After taking a few days to relax I headed out to the mountains. My bug bites had subsided and the itching had stopped. I was relieved and the rest helped me recover. I was feeling better and was reminded to take it slower. It’s a different kind of burnout compared to a desk job.
I zoomed in on the map and found a small community within the jungle of the Cardamon mountains. The community had a good story and seemed interesting. Lim the owner, opened it as an attempt to generate income to battle illegal logging within the region. Educating the people and showing them that there are other, legal ways, to earn a living. His website offered hiking and moto treks as well as volunteer opportunities.
The community was 250km from Sihanoukville. 170km of paved highway and 80km on a gravel and dirt trail. Riding on the road was wet and rained a decent amount. I also passed a wild elephant crossing sign, a first for me.
After 4 hours of riding I reached the turn-off onto the dirt trail. At the intersection in Koh Kong was a gas station and refueled with gas and Oreos. Checking my phone, I still hadn’t heard back from the owner. There is nothing except jungle between me and the community. I started to consider that maybe it was shut down or closed for the season. I sent several messages and called multiple times to no avail. Do I take the hint and move on? Was he ghosting me?
At the gas station I asked the attendant if they were familiar with the Osoam community. They weren’t but yelled to the back. Groggy and waking up from a nap out walked a teenager who spoke English very well. He knew the place and shared that Lim was his English teacher, he asked that I tell him hi. Encouraging me to continue he gave me Lim’s wife’s name and phone number. He might be the owner but she’s the boss.
Back on the bike and on the trail it started pretty mellow. A cement and gravel path up into the mountains. I pass a few ranger stations who wave me along, pointing the way to Osoam.
The path is narrow and I need to yield to any vehicle traveling the opposite direction. It’s remote and I like it. No one has suggested coming here and I am not sure many know it exists.
The cement allows me to keep up my speed but it doesn’t last for long. Each sign has two languages; the expect Khmer, and the unexpected Chinese. The populations dwindle as I progress up the mountain. I don’t see any Cambodians let alone Chinese, what’s the reason for these signs?
The road gets wider, smoother, and I reach a roundabout. Further down the road I see the wall of a huge hydroelectric dam. Huge Chinese characters are painted on the surface and a guard sleeps in his chair as I accelerate past.
The Chinese construction equipment I passed when first entering Cambodia starts to make sense. The Chinese are making a huge bet on Cambodia and it shows. They have invested over $14b from 1994-2015. The US invested $7.5m in 2015 and $122m in 2016. The catchup effort might be a bit too late.
Also, relations between Cambodia and US aren’t currently the best. In August an US backed news outlet was kicked out of the country for “tax code violations.” Also citing the Cambodian government shared the same distain for anti-government news outlets as President Trump and the US should understand. I don’t remember reading about it during the summer but the news articles from either side share very different perspectives of the events.
After passing the hydroelectric dams the infrastructure ended too. The road immediately turns to gravel and dirt. Red dirt and rocks as far as the eye can see.
In all reality I just started riding motorcycles. I’ve dropped my bike enough times in Colorado on such a road that I instinctually tense my shoulders and white-knuckle the handle bars. There is 60km to my destination and it’s late in the afternoon. I’m finding my balance between comfort, progress, and safety. Slowly the road winds and as I climb higher.
The red rock is replaced with slick brown clay. 2-3km of red rock alternating with 2-3km of rutted out clay road. This is the only way through the mountains. This is the only way to get goods and services through the mountains. This road is the way of life for these people and the only road horizontally connecting the western half of the country. The 4x4 trails of Colorado are in better or worse condition depending on your definition.
I get a little cocky, a little aggressive, and give it more gas through a longer red rock stretches while racing a 4x4. We play tag exchanging front position until a strap breaks and a bag falls off my bike. The 4x4 speeds past me as I swallow my pride as I collect my things on the side of the road.
The road deteriorates and the sun has set, leaving me in the dark. I see a sign, Osoam 22km ahead. At this pace 22km could take a few more hours, there is just no way to know. I pass one village, then another, and another. Civilization is growing and I am getting closer.
These are proper villages, no lights or electricity besides the rare generator. No running water besides rainwater irrigation systems. Everything that cannot be produced onsite is transported via that road. Large transport trucks converted into makeshift stores drive slowly along stopping as residents flag them to make purchases.
Finally I arrive at Osoam, 10 hours after departing. The entire camp is sitting around the tables for dinner. It’s a full house and I get nervous, was he not answering me intentionally? As I take off my helmet and my jacket I can hear “Who is this now?”.
