A Journey Through Rural Wonders
112 CAMBODIA (5) & 113 THAILAND (12)
3 October – 17 October 2017
14 Days – 1,099 Km
MAP
PHOTOS - THAILAND (12)
PHOTOS - CAMBODIA (5)
VOICEOVER
FLIP-BOOK
Prelude
Some journeys
announce themselves with clear plans and straight lines. This one did not. It
began instead with a shared optimism that bordered on recklessness. Cambodia
lay ahead — humid, unpredictable, bureaucratic, generous — followed by a narrow
strip of Thailand that promised both an ending and a beginning.
8 Octoober-15 October 2017
7 Days - 483Km
8 October – From Chau Doc to Phnom Penh, Cambodia –
By Boat and Minivan
Our
adventure kicked off with a surprise boat ride — the kind of surprise where you
realise the ticket price was suspiciously cheap because the boat only takes
you to the border. Not Phnom Penh. Not even close. But honestly, the ride
was so lively and colourful that I forgave the logistical betrayal almost
immediately. As we skimmed across the water, I admired houses perched on stilts
like flamingos with mortgages, and fishing boats that zipped around us with the
swagger of creatures who knew exactly what they were doing. Meanwhile, I clung
to the seat like a Victorian aunt on her first rollercoaster.
Once we
reached Phnom Penh, we dove straight into the bureaucratic circus of visa
preparations. We photocopied flight tickets, bank statements, and possibly our
own shadows. After surviving the paperwork gauntlet, we rewarded ourselves with
the city’s lively chaos and the company of friends — Mat, Chop, and Teresa —
who helped us rehydrate with cold beers. Laughter bubbled over like the foam in
our glasses.
9 October – A Day in Phnom Penh
Bright and
early, we marched to the Thai embassy, documents in hand, optimism in our
hearts. The embassy, however, had other plans. It was closed. Completely
closed. Their website, naturally, said nothing about this. A setback? Perhaps.
A cosmic prank? Definitely.
But fate
intervened in the form of the “Lucky Motorbike Shop,” which, despite sounding
like a place that sells helmets shaped like cartoon animals, also functioned as
a visa agent. They cheerfully offered to handle Tania’s application. A miracle!
With time running short, this was a blessing wrapped in a motorbike-shaped
disguise.
I opted for
the 14‑day border visa, knowing I’d be back in Cambodia soon to meet my sister.
Saving a page in my passport felt like a small but meaningful triumph — the
kind of victory only travellers and stamp collectors truly understand.
10 October – A Ride to Prey Lovea – 86 km
We began the
day with coffee and Mat’s company, which was as energising as the caffeine.
Then we set off in search of hidden paths along the Mekong River. The ride
started like a dream — peaceful, scenic, and full of curious locals who stared
at us as if we were a travelling circus act.
Soon, the
dream morphed into slapstick. The paths dissolved into potholes, mud, and
surfaces so slippery our bikes behaved like newborn giraffes learning to walk.
Every twist and turn revealed a new scene: people weaving mats, men herding
cattle with enviable calm, monks in bright orange robes gliding through the
chaos like spiritual traffic cones.
A second
ferry carried us across the Bassac River, and by the time we crawled toward
Prey Lovea around 17:00, we were ready to collapse. We briefly considered
sleeping at a temple, but the siren call of a guesthouse with actual beds and
walls was too strong. First, though, food — because in Cambodia, deliciousness
is never far away.
11 October – Prey Lovea – Kampot – 127 km
“It’s
Cambodia, baby!” Tania declared, her signature phrase slicing through the
morning air as we pedalled out of Prey Lovea. The landscape was a patchwork of
green rice fields and wooden carts overflowing with colourful odds and ends.
The aromas of steamed pork buns drifted from roadside eateries, seducing us
with their warm, doughy charm. Naturally, we surrendered and devoured a few.
We cycled
through villages filled with chatter and laughter. Tiny kids rode their
bicycles to school with the skill of circus performers, some giving lifts to
friends with the casual confidence of seasoned Uber drivers. It was impossible
not to smile.
