LONG WAY DROWNED 3 (with apologies to Charlie and Co)

My dear fellow adventure riders this is an uncertain start to an uncertain adventure: the Long Way Drowned 3 tour of <?xml:namespace prefix = st1 ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-comffice:smarttags" /><st1lace w:st="on"><st1:country-region w:st="on">Cambodia</st1:country-region></st1lace>. As always I must go back to explain…<?xml:namespace prefix = o ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-comfficeffice" /><o></o>
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Back in 2008 a bunch of intrepid explorers rode bikes through the <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1lace w:st="on">Philippines</st1lace></st1:country-region>. The trip was characterised by an excessive consumption of alcohol and general mayhem that led to the adoption of the name “Long Way Drowned” – as in drowning in alcohol. Sadly I was not on that particular adventure but indeed was blessed by joining the “Long Way Drowned 2 – <st1:country-region w:st="on">Vietnam</st1:country-region> & <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1lace w:st="on">Laos</st1lace></st1:country-region>” in 2009. We rode 30 year old Russian 125cc strokers through the said countries…what a journey that was:<o></o>
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And then this year the lads started discussing the LWD3 trip to <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1lace w:st="on">Cambodia</st1lace></st1:country-region>. I ummed and ahhed and finally committed a few weeks back. And then it started raining. I write this intro from a hotel in <st1:City w:st="on"><st1lace w:st="on">Bangkok</st1lace></st1:City> where the city is in the process of evacuating as the water rushes in. Tomorrow we hope to fly to Siem Reep to start the journey but there is talk of hiring boats not bikes. This will literally be “Drowned”…in water!<o></o>
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And so I am not sure we will actually be riding and I am not sure I will get internet to update the journey…but I assure you I will give it a damn good bash!<o></o>
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As is custom we landed at 6am this morning and after checking in at the hotel struck out down the seedy streets of <st1lace w:st="on"><st1laceName w:st="on">Nana</st1laceName> <st1laceType w:st="on">Plaza</st1laceType></st1lace> to sample the local beer. When booking the hotel I read this review: “Great cheap hotel. Clean, decent breakfast. Horrible location. Sleazy old men and bars everywhere”…booked it immediately – we do have a reputation to maintain!<o></o>
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Watch this space….<o></o>

Allow me to introduce the gang…<?xml:namespace prefix = o ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-comfficeffice" /><o></o>
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Long-term stalwarts and co-founders of local UAE motorcycle-club “The Sandy Helmets” Aussie Brian and Wheelie Joe. And then there’s our dark-horse Cameron…:<o></o>
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The <?xml:namespace prefix = st1 ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-comffice:smarttags" /><st1:City w:st="on"><st1lace w:st="on">Sandy</st1lace></st1:City> Helmets Trio<o></o>
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Then we have biking legend James West who will allegedly join us directly in <st1lace w:st="on"><st1:country-region w:st="on">Cambodia</st1:country-region></st1lace> in several days…<o></o>
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And finally your writer and strong swimmer:<o></o>
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An early liquid breakfast in <st1laceName w:st="on">Nana</st1laceName> <st1laceType w:st="on">Plaza</st1laceType>, <st1:City w:st="on"><st1lace w:st="on">Bangkok</st1lace></st1:City><o></o>
Along with the mandatory sleezy old men…<o></o>

Th country is flooded & many routes will not be possible - but there are loads more ways around Cambodia.

It should be fun

Indeed it should!
After a night at the infamous "Nana Plaza" we are on our way to the airport to catch the flight to Siem Reep.
For those of you who know Nana Plaza cameras are not allowed...sorry no pics! But yes ping-pong balls were flying about and baloons were popped with darts and what have you...