An unexpected visitor has entered. For the first time ever, in my life, I have arrived to a location without confirming with the host I would be arriving. I don’t even like going somewhere I am expected to be without first confirming. This also wasn’t a random drop-by “oh I was in the neighborhood” either. Nervously I approach the tables, praying I don’t hear “Fuck can’t that guy take a hint?”
Immediately I am greeted by a guest telling me I need to speak with Lim. It’s dinner time and Lim is busy, he tells me to take a seat and have dinner first. He is kind and welcoming. The journey was long, one he has done many times and I am exhausted. I am grateful for the hospitality of Lim’s smiling family and I get aquatinted with the other guests.
The community is at full capacity and has been for months. Lim was in the jungle for the past few days and about to leave again for another 3 day trek in the morning. His unresponsive wasn’t intentional per-se and he has enough business to blow-off my messages.
While there isn’t a place for me to stay he says they have plenty of food and an extra hammock with bug net. $2.5 per night would secure me a hammock and a place at the table for meals. I accept and tell him his student from the gas station says hello. Lim is happy his student is doing well but isn’t surprised when I compliment the students English.
Osoam is a village community and the eco-lodge was founded by Lim. In an effort to help improve life of the villagers and show them they have opportunity in their lives outside of the village. The profits generated by the community are invested back into educating the children in English and the people on environmental conservation.
His wife, her mother, her sister (affectionally known as Auntie), his daughter, and a neighbors daughter make up the staff. They take care of the property, housework and cooking. While Lim manages the activities and guest relations. There is also Jon, an old Londoner and dirt bike rider who lives in the mountains, passionate about environmentalism and jungle conservationism. We become quick friends and he starts to share his story and why he’s in Cambodia.
I have no plan and no where to be, I decide to stay a few days. The property is situated between two bodies of water, a man made reservoir and a larger river. There is a pepper garden and am warned about the territorial pit viper who calls it home. I am instructed to kill it with whatever I have in my hand if I see it. It’s dangerous and there are too many kids around to take a chance.
Lim leaves the next morning, leaving Jon in charge. In charge means dealing with the guests. He is teaching some guests to ride motorcycles. I volunteer my time and by the end of the day we have a group of new riders ripping around the course we created.
Previously he ran a dirt bike tour company. He has a lot of bikes and needs a hand with some maintenance. We spend the afternoon working on the bikes and introducing me to members of village as we need parts. Spending the majority of the time at the mechanics shop.
Seven young guys work for the mechanic in an apprentice capacity, not being paid in money but knowledge. They make short work of some tire changes and help me do some metal work. These guys are magicians and make it look easy.
The youngest boy is about 5, he plugs in electric cords and hands me glass coke bottles full of petrol as I fill up. He’s a little kid and gets excited when we rev the engines of the dirt bikes. We have a fake knife fight with some sawzall blades and I head back to the house.
In the distance we can hear electric wood planers and chainsaws. Earlier, at the mechanic a large military truck arrived and a young guy jumps off with a brand new Stihl chainsaw needing some help. It’s an expensive chainsaw and seems a bit out of place.
I start to learn about the reasons Lim started the community and the source of Jon’s passion.
The only positive outcome of the war in Cambodia was the lack of development and the resource rich jungle. Due to landmines and dangerous conditions there was no way to extract resources. It’s not uncommon to see people urinating in the middle of the road in the country side, afraid active landmines are waiting just past the edge of the paved roads. Cambodia currently has one of the last largest patches of untouched jungle in Asia.
The forest is full of 500-1000 year old trees comparable to the redwoods of California. These trees command high sale prices IF you can get them across the Thai or Vietnam border. In the 2000’s logging was reformed and only certain companies were granted contracts to continue legally logging. The companies granted contracts were coincidentally usually related to some high ranking government official at the time. This created an enormous black market. Black market dealers work with the corrupt Cambodian military in smuggling efforts.
The wood is essential useless if kept in Cambodia and extracted illegally. But, if you can get it across the Koh Kong valley and into Thailand, hiding the source, it becomes instantly more valuable. The Army and Navy have the resources to make easy work of the smuggling efforts.
The dealers pay teams of scouters to find the trees. Trail and camp makers create logging camps and trails for trucks and motorcycles. Then a group of 70 loggers will enter the jungle in extraction efforts. Once the timber is collected and transported out of the jungle it is delivered to the military who is able to hide the lumber’s source and smuggle into the country of their choosing.
