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

PORT TOWN REVIVIVING

Coco House in the coastal town of Kampot, Cambodia

I’m taking an after dinner stroll down an old Asian riverfront. It’s dark and quiet; few are out walking this evening. Along the way I pass old French shop-houses, they’ve been uninhabited for years. Once stylish archways and pillars are now in gradual states of decay. Where bright yellow paint shone, it's now dingy and peeling. These used to be prestigious river side homes, businesses that brought important foreign trade into Cambodia.

This is Kampot, on Cambodia's southern coast. The Prek Kampong River flows through town, emptying into the nearby Gulf of Thailand. Kampot was once Cambodia's principal port. But when the larger port at Sihanoukville opened in the 1950's, this small town's importance rapidly declined.

Now these former buildings of commerce are empty; decaying and dilapidated. Weeds out front grow high through cracks in the sidewalk. 

There are lovely old French colonial buildings in town, but like these many are idle and deteriorating. Some are unoccupied and boarded up.

Dilapidated shop-houses on the river front

Fortunately, Kampot has been reviving. As I stroll further up Riverfront Road, I pass restored restaurants, and cafes. In recent years these have been renovated and reopened. Here diners are seated on sidewalk tables, with palm trees surrounding them. Redevelopment downtown is ongoing, though progress is slow. There are no crowds of customers out tonight; unlike Sihanoukville, Kampot has not capitalized on the rising tourist trade. But that's why some of these foreign folk have come here. It's quiet and serene, with scenic views and fresh seafood.

As little known as Kampot is today, it was once known as a center for one of the world's favorite spices. If anyone wonders what unique and quality product Cambodia provides to the world, the answer is: pepper. Kampot was known for exporting pepper to foreign markets as far back as the 13th century.

“Kampot pepper is the best in the world,” a lady drink seller told me. She’s right, and the Khmers aren't the only people who believe this. So do the French, and of course they know good food. Kampot's pepper was preferred by France’s gourmet chefs. During colonial times, all the best restaurants in Paris had pepper from Kampot on their tables.

Up until the radical Khmer Rouge halted all pepper plantation production, pepper was one of the country’s largest agricultural exports. At the height of production here, the fields of Kampot Province had more than a million peppercorn plants. With the Khmer Rouge gone, local farmers are growing peppercorn again today. Kampot pepper is once again gaining international prestige.

Tasty fish cakes for dinner in Kampot

Further down the river front,  I come to the town's oldest bridge. Crossing the Prek Kampong River, it leads right into the town's center. 

It's dark now and hard to see, but if you look at this bridge in daytime, it’s a rather bizarre looking structure. Parts of the bridge are old, parts are new. As far as construction styles go, there are not one, not two, but three different styles of bridge construction evident here! The oldest section has large arches, with steel support beams rising overhead. But two adjacent sections are basic flat bridges, with two distinct sets of support pillars descending into the riverbed.

This oddity is another legacy of the Khmer Rouge; the old bridge was destroyed during the war. Afterward, rather than tear it all down and rebuild it from scratch, they had to reconstruct it using what remained. I don't blame the engineers, as poor as Cambodia is, it's a wonder they were able to rebuild it at all back during that turbulent time. Having seen the three different building styles, I wonder, was this bridge destroyed more than once? 

Daytime view of the river. The old bridge beyond, destroyed during the war, has been rebuilt.

Winding up my riverfront walk, I go from the old, to brand new. Pounding music and flashing lights announce a disco. I've arrived at “Alaska Super Club”. It’s the only new building I've yet seen in all of Kampot. Cheesy neon signs show figures of female dancers. This gaudy night spot is out of place on this otherwise rustic riverfront. It's a weeknight, so they don't have much of a crowd. I decide not to pay a cover charge for a near empty club, so I turn back. 

I chuckle at the name: 'Alaska Super Club'?? I don’t think I’ll see Sarah Pailin and her brood walking in here anytime soon.

I head back to my hotel, avoiding some stray dogs on the way. Beyond the bridge and the river, loom the nearby Elephant Mountains. The most notable of these, is Bokor Mountain.

I’ve never climbed a mountain before, but I'll be climbing it tomorrow morning.

