Trekking near Ban Lung

We fancied doing a bit of trekking in Cambodia, so from Kratie we waited for the bus to Ban Lung in Ratanakiri province, where we had heard there is some good trekking. Waiting for the bus was also a French guy called Fabrice, who we got chatting to. He was taking lovely pictures of some children who were hanging around the bus stop. He had a truly impressive looking camera. For some really nice photos of Cambodia have a look at his photostream on Flikr: http://www.flickr.com/photos/travelspics . I kept myself busy by photographing a praying mantis on a nearby bush. It turned out that Fabrice was also interested in a trek, so we agreed to keep in touch once we got to Ban Lung.

Praying mantis

The bus was a bit overloaded, which meant that my bag and Fabrice's had to come inside and roll about the aisle, and I was squashed in at the back between loads of children. I was expecting Ban Lung to be as hassle free as Kratie and Kampong Cham had been, but as soon as we got off the bus there was a massive scramble for the "barang" by the moto dup drivers, each of whom pushed one or two guest houses. Surprisingly this was the most hassle we had yet endured, but the guest house owner in Kratie had recommended a place called Tree Top, an "eco lodge", which we soon found a driver for. At $4 for a double room it seemed like a good deal as well. When we arrived there, after a rather scary journey on the back of a bike with my thirty kilo rucksack still on my back, Fabrice was already there, and had taken the last double room, leaving us with a choice of a twin room (not suitable for a honeymoon) or a bungalow which, at the massive price of $7 we decided we
couldn't afford on our Cambodian budget. We really wanted to stay there though, as it looked lovely, so we were very pleased when Fabrice agreed to swap for the twin room. The eco lodge was a little out of town, so we just ate in their restaurant, which was a little over-priced, and got chatting to an Israeli guy, who seemed to be a mine of travel information, largely related to money saving; he scoffed at our $25 per day per person. He was trying to get by on $10. He had just arrived from Laos and I didn't think he'd be able to do it in Cambodia. After a bit the conversation went down hill when he told Joanne she was ridiculous for not eating dog when she is happy to eat pigs which, he insisted, are much dirtier animals than dogs. What a silly discussion!

We were woken at 7am by the building site, where they are building the lodge owner's house. It seems like everywhere we stay in Asia there is a buliding site just outside our window, which starts at 7am. In Banlung it was much cooler than the lowlands of Cambodia. When we went into the restaurant in the morning, Fabrice was sitting with a Canadian guy called Bobby, saying that they had been in town and found a trek that was cheaper than the one offerred by the lodge and they were going to meet the guide later to go over the details. We had arrived too late to organise any trekking for that day, so we hired the worst condition moped so far, from the lodge owner and zipped off to take in the local sights, stopping in town to have a baguette. Baguettes are for sale from street vendors everywhere in Cambodia, but this was a national speciality we had somehow hitherto missed. We hadn't been missing much, but they were OK.

Waterfall

First stop on our moped trip was a waterfall, up to which we hoped to be able to get a trip on an elephant. Somehow we missed the village you catch the elephants at and ended up right at the waterfall, which we had to pay to look at. I mentioned that we were looking for elephants at the little shop next to the waterfall and he told us he'd organise it for us, so he phoned around to find out where the elephants were. Apparently these elephants are normally working elephants so giving the tourists rides is a nice break for them. "The elephants are in the jungle" he said after a couple of calls, so he said we could get on his moped to the elephants, and they would bring us back to the waterfall. So the three of us, me in the middle Joanne at the back, crammed onto this little 100cc moped, over quite a rough, rocky road. Heading up a hill on the road, the driver lost it on some loose rocks and spilled us on to the road. Well it wasn't serious, but it was
pretty sore; my knee was badly scraped and a bit bashed; Joanne had bruised he inner thigh; and the driver was complaining of sore ribs. We just got back on the bike and continued to the very small village where we were meeting the elephants. "Elephant not here yet," he told us, "I go fix bike. You wait."

Children at the elephant handlers' village

We had no idea how long we were going to have to wait, but the family who seemed to be in charge of the elephants were very friendly and I got a couple of nice photos of them while we waited. Eventually the elephants arrived and we were off. The moped driver told us we could get two elephants for the price of one, if we wanted. I hoped it was because he was feeling guilty about injuring us. The elephant ride wasn't much fun: rather uncomfortable and the poor elephants were hit hard on the head (with the back of a hatchett) any time they strayed to the edge of the path, usually to try and eat; so after just a few minutes I was feeling very sorry for my elephant who was getting it much more than Joanne's, whose was allowed to eat the occasional leaf. At one point the elephant appeared to get so annoyed with being hit, or maybe just with not being allowed to eat, that I thought it was going to throw us off; it seemed to be rearing up a bit and it was
trumpteting quite a lot. I thought, "Great! First a moped accident and now I'm to be thrown from an elephant". However it calmed down again and there was no major incident. My elephant handler was smoking a pipe for the length of the journey and when he noticed my scraped knee he very kindly offered my a wad of tobacco which he spat in, then indicated I should rub it into the wound. I politely declined. When the ride ended I was glad that people had previously warned us not to go for a long ride because of the discomfort. One hour was more than enough, especially with all the elephant abuse. The ride ended at the shop where the guy had driven us from on the moped. When his wife realised that the injury on my knee was caused by him losing control of the bike, she gave him a severe dressing down.