It’s well developed planned and executed with military precision. The table we eat dinner was a piece of Rosewood that was recovered from loggers which could easily fetch $100k at the Thailand border.
The low level guys are paid a few dollars a day for their efforts while the organizers and dealers make big money.
Upon learning about the trade, examples of logging activity is everywhere. Ox carts full of lumber and workers planing enormous pieces of Rosewood (5’x18’x14”) are everywhere. All of it will eventually be smuggled across the border and made into laminate and furniture. Attempting to satisfy the enormous demand of China and other countries in the west.
While living in Colorado I certainly make an attempt to be environmentally conscious but it usually encompasses not littering and considering carbon emissions. I have never considered environmental law enforcement or government corruption in lumber smuggling. It’s a new world and very exciting.
The rangers are fighting corruption, smuggling, and often encounter violence in the jungle. A constant battle between good guys and bad guys. Often blurring the lines between each team. The rangers are part of a third party NGO managing a group of military police and jungle patrol soldiers. The NGO Rangers are the most hated people by the military and everyone knows who they are.
The rangers often being arrested for burning illegal logging camps, blowing up trucks, or destroying equipment. It’s a cycle that needs to be stopped but they are left with little resources to fight them effectively. They are fighting against the corrupt military and government. The chips aren’t in their favor.
We speak with a few of the rangers in the area and hear about an illegal logging camp 60km away. We decide to check it out as it might make a great new trail. It cuts through the jungle and ends at the army road along the Thai border. It’s a smuggling trail and freshly discovered. We gather supplies and head out early the next morning.
We left the community along the same road I took a few days early. Hidden in the dense forest off to the side was an entrance to a trail. The rangers advised bringing machetes to cut through the brush. There was only two of us and trail maintenance was out of the question. We just wanted to explore it.
It was 40km to the Thai border per the helicopter, it was a straight shot. No information on the condition of the trail besides it did exist.
My heart is racing as we leave the road and push aside tree limbs to enter the trail. The trail descends quickly and two very clear, very large, tire tracks lead the way. They are tracks from a logging truck and they cut deep into the mud. The sides of the ruts are clean as the tires cut through the earth. We turn off our bikes and listen.
It’s quiet, the road is close but felt as if civilization was hours away. The jungle regrows and takes back its land quickly. We check out the area and listen for chain saws. Walking along the trail we see signs of a logging camp. Trash litters the ground and areas with broken and cleared branches for hammocks complete the scene.
After getting our bearings we start our bikes and ride within the right tire mark. The earth is clay and we had rain the previous day. The marks are deep and holding a lot of water. With our feet off the pegs and up on the solid ground we ride the trail. Eventually the water is too deep and Jon’s stuck in front of me. I am following too close and I get a face full of mud. With water past the engine I’m stuck too and we get off the bikes.
We look around and discuss how much further we can go. The water is deep, my bike is lower and tires aren’t as aggressive. Not more than 10’ in-front of the first bike we see something strange. We knew there could be barricades along the trail. Once the loggers hear people are coming they cut down trees to sabotage and block the trail. Stopping the extraction efforts but keeping their equipment safe and stopping anyone else from coming any further. They return after to cut through the barricade and recover the equipment.
In front of the bike wasn’t a tree but two thin logs placed ever so gently over the track we were on. Upon further inspection a wire is attached to the second log leading into the brush of the forest. It was a booby trap, often with the wire attached to a landmine. Waiting for someone who didn’t know it was there and wasn’t supposed to be there.
We take the keys out of the bikes and decide to investigate the trail on foot. I follow his steps and keep on the trail. Further down the trail and around the bend a freshly chopped tree blocks the trail. The loggers are blocking the path and making a run towards the Thai border. It’s a large tree but not the one the loggers are after. Just used to stop us from proceeding any further. A small trail close to the trunk of the tree guides the path around.
Past the tree along the trail we see more evidence of logging activity. This cat and mouse game is nothing new. We see previous road blocks which were put in place and cut through with the lumber recovered.
Radioing the rangers our position we share what we see. They inform us they haven’t traveled this section yet and warn us of quicksand and a boggy section ahead. We entered at the wrong point and are out of position along the trail.
Upon realizing this we look at the markings again and can feel that we are being watched. Certainly watched by the animals but also someone who didn’t want us there. We turn back and head back towards the bikes.
