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Bokor Cambodia

 

Bokor and the Jungle around.

The scene is set in the wilds of southern Cambodia. Creepers dangle from meranti trees, the wide waters of the Prek Toeuk Sap estuary sparkle, and glades are spotlighted by the sun.

The lead actors, however - the rhesus monkeys, Malayan sun bears and Irrawaddy dolphins who were supposed to perform for my benefit - have missed their cues. When it comes to nature-watching, patience is the only virtue.

I'm on a long-tail boat in Ream National Park, puttering through miles of mangrove at a petrol-conserving pace. The driver explains that not only do these trees have a matrix of roots that protects the shoreline by breaking up currents, they provide everything from fuel and building materials to paper and perfume.

A shy young man with a connection to nature not shared by this boatful of townies, he's constantly grabbing waxy leaves, pointing out how this one can treat neuralgia, while that one will cure haemorrhoids. What do we eat for such problems in our homes? Tablets, we tell him.

Informative though all this is, what we really want to see are the monkeys.

I scan the undergrowth, hoping for a crab-eating macaque to emerge, perhaps pursued by a clouded leopard (unlikely, but both survive out here in the 37,000 acres of greenery). However, there is nothing but the chugging of the engine, the lapping of the waterfall and the quietly soporific tree-scape.

Cambodia's environment wasn't always so carefully tended. The chaos of the Khmer Rouge era placed a great strain on the country's resources, and any saleable land was logged. When King Sihanouk was reinstated in 1993, he countered deforestation by designating seven conservation parks and 10 reserves. Today, an impressive 18 per cent of the country is protected by royal decree, a figure that compares favourably with the 7.6 per cent dedicated to national parks in England.

Still without a monkey sighting, we pull in where the estuary meets the Gulf of Thailand for a lunch of steamed barracuda. Stilted shacks perch on the beach. One of the children shows me a new trick: how to treat a burn by scraping the powdery surface of a piece of cuttlebone. It's more evidence of an easy affinity with nature of which I'm both admiring and envious.
Waterfall, Bokor National Park Cambodia
On the way back, we finally encounter some wildlife: a kingfisher furiously chases tiny flying fish; an otter pops its head up; a greater adjutant with long trailing legs and a six-foot wingspan glides overhead. Still no monkeys, but an altogether wilder experience is promised at the neighbouring national park of Bokor.

Getting there from my tastefully appointed cabin in Sihanoukville, Cambodia's leading beach resort, proves difficult. Despite the ubiquitous moto touts, when I actually want a taxi it's hard to commandeer one. Eventually a driver is persuaded to head down Route 3 towards the Elephant Mountains. With the sun setting behind us, we tank through luminous rice fields, every glance out of the window returning a snapshot of the poverty and vitality of rural life: children riding water buffalo, families of five squeezed onto Honda Dreams, a gardener cutting the grass of a hotel lawn with a sickle, four girls in gold lame outfits miming on a makeshift stage. Everyone is busy.
Jungle river, Bokor National Park Cambodia Jungle flower Bokor National Park Cambodia

Transport is the great leveler in Cambodia.

So far I'd managed to avoid the roads, arriving from the Thai border on a sleek speedboat and then sticking to the waterways of Ream. Now, as darkness descends and our rear left wheel inevitably blows on the gravel, I'm reminded of an agonizing trip I once made along Route 6, covering 50 miles in 15 hours. Now, on this remote stretch of unmade road, devoid of street lighting, markings or signs, rusting trucks without headlights veer around us as we struggle to change the wheel by starlight. I can see why the driver was reluctant.

Next morning, there's more rough riding as I corkscrew up Mount Bokor in a battered Toyota Camry belonging to Samlain, a park ranger with a 350,000-acre job on his hands. The track bears every hallmark of landslides, torrential rainfall and zero maintenance; despite the Toyota's raised suspension, we're thrown from side to side.

Despite the arduous progress, there's a sense of being swallowed as the forest jungle trees close in around us, huge yellow butterflies
Forest Jungle, Bokor National Park Cambodiaflickering like sparks in the gloom. Peering up at the canopy, I spot a mammal with a long tail: a giant black squirrel. Suddenly I fancy my chances of seeing some proper wildlife, so we find the nearest trail and plunge behind the trees.

Like almost everyone else I've met in Cambodia, Samlain is completely at ease amid an abundance of flora. While I'm falling over tree roots, he's tipping the water from a pitcher plant to reveal the luckless insects inside, pointing out a clump of Venus flytraps, cautioning me about the points on a serrated palm and sharing a cure for diarrhea (eat seven guava leaves). We crack a fistful of tamarind husks, and nibble the leaves of an edible fern. We even find wild aloe vera. Left to our own devices up here, it's abundantly clear which of us would survive.

