Photos courtesy of Antonio Graceffo

About half way up the mountain, we found some beautiful caves with rock faces of about 25 metres high, which I think would have been appropriate for rock climbing. I was so tired, however, that I couldn't be bothered to take off my pack and get my camera. I also couldn't be bothered to look for water. So, I would ask Veriak to hand me a bottle from my pack. When I had finished drinking, he would stow the half empty bottle until I needed it again.

Just past the caves, when I asked for water, Veriak handed me a bottle, saying "This is the last one." His words rang final, like a cell door slamming home. I was trapped on the mountain with no water. If we were halfway there, this meant that we still had four hours to go. Luckily, I still had enough food for three days.

Often, Veriak would leave to go off and look for the trail. The jungle was so dense that when he had taken two steps, he was completely invisible. I had read about dishonest guides who took refugees to the Thai border during and after the Pol Pot regime. A favourite trick was to walk people into exhaustion, then run off and leave them in the jungle overnight. By the next day, they would be completely defenseless. Then, the guides would come back and rob them.

Step 1 was completed. I was exhausted. Step 2 too since he had left me alone. But he didn't have to wait till morning, I was already defenseless.

"I'll give you my ATM card now," I told Veriak. "But I won't tell you the PIN number till we get back to Phnom Penh."

He just smiled, having no idea what an ATM card was.

On one hand, you could say that Cambodia wasn't ready for adventure tourism. There was no information available, no English speaking guides, no trails and no facilities. But, on the other hand, this was real adventure. You are traveling through real jungle, led by a real ranger who lives by his wits in the wild. This was not like trekking in Thailand or Malaysia where you would meet three groups on the way up and two more on the way down.

Cambodia has wild, untamed jungle which very few outsiders have experienced. You could be the first on your block to trek Bokor.

Even the remote places of the Earth are no longer remote. My phone rang. It was my office calling.

"How far are you from the top?" asked a very concerned Thavrin. He had been clever enough and realistic enough to ride a motorcycle to the top and was now at the ranger station, waiting for me.

"I don't know."
"How long till you get here?"
"I don't know that either."
"But where are you?"
"I am in the freaking jungle! Or did you miss that part of this morning's meeting?" I shouted, loosing my patience.
"When will you arrive?"
"I don't know where I am or where I am going. So, how could I possibly know how long it will take me to get there?"
"What does Veriak say?"
"He told me two more hours, but I think he is lying to me."
"Hand the phone to Veriak," demanded Thavrin.
"With pleasure."

While they talked, I picked leeches off my body, and collected them in a jar, in case I needed a transfusion later.

I was so thirsty, but I dared not finish my final bottle of water. I cursed myself for being so stupid. Switching into survival mode, I remembered that I had read a story about a guy who, lost in the desert, survived by drinking his own urine.

Drinking my own urine? Gross!

I handed an empty bottle to Veriak. "Here, fill this."

The jungle was beautiful, but it could also be depressing because you couldn't see the sun. The dense undergrowth was very claustrophobic. When we finally burst out of the bush, the reality of the sky and the natural world exploded in a riot of colorus which were not green. My spirits soared. Actually, let's put that statement in perspective. In the bowels of the jungle, my spirit had been so low, that now that we were out, my spirits were just even with the ground. But it was still an improvement.

Veriak told me that we only had one kilometre to go -- and this time, I trusted his estimation. The terrain was flat, but still a bit tough going because of the thigh-deep carpet of weeds. I finally decided that the Thai army shoes had been a mistake. They gave very little ankle support and only lightly protected the toes. I had painfully smashed the large toe on my left foot while we were crossing a river, and I just knew it was bleeding. Now, every time I stepped on a rock -- which was every time I stepped -- pain shot through me like a diamond bullet.

I had picked up a walking stick, just after lunch... and thank God! Because without it, I couldn't have done some of the more difficult water crossings, where leaning on the pole had been like having a safety line to support me. But now, I was hanging on my walking stick like some decrepit old geezer. Unable to walk upright, I was all hunched over and belonged on the left side of Darwin's Walk of Man.

When I knew in my bones we were only 20 minutes away from the end of this torture and all I wanted to do was finish. Hours earlier, I had blocked the pain by tuning out everything around me. Now, I just concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other.

