(Daniel) Before I start today’s diary, I would like to say up front, that today the Expedition has struck Gold.  However, Gold can do strange things to men.  It can bring out the very worst in people, and even before the gold diggers came to the wild west, some pretty hardcore natives ruled the land!  I am writing this page now, not only exited by the prospect of the virgin adventure that I think I have discovered.  But also in fear that I may have signed up for more than I have bargained or prepared for…

Having made an arrangement with a local mechanic yesterday.  I took the Wolf to a car wash to spray off the thick covering of mud accumulated on the drive over from Sihanoukville.   Having a car is seen as a status symbol by so many of the people here, as a strange quirk of fate, they also have the misfortune of living in one of the muddiest places on earth.  This has lead to a healthy rise in the carwash business, and on any street you are sure to find one or two operations. 

While the three men worked, cleaning the outside and underside of the Wolf, Nii and I ate breakfast across the road from the vehicle.  Once the job was finished and four dollars had exchanged hands, we drove back to the guesthouse, where I removed the trailer ready for the Mechanic.  The Cambodian guy from yesterday, Jimmy came over to me.  He had told me when we arrived that he had recently come back from living in America, and was looking to invest in a business,  he also told me that he and his friends could help us organise a trip into the jungle.  I hadn’t picked up on it immediately, but something about his story didn’t sit well with me.  I couldn’t put my finger on it, but think that it was the way he answered any questions about the States, as if he was checking them first for traps.  I spoke noncommittally to him for a while, alluding to leaving in a few days, or maybe later.   The Mechanic arrived then, breaking my conversation from Jimmy.  The jolly man, who had inspected the vehicle briefly yesterday, took a good look at the four wheel drive setup before getting in and testing the clutch.  He seemed to think that it was ok, but he and I drove to his workshop anyway to check the prop shaft and drive the vehicle for a while.  I know that the clutch had slipped yesterday because it had got hot, but needed to know for sure that I could rely on another 2000kms without problems. 

The mechanic drove me back to the guesthouse, I could have found my way using the GPS, but engineered an excuse so that I could pick up five dollars, which I subtly gave him before saying thank you and returning to the room.  Nii had been arranging our clothes for the upcoming excursion, and was busy wrangling with the owner over the price of some laundry.  I waited until she had finished, noticing how persistent yet polite her bartering style is.   Then took her aside and told her of my fears about Jimmy.  Tim, the Bio diesel guy from Sihanoukville, had suggested that I look for a Frenchman, who owns a bar in the area.  He said that this guy knew the area like the back of his hand, having driven into the jungle many times before.  We decided to go and look for the guy, putting Jimmy on the back burner, hopefully on a permanent basis. 

Across the road from the guesthouse, we found a small bar, which sounded like the one Tim had described, but the Swedish owner had gone home for low season.  Sensing a wild goose chase, we drove down the street to another bar where 6 ex-pats were sat outside.  They seemed to be pretty much the only foreigners around, so I stopped and went to ask about the French off roader.  The men came from a mix of areas, Renne a German, who had come out to Koh Kong and started a local TV station.  An English guy who had come here from Australia and owned the bar which we were in, and a couple of others from the Europe and America.  They had seen the Wolf in town, and were keen to help me.  They didn’t know of a French bar owner, but apparently there is a French guy working for a charity in the area.  He drives an off road vehicle, and can be found around the town at night when he returns from his duties.  The men told me that they did not really know this guy, but he was tough as nails and had served in the French Foreign Legion.  He sounded like the ideal, but I still felt the need for a local guide also.  The men offered an introduction to a local Military Policeman, who had previously worked as a Forest Ranger.  The idea sounded excellent, so I agreed to return in an hour to meet him. Before I left, I asked the owner about Jimmy, and if he knew him.  “The one who claims to be American?”  He said.  “I met him recently, it’s not true, he’s into some bad stuff I hear.”  The other men around the table had similar warnings.  Whether they had also met him or not was hard to tell, perhaps they just felt the need to add something!

Nii and I continued our search for the French Charity worker, but our efforts were fruitless.  We drove across the river in search of more tourist areas or anyone else who may be able to arrange a guide.  Eventually we hit the Thai border, where I turned around and drove back across to the Bar and the ex-pats, who were still holding court. 

We sat down for lunch, Thai Curry and Tom Yam Kai.  Seconds after it had arrived a black car pulled up behind us, two men in casual military style uniforms got out and walked over to the table.  The men, in their mid forties, introduced themselves as Mr Nee’t and Mr Yet.  They had close cropped hair, and looked very tough.  The Ex-pats indicated that these were the men that they had talked about, and we set to discussing business.  Neither man spoke English, but our collective knowledge of Thai was enough to communicate.  They told me that there are a few villages, but that the roads are impassible at this time of year, being little more than footpaths.  Mr Yet also told us that there are a lot of animals in the jungle, as the area was almost untouched.  Tigers, wild pigs and poisonous snakes.  I felt exited about the prospect, but made them go into more details.  Apparently Mr Nee’t would not join us, but we would pick up a local guide at a settlement near a huge waterfall.  There we could camp overnight, and then attempt to penetrate the jungle along tracks to a village in the mountains.

I agreed a modest price with the men, who seemed worryingly uninterested in the price.  We agreed to meet at 9am tomorrow to leave after a trip to the market for supplies.  Nii had been talking to the owners wife, a Thai lady who had lived in the area for more than eight years.  She warned Nii not to trust any Cambodians, and to be very careful.   Nii came away from this conversation looking anxious.  I thanked the men for the introduction, and went to leave, but as I did an older man, who had not spoken before piped up.  “It’s bloody dangerous up there you know.  There are worse things than Landmine's waiting in that Jungle.”  I asked him to elaborate trying to look unsurprised by his sudden outburst.  “There are Bandits, and they’re mean bastards too.  It wasn’t more than a few years ago, they took Hostages, British Hostages, just took ‘em and shot ‘em.”  I told the man that I would be careful, and would return here in a few days to tell them all about it, an unwanted twinge of fear crept into my words.  

I returned to the room with Nii, and decided to look again at our copy of the lonely planet.  I read the section for Koh Kong, and my mouth dropped open.  Nii had read to me about the area on our way over, but it turned out that she had read a summary of the South West coast and not the inland area of Koh Kong province.  The Mountainous area was described as “Untamed”  which on closer inspection meant unexplored and uninhabited.  The jungle that we were attempting to explore was untouched.  Suddenly I felt like I was underwater, visions of landmine's exploding or our guides turning against us filled my mind.  Nii had the same suspicions, we’d already come across a dodgy guy pretending to be from America, and everyone from the touts at customs to the man on the street had warned me about trusting people.  I only have Nii in the team at the moment, and a bullet proof jacket and machete are hardly a match for a group of armed bandits.  I remembered Mr Yets offer to bring a gun with us, I had declined, thinking no-guns was better than one.  But who could we come up against and what would their motives be?

Nii and I resolved to look again for the Frenchman, we headed out to trawl the few restaurants in the town.  An hour later, we returned to the guesthouse, unsuccessful but calmed.  I had started to feel better about our guide Mr Yet, he seemed straight and honest during the meeting, and was at the age that he couldn’t be a career criminal or it would show.  Nonetheless, we sat down in the room, and planned our escape route from every situation imaginable. 

After our grisly planning, we toasted to our adventure, and went to bed ready for the events of tomorrow to unfold.

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