Last night the night watchman at our guest house said if we wanted a pickup to Siem Reap in the morning, he could arrange it for us. He was very polite and spoke good English, and we trusted him. Dave and I talked it over and decided to do it. It would cost US$4 for each bike and US$5 for each of us to ride up front in the a/c cab of the pickup.

So this morning we got up and packed and were ready at 7:30 for the pickup. When we went out front the night watchman said he found a bus instead, and the price would be the same. Dave thought that sounded like too much according to an American we met at the train station, but we said OK. A few minutes later when we came out again, he apologized and said the bus had gone to re-fuel. Then he disappeared on his motorbike. Later he came back, apologized, said the bus had decided to go another way and that he had arranged for a pickup to come get us right now and take us to Siem Reap. When the old Nissan extended cab pickup pulled up a couple of minutes later, it was packed with about 25 people in back and had five adults and three infants in the cab. The night watchman said I should ride up front and Dave would be in back, with the bikes tied on the very back, behind some speakers that were tied onto the open tailgate.

The prospect of over 100 km of what we experienced yesterday with none of it being paved made us take the pickup even though it looked scary and crazy. Dave has done this before in South America but I’ve never seen anything like this. I have to say, I had it easier than Dave. I sat in the back of the cab sharing a seat with two small men and a woman with a baby. It was sometimes air-conditioned and had some great Cambodian music playing from a tape. Dave, however, sat on a metal rail for three hours over hot, bumpy and dusty roads, sharing the back with as many as 28 people and stopping numerous times along the way to let off or take on more people and re-tying the cargo nearly every time.

Even though it was worse than riding, it took probably 1/3 or 1/4 of the time it would have taken to ride, and we arrived in Siem Reap about noon.

64 km

We woke at 4 a.m. and left at 4:30 to ride to the train station in the dark. Bangkok at this time was an interesting mix of fading night life and the bustle of morning cleaning and setting up for the day. We rode through light traffic past prostitutes of various sexual orientation, street sweepers using twig brooms, market vendors sorting their bagged produce, and manual laborers starting their commutes.

We bought tickets for the train to Aranya Prathet, a few kilometers before the Cambodian border: third class with fan, the only “choice” available. Both of our seats cost us 96 baht (about US$3) and space for our bikes in the cargo car were 180 baht total. The ride offered six hours of building heat, with food and drink vendors hopping on and off at every stop. They would walk up and down the car aisles from one end of the train to the other and back, announcing their specialty continuously.

Border Crossing

We rode about eight km from the train stop–seemingly in the middle of hot, dry, flat and desolate nowhere–to the border. It took about three minutes to get our Thai exit stamp, then we rode to the Cambodia side where, after a few minutes more, we had our entry stamp. We were told by an Australian expat who was in line behind us that the border crossing changes every time he does it, so I’ll stay brief on the details for those planning a tour of their own because it may change any time.

We were glad we bought our Cambodia visas back in Bangkok, which made for a quick and easy border crossing. One thing to note: in the Cambodian Consulate we were told the visa was 1,000 Thai baht. Dave asked if we could pay in U.S. dollars, which is used in Cambodia, and he said yes, “Twenty-five dollars please.” That was a better price at the current exchange rate, as 1,000 baht is about US$31. Also, as we approached the border, there were several people sitting around who wanted to steer us to a place to buy our visas. They seemed disappointed when we said we had one already. I don’t know what the going rate for a visa on arrival is or how you go about it, but it seemed sketchy to us.

As we left the Cambodian immigration office we were immediately attacked on all sides by touts wanting to arrange a pickup for us. They start with innocent questions that a nice person might be tempted to answer. If you are that person, you might find yourself stuck in a conversation with a guy who chases you down the road and becomes more and more insistent that you must receive their services, that you have already, in fact, ordered their services and that you must go this way or that way right now, sir, over here, sir, where are you going sir, the truck is right here, sir, excuse me, sir! And meanwhile, your not-as-nice girlfriend is riding down the road waiting for you to catch up so you can put the mirror on your bike and put on your dust mask because yes, after all, she would like to ride this road and leave this madness behind. Quickly.

50 Kilometers of Hell

Here’s the scoop, one that you’ll read in every journal about every border crossing from Thailand to Cambodi: it sucks. Really. It’s just not a fun experience. We read several accounts of people hopping on a bus to Siem Reap either right off the bat or at Sisephon, 50 km later. The road, you see, is hell. This dirt road (not gravel) is very rough, very dusty, very noisy, with killer exhaust fumes, and incredibly heavy traffic, and is in stages of construction the whole way with heavy machinery here and there. There is nothing to see along the way, as the jungle has long ago been mowed down and in the dry season like this the land is very bleak and brown. Besides, the dust cuts the visibility down to about 100 meters. It’s one thing to deal with rough dirt roads, but another to do it with all these other conditions. There is a 20-km section before Sisephon which has recently been paved and which is wonderful, but through Sisephon and almost all of the way to Siem Reap it is dirt again.

We rode to Sisephon, starting in the incredible heat of 2:30 p.m., because we didn’t feel we could trust a single person at the border and the harassment was overwhelming. We didn’t see any buses nearby, and when we asked we were assured our bikes would not fit in the bus. I realize now that we should have seen if it was possible to arrange a bus beforehand, maybe in Bangkok at a travel agent.

So, unless you are a hard-core, die-hard cyclists who loves a very challenging experience, just skip this whole section. If you do ride it, have a good face mask, because even with one you will be coughing up dust afterward like a twenty-year smoker. I had quite enough of it just getting to Sisephon, even with 20 km of it being paved. And I rode nearly 2,500 miles of dirt last summer. I am no delicate flower.