FRENCH GHOST TOWN

Deserted French colonial resort community atop Bokor Mountain

I'm standing in the middle of a ghost town. A very empty, very eerie, ghost town. It's a French ghost town at that. I may be in Cambodia, but all these dark old buildings were built by the French colonials. 

It’s very eerie up here. I look around at the old buildings, and decide this 'hill station' was poorly named. This was once much more; a glorious colonial hill top resort. But no any longer, it's been abandoned for decades. 

Old concrete colonial buildings in various states of decay lie by a small mountain lake. By the placid waters, a two story hotel waits to receive guests that will never come. A larger building beside it housed a restaurant and night club. Beyond the lake are even more derelict buildings, including an old police station. Between them all, uncut green grasses are swaying in the cold mountain wind. 

After a strenuous seven hour hike up the mountain, I'm here to explore this place. The Bokor Mountain Hill Station was first constructed back in the 1920's. Given the tropical heat and lack of air conditioning in Cambodia then, this cool highland spot was built as a weekend getaway for French colonists. It later expanded, to include a casino. The decaying French architecture that I see everywhere, has an air reminiscent of the long gone roaring 20's. 

One of the few colonial era churches left in all of Cambodia

Closest to me is a Catholic church, with a cross reaching from the tower steeple. Heading up the hill, I enter. More chapel than church, this is one of the few old Christian places of worship left in Cambodia that was not destroyed by the Khmer Rouge communists. (Even the historical Notre Dame cathedral in the capital was leveled by the radicals.) Catholic priests that were found by the Khmer Rouge were executed, as were many Buddhist monks. After the communists' fall, the Buddhist faith recovered, but Christianity has not. The % of Christians left in Cambodia is now lower than before the Pol Pot years. 

Surprisingly, the church is relatively intact, save for graffiiti on the yellowish interior, and a hole in the wall used for a gun slit during the war. The old altar still remains. I wonder how many happy couples were married here. Since the main attraction at Bokor was the casino, I wonder if this chapel was used to marry young couples, much like the chapels in Las Vegas. 

Exiting and descending the hill, I look back up at the old church. My view is clear until moments later, a smoky mist comes across the sky behind the church. The mist parts around it and passes over it, giving an impression of spirits flying out from the church. An eerie feeling, an eerie sight. 

Ruins of the French colonial post office (click to enlarge)

There's much more to explore, so I follow the ridgeline road towards the cliff, rising up the hill to the resort’s peak. I find a shell casing on the road; it’s small in size, probably from a pistol. There is more evidence of violence on the building right in front of me. 

The Bokor Post Office is a reddish two story building, curiously large for such a small mountaintop community. It won't be handling any mail anymore. One whole corner of the building has been blown away, due to fighting that took place here between the Khmer Rouge and the Vietnamese Army. Bullet holes dot the exterior. The fighting here was fierce. 

Not all of the destruction here was from the Vietnamese fighting to dislodge the Khmer Rouge. The first conflict up here took place way back in the late 1940s. Back then anti-colonial Khmers known as the Khmer Issarak, (Free Khmer) charged up the mountain to oust the French colonists. 

Bokor Casino during colonial days

Passing the post office, I continue up. There were many landmines buried here during the war, and they've been cleared, (so they say.) Not taking chances, I stay on the road, and head for the largest building on the mountain. The once majestic, Bokor Palace Casino. This is nothing like a Vegas casino, but the abandoned palace is an intimidating structure. 

Approaching, it has a very forboding look. Four floors high, the wind is blowing mountain mist over it. Patches of dark orange paint have fallen away, revealing dark cement beneath. Dark green moss creeps across the exterior, looking for sunlight in this gloomy place. Grass and weeds grow from ledges. Even darker are the empty open windows, all broken or looted long ago. Their great black vacant spaces stare out at me like ghostly eyes. 

The spooky old abandoned casino today

I climb the staircase, and walk through the front doorway. I can almost hear the doorman from the casino's glory years: “Bon soir monsieur, bienvenue.”

Passing the vacant reception desk, I enter the largest room in the building. This was the casino. I can almost feel it: A luxurious weekend during the roaring 1920’s. French colonists in tuxedos, smoke cigarettes, and talk politics with the rich elite of Cambodian society. The roulette wheel whirrs, as gamblers try their luck at the tables. Their wives and girlfriends in the latest Paris fashions look on and gossip. Smartly dressed Khmer waiters bring around trays of champagne.The opulence, the luxury; this was the glory of French colonialism, an apt example of the decadence0 and opression of the time. 

Now the gaming tables are gone, along with every other bit of furniture. The casino is bare. The paint is faded or stained. I can hear the sound of running water, and looking up I see water lightly pouring in through the ceiling, leaving puddles dotted on the floor. The air is cold and damp, but there will be no heat coming from the empty fire place. The lavish lifestyle, gourmet French cooking, and high rollers are gone. The party’s over; the celebration of colonial life here is but a dim memory. 

