Discovering Cambodia’s untamed heritage

Cambodia’s East Royal Road, a historical route once central to the Khmer Empire’s grandeur, reveals a side of the country often overshadowed by its iconic temples.

Filled with ancient bridges, hidden temples, and off-road adventures, Cambodia's East Royal Road offers a unique glimpse into the Khmer Empire's legacy, Caliber.Az reports, citing foreign media.

On my birthday morning, I began an unexpected journey that would take me from the luxurious Raffles Grand Hotel d'Angkor in Siem Reap to the rugged terrain of Cambodia's lesser-known historical routes.

My adventure began at 7:00 AM as I disembarked from the hotel's ornate lift, reminiscent of Jackie Kennedy’s visit in 1967. Meeting my guide, Pheakdey "Dey" Sieng from About Asia, we set off to explore the East Royal Road, a 100-kilometer stretch connecting the ancient temples of Angkor Wat, Beng Mealea, and Preah Khan Kompong Svay. While the Khmer Empire, which ruled Southeast Asia from 802 to 1431 CE, is renowned for its temples, its power was also driven by an extensive 3,000-kilometer road network that extended from Angkor to modern-day Thailand, Vietnam, Laos, and Myanmar.

Among the five royal roads linking Angkor with provincial cities, the East Royal Road stands out with its impressive collection of intact Khmer infrastructure, including bridges, ponds, walls, and embankments. It features unique resthouse temples where pilgrims could eat, pray, and sleep, and was crucial for transporting construction materials and iron for weaponry. Known for its sophisticated irrigation systems, the road is adorned with ancient laterite bridges that continue to serve their purpose today.

As I embarked on this classic road trip favored by dirt bikers and temple enthusiasts, news of Prime Minister Hun Manet’s nomination of Beng Mealea and Preah Khan for UNESCO World Heritage status heightened my excitement. With these sites set to gain increased attention, I was eager to experience them before their fame spread.

There was only one snag: the heat was unbearable. Travellers are often advised against visiting Siem Reap in April due to the sweltering temperatures, and this week was no exception, with a heatwave pushing temperatures above 40°C and a UV index of 12 on a scale of 1-11+.

Dey’s plan was to start with Preah Khan, then head to Beng Mealea before returning to Siem Reap, leaving Angkor for another day. We departed from Siem Reap along the ancient earthen road, now largely overlapping with the paved Highway 6. Our first stop was Kampong Kdei, an impressive 12th-century bridge built during the reign of Jayavarman VII, Cambodia's most ambitious ruler. The 86-meter-long bridge, adorned with 21 arches, features striking balustrades in the form of a nine-headed naga—a mythical creature symbolizing water and fertility that is prevalent in Khmer art. Its rust-red color graces Cambodia's 5,000 Riel banknote.

"Welcome to free massage road," Dey joked as we turned onto a bumpy dirt path. I questioned his definition of a "massage" as the ride felt like being repeatedly dropped from a second-floor window. An hour away from Preah Khan, the scenery shifted from cement homes to traditional wooden houses on stilts. A calf and her mother leisurely crossed the dusty road, while naked toddlers paused their play to smile and wave. According to Dey, the villagers are primarily farmers cultivating cashews, cassava, and rice.

After a jarring journey, we arrived at Preah Khan. Unlike the bustling Angkor Wat, Preah Khan is relatively undiscovered, and as I exchanged smiles with a fellow traveller, it felt like we were in on a hidden gem.

Dey shared that Preah Khan was the most looted temple of the empire, ravaged by French explorers in the 19th century and locals in the 20th. Despite its disheveled appearance in some parts, resembling a giant game of Jenga, the temple was a marvel of carvings, including three-headed stone swans, garudas (divine birds), elephants, and nagas. We admired the restored 9.5-meter-high statue of Preah Chahtomukh, featuring four serene Buddhas facing each cardinal direction. The tranquil, enigmatic faces carved into the massive stone towers were awe-inspiring, earning the temple its reputation as "the Mona Lisas of Southeast Asia."