And wer are off to Cambodia!

hey BOYS...


im sure i dont need to tell you to have fun, im awaiting so crazy photos. have a whiskey for me

Flying over <?xml:namespace prefix = st1 ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-comffice:smarttags" /><st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1lace w:st="on">Cambodia</st1lace></st1:country-region> from the west to Siem Reep we look down with consternation at the lands below us. Flooded fields and villages stretch to the horizons. I have never seen real flooding other than on the telly but I can assure you it looks grim:
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Water everywhere

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That’s a village!<o></o>
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We land rough and go through immigration having to get our fingerprints scanned which always worries me in countries with questionable ethical values. Immigration never picks up on the fact that Mr Blian is either dyslexic or a pervert as when we filled out our immigration forms he told us we were staying in the Hotel Sodomy Dev which is in fact the Hotel Somadevi…<o></o>
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On arrival we are met by the company who is renting us the bikes (which we have yet to see) and go over our proposed route through the highlands so as to avoid the deluge witnessed earlier.<o></o>
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And then it’s off to “<st1:Street w:st="on"><st1:address w:st="on">Pub Street</st1:address></st1:Street>” which is just that – a street with many pubs. We do a little homework and find the nightclub “Zone One” out of town which is really where it all happens. Though photography is illegal I manage to sneak a pic while the security boys aren’t looking.<o></o>
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<o>Zone One, Siem Reep</o>
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It’s a truly bizarre setup with this heaving mass of locals and the odd tourist gyrating away to thumping noise while torch-bearing security guards patrol around the edge looking menacing. It’s as though the authorities are allowing the exuberance but trying to keep control. Prices? Insanely cheap. A beer is a dollar (everything is un u$) while $3 buys you a decent meal. We stumble home in the wee hours after consuming an insane quantity of alcohol to get a few hours sleep for the “cultural” part of this trip – the mandatory visit tomorrow of the famed Angkor temples

We keep our tour-guide waiting for an hour as we stumble around trying to find our heads and are off in a mini-bus with mandatory breakfast beers in the cooler-box. It’s humming with humid heat and we are allegedly going to do ALL the temples, including the famed “Lara Croft” one.

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<o>This chap is in charge of the Lara Croft Tomb Raider section of a temple. Angelina!</o>
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<o>And this is apparently where Angelina showed off her fine chassis:</o>
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<o>Little kids are running around everywhere trying to flog you some manner of trinket:</o>
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Back in the evening James West finally turns up and we are enticed to continue the cultural absorption by attending a Traditional Cambodian Dance performance. The lads are starting to grumble at this stage about culture and bikes and a lack of common-ground between the two and so we leave the magical performers and go play some pool in <?xml:namespace prefix = st1 ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-comffice:smarttags" /><st1:Street w:st="on"><st1:address w:st="on">Pub Street</st1:address></st1:Street>. Tomorrow morning is an early start to our first day’s riding. Apparently the first 40km’s is “very challenging”. We are holding thumbs it is!!!<o></o>

As always I must go back to explain. Back in <?xml:namespace prefix = st1 ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-comffice:smarttags" /><st1:City w:st="on"><st1lace w:st="on">Dubai</st1lace></st1:City> when we had our last-minute send-off meeting we all concurred that shorts, T-shirts and hiking boots were to be the standard riding gear. Someone pointed out that the organisers had strongly suggested full riding gear. This lame idea was rejected unanimously by all&#8230;.and now back to day one&#8230;<?xml:namespace prefix = o ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-comfficeffice" /><o></o>
We are picked up at the hotel bright and early and deposited at the headquarters of &#8220;Hidden Cambodia Dirtbike Tours&#8221; and are greeted by Paul and Sheila the proprietors.<o></o>


The bikes at Hidden Cambodia Dirtbike Tours in Siem Reep
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Paul asks the lads to give an account of their riding skills and everyone does their bit to convince him they are up to scratch. Well we do have some of the best riders in <st1:City w:st="on"><st1lace w:st="on">Dubai</st1lace></st1:City> on this trip&#8230;allegedly. We announce we are ready to ride which raises some eyebrows. Paul asks us why we are not wearing our riding gear. We explain that we are in fact wearing our riding gear. Suit yourselves he says and we fire up our Baja 250&#8217;s and head out into the countryside in our shorts and t-shirts. We are led through a fast section of dirt roads with alternating sandy and muddy patches. Bringing up the rear is &#8220;Mr Slim&#8221; who is their backup sweeper rider. A river crossing claims it&#8217;s first victim as Joe buries his steed under water:
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A scene to be repeated later...Joe likes the low-rider look

We finally reach a cross-road where we stop for a discussion. Paul explains that he has been keeping an eye out on our riding skills to decide which route to take and is satisfied that we can have a go at the fabled ancient &#8220;<st1:Street w:st="on"><st1:address w:st="on">Old Angkor Road</st1:address></st1:Street>&#8221; from Kway to &#8220;Preah-khan&#8221; or something like that. He tells us it is going to be tough&#8230;very tough. The lads snigger amongst themselves&#8230; Being the rookie-rider I am a little nervous. <o></o>
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Yes Brian I am sure they are still there&#8230;<o></o>


The usual suspects - they are in every village all over the world!

