Another 6am start — this time the alarms went off exactly as planned. At 6.15am our pre-ordered hot and cold breakfasts were delivered to our cabin on time. We both just about managed to gulp them down while finishing our overnight packing for the trip to Kanchanaburi.
Our meeting time was 7am in the Rolling Stone Lounge and, refreshingly, today everything was calm and well organised. We walked off the ship, through the large terminal, and were met by our guide for the next two days — Max. His “boy” helper, Kim, put our bag in the hold and we took some seats near the front.
Behind us was a loud-mouthed American who clearly thought he was a comedian. He wasn’t. I blocked him out fairly successfully, but Karen grew increasingly irritated by him over the next two days.
Max the guide spoke English quickly, with a strong accent, and regularly got his grammar into a muddle. He also bowed his headed frequently to us as he spoke. Nevertheless, he tried to pack in a lot of information — even if he did repeat himself rather a lot. He told us he was the tenth of his parents’ eleven children and apparently the only one who looked Chinese. We thought he looked pretty much like every other Thai we’d met.
After the first hour, and following several early starts, both Karen and I dozed as we sped along from the port, driving straight through Bangkok. The dozing would become a regular feature of this trip.
About two hours after leaving, we stopped for our first “Happy Room” visit at a service station — which, to a squeal of delight from Karen, also had a Starbucks. Naturally she got herself one. I abstained, concerned that caffeine might force the coach into an unscheduled second Happy Room stop.
Another two hours later we arrived in Kanchanaburi, where the first stop was at the largest POW gravesite. To Max’s mild consternation, I marched Karen past the entrance and straight to the Death Railway Museum and Research Centre which was along the road next to it..This was the place I was most keen to visit, even if only for a quick whizz round, and one we hadn’t had time for on our previous visit. I’d also been corresponding with the curator, who had been very helpful in tracking more details of Dad’s movements through the POW camps.
The museum is run by a voluntary organisation, and I was more than happy to pay the modest entrance fee. Truthfully, much of the display wasn’t new to me, but I still took plenty of photos to refer back to later. The second floor, maintained by the Australian fellowship, focused on their troops. I also bought a small package of books from the gift shop which may prove useful for future research.
That left us just five minutes to visit the cemetery itself. We had been there before, and it was just as sad this time. We found several graves of Royal Norfolks and paid our respects. It was heartbreaking to see that many were aged just 20 to 22.
Then it was back on the coach to head to the Bridge on the River Kwai.
Before walking over it, we were taken to a floating restaurant next to the bridge for lunch. Karen and I had planned just to have a drink, but in the end the Asian chicken cooked in banana leaves and the battered prawns were perfectly acceptable. We were seated with two other couples and I was curious to know why they had chosen this excursion. One couple had a great-uncle who’d been a POW; the other were there purely because of the film.
Karen and I hurried to walk over the bridge. It was busy, and I had to resist the urge to shout at people that this wasn’t the original bridge, nor was it in its original position (which was actually about 80 metres downstream). I restrained myself and took the obligatory photos instead.
Max gave us a good overview of Thailand and especially the history of the last ten kings, to whom he seemed almost fanatically devoted — particularly one story about how the King generously gives everyone free fish. However, his knowledge of the prisoners and the railway itself was limited. As this was the first time the cruise line had run this trip, I suspect the contractors hadn’t briefed the guide sufficiently. Still, I’m probably picking holes.
What Max did exceptionally well was buy local sweets and treats at almost every stop, passing them around the coach as we drove. Some of the coconut treats and boiled sweets were excellent, as was the dried banana the next day.
From here it was about an hour’s drive to Hellfire Pass — a place I had been particularly looking forward to visiting. This is the massive cutting through solid rock made by hand by the POWs. We were asked to walk down to the pass before visiting the small museum at the top.
We were warned about the number of steps and offered a ride down in a golf buggy for those who needed it. Karen’s hand went up immediately — a wise decision. I walked, allowing those more in need to ride. It was a tough descent in the sticky 30°C heat, followed by a long walk along the abandoned railway track to the pass itself.
It’s astonishing that they even attempted this, let alone achieved it, especially as I — and many others — were struggling just to walk along it. There was a plaque commemorating Weary Dunlop, which prompted a conversation with some Australians. Surprisingly, none of them had heard of Alex.
As Karen hopped back onto the buggy for the return trip, many others suddenly requested that another one be sent down to rescue them. I declined and tackled the climb back up myself.
The walk was hard enough, but the 160 steps back up were brutal. I was breathing very heavily by the time I reached the top and rejoined Karen in the museum, where she was watching a short film about how Weary Dunlop performed amputations in the camps with no anaesthetic.
I then headed to the Happy Room and bought us some cold Coke Zeros for the next leg of the journey.
Our final stop of the day was Krasae Cave, set on a bend of the Kwai Noi River where the Death Railway hugs the cliff face. This was where POWs sheltered, rested, and prayed to the Buddha inside the cave.
We’d previously passed it by train, but this visit allowed us to go inside. What made it even more intriguing was that the entire area had been taken over by a film crew. They were clearly filming something set in wartime, complete with searchlights being tested across the railway from the opposite bank. Dozens of people were busy setting up scenes.
As we walked back to the coach, we noticed the large number of stray cats and dogs. They ignored us, though some passengers attempted to make friends — something we’d been specifically warned against when having our pre-travel jabs.
Finally, we headed to our hotel for the night, the Midas Resort, overlooking the Kwai. There was the expected scrum as room keys were distributed. Our room was large and very pleasant, but we had only 30 minutes to freshen up before heading back down for dinner in the hotel restaurant.
We went in not knowing what to expect from the Asian and International buffet, but hoping there would be something to suit the notoriously faddy Clares. We both struggled though and managed only a few pieces of chicken each. I’m not sure what was “International” about the selection, but it certainly wasn’t from any countries we recognised. There was enough melon to feed a large village.
The saving grace was the company: we sat with a couple Karen had befriended earlier in the day. They were Australian, much older than us, and refreshingly normal. We weren’t entirely sure though whether they were actually a couple or simply travelling together to avoid the single-room supplement.
By 8.30pm we were back in our room, knowing breakfast would be served at 6am sharp the next day. We supplemented dinner with granola bars we’d sensibly packed “just in case”.
By 9.30pm we were in bed, and I barely remember the light being turned off. It has been a long, tiring but worthwhile, enjoyable, thoughtful day.
