(Daniel) The alarm on my phone went off at 6am, I listened to the song which it played, trying to extract the energy to get up and clamber into the cold, dangerously slippery shower.  About 20 minutes and several alarm calls later I got out of bed.  Showered and shaved ready for the border officials, then while Nii got ready I packed our bags into the Wolf, taking out the Carnet and Passports for the crossing to Cambodia today.

The last time I visited Cambodia, around six years ago, the dollar was the only currency to use. Even these should be bought in advance due to the lack of banks.   I know that I rave about guide books, and how people should be open to finding new places rather than follow the well trodden trail.  However I found myself longing for the security of a Lonely planet this morning.  If Gabby was here, she would have been able to tell me within a few page turns what the price of fuel was, the approximate currency conversion, with the limits of it’s fluctuations.  The price of rooms and food, and more importantly what I should budget in cash if I took out all the money in Dollars now.  We had looked for a book shop in Koh Chang, but without success.  This town didn’t seem to have any tourists at all, so I guess my only hope will be to find one in Siem Reap. 

I took out a modest sum in dollars, and drove to a nearby fuel station which took visa cards.  Fortunately for me, one of the attendants was Cambodian, through the others I discovered that diesel in Cambodia costs 42Baht per litre as opposed to 25Baht in Thailand.  I decided to fill both tanks and all of our reserves, a total of 310 litres.  This saves us $150 overall, and hardly affects the economy in the Wolf.  Plus it is added security if we come across area lacking in a good fuel supply network.  I can keep most of the fuel on board, and fill the tanks as usual as I will probably need more than this to cover anything but the most direct route to Vietnam.

The 50 km drive to the border took around 40 minutes, which passed quickly.  I seem to feel at home, trekking around from Customs to immigration and in and out of offices that the tourists never see.  In a strange way, I have started to look forward to that special privilege and the relative experience that I have.  This anticipation is what made the time fly.  At the final town on the route, I followed signs through the streets ending in a cue of huge trucks. Experience kicked in at this point, and as with Iran and Pakistan, I drove down the other lane past hundreds of the construction vehicles.  It looked like the This registered trucks were on the way to build a road.  Probably the one I was about to drive on!

As we rounded the final truck with it’s driver just climbing back in clutching his paperwork, a uniformed man pointed us in the direction of Immigration.  After some walking back and forth from one official to another in the usual dance of sidestepping responsibility.  We managed to get the Carnet Documents completed in full and our passports stamped out.  The authorities made a big show of telling me that I could not re-enter Thailand for six months.  This is due to a new scheme that only allows three entries before a six month ban on return.  The measure is in order to reduce the number of foreigners working illegally without a permit.  I smiled at the officers, knowing that I still have my British Passport with more entries available, having already crossed into Thailand four times this year, using this as well as my Irish Passport!

As is often the case with border crossings, the change was instantaneous.  Not only in the people, which was the least such difference, but in the terrain, colours, buildings, vehicles everything was suddenly and unmistakably Cambodian. We walked into a shabby brick building and stamped into the country.  We had made visas on the way through at a window for  1000Baht each, about £15. And these were checked carefully before our passports were handed back. 

Outside, the customs officers on duty took one look at the Wolf and shook their heads.  I was to go to an office outside of the gates, and get the carnet filled out there.  First I walked out, just as the rain started to fall, but the guard at the gate told me that everyone was at lunch until 2pm, this was at 12.00 on the dot!  I returned to the Wolf and Nii, and then drove past the guards trying to look like I had already finished my paperwork.  It obviously worked, as they saluted me, and I drove out into the country, my vehicle not yet processed.

