Fifth cent. Funan shrines in natural caves, rigorous treks up a mountain, caving, dirt biking, blue waters crashing against the sun kissed boulders strewn across the roasted to a perfect gold beach, blissful evening strolls by the riverside avenues and dinner under star spangled skies were just some of the things on my itinerary on a trip to the twin towns of Kampot and Kep in south west coastal Cambodia. For a long time Cambodia or Cambodge as the invaders liked to call it was a French colony, and Kampot, home to the misty Bokor Mountains was groomed into a colonial summer getaway for the European occupants and the Cambodian royals and affluent. Magnificent French villas dot the palm fringed, thinly populated town. The French have long gone and most colonial architectural beauties, save for a few restored buildings carry stains from the Khmer Rouge era and are just a ruined shell of what they used to be but the sleepy province with its laidback inhabitants still manages to retain most of its original picture perfect magic.
Getting to Kampot, which lies around 130 kms from Phnom Penh, where I was based requires around 3 hours of share taxi time from the capital. It was 6.30am when my friend Maria, a Dane and I headed into the southwest of the city to the share-taxi stand at Dumkor market, the starting point for travel along Route 3 to the south coast. On arriving, a swarm of taxi-drivers swooped down on us and we were left to negotiate a reasonable rate for our prized seats. 15 minutes and $10 later we hit the early morning city roads at break neck speed running over a feeding hen enroute. Surprisingly the road was in pretty good condition, compared to most Cambodian highways. We drove past several local markets selling their morning catch, little kids walking barefoot to makeshift schools nearby, long queues of young women filtering through gates of the many garment factories at the start of their working day.
Getting to Kampot, which lies around 130 kms from Phnom Penh, where I was based requires around 3 hours of share taxi time from the capital. It was 6.30am when my friend Maria, a Dane and I headed into the southwest of the city to the share-taxi stand at Dumkor market, the starting point for travel along Route 3 to the south coast. On arriving, a swarm of taxi-drivers swooped down on us and we were left to negotiate a reasonable rate for our prized seats. 15 minutes and $10 later we hit the early morning city roads at break neck speed running over a feeding hen enroute. Surprisingly the road was in pretty good condition, compared to most Cambodian highways. We drove past several local markets selling their morning catch, little kids walking barefoot to makeshift schools nearby, long queues of young women filtering through gates of the many garment factories at the start of their working day.
Three hours later, a little before 10 am as the cab came to a screeching halt at the kampot market we were mobbed again. This time by local tour guides and guesthouse owners and as evidenced everyone and their brother will offer you a trip around town. Some guesthouses offered cheap prices for their rooms if we booked ourselves up with their guides for the whole of our stay, the cheapest bargain being free! Though the town of Kampot does not offer much in terms of tourist attraction, visitors generally camp base here spending their day cross country biking, caving, trekking, soaking up the sun at the nearby seaside resort of Kep to come back to their hotels in Kampot by night since it is almost often agreed that civic amenities are much better within the city. After what seemed eternity Maria and I signed up with the tour guides of Monorom Guest house and got our rooms for a mere $3 per night. We were assigned our individual guides who drove us up to the guesthouse on their motos (a popular south east asian locomotive).
It was long decided our weekend trip would be a pure backpacker affair and nothing could change that, not even the sleazy ‘already up to their act’ Yankee suggadaddies, fellow guests at Monorom we chanced upon at the makeshift lobby as we picked up our keys and ordered breakfast. A quick shower and a quicker breakfast and at around 11.15 am we headed out towards the Bokor Mountains on the two 350 cc trail bikes our guides, Jack and Sok had re-appeared with. Bokor is probably the only reason we’re in Kampot, and it's a damn good reason to be there. Hanging to the edge of a cliff with a 1000-meter drop to sea level, the abandoned hill station is one of the outstanding sights in Cambodia. Visitors can access the mountains on foot, bicycles, dirt bikes or hire a four-wheel drive. It is a long, jarring ride up regardless of how you go; so consider splurging on hiring a 4x4. At $35-40, it becomes affordable if you get a group together and halfway up you'll be thanking Buddha you didn't mount a bike. Trail bikes and bicycles are definitely riskier and not an option for the less adventurous owing to the lack of any kind of paved paths up the mountain. So trail bikes it was for us.
The pleasant pre-noon drive to the foot of the mountains took us about half an hour. Expat tourists are charged $5 at the entry point and the money allegedly goes towards the maintenance of the Bokor National Park. The long ascend ahead was a ride of a lifetime for us. It had just rained the previous night and it was a densely foliaged rock strewn course up the mountain. The revelation that Sok, my guide had never biked up the Bokor was definitely not reassuring. Three hours later with one fall, a scraped knee, and a close miss falling into a ravine, raging battles against the scorching heat and the thorny bushes walloping us knee down to boot for, the four of us were cheered and welcomed by two bikers as we finally made it to the top. We bumped into a few others on bikes and the camaraderie among us for the rest of the day was laudable as we looked out for each other and helped fix bikes.