Now looted, fortunes were made in the casino

I climb the casino's marble staircase to the top floor verandah. Looking out, just steps beyond this old ruin is a sheer cliff. The view up here is incredible. The drop is practically vertical, revealing a commanding view of the surrounding landscape. The plain far below the mountain is covered in a blanket of jungle, reaching the Gulf of Thailand beyond. Now I see why the Khmer Rouge fought so hard for this place. From this vantage point you can see any movement along the coast, whether by road or by sea. Well, at least they could see everything when the view was still clear. As I watch, a cloud of fog moves across my view, totally obscuring the scenery down below the cliff. 

With the wind and weather up here, visibility changes in seconds. These passing clouds are even more impressive outside the casino.You can be a hundred feet outside the front door, and watch the fog roll in. The mist grows thick and in seconds, the casino disappears completely from view. A minute later, the mist fades away, revealing the old palace again. It’s better than any TV magic trick. 

Walking the roof to the building’s west side, I find walls peppered with bullet pockmarks. Glass block windows are full of bullet holes from rifle fire. These are reminders of when the Vietnamese Army were here, blasting away at the Khmer Rouge. Fighting was heavy, until the radicals finally gave up and fled into the jungle. The Bokor hill station has been quiet and mostly abandoned ever since. Nature has gradually reinvaded the mountain top. Manicured lawns and landscaping have given way to lush green foliage and wildflowers. 

Rear view of casino, with young explorers sitting on railing

Nearby is a  rare sign of modernity up here in this ghost town; two new mobile phone towers. The mountain's altitude is appealing to cell phone companies. Phone towers aren't the only recent construction here. Just west of here, laborers are busy working today on a foundation. They plan to build a new '5 star' hotel and casino here, although there isn't a 5 star hotel in all of Cambodia. It’s an ambitious project that will take years.

It's beginning to darken, so I head to the only semi-modern building here that is actually inhabitable. The sign out front says: “National Protected Area Training Center”, the defacto hotel and ranger station, built with foreign aid money. It's where I'm sleeping tonight. 

My guide Tri leads our group in, and unfortunately for us, all guest rooms are taken by a Chinese construction crew. So our entire group is forced to bunk together in the ranger’s bedroom. I let out a groan; seven people will be packed into bunkbeds, in a small room with little ventilation. 

Casino looks over cliff to jungle below and Gulf of Thailand

After dinner, I lie down on my bunk bed. There’s no sheet, and the stench from the mattress is unbearable. I recall the words of the travel company clerk that sold me this trip. “Oh yes, first class accommodation. You have your own bedroom,” she promised me. I shouldn't be surprised, many third world travel agents, will say anything to make a sale. I politely explain my displeasure to my guide Tri, who apologizes. He can’t find me a sheet, but he does bring me a large clean towel. I lay it down on the offending mattress, and the stench is contained. 

Before going to sleep, our luck improves. Tri speaks to one of the monks from the monastery, and they have a truck leaving to drive down the mountain at 6am. We are welcome to ride along on the back if we want. Thankfully, my fellow trekkers vote to avoid the long sweaty hike back down the mountain. 

I lay down in the darkness, and slowly drift off to sleep. Tomorrow I'll leave Bokor, and I'll learn more of the compelling story of my guide Tri, a former soldier and survivor. 

The old chapel rises over the surrounding scenery.

Sunset on Bokor. Tomorrow I head down the mountain.

CLIMBING A CAMBODIAN MOUNTAIN

Bokor Mountain, on Cambodia's southern coast

I've never climbed a mountain before.

Today I’m riding shotgun in a pickup truck. The windows are down, sun is out, and a few hearty souls riding with me are heading for Bokor Mountain in southern Cambodia. We've left the the town of Kampot to climb this mountain in one day, aiming to reach the old French hill station at the top.

We pull over, and a Cambodian park ranger climbs on, donned in a brand new khaki uniform and wide brimmed hat. He’s young; looks barely out of his teens, I wonder how long he’s been a ranger. Our destination: Preah Monivong Bokor National Park, a protected reserve (at least officially) so climbing groups must have a ranger accompany them. Our ranger isn’t armed; how will he protect us if a problem arises?

Our pickup turns off the highway, and onto a rutted dirt road, crossing railroad tracks from the old French built railway. There's no need for crossing gates; the trains haven't run for years. The dirt road narrows to a path, and the pickup halts. Climbing out, we grab our backpacks, and begin our trek. The wide dirt path soon narrows, and the greenery grows thick. The path steepens, and soon we are rising up the mountainside and into the jungle.

Grabbing our backpacks off the pickup, we start our trek

We stop for our first break by a creek, and I'm startled by two young Khmer men. They are walking back down the mountain path, each with a bicycle. It’s too steep to ride the bikes, and strangely, each bike has a long plank of newly cut wood strapped to it. I quickly realize who they are: wood poachers!

The ranger accompanying us stops them, and a long conversation in Khmer begins. Though they have been caught red handed, they don’t make any effort to run, which wouldn’t have been easy, since they both wear sandals.