Lunch was a delightful spread of rice and dried fish enjoyed in a thatched hut at a local eatery. “This stretch is better suited for a dirt bike,” Dey remarked, noting that the road from Preah Khan to the village of Khvav is only passable by off-road motorcycles and oxcarts. Luckily, he knew two men who could assist us. I couldn't help but think of "the birthday effect," which suggests that statistical risks are higher around one's birthday. Considering the sweltering heat, riding a dirt bike along a rutted path might not improve my odds.

My dirt bike driver, Mr. Cheat, looked apprehensive as I climbed onto the back of his bike and grasped the rail. Dey, usually serious, flashed a mischievous grin. With a sputter, we were off, hurtling through the jungle. We navigated trenches and ducked under low-hanging branches, speeding past forests, fields, and the occasional tractor on tightly packed clay paths. We made a few stops to explore seldom-seen ruins.

The route from Preah Khan to Beng Mealea features rest stops known as "firehouses" and larger resthouse temples. Historians debate whether these were religious, secular, or a mix of both, and due to their remote locations, research on them is limited.

We paused at Sopheap Tbong, which exemplifies the resthouse design: an outer wall with a grand gate leading to a central corridor flanked by two galleries. Gazing through the slightly ajar windows into a narrow room, I imagined ancient travelers and pilgrims seeking solace from their long journeys through the expansive Khmer Empire. Positioned 15km apart, these resthouses catered to the average Khmer traveler, who could cover 30km a day, providing necessary breaks for midday and evening rest.

Another resthouse, Prasat Pram, was mostly a tangle of vine-strangled stones, but a detached window revealed intricately carved pillars that once served as Khmer window blinds. As I cursed the oppressive heat, I was relieved that the dry conditions made the rough terrain more manageable. Before we resumed our journey, I asked Dey why we hadn’t seen any oxcarts. He simply replied, “It’s too hot for the ox.”

Back on the bike, I clung to Mr. Cheat’s shoulders as we pressed on. “One more temple,” Dey announced. Twenty minutes later, I was navigating the fallen laterite blocks of Prasat Ta En, a fire shrine now barely recognizable as nature reclaimed its domain. The serene rustling of leaves and the herbaceous scent of the trees offered a brief respite as sunlight filtered through the forest canopy. Without further intervention, this site would soon vanish from memory, with only a few stone remnants standing against nature's steady encroachment.

Next, we headed to our final stop: Spean Ta Ong. The 70-meter-long bridge, adorned with ornate naga balustrades glowing in burnt sienna under the late afternoon sun, provided a welcome break from the rough terrain.

Arriving in Khvav marked the end of my 30km dirt bike adventure. After bidding farewell to Mr. Cheat, I climbed into the air-conditioned minivan with Dey. With only 20km left to Beng Mealea and the closing time fast approaching, we arrived just as the site was about to close. However, after Dey discreetly slipped $5 to a guide enjoying an after-hours beer, we gained entry and found ourselves alone among the ruins.

Constructed concurrently with Angkor Wat, Beng Mealea is often considered a prototype for the grand temple. The site is enchanting, with silk cotton trees entwining the stone remnants and their roots sprawling like the claws of a giant lizard. Strangler figs seem to burrow into the earth, reclaiming their ancient dominion.

Scattered across the grounds were large piles of intricately carved sandstone blocks. We wandered through the ruins on winding wooden walkways, which, it turns out, were designed for the 2004 film Two Brothers, starring Guy Pearce. Among the rubble, a moss-covered masterpiece depicted the Churning of the Ocean of Milk, a Hindu legend showing gods and demons battling for the elixir of immortality.

After an hour, we returned to Siem Reap and stopped by the offices of About Asia, where I, covered in mud, met Silen Truy, one of Siem Reap’s few female guides. When I asked why she wasn’t guiding my tour, she chuckled and said, “The dirt bike— that’s man stuff.”

Back at Raffles, I looked more like Bear Grylls than Jackie Kennedy. Thorns were embedded in my hair, dirt outlined where my glasses had been, and my legs were twelve shades darker than my ashen feet. It was, without a doubt, the best birthday ever.