Atop Bokor is the ruin of what once was the royal summer retreat. The Khmer Rogue seems to have wrecked havoc in these buildings during their years in power. Built in the early 20th century and made to look like an extensive cabin in the woods, a lot of money evidently went into giving the place a ‘humble’ tone. The palatial hilltop cabin housed a magnificent ballroom, a reasonably enormous balcony that overlooked the coast and beyond, a huge dining area with a ‘once upon a time’ well-equipped kitchen and a servant’s quarter slyly tucked away within. A half hour ride further took us to the highest level of the Bokor waterfall. Several feet down a reasonably large crater in the rocks near the falls forms a little lake of sorts. With water gushing in on you from above as you frisk in frenzy among the boulders and the constant gurgle of the lassoed wild waters in the crater and water gushing in a few feet below you, this natural ‘lake’ on top of a mountain seemingly so close to the Gods is a heavenly place to be stuck in.
Time to get up, dry out and take a quick sneak peak at a few more places before we hit the road back to the foot of Bokor. Our next stop was at an extravagant three storied ruins of a 1915 casino erected by the French. Used as a prison camp during the Pol Pot regime the place still houses spooky details from its original times when it lived out its original cause as a luxury hotel. Ball rooms, fire places, the magnificent floor tiles and empty chandelier holdings creaking as they sway in the wind haunt me as I see ghosts of beautiful young women and strong handsome men, their bodies entwined as they dance to some distant music. With not much time to spare we raced through an old cathedral and the ranger’s station where we stopped for a quick exchange of notes and pleasantries with the other tourists we had met earlier. The descend back to the foothill was definitely excruciating and took us around three hours as we negotiated our way down the steep and slippery gravel paths. It was late evening by the time we got back to our rooms and we could think of nothing else but a refreshing shower and a walk down nearby riverfront street for an extensive and replenishing meal. Back at the hotel by 10 pm we emphatically turned down offers to smoke free marijuana with a few other guides and decided to sleep it out instead. After all we had a leisurely exploration of coastal kep and some serious caving to do the next morning.
Post a heavenly breakfast of banana pancakes and honey and gallons of caffeine to help us ignore the sores that had set in the previous night and armed with powerful flashlights we were on our way out of Kampot and racing past the salt-flats just outside the city limits towards Kep some 25 kms away. A few kilometres further on, we passed a small inlet with about a dozen fishing boats tied up. Sok, my guide pointed out the track to a small limestone outcrop on our left called Phnom Sia, a little hill with a temple on the top. At the foot of the hill is a small pagoda where monks offer homemade Chinese tea and light refreshments to visitors. It offered a nice opportunity to swap stories with fellow backpackers, an essential to keep track of the what’s and where’s and do’s and don’ts.
A series of steps takes you to the mouth of a large cave. The view across the green paddy fields was bright and colourful but the cave, apart from a few shafts of sunlight, was very dark, dingy and airless. A labyrinth of small walkways leads to the "cave of the white elephant" called understandably so because of its uncanny resemblance to an elephant. Very close to the elephant cave are several stupas, fifth century funan place of worship still in use by local monks who look after the place. Another cave on the other side of the hill was practically identical, with concrete steps leading down into a large cavern with unusual rock formations and small altars, while both caves had bats squeaking and swooping close to our heads. Torches flashed on high beam mode, sweat trickled down our backs and voices echoed as Sok and I slithered through wet, slimy rocks. It was so dark inside we pinched candles from the shrine to light them along our way just in case we got lost. A 30 feet drop downward and lack of caving equipment and expertise put an abrupt end to our rocky adventure. After a quick stop for fuel we resumed our journey to Kep.
The road was a good one and we reached Kep after about thirty minutes, the sea visible through the trees on our right, past many ruined villas. Kep has a one-way system in place and the road took us down to the sea, where the two of us parked our bikes and went for a paddle on the rocky shore. Its not a real swimming opportunity but the blue waters and the soft white sands set against the back drop of tall palm trees are undeniably alluring. The mood is one of absolute frolic. The coast road took us around a small headland where the King's royal residence watches over the main bay from the top of the hill. The sandy beach arcs round to a statue of a mermaid and this is the main bathing and swimming area for the many Cambodians who now frequent Kep at weekends. We rode back to the main beach area, heading up the hill and out of town, leaving behind Kep, with its ghost-like quality. We'd only stayed for a couple of hours but I've always loved the seaside and Kep is a place I'd undeniably go back to. With just a few more hours left of the weekend and reality waiting for us back home and at work it was time to leave it all behind- Kampot, Bokor, Kep, sok and Jack, the bikes we fell in love with, the cave full of bats, the lazy market place, the sodium lamp laced avenues across the riverfront, the divine pancakes and a dog named Molly. Just for a while though. For I’d give it all up for sore butts and happy times any day.
No comments:
Post a Comment