Day 5 ...

Today began hopeful. As we conversed as a group it was clear that the sleep and shower was as therapeutic as hoped. My quads had forgiven me and my butt seemed to have regained feeling. We were ready for another day of cycling. The only thing that seemed to try to interupt this optimism was a nagging sore throat, runny nose and slight heaviness in my head. I passed it off as a minor cold and jumped on my bike.

Without question today’s riding was the most memorable. The majority of the days riding was spent riding along dirt roads through various villages of happy, smiling Cambodians. Knowing just a glimpse of their tragic past, such happiness is just enviable. Within an half an hour of riding we found ourselves cycling around pot hole after pot hole and muddy ditch after muddy ditch. You most certainly had to have your wits about you. As Andy (aka the Australian tour guide) said, it takes a fair bit of mental and physical commitment to transverse these roads. As I cycled along with group that consisted of a lovely couple called David and Pat, Rebecca, Victoria Barry and Gary I ducked out in front of the group to get through a particularly bad part of road. Well before I knew it I was head over handbars and covered in mud. With a severely bruised ego and a now throbbing head I was quickly surrounded by my fellow participants. Barry applied antiseptic, Victoria provided encouragement and well the Cambodians provided laughter - lots of it.

Arriving at the next rest stop I realised then that dignity was well and truly absent from this experience. The refreshing thing is, we don’t care! Covered in dirt, sweat and mozzie bites we had become a sight for sore eyes. It is humurous to me that my midday beauty regime consists of throwing on a baseball cap and quickly running a wet wipe over my face.

The heat on this day was beginning to hit home. It was humid and with little shade along the roads it was at times unrelenting. Ice cold water available at each rest stop along with fresh fruit and an assortment of crackers became very refreshing. The breeze generated while cycling meant that the heat was only really felt when we either slowed or stopped. Lesson learned: apply sunscreen liberally. Farmers tans abound.

After the next 20km stretch the throbbing in my head became too much. I decided to jump on the ute on get some video footage. Not the best idea really as I was exposed to the sun and having to keep my footing however my pride trumped and dictated that I be productive. After the next stretch we lunched at a local temple/school where we were surrounded by a sea of young faces. Children watched us in awe. I’m not sure what they were thinking but they sure were inquisitive. These weird lycra clad, helmet wearing white people eating rolls must have been quite the experience for them. Belinda had the fantastic idea of gathering the children and teaching them the Mexican Wave. Participants and children created a circle and eventually mastered the wave. The children found it hysterically funny. I love how humanity will find a way to relate beyond spoken language.

I decided to jump back on my bike and cycle the final leg with the other participants. The disappointment of not being with the group was too much. This leg was approximately 16km and without a doubt was the hottest leg of the trip. I found myself craving the shade of an upcoming tree (for all of 0.5 of a second).The colourful bruises and an area of swelling on my knees had begun to appear at this point with varying degrees of pain being felt down both legs. As this become more apparent to me I then came across a long stretch of more chlidren than I could count. I decided to give as many as possible high five. The kids lined up, hands out and smiles filling their faces. It was brilliant! It was the equivalent of a B12 shot in the butt.

I turned a corner only to realise that I was at a T intersection and had no idea where to go. There were participants coming up behind me who I knew would be as clueless as me – both directions looked just as appealing. So well I engaged a local boy in a game of charades. He soon understand what I was saying and pointed me to the right, extremely satisified at his understanding of my ridiculous communication. From this point on it felt as though the temperature was turned up a few degrees. At the next (and last stop) I was informed that it was 38 degrees!!! Fiona Whyte happily informed me that after the bikes were hosed down, we were next. Participants were once again united in their conquering of yet another ride. It was without a doubt an incredible ride – challenging and a hell of a lot of fun.

We then had a short van ride into Phnom Penh where we were given free time. I took the opportunity to sleep for an hour only to wake with insane shivers down my body and a raging fever. My darling brother forfeited dinner to provide cloths wrapped in ice for my head and blankets for my legs. This continued until the early hours of the morning. Gary even woke up at 3am to get me cold Sprite from downstairs. I have nominated him for the do-gooder award. A group of six participants came to my door before leaving for dinner and sang a song they had wrote me (to the tune of Ín the jungle, the mighty jungle…’). I would have laughed hysterically if it weren’t for feeling so terrible.

Ín Phnom Penh, the mighty Phnom Penh, Claire is sick tonight …’

A message from the unofficial challenge photographer, Kyle:

Leading out of Kampong Cham is a pothole storage facility and mud generation plant which lasts about 50 kilometers. Unfortunately, someone accidentally put it on a map and called it a road, so we were obliged to ride along it. By the first break we were all carrying our body weight in mud and were in major need of physiotherapy. Sadly, the village physio was on holiday in the Bahamas, so we were obliged to carry on with our spines in pieces.

As we did, the terrain changed: instead of being a mudhole with the odd patch of road, it was a rockfield with the odd patch of road. I had several close encounters of the dirt kind, and a few moments where oncoming trucks, motorcycles and chickens failed to give way. However, I succeeded in staying on the bike the whole way, mostly due to my exceedingly slow pace (the only thing moving slower than me was the internet speed) and willingness to go off the already off-roady road.

By lunchtime, several of us had tired of replying with the stock-standard ‘hello’ to the local kids and started to mix things up a little. I used the following phrases:
• Hi!
• Howdy!
• What’s up?
• How’s the wife & kids? (to a one year old)
• How you doin’?
• Salutations!
• ‘Sup G?
• Kia ora! (one group of kids said it back to me, which made it all worth it)
• I give you most felicitous greetings on this, the day of my daughter’s wedding!

The final leg was pretty painful, but a change of clothes and soft van seat made the rest of the day bearable at worst and pleasant at best. I spent most of my free time wandering around Phnom Penh looking for a pen; you’d have thought that in a city named after them, they would be available on every corner.

On the way back from my pen expedition, it started to rain, and didn’t stop until much later that night. We went to dinner and got wet, and then a bunch of us headed to nearby hipster venue the Frog and Parrot for cheap cocktails and card games and, in the case of Fiona and Victoria, Connect 4 with a local lad.

After having my virtue questioned on many occasions by Belinda (who seemed to think I was lying about all my cards), we left in high spirits (all except Richard, who was bemoaning Stoke City’s loss to Man U) to hit the sack and prepare for our forthcoming rest day.
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Cheers

Kyle