So we worked with the river instead of against it.

In the wet season, when the Tonlé Sap Lake rises to its fullest, we carefully drove the Queen Tara up onto the mudflats. No concrete slipway. No cranes. Just timing, experience, and a deep respect for the lake. Once she was settled, we shut her down and waited.

And waited.

As the months passed, the water slowly receded, centimetre by centimetre, until the lake finally released its grip and left her standing high and dry on the exposed flats. What nature had lifted, nature now set down — perfectly positioned for the work ahead.

Only then could the real inspection begin.

Up close, the years showed themselves. Rusted sections, thinning steel, the kind of wear that comes not from neglect but from a long working life. Welding plate after plate would have been endless, costly, and temporary. Instead, we made the decision to reinforce her entire hull from the inside, giving her a new structural skin rather than chasing individual weaknesses.

For months, the Queen Tara sat quietly on the mudflats as the ferrocement lining took shape inside her hull. Slow work. Careful work. The kind that doesn’t look impressive day to day, but changes everything in the long run.

When the wet season returned, the lake rose again — just as patiently as it had fallen. Water crept back around her keel, lifted her gently, and one day she was afloat once more. Stronger. Sealed. Ready.

That was in 2015.

Nearly a decade later, the result speaks for itself: not a single leak. The Queen Tara still carries her history in her steel and timber, but beneath the waterline she holds a quiet strength born from planning, persistence, and a deep understanding of the river she calls home.