Bokor Mountain

Ad*ven*ture [noun]: an unusual and exciting, typically hazardous, experience or activity; [verb] engage in hazardous and exciting activity especially the exploration of unknown territory.

Ah Webster. Technically accurate… predictably sterile. How does one give justice to an event taking place on a 3,000 foot mountain over 37km of road that hasn’t been maintenanced since the 1920′s while driving an 8 year old Honda 250cc rental serviced by the lowest common denominator in a third world country? It fails to capture the adrenaline rush of ditching on a rocky road where suffering a hundred painful bruises is entirely overshadowed by the reality of nearly careening over the edge of an 800 foot drop-off through thorny rain forest and sci-fi-like insect life. Or the wonder of emerald light filtering through giant fern trees in a temperate rain forest and mangroves lazily trailing roots in a creek that cuts through a foggy glade alive with a hundred thousand dragonflies. Mere words cannot apprehend the emotion of topping out on a 40 foot cliff overlooking hundreds of miles of rice fields or the sensation of a cold offshore wind as the last rays of sun escape over the ocean or the irony of a majestic star-light night invaded by trite Asian karaoke music. Laughing children playing marbles on a dirt road juxtaposed by the reality of their harsh life; pony-drawn carts overflowing with everything from rice straw to plastic chairs; buddhist monks with cell phones; rich smelling stir-fries mingling with smoke, exhaust, and the ever-present fishsauce… Cambodia.

It was the King’s Birthday and Ben and I decided to celebrate by taking a three-day weekend to Cambodia’s Bokor mountain topped off with a day of climbing in Kompong Traek. I should have traded in the motorbike for a different one when I noticed the handlebars were about 5 degrees off from the front wheel. But ‘New New Bikes’ just loosened the fork and wrenched it around straight. Too bad no one noticed that the alternator wasn’t working. By the start of the next day my battery was dead and every time I stopped for a photo, stalled at some crux in the trail, or needed to stretch I had to push start the #@$%! thing! That and not having horn or lights. If you have to choose between a horn and lights in Cambodia, choose the horn. You can at least honk to warn things out of your way even if you can’t see them; which is much better than being able to see as you run them over because you can’t honk to warn them. Everyone honks in Cambodia. It’s rude not to. Besides, you can always tail some little Toyota careening down the road at 100kph knowing that every cow and it’s mother will get out of the crazy taxi’s way. Unless of course your shocks are shot like mine were in which case going any faster than than 60kph causes you to bounce uncontrollably over the waffling road like a pogo-stick in an earthquake.

Southern Cambodia is gorgeous in the rainy season. Hundreds of miles of rice, sugar palm, and scattered towns bustling with markets, roadside vendors, and motor scooter taxi drivers; kids walking along the shoulder with the family cows in tow; bent old women wrapped in wrinkles and bright traditional scarves; boats on the river draped in fishing nets; and golden temples nestled in amongst sugar palms make up the visual flavors of Khmer culture. It was amazing to see all this and more as we made the three hour drive to Kampot and spent the night in a $5 guesthouse. Hole-in-the-wall restaurants abounded and we found ourselves at a little British-run pub that served stir fry and fish & chips. Pictures tell a much better story so I will let you browse the photo’s at your leisure, but Bokor mountain looms over the southern coast of Cambodia near the Vietnam border and is the site of a ruins built by the French in the 1920′s. Obviously they were not built to be ruins but rather a posh residential community and resort; however difficult access and the abrupt end to French colonization of Southeast Asia caused this scenic establishment to be abandoned to all but birds and lichen.

We spent the better part of Monday on the limestone cliffs that characterize the province of Kompong Traek. Rock quarries, daily dynamite blasting, indigenous rock-dwelling bees and climbing partners that lead you with 4 extra feet of slack when you are only 10 feet off the ground add excitement to the otherwise mundane sport of rock climbing. Ever the novelty with the locals who are mystified by the western predilection for exerting unnecessary effort in the heat of the day, we had a chattering audience of kids an adults perched on the rocks around us. Sadly, I was forced to tear myself away from the excitement in mid afternoon knowing that driving at night without headlights would not be well received by my wife; though it is arguable which is more dangerous, traveling at 100kph on a bumpy road while racing the sunset, or driving 40kph in the dark with no headlights. Not being sure the answer, I did both.

Tags: Adventure, Cambodia, Mirth & Misery