Carefully we follow our same path out. Careful not to step outside the defined trail. Slowly we make our way back to our bikes. One is knocked over and spilling gas, we run over to stop the flow of petrol from the tank. We caught it in time, not too much is spilled. The gas fumes and sweaty helmets have attracted bees and wasps. Swarms are covering the bikes and quickly move to our bodies in search of the salt in our sweat.
Lifting the bikes out of the water we turn them on the narrow trail. Careful to avoid the logs placed along our path. Eventually we get them turned around and immediately my back tire loses traction and I fall in the rut.
Back on the main road my mind is racing from the excitement. I share my excitement and am told there is a position opening in March. I didn’t even know about this place before I arrived and now I’m considering working to protect it. Environmental law enforcement has a nice ring to it.
The position is for the supervisor of a ranger station in the mountains. Leading 25 armed military police and forest protection agents. Fighting illegal logging and arresting those involved in it. It’s dangerous work but fuck it sounded exciting.
It was mind blowing that this was a possibility that had presented itself to me. I couldn’t be sitting at my desk in Denver googling this job, I just needed to find it. Everyday I continue traveling the world gets a bit smaller, things more clearer, and I am more gracious for the present.
I needed a day to relax after and spent it with the family at the community. Auntie keeps cokes in the beer cooler for me and makes sure they are cold.
While reading in the hammock the old woman started shouting at me with a knife in her hand. Confused, I got out of the hammock and she pointed at the tree, at the top, some ripe papayas. The little girl helping work off her families debt translated that she wanted me to climb up and get them. She walked me over to the ladder. Then held the ladder while I chopped them down. Soon after she served me the papaya; as soon as I finished a slice I was brought another one until I slipped away undetected.
That night we had beers with some of the guides, one of which was an ex Khmer Rouge solider. He was a nice guy guy who didn’t speak English and was amused by how I could snap my fingers. He tried all night attempting to do the same but couldn’t figure it out. He had one leg but you wouldn’t know unless you saw his wooden foot.
I left the following morning for Battambang. I had to travel through the mountains after a few days of rain. Using ferries to cross the lake and river. I had just finished Siddhartha and it felt too perfect.
Learning of the barges by word of mouth, these aren’t in any guide. Small barges equipped with repurposed engines ferry you across the calm lake. As I arrive the captain quickly departs only to return just as fast for another family on a motorcycle. I take two ferries for a total of 5000 Riel ~$1.25. It cut a lot of time off the trail and was a really fun experience.
The trail was tough and muddy. I felt like a fool on a big dirt bike going slow on the slippery clay as I was passed by scooters carrying a family of passengers. I gained confidence after a few successful deep water crossings. There aren’t many paths across the terrain, with traffic there are even less.
During a particularly long section of water a few scooters approaching from the other direction claimed their paths. Not wanting to wait I pushed on along the edge. I only lasted a few seconds before I realized why they didn’t take my path. My back wheel lost traction and in an effort to correct, my front wheel shoveled into the water. Instinctually to regain my balance I put my left foot down. It sunk into the water past my knee and my we went for a swim. Bike on, in gear, and wheel spinning, I frantically turned off the ignition before the engine sucked water.
I planned for wet weather with my gear. I am confident all my stuff will stay dry from rain but didn’t plan on complete submersion.
No one stopped as I stood in the water attempting to keep my computer bag from taking a dip. A group of children came, kicked off their flip flops and joined me in the puddle. While they couldn’t lift they did help a lot to support it. This allowed me to regain my footing. I got the bike upright, started and limped out of the area. Panting like a dog, I looked back and thanked them, they smiled and ran off back to their homes.
After 3 hours and 20km I was ecstatic to see paved road again. I high-fived the pavement and hightailed it to the city. After taking a dunk the electronics stopped working. Everything including the headlight was full of mud and dirty water. Using hand signals I navigated into the city.
The city is compact and quiet for SE Asia. I was able to relax a bit and reflect on the last few weeks. Looking back its has all gone so fast but day by day it’s full of new experiences and memories.
As I left Osoam I was invited to a meeting of current and ex-rangers down south. The old ranger is a legend and at the time had a price on his head being the most hated man in Cambodia. The new ranger is learning the ropes and gaining a reputation quick. It was my only opportunity to learn and ask questions from the guys themselves. They come from different backgrounds and different sides of the law. But a passion for protecting their forest connects them.
It was the first time in my travel I really considered stopping and going down this path. When I was riding away I decided that while this opportunity may be once in a lifetime, it’s not mine. I’m not ready yet to stop traveling but appreciate being exposed to such a lifestyle. I don’t know what I want to do when I end this trip but my desire to have an impact grows each day whatever that is. If anything, it’s an incentive for me to keep going. Keep trusting myself and finding what is out there.