Volcanic lake

Our next stop was at a lovely volcanic lake, where lots of Cambodian children and teenagers, as well as a few foreigners, were all splashing around and having fun.

Joanne's elephant

When we got back to the lodge, the trek guide was there. Bobby quite quickly decided it was too expensive for him and pulled out, but Joanne, Fabrice, and I decided to go ahead with it. We agreed one night sleeping in the jungle and one night "homestay" in a minority village. He was a bit vague about what we would see or do on the trek, but I didn't worry about that. I was sure he knew what he was doing. His name is Mr Keo Sona. Do not go trekking with this man!

That evening we had some drinks with Fabrice and a girl from Somerset, called Charlie. She had been working in Botswana in conservation, and wanted to live in South Africa. She had an aeronautical engineering degree, but hated it and completely changed careers. The next morning she was leaving for Don Det, where we planned to go next, so we agreed to bump into each other there.

The guide picked us up at 7.30am as agreed and we got driven to a ferry port. After we crossed the river we would be trekking. The guide, a guy he called his brother, and the car driver all sat around in a cafe at the ferry port having lunch, even though it was only about 10am when we arrived. Just when it was reaching the hottest part of the day we caught the ferry, which had been going back and forth for the whole hour and a half we sat there. The three of us had been sitting asking each other what on earth is going on -- after all didn't we have some trekking to be getting on with. Then when it was time to pack the bags I really started to wonder if they had any idea what was going on themselves.

The previous day when we had discussed the trek, we had asked the guide what we need to take with us and he had said not to worry, that they would carry everything; all we need to carry is clothes and our own water. We didn't need to take any mosquito nets or food, because they would organise all of that. We had decided to take one bigger bag to take turns with just in case. But when we got it out he put all the water in the one bag, then he put a huge bag of food, then he put another big bag of food in on top. I picked it up and said "it's very heavy", meaning that we could perhaps share the weight around; or at least the water, but he said "ok I'll take it" and put on the big rucksack, "you take this", and handed me a large, heavy, nylon sack. Fabrice was also given a sack to carry. Keo set off without tying the waist strap of the large rucksack as the midday sun beat down on us.

By now I was convinced they had no idea what they were doing. I'm no expert in hiking, but the last thing you want to do is carry anything in your hands, least of all an awkwardly shaped, heavy, nylon sack, which was dripping something slightly slimy from one corner; it really tires you out, puts strain on your back, and puts you off-balance. As for Keo not doing up the waist strap, he can't have known how the gear works, after all it's only the waist strap that really makes rucksacks sit where they should and takes weight off your spine. I don't think you need to have the highest tech gear to go trekking, but Keo was just wearing an ordinary pair of leather shoes, which seemed odd. Finally, setting off in the middle of the day, after sitting around doing nothing for nearly two hours was crazy, especially when the path turned out to be more of a road than a forest track, so there was almost no shadow from trees, most of which anyway had been cut down,
and the land burned. So we were walking along a large path through a scorched wasteland in baking sun. Not exactly a great start.

Soon it because clear that Keo and his brother weren't even very fit. OK, Keo's bag was heavy, but the two of them stopped and sat down for a rest every fifteen minutes, while the customers stood around waiting for them to get on with it. Surely the guides are supposed to be really fit and able to cope with carrying a heavy bag? Keo's brother didn't even have that excuse and seemed to need the rests just as much. Eventually we reached a section where the road narrowed and some of the forest had been left alone, and it started to look a little bit pleasant, however we were still being passed quite frequently by vehicles. Finally it narrowed even more, so that only mopeds were able to drive along the path. Which is about when we stopped at a clearing with a couple of wooden structures. Our home for the night! It was actually quite nice, so I started to cheer up. Keo got the hammocks we would be sleeping in out of a bag and tied them up under our shelter.
That was when things got worse! Joanne had gone over to inspect the hammocks, which had integrated mosquito nets. One of them had a huge hole in it, the zip did not work at all on one, and the last one had lots of small holes. When we complained to Keo, he told us not to worry, he has repellent spray and there anyway is no malaria in Cambodia! Needless to say we were not very happy, because we could have brought our own.