We waited across the street while the rain got harder and harder.  The road flooded, the muddy water slowly rising until motorbikes, cars, and all but the biggest trucks were forced to pick there way through the potholes in the unmade road.  Just walking from the restaurant to the  Customs building at 2 o’clock was hard, Nii suffered with her sandals, but my big boots are good for around eight inches of water.  A small man who liked like he had some seniority, attended to us.  He couldn’t speak any English, but was proficient in French.  It felt strange to talk French after the Asian languages that I have been using out here.  We managed a reasonable conversation, in which he told me of his 3 years study at a French college.  He showed me another carnet voucher that he had in his drawer, it was for the Iveco that the Germans traveling with David and Rose of Nessie’s  Adventure.  I told him of our meeting in Malaysia, while he filled out both documents for me, we left his office after around 15 minutes.

As we pulled out onto the main road it became apparent that the infamous Poi Pet road was still as bad as ever.  Huge potholes several feet deep were strewn everywhere, mud and flood water filled these, making them impossible to judge.  I had to use the diff lock even on the good stretches, as ruts of soft mud several inches to a foot deep crossed the tracks.  We pulled up after 30 minutes and ate some food at a restaurant.

I had to check the trailer as it always gets such a beating, especially on these semi rough roads.  I could hardly see through the mud, but it looked like one of the wheels was further back in the arch than the other, indicating that the bolt which keep the leaf springs in place, and the axle also had probably bent, and was now in need of replacing, or at worst hammering straight!  Words cannot describe how muddy the vehicle got driving along that track,  The decals disappeared completely, as did the windows, mirrors and lights. 

I decided to carry on, and try to fix the problem in Siem Reap.  As Nii and I finished eating, some of the Cambodian staff came and joined us at our table.  They were curious about our vehicle, and where we had come from.  After the usual explanations, I told them of my previous visit to Cambodia, and my impression that the people were unhappy deep inside.  A girl who was sat with the group and seemed younger than the others, suddenly spoke.  Her English was excellent, and surprised both Nii and Me.    “We were unhappy before, because we had no money.  Now we have more money, and we are more happy.”  I realised how recently the violence had ended in this country,  on my last visit here, it was still present.  But now people were well into the recovery process, I could see signs of aid everywhere, and everything from the vehicles to the buildings looked as if things were on the up.  As I climbed back into the vehicle, past a group of tourist that had just arrived on a bus, I had a thought, and felt hope that maybe Cambodia would turn out to be the highlight of South East Asia.

The road got worse as we continued out of the area towards Siem Reap.  From time to time a horrible grinding noise came from the trailer, the wheel was rubbing in the arch.  After four hours on the road, we arrived at a small town.  I could see that there were a few mechanics on the main street, presumably they would have the jacks and cheap labour to quickly remove the axle and replace the bolts.  I pulled into one and asked for help.  The guys inside were sat around eating.  They called me over immediately, and sat me down with them.  A huge chap with a steel cup in his hand clapped me on the back, and dipped the cup into an ice bucket full of home brew.  He put the cup to my mouth and tipped it up.  I drank the contents, relieved that they were some kind of wine, rather than a whiskey!  The men told me that they couldn’t help, but to try across the road.

In the truck workshop over the road, I explained the problem.  Together we came up with a plan to modify the mountings for the leaf springs, this would raise the trailer by an inch or so, and give extra clearance.  At the same time we would remove and replace both spring bolts, covering them with plates that will stop the u-bolts from slipping along the springs again.  The boys started work immediately, removing the axle and  modifying the spring mounts.  The work would not be finished today, and as it was so late, Nii and I checked into a hotel nearby for the night.  We agreed to come back tomorrow morning in finish the other wheel.

We rested in the hotel for a while, but Nii was hungry, so we ventured downstairs to visit the restaurant.  To my surprise, the whole lobby of the hotel was filled with young girls, they were dressed in mini skirts and small tops.  Obviously prostitutes, they waved at me as I walked down the stairs, I walked past them into the restaurant area, feeling quite self conscious.  But the food turned out to be excellent.  I ate my fill, before checking the locks and immobilisers on the Wolf, then going back up to bed.

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