Upon arriving in town I get news of three NGO rangers killed by government forces after a recent raid on logging equipment. This wasn’t far from the trails we explored and just down the road from the city.
I started to think about the larger problem. The lack of accountability and the battle the rangers are really up against. The problem can be looked at from different angles and I can’t say everyone is wrong.
It’s easy to condemn the greedy corrupt government/military officials and the illegal logging dealers. From where we sit in the western world it’s easy to plead “think of the environment!!” Appalled at the lack of consideration around their environmental consequences.
What isn’t so easy is the kid with the chainsaw in the jungle. The low level guy who’s doing the grunt work. It’s his forest, the same forest generations of his family have lived in. There are no jobs, there is no economy, cut down a couple trees and I can feed my family? It’s a no brainer. Money is good and it’s something he already knows how to do. Burning rubbish is the method of trash disposal. It’s impossible to condemn a peasant farmer on his environmental decisions and argue for the bigger picture. They haven’t been 100km away from where they were born let alone imagine the impact a world away and for the planet.
On my ride as I made my decision to forgo the opportunity, it was the consideration of the youngest generation and a shift in mindset that swayed me. No matter how many trucks I blow up or chainsaws I destroy it’s not going to impact the mindset of the people. Destroying the tools and vehicles isn’t a solution. Those tools and vehicles when not logging, do have legitimate purposes in the villages and for their families. It’s only breeds more hate and raises the price on my head. I want to have an impact in this world but I need to use my skills in a different way and execute on my vision.
I spent the time in Battambang fixing everything I broke on my bike. Cleaning out the mud and water fixing the electrical. Replacing the mirrors and adjusting the plastic panels. I used the sidewalk as my garage and fooled passerby’s that I knew what I was doing for a few hours. I got it all working and had no parts left over once reassembled, success.
Walking around the neighborhood I stumbled across some sort of game. Reminded me of bocce but was played with enormous ball bearings. As I rock up there is big money on the game. The bookie is waving a stack of Riel and Dollars as the opponents warm up. I stand behind a wood and chainlink fence at the end of the pit with some old guys. They are yelling things and no-one pays me any attention.
Competition is fierce and neither opponent shows any emotion. I struggle to keep up with the score and who’s winning. The ball bearings are the size of a baseball and have no differential markings. A crow hop throw lands on the marker clearing the field and with no cheering or emotion, the game ends. Quickly the crowd disperses and the bookie breaks off the winner a stack of cash. Confused, I look around and am quickly left with an old man eating a coconut ice-cream pop, having a smoke, and leaning on the fence.
At the hostel bar I meet a photographer who opened a gallery called “Human”. He traveled by bicycle around the world for four years. With him he brought paper and colored pencils. He asked the children he encountered to draw their dreams. He also photographed people in the poorest areas of the country. He was passionate about unifying the people of the world and leaving the world a better place for the next generation.
Someone asked him, why did these people who have nothing allow him to enter their homes and document their poverty. He didn’t see it as exploitation or taking advantage and was confident the people he photographed didn’t either. Sharing that honesty is the universal language. The people were obviously skeptical of him but eventually trusted him because he was 100% honest and committed to his mission of helping the world. Not 99% but 100%, people know, they can tell, and he experienced it.
During the trip he didn’t know what he would do with the photos or drawings but he was going to do something and the people trusted him. The gallery was amazing and highly recommended. Profits are going to back to the community and he is showing the supply chain of the dollars donated along with the progress.
In his experience Cambodia is driven by the family unit and helping those within the family. Help is not normally given to those outside of the family unit and the government is no help at all. Committed to the idea of helping the world he’s not a fan of Battambang but lives there because it was the best opportunity for Cambodia as a whole. Focused on helping orphans he wants to understand their full story and help the most needy. It’s not easy work but the passion and quality of his work is apparent.
I don’t have much time left in Cambodia but I have enjoyed it very much so far. A few weeks ago when I shared I was tired and needed a rest, I didn’t anticipate anything like what followed. Now I am feeling rested and excited for whatever comes next. Slowly but surely I am understanding my intuition and improving my ability to make a decision without second guessing. It’s a nice feeling. I just need to remain confident with my decisions made in the present and their future impact.
In closing, the Philadelphia Eagles are the best team in all of sports.
-Joe