Cycling Day 8: Kratie to Stung Treng— 48 Miles (UDPDATED)

My travel mate Donna has been ill, so opted not to ride today at all. And given the itinerary I had decided to not cycle after our lunch break at all.  Although it was to be quite pretty and quiet, the last 15 miles were said to be on a gravel path, and I’m finding the bicycle that I have here is not as forgiving as the one in Vietnam.  (I did have the guide buy me a gel seat several days ago, but there isn’t enough cushioning in the world to absorb the pounding on some of these roads).

So, after the motorcycle ride back to the boat — I had the same driver, Selly, as last night — and the boat ride across the river, we saddled up and headed north.  It was just 10 miles to the place in the Mekong where the fresh water dolphins swim, and we headed out in two little boats to see if we could spot some.  These are not bottle-nose dolphins, but flat nosed, and they are now limited in number. The Khmer Rouge killed them for use as fuel for engines, and then fishermen began using nets which caught and killed many.  A conservation group from Australia stepped in and suggested training the fishermen to take tourists out instead and so the numbers have increased, but are still well below historical levels. It was a peaceful 45 minutes, and while we did spot them, they don’t jump out of the water, so there really aren’t fabulous photos to share.

Back on our bikes, we had a 14 mile ride to the next spot, along a paved, although rutted road. The landscape had changed some, but we were still in a very rural, farming-based area. The only change from the previous day were the presence of water buffalo alongside the other cattle, and tapioca root drying along the road. The homes were on stilts, and some seemed unfinished, but lived in, with boards of different lengths forming the walls vertically. There continued to be many children saying “hello, hello, hello”, at times a group working themselves into a frenzy. Seeing this many foreigners on bicycles with colorful and loud jerseys and helmets sent many to laugh, and others to stare incomprehensibly, and still others to say hello until we stop, and then they run away.  One of our guides has had us take the toiletries from the hotels we’ve stayed in, and is distributing them along the way.  We are clearly in areas steeped in poverty and even little soaps and toothbrushes are a luxury or treat.

Along the way we came upon a wedding reception, the second we’ve seen.  There are silk drapes held up by metal frames, tables covered in colorful cloths and chairs with silk covers. Framed photos of the bride and groom are on stands outside the space, which is erected right along the road. The bridal party sits on a dais and the parents sit in chairs facing this group, and one person has a microphone and seems to act like the Emcee, asking questions of, and telling jokes about the bride and groom — to keep it lively and entertaining. We crashed the wedding, as did all the children who got out of school just at that moment. And no one seemed to mind — no one shoo’d us away.

I gave up about halfway through this 14 mile section — the road was so bumpy and the pace of the group was a bit too fast, and there was a headwind.  Luckily, this is a section of the trip where the van is following the cyclists, and since Donna was already on board I decided to join her in the relative comfort of the van.  I realized that I was miserable, and I was paying for this, and that my goal is to see the countryside and learn about the Cambodian culture, not to cycle great distances.

At the end of the section, we had a van transfer to a small restaurant for lunch. And it was the most foreign of all the meals we’ve had — pigs tongue with celery, and chicken gizzards, liver and brains with some vegetable, a fish stew with the skin still on the fish. I had rice.  The ride after lunch that I had already decided to skip was partially on roadway and then a turn north along the Mekong on red, dusty gravel.  I stayed in the van. With no remorse.