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We head off along glorious winding paths&#8230;fast and pleasant. Things start getting a little more interesting and finally at around 130 clicks we stop for a refuel in a tiny village. Petrol comes out of old plastic soda bottles. Paul says that the next 45 Kilometres will be &#8220;difficult&#8221;&#8230; And then things get really interesting really quickly. The &#8220;road&#8221; disintegrates into a mix of thick sandy stuff, crusty old deep ruts and mud. All kinds of mud. Wet watery mud, thick hard mud, slimy slipper mud. Lots of it. From what I figure they use this &#8220;road&#8221; to move large quantities of mud around the countryside. There cant be any other explanation.<o></o>

The famous <st1lace w:st="on">Angkor</st1lace> road starts claiming victims amongst the elite riders. James falls off a raised runner-board into the mud:<o></o>

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<o>James in action </o>

Needless to say Cameron thought he could do better so he gracefully bailed off the next one into an adjacent bamboo swamp:<o></o>
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Look carefully at the biker behind the first one&#8230;
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This goes on for a while and after we have covered maybe around 10 clicks of mayhem Paul says things should ease up from now on&#8230;but they get worse, much worse (or better if you like that sort of thing &#8211; actually I am loving it &#8211; as are we all) <o></o>
At this time the lads are starting to quietly grumble about shorts and t-shirts and hiking boots&#8230; this is dangerous unknown terrain and we are riding some of it fast. with little or no protection...<o></o>

My how they all fell all over the show (with the exception of Blian who rides sensibly). When I ask them why they are performing so poorly they say they are kindly demonstrating to me how NOT to do it. They are in fact teaching your writer by example... Good mates eh!<?xml:namespace prefix = o ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-comfficeffice" /><o></o>
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James clearly missed the last-minute meeting as he isn&#8217;t wearing hiking boots. Tsk tsk
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At one river crossing we were horrified when James figures out a different route to get through the river without drowning so when Joe arrives we all shout to him to go &#8220;the deep way round&#8221; lest he fail to entertain us: <o></o>
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Joe determined to re-craft his bike into a low-rider<o></o>
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I can easily say it was some of the toughest riding I have ever done. OK Jo the wild-coast was tougher but in a different way&#8230;<o></o>

During one break I asked the lads for their comments as to how things were progressing. &#8220;Easy going&#8221; &#8220;smooth sailing&#8221; &#8220;walk-in-the-park&#8221; &#8220;what mud?&#8221; &#8211; they all lied&#8230;.

Some pics of the rest of the day:


The Motley Crue


Mud mud glorious mud!


My trusty steed


Yes yes that IS my trusty steed being recovered

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<o>Cam contemplating impending "how not to do it" lesson for your writer</o>
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<o>And finally we have a few clicks of fantastic high-speed soft sand to our destination for Day 1, a small village in the middle of absolutley nowhere. We arrive alive and somewhat humbled and very very dirty:</o>
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<o>Joe thinking to himself "if only I had real boots and riding pants and..."</o>
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<o>And our dinner being prepared after being freshly caught from the ditches on the side of the road:</o>
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<o>Frog ala Cambodia!</o>

Mate! Didn't you chaps learn the necessity of MX boots on your trip down here awhile back? If I'm not mistaken, one of your crew went home with a bust foot thanks to the decision to wear hiking boots. The desert sun must bake your brains and fry your memory.

More please. This has tragedy written all over it.

Just got back from riding in Cambodia last month. It was an experience in liquid, to say the least. Water water everywhere.

Mud, Glorious Mud...... more pics please.... this looks like its going to be great

And so the day ends and the only thing to compete with the Sandy Helmets Symphony (the boys have regular sleep-in meets to get their snores to harmonise) is the sound of baying dogs in the distance and terrified frogs in the ditches... Tomorrow is another day and another day of riding and that is not a bad thing...

Yes we are having the same experience though with us it's a little more of Beer beer everywhere to get us through the Water water

Hey Osadabwa! Good to hear from you, how things styling in Dar.... ahhh what a trip that was...

