The Best of the Worst, Tales from the Road

My most difficult and terrifying bus rides from around the world

Traveling means different things to different people. Some are quite happy with a five day all-inclusive to their favourite tropical destination. While others such as myself need to peel off a few more layers before we can feel as though we have truly experienced a country. This, although very rewarding at times requires a certain tolerance for discomfort, and the willingness to be on the edge of the ever unknown.

Venturing off to some of the more obscure corners of a country means leaving the comforts of the resorts behind. Over the years my most gripping, and uncomfortable moments overseas have been during bus trips to remote regions of various developing countries. The standard rules of safety do not apply in places like this. As such, a certain tolerance for risk must be accepted. This can often create some hair-raising moments as you try to venture to that distant spot on the map. Here is a breakdown of my worst bus journeys from around the world.

Cambodia

I knew what I was in for going here. As soon as I crossed the border at Krong Poi Pet the surroundings I was met with told me I needed to lower my expectations drastically. The minibus for Siam Reap arrived and myself and I couldn’t tell you how many other people were crammed inside. My face was literally pressed against the hot glass in the batter old bus. My chin was resting on top of my pack as they continued to push more people in. Once on the road we stopped at every village and market along the way to either pickup or drop-off another passenger.

It was stifling inside. With no room to move and no air-conditioning I could barely breath. We were crushed in there like sardines. It was only a few hundred kilometres to Siam Reap but the trip took over five hours to complete. At one point I thought about getting out and hitchhiking the rest of the way. Though I instead resigned to suffering it out, confident I would arrive there eventually. We did arrive, and I unstuck my face from the glass and forced my way out into the fresh air. Afterwards I walked for a longtime through the streets of Siam Reap allowing my body to recover and take in the place I’d suffered so much to arrive at.

Morocco

There were a lot of bus trips I took while I was here. Morocco is a big country with many beautiful and remote areas to visit. I actually helped break up a fight on a bus while I was in Morocco, story here. The country is home to a large nomadic population. Many of these nomads rarely leave the mountains. Though occasionally a few dark cloaked tribes folk are seen traveling by bus from one region to the next. Since many of these nomads have never been on a bus before, motion sickness is a common issue. The long trip I made from Tafraoute to Marrakech had more than a few nomads along for the ride.

The trip was particularly mountainous, the bus inched along as the steep road clung to every contour and ravine the landscape offered. The warm pungent smell of vomit mingled with the heat as we weaved our way through the mountains. I sat for hours breathing in the thick soar air. There was nothing but the changing drone of the bus to distract me from the stench.

It was inescapable and not something I ever thought I would have to deal with. I felt for the nomads and how the trip must be effecting them. To leave their simple way of life and have to deal with the many facets of the modern world must have been daunting. We did eventually arrived in Marrakech. Though after the long trip I was beginning to feel sick myself.

China

After a week of trekking in the mountains, myself and a few other friends were keen to get back to the world. We waited in a remote hillside village were we knew we could get a bus back down to the valley. This place was from another time. Squirrels were on the menu at the tiny restaurant we went to for lunch. The people were tough from a life of working in the forest and knew few of the luxuries found far in the valley below.

The bus arrived. As it was being loaded for the trip back down I decided to walk around and look at the tires. This was something I would come to regret. Wires were showing through the frayed white tire walls on the front wheels of the bus. Cracks spidered outwards from the rusty old rims and I could only assume the brakes were much the same. The rear tires, although in better condition would still never pass a safety inspection in any part of the world. I didn’t bother to tell my friends until after we got down. No point in all of us worrying.

It was twenty kilometres of switchbacks to the valley below. Setting out I tried my best not to look over the edge of some of cliffs we traversed. We rarely exceed thirty kilometres an hour as the bus rocked it’s way down the mountainside. The slow pace help me relax and not obsess over the thought of the bus tumbling helplessly down the hillside. Once the death ride was over I walked my friends around to show them what I had seen. They stared in silence and disbelief for a moment at the buses ragged old wheels than we all had a good laugh about what we had just survived.

The Philippines

I’ve saved the best for last. The historic town of Vigan is located four hundred kilometres north of Manila. I was visiting Vigan a few years ago during the New Years holidays and needed to get back to Manila. This is an especially busy time of year as people travel home to visit their families for the holidays. I had spent much of my time in the Philippines riding on the rooftops of buses while touring through the mountains. It was an alluring way to travel. Also, I felt it was better to be on the roof if the bus were to go crashing over a cliff then being trapped screaming inside.

It was hard to find a bus that week. Everything was full. Eventually I did book a trip south, but after I boarded the bus I found out that there were no seats and I would have to stand for the entire ride. The bus did not take the main highway but instead drove the congested narrow back roads stopping in every place imaginable. It took sixteen hot and exhausting hours to get to Manila. Getting off meant being stranded in some nowhere town with little chance of getting out again.

I leaned against the luggage racks above the seats and listened to screaming children and local folk music while trying to pretend I was somewhere else. We averaged about twenty-five kilometres an hour throughout the trip. I let myself go numb mentally in order to deal with the experience. I was exhausted when I finally got to Manila. It was not a pleasent way to end my trip. The Philippines is a country with many places I have yet to visit, though this experience had left me a little jaded on whether I wanted to return.

I know I’ll go back to the Philippines one day. Though next time I’ll choose my dates and plan my trip a little better. The same goes for other countries I plan to travel to. Travel lessons can be hard learned sometimes. I love relaxing in a resort as much as anyone. Although I never leave feeling quite as fulfilled. Regardless of any past difficulties traveling it never stops me from planning the next trip. As difficult as experiences like this can be in the moment, they add a colour and richness to my life that I would never change.