Bridges - Cambodian Style

It was horrible! It was so bad! We were so uncomfortable! It was terrible! He looked right at me and said “You HAVE to do it!” My friend had just returned from a holiday and was trying to convince me to go on the same one. We were living and working in Bangkok at the time and he had just travelled overland into Cambodia to Siem Reap. Of course, I headed off to Kao Sarn and booked the trip for the next lot of holidays. Embassies had posted warnings advising against overland travel in Cambodia. Apparently there were armed bandits hiding in the bushes. Land mines seemed to be less of a concern. With no alarm clock, I was scared that I would sleep in – and so, instead, woke up at regular intervals. The last time I woke was 6:20. I was supposed to be in Kao Sarn at 6:30! I grabbed my stuff and without time to brush my teeth was out the door five minutes later. Outside, I saw the last of the motorbike taxi guys head off down the street. With him went my fast option! I hailed a taxi and climbed in as the time read 6:31. It was one of the only times I’ve encouraged speed on the Bangkok streets! I arrived at Kao Sarn Road at 6:45 and walked the street, hoping to find another minivan that was headed my way. A couple of guys pointed me towards my very own minivan, where the driver was packing the last bag. I handed him mine and climbed in, as though I had been there the whole time. I had forgotten all about Thai Time! It was 7am. The trip to the border was uneventful but comfortable, though we did have to listen to scratchy Thai music. At the border we passed through an open shack of a building, where our visas were processed. We were officially in Cambodia! We were told that the average yearly wage for the locals was $US60.

We were ushered towards a ute, which would take us to Siem Reap. A few people sat inside and 11 of us sat in the tray at the back. Our backpacks were all packed against the sides of the tray with us sitting on them. Our legs were all piled in the middle, with a guy sitting on top of them. With so many legs in the middle, it soon became difficult to feel our legs or even remember which legs were our own. Occasionally someone would get sensation creeping into their legs in the form of pins and needles. We’d hear a cry of pain and the guy in the middle would stand up, pick up a leg and push it towards the owner. We’d all stretch our toes, roll our ankles and pile our legs back into the centre and the guy would sit on them again. The bridges were a crazy collection of timber and got steadily worse the further we got from the border. They became two “lanes” of wood, made from an assortment of wooden planks. The gully could clearly be seen below the bridges. Before crossing one of the bridges, a man crouched down, ensuring that our wheels would pass directly over the narrow planks. Arriving at one bridge, our ute stopped so that a truck could cross the bridge first. We watched in horror as the truck edged carefully across the bridge. We watched in horror as the bridge rocked and swayed under the truck. After the truck passed, a couple of men walked over the bridge, picking up pieces of timber and putting them back into their correct place. They were mending the bridge! As we crossed, we gripped the sides of the ute, closed our eyes and held our breath! On the other side, our driver was stopped by a man standing in the centre of the road holding a stick. The driver passed a few coins out the window and the man stepped aside, clearing the road for us. We had just passed a toll gate. The road had deteriorated very quickly and we were now driving into the potholes, along the bottom of them and then back up and out the other side of the potholes! We guttered out several times. We often got sent airborne, all of us rising together. We would grip onto each other so that we would land in our correct places and not crush our legs too much. I ended up with a fist sized bruise on my side, where I kept bashing it into the side of the ute. We got stuck in mud and slid and slid and spun and spun and slid and spat mud. We travelled into the night and into even deeper potholes. One pothole was filled with water. Our headlights captured the wall of water as it was sprayed above the cabin. We lost sight of it in the darkness seconds before it landed on us all, running down our backs and necks. We travelled 150 kilometres and it took us 6 hours. It was a wild and crazy trip, very uncomfortable, dusty and tiring.... but what a ride!