DICTATOR AND HIS MANSION

Hun Sen's Sihanoukville mansion, built with ill-gotten gains

I’m one block off of the beach on the upper floor of a beach town hotel. Looking right next door, I'm eyeing up the most elaborate, most expensive mansion in all of Sihanoukville. This isn't just one house, it’s a grand compound. The new luxury home is surrounded by high walls, and entered through an elaborate gate. Not that I can get in, that won't happen. That's because this beach home belongs to none other than Hun Sen, Prime Minister of Cambodia. It's only one of his many mansions across the country.

Hun Sen has come a long way. As the long time Prime Minister (and dictator) he's now the richest man in the country! That's ironic, since he had sworn off money during the communist era, when he began his rise to power as a radical Khmer Rouge soldier.

He's not very fearful looking. His big glasses don't quite disguise that he has a glass eye; a war injury from fighting near Phnom Penh in 1975. After the Khmer Rouge victory, this communist chameleon was posted to the eastern region. There he rose to be a regimental commander, covering Kratie to Kampong Cham. But that didn't last; Hun Sen fled for his life in 1977, fearing the purges that killed so many other eastern commanders. He defected to Vietnam, where he joined up with the Vietnamese military. Soon he returned to Cambodia with his new masters, helping them to kick out his former Khmer Rouge comrades.

There is suspicion among Cambodians that Hun Sen is merely a puppet. “Hun Sen was installed by the Vietnamese,” a street vendor once told me. King Sihanouk himself agreed. He called Hun Sen the, "one eyed lackey of the Vietnamese".

With the Vietnamese occupying most of Cambodia for the next decade, Hun Sen was the puppet government's first Foreign Minister, and later became Prime Minister in 1985. 

Hun Sen traded his communist garb for suit and tie (photo:Wikipedia)

Then the United Nations entered the scene, bringing democratic elections. In the only free and fair election in which Hun Sen competed in 1993, he lost. Not content to fade away gracefully, he refused to vacate power, throwing the country into political crisis. A UN brokered 'compromise' left Cambodia with 2 Prime Ministers: Hun Sen, and Prince Norodom Ranariddh, the real winner of the elections. Not content to share power either, he seized power after street fighting with forces loyal to the opposition party FUNCINPEC. Sadly, Hun Sen's troops prevailed. Over 100 Khmers were killed as his army attacked troops loyal to the Prince, looted shops in the capital, and arrested and executed political opponents. The prince fled to exile in France. Although many Khmers still support Hun Sen and his political party, one thing is clear: today he is the most hated man in Cambodia.

I recall an afternoon back in Phnom Penh, when I saw Hun Sen’s motorcade speeding down Monivong Blvd. His vehicles were big black SUV’s, all with tinted windows. Policemen blocked off all traffic. I've seen motorcades of top politicians before in Vietnam, and in the USA. Normally they drive calmly and slowly, but Hun Sen's convoy was different. His motorcade came flying down the street like madmen; it was as though he expected someone to open fire on him at any second. Here was a man running scared. In 1998, an assassin in Phnom Penh fired on Hun Sen's motorcade with a rocket propelled grenade. It missed, flew over his car's hood, and killed a young boy. Nobody knows who did it; Hun Sen made many enemies over the years.

Knowing Hun Sen and his family's reputation for corruption, I look at the opulence of his beach town mansion not with awe, but disgust. Cambodia has some of the world's worst poverty, and I wonder, how many schools could have been built with the dirty money he used to build this mansion?

In 2012 Transparency International's annual Corruption Perception Index ranked Cambodia 157th out of 174 countries in the world. They were tied, with the equally disgraceful governments of Angola and Tajikistan. US Ambassador Carol Rodley stated that Cambodia was losing $500 million a year to corruption. Not surprisingly, the Prime Minister's government denies it.

My hotel is so close to Hun Sen's fence, that I could leap across from the hotel walkway right onto the rooftop of one of his buildings, and do some mayhem. There are no guards in view, could I really pull it off?

But I'm not that radical, and I'm only visiting Sihanoukville. I don't want to be arrested, and become another of Hun Sen's many nameless political prisoners. 

