(Daniel) After waking up and showering this morning, I checked the map carefully, deciding that the small squiggly line that roughly travelled to the Vietnam border, was a slightly better option thatn the log straight one that returned to Phnom Penh before heading south to the same destination.  Nii reminded me that the wonderful market where I found a selection of Belgian beer was lovcated near here.  We loaded our bags into the Wolf and headed for the town and the Supermarket.

I still felt a little queasy this morning, my illness in full regression now, but my appetite not yet trusting my stomach!  I followed my bodies cravings for milk and yoghurt, stocking up at the same time with some other snacks that I could hopefully stomach later.  One returning to the vehicle, I noticed that the superglue which I had used to repair a hole in the tyre valve had not sealed and that once again the pressure in the rear tyre was down.  The hole had developed after the wheel had been immersed in mud and gravel in the Jungle a few days ago.  I asked around for a tyre shop and was duly pointed in the direction of a place nearby.

While the tyre shop changed my valve and balanced the wheel, Nii and I made enquiries with a local garage to re-glue the pads in the X-Brake.  The mechanics agreed to take a look immediately, we collected the Wolf from the tyre shop, driving across the street and parking in the workshop.  While the boys dismantled the handbrake, Nii and I sat down to lunch in a café next door.  The usual crowd of onlookers had formed around the Wolf, but one man chose to come straight over to us and engage us directly.  The man told us straight out that he had spent 30 years on the Land Rover production line, and that seeing the Wolf had brought back fond memories for him.  I threw a few names at him,  Rod Prestleton, Charles Whittaker and a few others.  He knew them all, and went on to explain in fine detail some of the stories from Land Rovers Production staff!  The introduced himself as “Boring” Bob, and told us that we had to take a photo and show it to any of the Land Rover boys in England if we got the chance.  Apparently they would have a heart attack if they knew that old Boring Bob was living in Cambodia now!

We took the photo, taking the opportunity to get  a picture of some of the local kids who had hung around us on the few occasions that we had visited the area.  The mechanics finished renwing the brake pads and gluing them in place, allowing us to get back on the road heading Eastwards via the coast road to Vietnam.

As we passed through the tolls at the edge of Sihanoukville province, our friend from last night appeared at the window, he didn’t give us any discounts, but wished us well on our journey, waiving to us as the gate lifted and we took the turning for the coastal road that would lead us to the Vietnam border and our crossing out of Cambodia and soon South East Asia.

The roads were beautiful, small villages breaking up huge swathes of farmland which was intersected by rivers filled with colourful fishing boats of all shapes and sizes.  The road was little more than a single lane, but the pace was fast and we soon found ourselves over halfway. The map showed a road crossing from one main route to another, but when we arrived in the town where the turning was marked I couldn’t find the turning, we drove on out of the other side, but eventually had to turn back and ask in the town for directions. 

The men told us that the only way they knew was through the farmland along a dirt track which led out of the back of the towns marketplace.  I drove through the market and took the track.  What followed was an hour of driving along incredibly dusty tracks and paths through farmland and past open mouth people staring and pointing in awe at the vehicle and its strange occupants driving through their remote villages.  Eventually we pulled back onto a main road and headed for the border. 

Just before the border itself was a small town, as the time was getting late, I decided to spend the night in the towns only guesthouse, allowing us to get an early start in the morning in order to finish the paperwork in time.   Overnight I caught the son of the owners, spying on us in the room through a large gap under the door.  Each time I caught him, he claimed that a mouse had been running around, and that he was trying to catch it!

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