Suddenly, Veriak stopped walking. He turned and asked me something very complicated in Khmer. I was so tired that I couldn't summon up the energy to listen. So, I really wasn't sure what he was saying. It was clearly something about my plans for the next day. The rain was coming down, and even standing still, I felt my body shake and my muscles twitch involuntarily.

This wasn't the time or place to be making plans for tomorrow. When I got tired like this, I hated when people talked to me in other languages. First, I didn't want anyone talking to me at all. But by talking to me in Khmer, he was forcing me to think, and that was just too painful at that moment.

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"At jule day, at jule, at jule. I don't understand," I said, waving my hand dismissively.

But, Veriak tried again, rephrasing his question. I couldn't imagine there was anything we needed to discuss right then. As far as I understood our plan, he was leading me to a place where I could take a shower, eat, sleep, and drink gallons of water. I saw no reason to alter those plans.

"At jule, at jule... Knyom jang oui dau nyam bei, moet duk, dei dek. I just want to eat, shower and sleep. Dau. Go," I said, taking a step. I thought he would start moving. But instead, he just stood there, staring at me as if he didn't understand what I wanted. But what was there to understand? We were walking before. And now, I wanted to keep walking.

"Dau, dau, dau!" I said in Khmer while walking towards him. But, once again, he remained stationary.

An adrenaline surge of anger exploded inside of me, and I rose to my full height. "Freaking go! You moron!" I screamed, launching myself at him, uncertain if I was actually going to hit him. I was completely insane with fatigue and the situation could have turned ugly.

Veriak hugged his AK-47 like a teddy bear and cowered away from me.

"DAU! GO!" I screamed, till my throat was raw.

Veriak led the way.

My brain was too thick to think at the time. But later, the best I could come up with was that Veriak got $20 a day for leading me, so he wanted to make sure that if I were going back down the next day, he wanted to be the one to take me. But I was too tired to make that decision right then. I just wanted to go home. Veriak stopping me on the trail was like trying to take food away from a starving dog.

Later, when I had calmed down, and rested, I told Thavrin what had happened, and that I felt a little badly about how I had treated Veriak. I also felt a little stupid. I mean after all, Veriak was probably stronger than me... and he had a gun.

"Veriak told me about what had happened. He said he was very scared of you," Thavrin laughed. "You know, with your beard and your size being bigger than most people, it is a little scary when you get angry."

If I were Veriak I would have run off and left me on the trail to die of exposure. I called Veriak to the side and gave him a five-dollar tip.

Finally, across a field, I could see the ancient French casino and the age-old Catholic church behind it. The path led around a bend, and there was the ranger station built in what had once been a luxury hotel.

We had arrived. I would have dropped on my knees and kissed the ground, but I knew that I wouldn't be able to get up again.

"You look like crap," said Thavrin, by way of greeting. He was kicked back, drinking a beer and watching boxing on TV with the rangers.

"You were supposed to be looking after me," I said, through my fatigue, sounding like Marlon Brando from On the Water Front. "What if I died of exhaustion? I bet you didn't even have a plan to get my body back down the mountain."

Thavrin was sizing up his motorcycle, obviously contemplating if my corpse would fit on the back.

"If I do die, I want my nephew to have this watch," I said.
"It's plastic," said Thavrin, disapprovingly.

Thavrin handed me a change of clothes and some groceries he had brought up from town. He sat on his motorcycle and started the engine.

"Where are you going?" I asked.
"I am going to go sleep in a four-star hotel in town," he answered.
"And I am sleeping here with the rangers?" I asked, disappointed.
Thavrin just nodded.
"Do they have hot water in the shower?"
"They have water."
"Close enough," I said.
"Do you want to hike down tomorrow?"
"I never want to hike again."
"I thought so," laughed Thavrin. "In fact, I already arranged a driver for you. He will pick you up at two tomorrow."
"And what should I do in the meantime?"
"You can hang out with the rangers tonight. Tomorrow they will take you on a tour of the casino and the whole French complex."
"Fine," I said. "As long as I don't have to go back into the jungle."

Part: 1, 2, 3, 4

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