Tramping back, Samlain is telling me about the week-long forays he's made into the deeper forest. Has he ever seen an elephant? "They're easy to find," he says. "You just cut down a big tree, the elephant hears the boom and comes along to eat the sweet leaves from the treetop." I make a mental note in case I ever need an elephant in a hurry.

Suddenly there's such a crash that I imagine a parachutist has strayed into the trees, but then the biggest bird I've ever seen is descending ahead of us, successive branches snapping under its weight. A curved beak bigger than its body, protruding from a yellow casque, crunches back some kind of nut. Then the hornbill (as I find out later) flaps away in an ungainly flurry of black wings and claws.

Our second bird encounter, though we never see it, is more significant. It's a type that feeds on whatever tigers leave behind, and Samlain freezes when we hear its piercing peep-peep: it means a tiger is likely to be nearby. Several long minutes later the call fades and the tiger, if it was ever there, is gone. Although I'm disappointed, seeing it would have been a privilege I hardly deserve: in five years as a ranger, Samlain has sighted only one tiger.

We continue to the summit to enjoy a misty view of the Vietnamese coast,

and to visit the plateau where the blackened shell of the Bokor Palace Hotel and Casino still smoulders. Once the playground of French
Abandoned church, Bokor Hill Station Cambodia
colonialists, later occupied by Vietnamese soldiers, the walls of this grand structure are now a mosaic of soft red lichen, bullet holes and graffiti. Our accommodation is a large and cosy bunk bed at the far more practical National Park Research and Training Facility. As night falls, above the sawmill screech of countless insects I can make out the faint whistling of a female gibbon, mocking my failure to find a single primate.

When I get back to Sihanoukville next day, there on the roof of my cabin, wearing a "where have you been?" expression, is a rhesus monkey.


TRAVELLER'S GUIDE


GETTING THERE

There are no direct flights to Phnom Penh from the UK. Thai Airways (0870 606 0911; www.thaiairways.co.uk) flies from Heathrow via Bangkok and Malaysia Airlines (0870 607 9090; www.malaysiaairlines.com) flies via Kuala Lumpur, also from Heathrow. Faraway Traveller (01435 873666; www.farawaytraveller

STAYING THERE

Most hotels insist on US dollars. The international-standard Crystal Hotel in Sihanoukville (00 855 3493 3523) is close to Ochheuteal beach. Doubles start at $35 ([pound]19), including breakfast. In Kampot (for Bokor National Park) try the colonial Bokor Mountain Lodge (00 855 3393 2314; www.bokorlodge.com). Doubles start at $33 ([pound]18), including breakfast. The best budget choice is the western-run Blissful Guesthouse (00 855 1251 3024; e- mail: blissfulguesthouse@yahoo.com). Rooms start at $4 ([pound]2.20), room only

VISITING THERE

Sok Lim Tours (00 855 1271 9872; www.soklimtours.com) arranges package and custom tours to the national parks and other local attractions.

Independent, The (London), by Carl Thompson

Or do it with the Dirt Bike

Sports active: Trails of the unexpected
The heat is unbearable, I'm tired, filthy and my limbs are aching. I sit in the dirt, head lolling, trying to grab a bit of shade. I take my helmet off and toss it into a bush. I've had enough. "Not too far now," says my cheery guide and tour leader, the wonderfully monickered Zeman McCreadie. "I know you feel like giving up, but when we get there you'll realise it's been worth all the effort."

We've been in the saddle for nearly five hours on the way to to the ancient Khmer ruins at Preah Khan - the third-largest temple complex in a country famed for its antiquities. The Cambodian terrain mixes deep, thick sand with narrow, hard ruts - perfectly designed to toss you off the bike and into the dirt. Add in sweltering 35C heat and the potential of landmines if you veer too far off the established track, and every sinew of mind and body is being tested.

I had first sat on a dirt bike six days earlier. In fact, if you don't count a couple of years riding a vintage Vespa around London, it was my first time on a motorbike of any kind. And there are certainly easier places to learn to ride a 250cc Honda XR Baja trail bike than the reckless streets of Cambodia's capital, Phnom Penh.

By the time we set off the next morning for the abandoned 1920s French hill resort of Bokor, 130 miles south of the CambodianDirt Bike trail, Bokor National Park French hill resort of capital, I am reasonably confident, though. Learning a new and potentially dangerous activity is made easier when you have a teacher who has patience and experience. McCreadie has both in abundance. Originally from St David's in West Wales, he ended up in Cambodia in 1994 after backpacking around Asia, and began dirt-biking the remoter stretches of the country. "You'd hear heavy machine-gun fire every night in Phnom Penh, and there was hardly a tarmacked road in the country," he says. "It was perfect for nutty dirt bikers."

