Kamot to Sihnoukville and back

First of all a hint to any other cyclists reading this. After many months of experimenting in the best way to carry bananas I finally found pretty much the ideal method. You see, bananas, although an ideal energy food, bruise far too easily whilst if you keep them in a plastic bag will ripen so fast that a bunch bought at the start of the day will be pitch black by evening. Which is a shame as I find that people want to sell me a kilo or more at a time. In smaller places in Cambodia, however, plastic bags are mercifully not a regular fixture of life so I've been sold my daily fix of 'nanas with a twine loop through them. And of course this means I can just drop them on the end of my handle bars, keeping them fresh and allowing me to pick one off whenever I need one. So simple, why didn't I see it earlier?

From Kampot the next destination was Sihanoukville. Other people had almost put me off going there, telling me it was a crime hotspot with many motorbike based snatch and runs and the destination itself, when not being over run with scooter based bandidos, full of drunken and stoned gap year travellers. However, it was a good place to pick up the Vietnamese visa I needed as well as the only place to go diving in Cambodia. Which settled it.

The road to Sihanoukville was a lovely ride after the dusty dry flat roads in the rest of the country. It snaked down the coast in the shadow of the Elephant Mountains, which soared up some 1000 meters high with the tops being wreathed in clouds. Tiny fishing villages floated by and the smell of the sea was ever present.

Drying shrimps on the road to Sihanoukville

I was a few kilometers from Sihanoukville when I became the victim of crime. A motorbike whizzed by me and I felt a jerk of the handlebars as a voice said "Hellomisterwhatisyourname" followed by an evil laugh. I watched open mouthed as the pillion passenger (wearing a Man U shirt I might add) triumphantly held up my bunch of bananas for the day! Alas, my cries of "Stop, thief" were to no avail and I was forced to laugh long and hard.

Sihoukville. Hmmm. Yes, the reports were right. I got a days diving in and it was OK but nothing special and somewhat over priced. And in the evening the place was full of young backpackers partying way to hard. I found an older Aussie chap to have a drink with and decided that instead of staying in the place two days I'd cut and run the next, giving an extra day in the Mekong Delta in Vietnam.

How we used to play before computers. Kids playing marbles in Kampot.


Back down the road to Kampot the next day it was somewhat hampered by a headwind and a hangover. I was glad to get back to simpler, quieter, pleasures though. I spent the evening there and the next day pushed on through to Vietnam, down one last unsealed road full of red dust.