Our sleeping area in the jungle

Keo and his brother lit a fire and cooked the fish that turned out to be the thing leaking from my bag in the hot sun all day. It tasted OK, if not exactly delicious, but it made me worry how fresh the following day's meat would be. The meal was cooked with loads of rice; "Cambodians don't feel good unless they have rice in their stomachs Keo explained to me". When the sun set, the two Cambodians lit a fire for us and went to their hammocks to sleep, at about 7pm, leaving us wondering what to do with ourselves, and also we realised, nowhere to sit, because it was the tree trunks we were using as benches while we ate that were now the fire. Eventually I volunteered to take the zipless hammock in exchange for Joanne getting the best one and we also went to bed. I've tried to sleep in a hammock once before and found it very uncomfortable, and this one was no different. After drenching myself in mosquito repellent, I realised that the hammock was a bit short for me and it seemed like it would only be comfy if my knees bent the wrong way. I may have got two hours sleep, but when I gave up trying to sleep, it was actually really nice just lying there in the jungle, listening to what sounded like an elephant rustling around, although it really couldn't have been, listening to hundreds of gecko calling, listening to all sort of birds and millions of cicadas, and watching loads of fireflies floating past our shelter. All night an electric storm rumbled around us, although it only rained on us for a short time and the shelter kept us completely dry. Even if the hammock had been comfortable, I think there was actually far too much noise for me to sleep! It was a very interesting experience, though, just not much use if you want rest because you are hiking the next day.

The following morning, I discovered that neither Fabrice nor Joanne had slept either; I had seen Fabrice got up in the middle of the night and sit in the other shelter for a while. Apparently he had given up sleeping and intended to read, but when he put on his headtorch he was attacked by lots of insects, which is why he returned to bed shortly afterwards.

This day's hike seemed to consist of us following Keo around, visiting people living in the forest so he could have a long conversation with them, while we just stood around, waiting. He also took us to a clearing to show us where he used to work for an international gem company as a local expert and advisor, prospecting using lots of wooden aparatus that was still lying there, abandoned to the jungle. Apparently the company had pulled out of Cambodia at the start of the economic downturn. After this diversion, we walked to the village where we were to stay the second night (Etop), again carrying stuff in sacks, and the guides resting every fifteen minutes or so. It was about halfway back along the route we had walked the day before. We had taken so long to get going in the morning that it was already late afternoon by the time we arrived.

Minority village children

Keo explained to us that the villagers were mixed Lao and ethnic minority, "half-bloods" he called them. He went on to say that they are very lazy, have too many children, and all they care about is drinking rice wine and dancing. It was all sounding very racist until I asked him about his own ethnicity: the same, he said, but this one was not his village. The village stay was the highlight of the trek. The villagers were very friendly, and spent most of the time we were there standing around and looking at us, particularly the children, which Fabrice took full advantage of by taking loads of lovely photos. I didn't take many because I felt a bit embarrassed taking photos of strangers and Fabrice was making such a good job of it, I thought I would just look at his photostream instead.

Inside house we stayed in at the minority village

There was a little shop in the village, where the three of us bought up the entire supply of beer (seven bottles). People kept buzzing in and out on mopeds, and someone in the village had a generator, so some of the houses had televisions. So this village, although in the forest, isn't really remote at all. One woman asked Keo why these rich westerners want to sleep in the jungle and sleep in their poor village; if she was rich like us she would live in the city and own a car. They all seemed to agree: we were mad. So it seems like this village is something akin to a "trailer park" in the US now: people only live there because they can't afford to live anywhere else; there traditional village life has gone, really, and they are only ten minutes away from a small town on a bike.

House we stayed in at the minority village

It was a village elder and his family we were staying with, who cooked for us in their house, although we didn't eat with them because guests get to eat first. We also slept there, although we had to ask for mosquito nets, rather than Keo organising them. The one thing Keo did do for us was procure a bottle of their local rice spirit, which we sat around in a circle taking turns to have shots. Apparently this is the Lao way: you drink fast until you fall down. Keo did not join us, because he said he can't work if he's drinking. We managed to polish off the bottle without him. About four in the morning Joanne and I woke up shivering and couldn't get back to sleep, but as we'd gone to bed about eight the night before we weren't too tired. Only when the sun came up did we realise that everyone else had a blanket except us; Fabrice and the two guides!

Minority village

This time we told Keo that we wanted to get going early to back to Ban Lung at a reasonable time. It seemed to work because we set off fairly sharp without the usual sitting around for hours, and they even walked almost without breaks, although they did both complain frequently how tired they were. When we got back to Ban Lung, we were able to book back into Treetop, and finished the day with a few drinks with Fabrice. During the trek, I'd enjoyed spending much of the time chatting to him. I even got to exercise my French a little, something I had thought there might be an opportunity for in Cambodia with so many French people around. We had quite a lot in common politically, and he frequently ranted about Sarkozy, who he seems to believe is responsible for everything wrong in France today. At one point I said to him I thought French supermarkets are not what they used to be: less fresh produce, more microwave meals and processed food, unripe fruit and cheese on the shelves; "what's happening to your country?" I asked -- "It's the fault of Sarkozy!" he replied.

Fabrice

Trekking near Ban Lung

Banlung, Cambodia