobs available? Remember they are paid less than 30cents a day…

So, my pants are sewn back and we can go on. Next town: O Som. Right. Well not so much. At 11AM we reached a big stretch of road that looked pretty bad. And I mean, “shit how are we going to cross that” kinda bad. Still, I see tyre tracks so, I guess people drive this road. Look, there’s a motorbike. If he can do it, we can.

Off we go, and off we stop. Cock, we’re bogged. Forward, nothing, backward, nothing. Difflock engaged (it works on and off), nothing. Shit on a stick, we’re well and truly stuck.
It’s only when I got out of the car, and got mud up to my knees that I realised how bad the situation was. Mud went all the way up to the wheel arches, both differentials are on the ground and the wheels are spinning into thick clay. No way we can get out on our own.

At 12PM, I walked to the closest village, some 2km up the road, and asked for help. At first they tried to push but no luck, then we tried the winch but we pulled a tree down and then finally, after much thinking, they agreed to bring a couple of buffaloes.
30min after they left, they called me on my mobile and asked for 100USD to bring the bulls. Stuff that, fifty is all I have, I said. Okay okay, wait two hours and we come and get you.

3PM, still no buffaloes, but a villager offering his truck for another 50USD. We agreed on 40bucks as it was getting ridiculous the way they took advantage of our situation, but at

5PM, still no truck on the horizon. Minutes after, one then two then fifteen headlights went down the hill and a group of English bikers pulled over. They’re on a two weeks ride, motocrossing around Cambodia. Jokingly they offered to pull the car with their bikes, then they turned around and searched another way to O Som, as the road we were on apparently worsened a bit further.

Finally, at 6PM, a truck reluctantly agreed to pull us out with a big yank and showed us the way to the village, through a better road.
Good news we thought, we’re through. Well, not so fast ! There’s a bridge. And across the bridge, there’s a beam. It’s preventing large trucks to drive through, and the height limit is…2.2m. No way Troopy can pass, plus it’s dark, we’re tired, sunburnt, famished, dehydrated, and frankly, this can wait till the morning.

So we left the car at the truckie’s and booked in the closest guesthouse, where they agreed to cook noodle soup at 9PM, in their pijama’s. This was however, the best noodle soup ever !

Morning came, the truckie extorted yet more money out of us and we decided to give the bridge a go. What if we bring everything from the roof rack down inside the cabin, lower the tyre pressure down and try if we can gain 15cm ? First attempt at 25psi failed, but driving on TWO psi worked a charm, with 2milimetres to spare! Hurray we’re finally through.

Further up though, another obstacle awaits: a mighty river. It’s not deep, not really anyways, but the current is bloody strong. I’ve done this before in New Caledonia, I know I can do it again. Julie looks at me with a scary face but I keep my calm and, go go go, the trick is don’t stop, keep your eyes on the river bank, steady on the gas pedal, try to go with the wave. Right, we’re through. Easy. Next, the English bikers. We gave a hand with a few ropes as one bike went under and got almost carried away downstream, and 30min later, all bikers and cars were through, no one got hurt and aside a clutch on one of the bikes, nothing broke.

Time for a cuppa, I reckon.

As we enjoyed our breakfast and a quick dip in the river, the leader of the bikers came back to warn us the road got worse further up, they had to use a tractor to pull the recovery car out. Right, needless to say, we got bogged as well. And to top it all, the winch broke. Fifteen dollars later, we were out of the mud and on our way down the mighty Cardamons, towards Koh Krong.

We did it ! It was hell, but definitely worth the hassle. The scenery is just epic, and the mountains are gorgeous.

Down the other side of Cambodia, Koh Krong is the last city before Thailand. It’s a very laid back town, with a market, a river front, a seafront and that’s about it. We did meet three hippies-antiglobalization who were in town to start their awesome project. They are renting an island in the mangrove, for the next twenty years, and will build on it the biggest self-sufficient eco-village. No petrol is allowed, electricity will be wind or solar powered, houses will be eco-friendly, no plastic no concrete, just natural elements. And they will grow veggies, fruits, chicken, cows, etc to provide with food. There is a 10min boat ride to reach the place, and to fund this mighty project, a festival will be held next January. Trance and rock music only. Sounds interesting, I wonder how far they’ll be when I come back next year with Claire.

Koh Krong was also a good opportunity to relax, clean the car (4dollars), repair the winch (5dollars), get a haircut (1 dollar) and go to the beach. Plus we got to do a trek with one of the guesthouse owners, who’s keen on eco-friendly events and really wants to get his guesthouse greener. Two hours of boat ride got us to the foot of the hill, then another two hours climb to the top of the waterfalls, where the view is just spectacular. Down the river, a local villager with his house on stilts had us for the night, sleeping in hammocks and enjoying the sunset on the river. Epic I tell you.

But we had to leave the Cardamoms and get to Kampot, on the far south corner of the country to bathe for two days in the river and close this mountain chapter of our journey. Bloody hard, but so worth it!

Once quick visit to a cave with some kids as our guides, who spoke perfect French and English with a witty sense of humor. Loved it. But Kampot and Kep were just what we needed after the muddy week, swim, cocktails, even a massage for 10USD, just perfect.

Distance to-day: 875km, total: 36980km.