Yes with the boots thing we are not exactly ahem... bright?

Actually that was the very same Mr Blian who graces us with his voluminous presence on this trip. He did actually finish his section of that trip, busted foot and all. He's done his ankle in here, just to keep things normal you understand...

We kit up in our still-soggy shorts and t-shirts and Paul tells us it’s going to be another 45 clicks of the same as yesterday – bring it on!!! Then allegedly it's going to get easier...
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Soggy "Riding Gear"
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Before we continue on the “Road of Moans” we popped into a local temple just to keep Joe happy (he’s our cultural ambassador) and then we were off again into the mud malarkey.<o></o>
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Fairly soon we arrive at the first river crossing but it’s too deep to cross so we need to use a local’s dugout that Paul commandeers, along with support staff. This is surely going to provide much entertainment as the intended solution is to sit on top of the “craft” and balance by shifting weight using your legs – to keep things on an even keel as such. Paul tests the theory and gets his bike across successfully. There is a little sting in the tail of this tale in the form of a steep muddy bank on the other side – but more of that later.<o></o>
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I elect to go next and I readily admit to being shit scared. The lads are shouting encouragement and are trying to get me to wave and turn around – in the hope that I will fall in. I do not so much as even flinch. I quickly adopt an array of religions and prey. I make it…miracle.<o></o>
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One by one the lads get across with sighs of unhappiness as no one falls in. The last to come across is Joe who makes it all the way with knees bouncing like a badly shimmed valve and then he tries to get his bike up the river-bank:<o></o>
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1 minute and 30 seconds of great entertainment<o></o>


Our "Fixer" Mr Slim crossing the river


The executive commitee of the Randy Helmets: "I say old chap, jolly good fun this thing eh"

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Mr West getting a send-off up the river-bank<o></o>
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After this incident I gather the lads around and tell them that I am a quick learner and I am sure I have got this falling-over thing waxed – they don’t need to show me any more. In fact I am willing to show them that I have got it down to pat. And I do…many times…
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We go through the longest deepest muddiest stretch any of us have ever seen. On the other side we all agree that there couldn’t be anything muddier then that. A few clicks later it gets muddier… and muddier and muddier.

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<o>A typical mudbath</o>
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Joe's front brakes give out at a strategic moment as he is heading towards a fallen-over tree.


Joe explaining what happened "I was there and then I went in there and hit that"

We stop for a beer-o-clock break in a small village and Mr Cameron doesn't let the team down by falling over right outside the pub:


<o>Cam show us how to do flat-track riding - position is important he says</o>
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Soon after Blian pipes up: “Common lads – lets get on and do what we came here to do – drink beer and ride bikes – (in that order)”<o></o>
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Eventually we arrive in the small town of “Kam Pong Loav” (approximately) at dusk: This is the motley crue:


Mr Blian is Hapeeee


Mr Joe (holding his back after a hard-days falling and showing his beer-boep)


Cameron clutching at his chest for breath


Your humble scribe


Cameron giving the troops a bollocking "you didn't fall over enough!"

We hand in all our t-shirts and shorts to be cleaned at the multi-function shop next-door. I wander over in my underpants after a shower and see a rack of clothes. I try a few on and eventually find one that sort of fits. I inquire as to how much it will cost to buy the shirt… The proprietors are horrified as it transpires I have been trying on various peoples laundry…<o></o>
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After a good meal we sit around a table outside the hotel and put away a decent quantity of beer and whiskey…as you do. Tales of extraordinary feats out on the trail go around the table. The little town goes to sleep and eventually so do we.<o></o>

Sweet. That was my first motorcycle, Minsk 125. They were actually pretty reliable by Russian standards, in large part because of a simple design.

Booze, bikes, and bogs in Cambodia sounds like a hell of good time! I tooled around the Phnom Penh and Siem Rip on a rental XR350 with a shot transmission in dryer times, and it was fun other than having to bribe the cops for going the wrong way on what turned out to be a one way street. It did not matter that the rest of the bike/scooter/car/oxcart traffic was going whichever way they felt like, and sometimes even in the circular patterns. Luckily the ticket/bribe i paid was cheap by the American standard (i think something like 10 bucks) and the cops even wished me good luck in broken English when they let me go.

Subscribed!

For those who want the details of the good folk who arranged out trip here goes a mud-spattered sticker: