Bike to the Border

 
So much has happened since I left Siam Reap that I don't know where to begin.  I'll start with my tour of the temples.

Temples:
The builders of the ancient Khmer empire had their work cut out for them when they started their manic quest to tame the jungles of the Angkor region.  In 950AD a few simple pyramids sprung from the landscape and the area began to attract devotees of Siva and other Indian-originated Brahman cults. With each succession of Khmer kings, the religious monuments took on more spectacular designs to honor whichever deity happened to be in favor at the time.  As the popularity of Theravada Buddhism grew, the culture of dignified suffering only helped to stretch temple boundaries outward and thrust stone spires skyward. Angkor Wat is viewed as the culmination of ancient Khmer inspiration and was built by Syuravarman II in the mid- 12th century.  Angkor Wat is the largest religious structure built by man and is an unbelievable place to visit.   Intricate bas-reliefs tell stories of ancient Hindu myths and celestial figures stare at you as you wind through the dark passageways on your way to the summit.  Fashioned as a symbolic representation of the universe, pilgrims pass across a moat (the ocean), courtyard (forest), a series of walls (Khmer border), and finally summit the temple and stand on top of a symbolic Mt. Meru at the "center of existence".

I spent 4 days riding around the archaeological park seeing temple after temple. Each had a unique story and design and I was lucky to be here at a time when the relative absence of tourists gave me a chance to see each monument unrestricted.  I learned a lot about the ancient Khmer empire and had a couple of really good rides through the forest.  By the end of 4 days I was thoroughly templed out and was ready to jump back on the trail north to Thailand.

Ride to the Border:

I left Siam Reap with a general idea of going north to the Thai border and crossing at Praeh Vihear.  It was planned to take me 3 days of cycling through mostly unpopulated areas and 2 nights of camping.  I packed my food, hammock, mosquito net, rain gear and set out on the worst dirt roads in the world.  30km outside of Siam Reap, potholes big enough to swallow busses opened up in front of my tires. Relentless monsoon rain turned the surface to a goopy red sludge that caked inside my gears and plastered my body from head to toe. Bridges were usually burned out and unrepaired so alternate trails had to be found.

The northern Cambodian border was the last stronghold of the Khmer Rouge until 1998 when they finally were broken apart by government forces.  The telltale signs of civil war were very real as I rode north to Anlong Veng.  Reparations  were snailing along, but bridges, roads and minefields provided heaps of work for international engineers and aid agencies.  This trail was undoubtedly the most impoverished area I had ever seen, but thankfully WFP (World Food Program) and Red Cross jeeps counted for at least half of the road traffic. Farming is a near impossibility in the north because most of the farmland is still heavily mined and the soil is poisoned.  It was chilling to see skull and cross-bone markers along the roadside, and worse still to see the children playing happily among the mine markers. I stayed on the road.

The first night I couldn't make it all the way to Anlong Veng, so I camped at a radio station with some district authorities.  No one spoke English, but we played some cards to pass the time. I fell asleep early and was on the road by 5:00 the next day.

On the second day I made it to Anlong Veng around 10:00 that morning and was greeted by thundering explosions courtesy of the Halo demining corporation.  I stopped for breakfast in town and chated with a guy who lived with Pol Pot as a boy. He had some interesting stories that were strangely nostalgic of the Khmer Rouge era and described Brother #1 as "warm and friendly".  When I pressed him on his views of the regime he admitted that the radical group was indeed a band of murdering thugs, but I sensed he still held some degree of regard for the good ole KR.  I did appreciate his help in pointing out a town with a guesthouse that I could stop in for the night. I rolled into Trubien Possan around 4:00 and got my tool kit out because my bicycle was starting to fall apart from the beating it was receiving on the road.

The 3rd day was a great ride as the road was well groomed and the air was cool with an overcast sky.  With the wind at my back I made it to the mountain of Prasat Preah Vihear.  At the base of the mountain I stopped for a drink and talked to an old man who suggested that I hire some motorbikes for the 6.6km ascent. He told me that it was impossible to make the trip on a bicycle and I would be happier if I parted with $10.  I said, "nice try, but I think I can manage by myself old man!" I heard his raspy chuckle as I rode off.

20 minutes I heard his raspy chuckle as I walked my bike back.  It was indeed impossible to climb this mountain with a loaded bicycle and I broke my chain trying to do it.  I paid my respects (and my $10) to the old guy and he had 2 locals load me, by bag and my broken transportation on the back of a couple of motorcycles. I still ended up climbing half of the trail because even the motorcycles could barely manage up this grade, but I finally did make it to the temple on top of the mountain and to the border station. Welcome to Thailand... I thought.