Dharma bums

The morning came on with the slow warmth of being in an oven. All night, it was the battle of noise which kept pace with the rhythms of the heat and dreaming that the same clothes you wore yesterday were waiting on the rack in your room. The heat woke me slowly, and as my vision cleared on the dim light entering my brain, I saw yesterday’s rags hanging there.

It was day two of our journey to the north. We had temples on our map. But as the hard, stiff, dust crusted pants slipped on the first leg, it was clear we have to make other plans. Don B needed to have his wounds looked into, and the trip north turned west. We all knew that if we went too deep into the heart of darkness, our chances would not get better.

Eating a mouth full of ibuprofen was the first order of business. Don B had the strongest meds and he was doing a good job in that area. We needed to feed our bodies with food and crank up the bikes, and we would be fine. Sore was not an issue; we were sore, but it was our need to keep moving that saddled us up.

We had two temples to see before we reached Siem Reap and some rough road to cross. We were getting deeper and deeper in to the depths of Cambodia. The roads got thinner, the bridges got smaller and some were not even there. You drove through the creek beds to get on with the trip. Ruts and washouts got wider. Seems like it was too early to have someone go down, but Don B went over the handle bars in the soft sand.

Normano had whizzed across the bridge, and a rut came up and pushed his back tire to the right. Traveling at 68km on washed-out gravel is like riding a bull with a tight cinch across his balls. You want to jump any way you can, because it hurts no matter which way you jump. This pushed Normano to the side of the road and into the soft sand. “Power out! All Power is the only way to make this.”the scream went out. The only problem was that Don B followed Normano and the sand got him. The landing was soft and warm, but a gash on the bridge of the nose and a wash bleed of blood from yesterday’s crash was what he got.

Dharma Bernie stopped and S. and Normano returned. The crash had busted the clutch lever, so S. took over Don B’s bike and Dharma bums rode on. Dust, blood and all.

20 km later we pulled in to a village and stopped in the middle of town. This was a small village and there, in the very cross roads that intercepts life, were a couple of very big ruts. Dharma Bernie was bringing up the rear and as he came in for a stop — crash, bang, boom! Don’t know and don’t care; shit happens. He crashed! The crowd went wild. What a show they had today. Four white boys on the road with nothing in the way and boom. The kids laughed and their eyes got bigger. They had a good show and a story for the next day. Dharma bums brushed this zeppelin aside.

We turned west from the big ruts and full bore; dust rolled out our backs. The first temple was 12km’s ahead, that was only the turn off. Turning into a temple trail that got smaller, we could see a dot way down the road. The closer we got, the more it seemed out of place. Two guys and a tent with the twig for a stop gate. “Who where they kidding, the mighty Dharma bums could bust through this security with our breath”. They waved us through and we enter in the weird world of vines and stone. It was the middle of nowhere and in the middle of everywhere.

Give the Dharma bums a mountain to climb and look out, here we come. We mounted this sucker and announced a quorum for an emergency party. We had the tent! It was the shortest emergency party we ever had, and even though we were at the point of touching God and the heavens, we had 80km before the next temple and we had to move on. The climb down was as exhausting as the climb up.

We pull into the local Dairy Queen. Cold water and beer, two things that can keep the party going and a hand full of ibuprofen. We were sore. The road got thinner and it seemed to telling us something. We were one. The Dharma bums and the road were one. That just shows you what a temple visit can do to you. Keeping our wits and stopping for water breaks was the only thing we could do as the ride moved on.

We pulled in to temple #2 (Beng Mealea – 12th century Hindu) and un-geared. It was a short walked to the depths of jungle and stone. Wooden walkways lead us into more stone. The only mass that can hold its own even if it’s tossed in piles by Mother Nature. As the path took us deeper and deeper in the heart of the cool and dark passageways, our bodies were drained of energy. The walk down the grotto covered in time sucked any life we had from our bones. S. said the road was going to improve from now on and Siem Reap was only 28 km ahead. This lifted our pale but trusting sprits. The road was going to get better. The thought of a smooth and dustless voyage was heaven in spades. The only thoughts to enter our brains were the impending merge with the traffic of Siem Reap. It was going dusk as we hit town and rush hour.

As we came closer to Siem Reap, a wall of bikes six a breast, riders dressed in white, was moving against us. This went on for miles. One steady stream of humanity coming home from work. Oh boy. We were going to miss the traffic. This thought soon disappeared as we hit the outskirts of town. Each block got tighter and constricted with people.

The river and the center of town was very close and that is where it all came to a stop. The intersection was at a standstill and yet it moved. Inch by inch we wove our bikes around cars, people, trucks, tuk-tuks and motos. Tighter than a can of sardines, we edged our way though the maze of bodies. You could feel breath on your face, to your side, on your back. On the eve of a full moon, the cavity of civilization was on the move in Siem Reap, and the Dharma bums had walked into a trap.

The madness grew more intense, street were ripped apart by construction, beggars and one legged mine victims roamed the streets, dirt and dust flying high. The sun had set, and we were out of breath. Every snake charmer, pimp, hustler, and two-bit rambler was on the street, and we were in the middle of it. Even the lap posts were starting to breathe down our necks… and we stopped taking window pane decades ago.

We crossed the river to a place S had stayed before and knew the owner – to Ivy’s, a bar and guest house, and were glad to make the stop. Turned off the engines and dismounted. The end was near. All the rooms were filled, so we sent S. out to find us a guest house for the old and tired Dharma bums. We were going to wait in the bar for news. The dust was so thick in our throats we were choked with phlegm and indifference. S. found a guest house and we parked our broncos for the night and headed to our rooms.

Tomorrow would be Friday the 13th and a full moon. The Temples of Angkor Wat were tomorrow’s journey. A good shower and a night’s sleep were in order.

Tags: Cambodia, Dharma, Siem Reap, Travel

This entry was posted on Saturday, February 4th, 2006 at 1:14 pm and is filed under Travel. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can skip to the end and leave a response. Pinging is currently not allowed.