US RESCUE MISSION DISASTER

Otres Beach outside Sihanoukville, with islands beyond

I’m standing on an empty beach. One of the cool things about Cambodia, is that unlike Thailand, there are still many quiet, natural, romantic beaches that are relatively untouched. This one east of Sihanoukville, is known as Otres Beach.

Gentle waves lap at the sands. Palm trees sway in the wind. Cumulus clouds look like white mountains on the horizon. A few small, tropical islands rise from the waters offshore in the distance.

One of the islands far to the south of me is Koh Tang. This island isn't well known to Americans, but it should be. On that remote island off the coast, occurred the very last battle of the Vietnam War.

On May 12th, 1975, after Saigon and Phnom Penh had already fallen to the communists officially ending their wars, the Khmer Rouge took the conflict a step further. Using US made swift boats captured from the Cambodian Navy, they turned pirate. Heading far out to sea in international waters, they captured the SS Mayaguez, a passing American container ship headed for Thailand.

Caught unawares, the US military quickly planned a rescue. The Khmer Rouge had anchored the Mayaguez off of Koh Tang Island, so the main assault focused there. Four days after the ship's capture, the Americans launched a raid to rescue the captured sailors.

Mayaguez after capture, with Khmer Rouge gunboats alongside (photo:USAF)

What they didn't know, was that the 39 crew members weren't even on Koh Tang. In fact, they had been sent to Sihanoukville, and had already been released by boat just before the mission started. The team also lacked the right intelligence on Koh Tang. What they didn’t know, was that the Khmer Rouge based there were already well armed and ready for fighting. They weren't expecting a raid from the Americans though. They were paranoid about a seaborne attack from the Vietnamese, whom the Khmer Rouge also hated.

As the attack began, navy jets from the USS Coral Sea struck targets around Sihanoukville. These included the port's warehouses, a nearby airfield, train yard, refinery, and a small nearby naval base.

At Koh Tang Island, US Marines and the US Navy swooped in. When they boarded the Mayaguez, they found an empty ship! In the air the US helicopters faced unexpectedly fierce ground fire from the Khmer Rouge. It's unknown how many Khmer Rouge died in the battle, but 40 American soldiers lost their lives. In the chaotic aftermath, two live US Marines were left behind on Koh Tang. What happened to them is unknown. Their bodies were never found, and they are still listed as missing in action (MIA). As the captured sailors from the Mayaguez had already been released, the rescue operation had been a disaster. They had retrieved the captured ship, but at a great cost in human lives. 

Since this was America’s last battle of the Vietnam War era, I would like to go out to Koh Tang myself to see the island, but it’s not to be. Otres beach is as close as I’m going to get to Koh Tang.

“The weather this time of year isn’t good. Too windy out there, the waves are heavy,” said Sarah, a divemaster in Sihanoukville. Originally from England, she operates a dive company here with a friend. “The problem is, with the weather this time of year, if you go out there, you might not make it back. You could be stuck there for weeks, maybe months.”

Two downed helicopters on beach, with destroyed Khmer Rouge swift boat at right (photo:USMC)

Recently, an American search team did manage to identify some bones that were found on Koh Tang. After lengthy DNA testing, the remains were identified as Private James Jacques, one of the missing Marines who died aboard a helicopter that had crashed into the sea. He was buried in 2013, in Colorado. Another American casualty of the Vietnam War was finally laid to rest.

That isn't the end of the searches though, as there are still 53 US soldiers missing in action in Cambodia. 

Another Australian diver I met in Sihanoukville, actually worked with an American MIA search team. “I think they’re still looking for one helicopter,” she told me, referring to a chopper shot down over Koh Tang. The search team wanted to go to the island again, but they had faced the same weather problems that I do now.  

As I spoke with the Aussie, I learned that Koh Tang isn't the only place where the US is diving to look for the remains of missing soldiers in Cambodia. The Aussie says that she had been hired by a US team for an underwater search in a river towards the Vietnamese border, where another helicopter had crashed earlier in the war. 

She explained how the river had low visibility. Most of the fuselage was gone, but she did find metal plates, and other pieces that the search team said were helicopter parts. As we chatted more, I asked if she had found any bones, and she clammed up.