McCreadie, 32, set up a series of dirt-bike Rally Raids that took upwards of 40 riders for wild sojourns deep into the uncharted regions of a country devastated by years of civil war. "The locals treated us like we'd just stepped off a spaceship," he says. But this gang of unruly bikers also had a conscience, becoming involved with organisations such as Unicef and distrib-uting health advice, medicines and condoms."Each rally had a theme. We wanted to make a positive contribution to the places we passed through," says McCrea- die, who has set up an adventure-travel company, Cambodia Expeditions, to extend this experience to paying customers.

Back on the road, the first two hours to Bokor pass easily enough. Apart from the potholes, stray cows, packs of mean-dering cyclists and veering, seemingly possessed, bus drivers, it is a breeze. The next two hours are decidedly tougher.

"It's a steep climb from here, and the road is a mix of sand and large rocks. Take it slowly and you should be OK," McCreadie says as we reach the foot of the Bokor plateau. I ask if he had any other tips. "Sit as far forward in the seat as possible. That way your centre of gravity is more stable and you can steer by shifting your weight. Also, stay in first or second gear and, if you get into trouble, give it some throttle."

I'm soon nervously motoring up the switchback trail. Every so often my front wheel hits a large rock, causing me to lose control momentarily and my heart to skip a beat. I get up to speeds of 30mph, start swinging the bike around a little then nervously slow down again. At times we are in the midst of gargantuan trees and ferns. The next moment the track offers up stunning vistas of the plains below as we run along a sheer drop.

We near the top of the plateau and a vast plain opens up before us. We head towards a series of ruined buildings, one of which had once been a casino. "This used to be a high-class French resort," explains McCreadie, "but it's been derelict since the Khmer Rouge turned it into a fortress in the Seventies."

A quick tour of the casino reveals bullet holes, tracer casings and burnt walls. Just in front of the old Khmer Rouge HQ, the plateau falls away into a precipitous 1,000-metre plummet. A perfect spot for paragliding, I suggest to McCreadie. "We've thought of that, but the jungle below is still heavily mined," he replies.

The night is spent in the comfortable quarters of the rangers who patrol Bokor National Park. Our support vehicle has brought all the necessary supplies - good food and good wine. "I like to inject a little style," says McCreadie, as we sit around a candlelit table eating marinated pork steaks and drinking a decent Bordeaux.

With a good night's sleep under my belt, I complete the descent from Bokor in double-quick time. The next few days are spent visiting another old French hill station at Kirirom, looking for rare river turtles far upriver, deep into the Cambodian jungle, and improving my bike skills.

"I saved the best part of this trip until the end," says McCreadie as we arrive several days later in the dusty town of Kampong Thom. "From here, we're heading for Preah Khan. It's a stunning place but it's a very difficult ride and the area hasn't been fully cleared of landmines."

The route to Preah Khan is legendary in Cambodia's dirt-bike scene. Mark Calafatello, a New York antique dealer and highly experienced dirt-biker whom I met in Phnom Penh, had failed to reach the temple complex on two occasions. "Not too far now," repeats McCreadie, as I pick up my helmet and strap it back on my sweat- drenched head. I open up the throttle and attempt to steer the bike through the sand, but it keeps sliding out of control. I am reduced to a crawl, eating the huge clouds of dust McCreadie's bike kicks up in front of me.

We make it into a small village, where I guzzle down a huge bowl of noodles in front of a large audience. Shortly after the village we reach the outer limits of Preah Khan. Large stone ruins covered in thick foliage loom out of the jungle - one has mammoth, ancient faces carved into it, stone-lidded eyes staring down. Everywhere areas are roped off, marked by red "Danger - mines" signs. "They are clearing the mines to open the area up for tourists," McCreadie explains.

We camp out in a simple, open, wooden shelter, with mosquito nets, mats and hammocks to provide comfort. Before night sets in, we explore the central temple: jumbles of giant, abandoned temple stones, knots of fat, sinewy roots, intricately carved friezes, noble relics of a once mighty city, nestle evocatively in the gentle evening mist.

The morning ride back to Kampong Tom is a revelation. The struggles of the previous day are forgotten. At times I slide the bike sideways through the sand, my confidence growing.

I have been forced to push hard to get this far, but it has been more than worth it. Not only have I learnt to control a powerful motorbike in difficult terrain, I have also visited places few people have seen. Zeman McCreadie is right - it has been worth all the effort.

Cambodia Expeditions (07815 639 808, www.cambodiaexpeditions.com), organise tailor-made dirt-bike tours from novice to expert, inclusive of food, on-tour accommodation, bike rental and fuel, starting at $150 (pounds 80) a day per person (not including flights). Support vehicles can carry non- riders, and 4x4 and boat tours are also available. Travelmood (0870 066 4556, www.travelmood.com, ) offer five nights in Phnom Penh at the four-star Sunway Hotel, including return flights from London Heathrow, from pounds 645 per person based on twin share.

Independent on Sunday, The, by Andrew Spooner
Copyright Independent Newspapers UK Limited
Provided by ProQuest Information and Learning Company. All rights Reserved.



        
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