12 October – Kampot – Sri Amble Temple – 127 km
Leaving
Kampot felt like pedalling through a postcard. The river shimmered, fishing
boats huddled together like gossiping aunties, and oyster farms bustled with
activity. Children helped with the day’s work, monks collected alms, and we
soaked it all in.
Dark clouds
gathered as we reached Vinh Real, so we ducked into a cosy restaurant. The
storm passed quickly — Cambodia’s weather has the emotional range of a theatre
kid — and we continued toward the Thai border, still two days away.
At Sri
Amble, ominous skies nudged us down a dusty path to a small community temple.
We set up camp in the dining hall, which doubled as a dormitory for energetic
children aged 8 to 13. Privacy? Absolutely not. Entertainment? Constant.
13 October – Sri Amble – Trapeang Rung – 80 km
Morning
greeted us with a steaming bowl of noodle soup served in a corrugated‑iron
eatery with a dirt floor. The locals watched us with fascination — women on
bikes were rare, and we exchanged shy smiles as we attempted to slurp our soup
with dignity. We failed, but gracefully.
The ride was
short but sweaty, with gentle hills leading us into the Cardamom Mountains.
Children fished with creative techniques, others tended buffalo or cattle, and
the scenery made every uphill push worthwhile.
We reached
Trapeang Rung for lunch, where the food was so good it felt like a reward from
the universe. As rain clouds gathered, we surrendered to the lure of a brand‑new
homestay. Moments later, the skies opened, unleashing a monsoon. Our timing was
impeccable.
14 October – Trapeang Rung – Koh Kong – 63 km
Our final
day in the hills began with another comforting bowl of noodle soup. The
mountains tested us, but we pushed on. Halfway to Koh Kong, the heavens
unleashed yet another dramatic downpour. We zipped up our rain jackets and
pedalled through the Cardamom Mountains like determined, soggy warriors.
At the
highest point, we flew downhill at 53 km/h, adrenaline pumping, water streaming
across the road, potholes lurking like hidden traps. It was thrilling,
ridiculous, and unforgettable.
We reached
Koh Kong earlier than expected. Tania practically levitated with relief when
she discovered her passport had arrived. With that weight lifted, we were ready
to tackle the border crossing into Thailand — though the small matter of
cycling 340 km to Pattaya in three days still loomed. But hey… the adventure
was only getting started.
113
THAILAND (12)
THE
FINAL STRETCH
3 Days – 358 km
15 October – Koh Kong to Trat (108Km)
Leaving
Cambodia felt like closing a small, bright chapter. One last bowl of noodle
soup, one last swirl of motorbikes and colour, and then across the river toward
Thailand. The border crossing was almost comically quick — a stamp, a smile —
and suddenly the world shifted. New country, same sun, same two bicycles
carrying us forward.
We
drifted through villages stitched along the coast, stopping for coffee where
the sea breathed against the land. When the sky darkened, we slipped into our
plastic raincoats and kept going, the drizzle soft rather than punishing. By
the time we reached Trat, the clouds had parted, and the sunset felt like a
welcome.
16 October – Trat to Klaeng (135km)
That
morning, Tania surprised me: she wanted to ride alone. Not out of frustration
or distance, but curiosity — a tug toward her own road. I felt a flicker of
worry, then pride. We agreed to meet again in Pattaya, and I set off with a new
kind of urgency. Amanda would arrive in two days, and the kilometres between us
suddenly felt charged with purpose.
17 October – Klaeng to Pattaya (115)
I rose before the heat, eager to move. The
road was smooth, the wind gentle, and by midday I was rolling into Jomtien. The
simple pleasures — dropping my panniers, washing the salt from my skin,
watching laundry spin — felt like small celebrations.
Later,
at the pub downstairs, a cold beer in hand, I let the anticipation of Amanda’s
arrival settle into me. After days of motion, it felt good to sit still and
wait.
Epilogue
Looking back, the
days blur into a single rhythm: pedals turning, visa stamps drying, rain
falling hard and stopping without apology. Cambodia gave generously — colour,
chaos, kindness, soup bowls always a little too hot to eat politely — then let
us go with barely a pause. Thailand welcomed us with efficiency, smoother
roads, and the strange emotional weight of an approaching finish line.
My bicycle would
roll again. It always does. But this stretch into Thailand marked a small,
bright completion.