Apparently there are still some secrets to be kept here, even though America's war in Southeast Asia has been over for decades.

FUGITIVES AND FOREIGN MISFITS

Beach in Sihanoukville. Many misfit expats live here, some are hiding from the law.

Chris is a twenty-something from England, with beard stubble, and a dark t-shirt. I met this friendly Brit one night at a no-name bar in Sihanoukville, where he worked as a bartender. 

He doesn't earn much, Chris only gets six dollars a day for eight hours of night time work. “Slave labor,” he tells me. But he does get a free meal every night, and free drinks. “I’m a bit of an alcoholic,” he admits to me.

Like many young folk I've met in Asia, Chris has been traveling around for months, and stopped to work in Cambodia for a while. I asked him if he had ever been to the states during his travels. His response wasn't what I was expecting. 

“They won’t give me a visa,” Chris said, “since I was convicted of production of cannabis.” Apparently Chris has a hippie side to him, which got him in trouble with the UK police a few years back. 

While we're chatting in this beach side hang out, a grungy, older Aussie that Chris knows walks into the bar. I’d seen this shabby guy yesterday on the street. He’d asked me for a cigarette, but I don't smoke. 

The Australian asks Chris, “You want to buy some weed? Two dollars a bag? I have to pay my hotel bill,” he explains. Chris declines, since he doesn’t do drug transactions while he's working. I also decline, since I stick to beer. Obviously the Aussie was in dire straits; he looked like a transient. He probably won’t sell marijuana for long here either, since local pushers won’t like him competing for their business.

Checking out the Aussie, I notice a large infected cut on the back of his hand. It was so infected, that his whole hand was swelled up. I figured he must have injured it in a motorbike accident, the usual way that foreigners get injured in Cambodia. But I was wrong. 

“A whore cut him”, Chris told me, after the Aussie walked away. Apparently since the Aussie didn’t have money for rent, he didn't have money to pay a prostitute that he took home either. 

Chris and the old Aussie are just two of the down-and-out examples, that make up the soap opera scene of foreigners living in Sihanoukville. Long time expatriates call the town ‘Snookville’ or just ‘Snook’, for short. During my days checking out the beach, I learn that there are many expats hanging out here with skeletons in their closets. 

One night out at a restaurant with a group of foreigners, I was introduced to a German lawyer. I don’t recall his name, but it was probably an alias. That's likely, since I was told that this tall Aryan looking guy, was wanted for murder back in Germany! 

I already met a Swede in Phnom Penh who was hiding out from the law, but he was a peaceful guy, wanted only for media piracy. 

Could it be that this tall German with thinning hair, was really a killer? I noticed the German had a scar to one side of his forehead; an intimidating looking fellow. 

I wonder, just how did he got that scar??

* * * * *

The strange 'Airport' disco.

I’m sitting at the controls of a Russian aircraft. It's an older two engine, Antonov 24 airplane. I reach for a gauge on the control panel, and the knob comes off in my hand! 

Obviously, this plane has seen better days and fortunately, I'm not airborne. In fact, I'm not even in a real airport. But I am in a disco in Sihanoukville that is named 'Airport', and this plane is parked right over the middle of the dance floor below me! How weird. 

I peer out the cockpit windows, where the building housing this night spot resembles an old airport hanger. Adding to the odd ambiance, old photos with advertisements from long gone airlines line the walls. I can see the need to stand out in Sihanoukville's night life, but this is just unreal. 

I leave the cockpit to go aft inside the plane, and find the passenger compartment in total disarray. The seats have been removed; it's dusty and grubby. Apparently this old plane is still being renovated for the club. I imagine they'll add more tables and chairs before it’s finished. 

It's fitting that an old Soviet plane is parked in here, because this strange disco is owned by Russians. Of course that helps the disco to attract a Russia clientele, but not tonight. I exit the plane and descend down to the dance floor, into a disco that's nearly empty. It's the off season, so fewer Russians are flying down from Siberia to Cambodia while I'm staying here. 

With the house music blaring, I finish my beer, and head for the door. This plane is yet another foreign misfit in Cambodia.