Then our guide says it’s time to go. He takes us up out of sight of where the ranger and poachers are, and then we stop to wait for the ranger. When he finally rejoins us, we depart again. Hmmm.... Since the ranger dealt with the poachers out of our sight, I wonder if he had collected a bribe from them. Poaching of all kinds is a serious problem on Bokor Mountain.

We continue climbing, and we run into two more poachers! They're probably working with the others we saw earlier. Each carries a chopping tool, which looks like a cross between a machete and a meat cleaver. We walk up out of sight, and wait for the ranger again. When he rejoins us again, this time he's carrying the confiscated cleavers.

We encounter wood poachers on our way up the mountain path!

Although we are mostly in the jungle's shade, it’s still very hot and humid as we climb. Soon my shirt is soaked through, complete with a couple holes torn into it from a passing thorny vine. Six climbers have joined me on this ascent, including three Israelis, an Englishman, the park ranger, and our Khmer guide.

Continuing our jungle ascent, we reach a scenic waterfall. The wildlife is beginning to show itself. A lizard with a spiny back glares at me without moving, as I try to stare him down. He wins. He lives here on this tree branch, and I’m just passing through.

This mountain is a good choice for a national park. Along our journey I will see two pelicans, a hawk, and a large black monkey that ambled across our path. There are even elephants and tigers here too. Sadly, their numbers are very few, thanks to all of the poachers.

We find other wildlife here as well, but the unwanted kind: LEECHES! Our guide finds a leech on his neck. An Israeli spots one on his lower leg. I'm glad I'm wearing long pants; it’s not a good idea to wear shorts in the jungle. They remove the unwanted hitchhikers, and we continue on our way.

Dangerous White-Lipped Pit Viper by the path

Suddenly our guide stops our progress. Coiled in the brush right next to the path, is a bright green snake with yellow eyes. It’s not very long, it's no cobra, (of which Cambodia has many) but when it comes to venomous snakes, size isn’t everything. “Very dangerous,” our guide says. We've encountered a White-Lipped Pit Viper! Our guide pokes at it with a long stick, and it slowly slithers away into the jungle. Our climb continues.

As the day heats up, we rest again on a surprisingly wide dirt road that crosses our path. This road follows the tracks of the old original road up the mountain built in 1921. Supervised by the French, the heavy work was done by indentured Cambodian laborers. Some worked so hard, that they died from overwork. The new widening of this track today is being done by a Chinese construction company, and they've been troubled with labor disputes. Cambodian laborers working here now complain about being overworked for little pay. Exploitation of local labor continues.

Before this project began, visitors to the mountain top drove up the old road in pickup trucks, spent the day there, and were back down before dark. But now the Chinese construction company totally closed down the road to visitor traffic. So we're going up the only way we can: on foot. After spending the night up top, we'll go back down tomorrow morning.

Odd looking lizard stares me down

After hours of climbing steep trails, drinking two liters of water, and with muscles growing sore, we reach a dark stone building sitting on the edge of a cliff. It’s time for lunch, and we’re having it at the 'Black Palace'. I walk into this abandoned shell, and it's not much of a palace, it’s more of a ruined villa. Khmer naga heads sticking out from the rooftop corners let on to its royal ownership: this was once owned by the king. But since then the palace has been totally looted. There’s not only no furniture, but the windows are gone, bathroom fixtures are gone, even some of the floor tiles have been torn up.

Sitting on the window ledges looking out towards the cliff and the ocean, we dive into our lunches of vegetable fried rice. 'Black Palace' is an odd title for this place, as the inside walls are covered with bright orange paint!

With lunch in our bellies, we pick up our packs and move on. The rest of our hike up will be on the road, so it’s not so steep. Now that we are at higher altitude, the temperature is noticeably cooler.  I breathe a sigh of relief in the clean mountain air. From here on in, the climb will be easier.

Waterfall on the way up the mountain

A couple more hours into our trek, a light rain begins to fall. Fortunately we're prepared, and we all don rain gear. We pass a Buddhist shrine, and down a side road I make out a Buddhist monastery. This was built recently, after the departure of the brutal Khmer Rouge communists. Normally this would be worth a visit, but we're all anxious to reach the old hill station, so we press on.

Finally, after seven hours of hiking and climbing, we arrive. I've made it: the top of Bokor Mountain. I have to admit, I'm proud of myself. I've never climbed a mountain before, and having lost lots of energy in the climb, I'm relieved. The heat and humidity I suffered on the way up are forgotten, as up here at the top of the mountain, it’s very windy, even cold.

But even more, I'm amazed at the view. This is isn't just an old hill station, it's much, much more.  It's a French ghost town! I'm re-energized by this historic scenery, and I can't wait to explore what covers the peak of Bokor Mountain.


CONTINUED IN NEXT TRAVEL STORY: FRENCH GHOST TOWN

'Black Palace', once owned by King Sihanouk

French ghost town atop Bokor Mountain