...MUD AND GLORY

Long, long ago and far, far away, in a land that time forgot and for want of a better name the last edition of the Bayon Pearnik and twenty nine intrepid bikers, three Land Rovers and two blokes in some Jap rental found themselves destinly bound for the remote provincial capital of Sen Monorom. It 'twas indeed the fabled tale of the 1 st Mondulkiri Rally Raid.

Encouraged by the joint forces of the Land Rover 50th birthday celebrations and a Russian-led movement to warn the populace of the dangers poised by poisonous serpents, the trusting group of expat and Khmer bikers and drivers set forth to where few had dared venture before. Forces of nature also decided to take a hand and Mother Nature sent a terrible storm to harass the crusaders. Never before in living memory had it rained in the middle of the dry season, the middle of December. The second day of the rally was already three hours old when the rain started and our heroes still faced the dangerous proposition of lunch in Memot, 300 kilometres of man-eating mud and biker-melting barbeques before reaching their target. And then their was the trip to the waterfalls. And so read on gentle reader, read on...

Having successfully escaped the comforts afforded by the Mekong Hotel and the chill breeze over the Mekong expected, and deliver them the unfortunate French cinecam man who had been left behind in Kompong Cham in the morning's comfusion.

I watched in envy as my fellow riders made best air-time opportunities and wheelie shows on a 100 kilometre-long motocross track that doubled as the main road to Memot, and cursed again my balding froggie burden. It may have made good footage, but that's not what I was here for and I was here for the choice off-road action, not to be Joe Le Blinkin Taxi.

But such is life, and the hang-over was definitely my doing (as was the large bruise on my right leg from the first fall of the expedition, a spill taken while trying to drunkenly jump-start a bike between the hotel and a bar). Crowds of locals had already assembled by the side of the road in all the villages encouraging the riders through hand signals: their desire to see ever bigger wheelies.

My partner in crime and Angkor Dirt Bike Tours, Big Ben, whose foolish idea it had been to spoil a perfectly fine weekend drinking with some serious physical exercise, was somewhere up ahead with the lead pack, or perhaps escorting the support crew through a short cut via rubber plantation.

Low and behold, I caught the support team aand the eye in the saddle became more comfortably aappointed. Then we found our first major mud bog, no match for the Land Rovers, but deep enough to have already ensnared a passing truck. A nice gentle line around the edge and Bobs yer aunty, not dramatic enough for Sean the Disaster Master, a man more attracted to film footage than a blue bottle to three-day-old cream cake. Full bore he enters the quagmire, light brown sticky mud thrown four metres into the air, engine screaming, bike bucking , throttle cable snapping, splash! End of playtime. All onlookers are almost dying of laughter and would have been rolling around on the ground if it hadn't been completely covered in sludge by Sean. Lesson one in how not to cross an unknown puddle. Leatherman (the all singing all dancing in your pocket tool kit) comes to the rescue as the broken throttle cable is retrieved from the sloppy mess that was once an XLR and Sean rides away, the handle bars in one hand and a set of pliers in the other gripping the broken throttle cable. It would not be Sean's last attempt to die on camera. But it would be one of the funniest.

A few kilometers later, Memot is reached, but half the group (the French and the Khmers) have not done as told and waited for us before proceeding to the next town, Snoul. We have arranged fuel to be transported by Total to the former rubber plantation headquarters because 29 bikes and one petrol Landrover could easily drink one small village dry. And the trailer was carrying enough bottles of red wine and Angkor beer to have kept the Ho Chi Minh trail busy for years more.

After scattering around a few thousand Mild Seven-sponsored snake bite leaflets (warning in Khmer which of the little blighters to look out for and what to do if one bites you other than die) and filling up tank and stomach, we were off again.

The weather was closing in and the chances of getting to Sen Monorom were already pretty remote, so it was head to Snoul and see where we could break camp. The road rapidly turned from gently undulating muck to a 50 km succession of sharp-lipped pools of unknown depth. Those of foolhardy- (Ben), crazy- (Ben), nerves-of ñsteel-(Ben) or short0sighted-disposition (Ben) would hit these full-bore, hoping the bike would only disappear up to the handle bars in brown water and emerge into the air on the other side accompanied by a roaring wall of water, akin to a pelican doing full-throttle take off, all feather noise and water, and hopefully soaking the mug behind him (me). Those of more sensible- (me), delicate- (me) and already-soaked-to-the-skin disposition (everyone behind Ben) would pick carefully around the edge just pulling minor stonking wheelies off the lip. Execllent fun.

The Defender 90 and the Discovery were both taking the Ben approach and emptying whole puddles with a single launch while the ex-army light Landrover ( designed for throwing out of aeroplanes) wasn't so keen on getting it's feet wet and spat the dummy a couple of times with an overtly cautious mechanic driving it. Once the brother of the Defender pilot got behind the wheel of the light Landy, it was throttle all the way and no stopping until Snoul.

The rain started coming even harer, but snoul appeared on the misty horizon. Ben soon had Dantes Inferno going in the doorway to the guest house and Belinda was busy with the bags of chicken curry. We had survived another day.

more | the last leg to Sen Monorom

The 2001-2002 Season has been finalized and begins December 8, 2001 with the annual Extreme Rally Raid. This years's rally will travel from Phnom Penh to Bangkok, taking all the roads less travelled. To keep up with the latest developments just fill out the registration form. REGISTER

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