029 CYCLE TOURING LAOS (2) 2009

 

CYCLING LAOS (2)
28 November – 4 December 2009
5 Days - 220 Kilometers

Photos

28 November - Jing Hong, China – Na Teuy, Laos (by bus)

Still not feeling well, and as I’d previously cycled the route on the way north, I set off to the regional bus station in search of a bus heading to the Laos border. Luckily, a bus could take both me and the bike, and it became another long and tiring bus ride.

As rules go, border requirements change continuously. Approaching the Laos immigration, a sign on the window listed all countries not being issued visas at the border any longer (mainly African countries). With a sigh of relief, South Africa’s name wasn’t spotted among them. (What a time to tell you, as by then one had already been stamped out of China but would be unable to enter Laos). This reminded me of how important it is to check border crossing details beforehand. Nevertheless, crossing into Laos was straightforward, and, simply a case of completing a form, presenting them with a mug shot, paying the money, and a few minutes later you had your visa.

Being back in Laos was good. The difference was immediately evident as chickens were sold in woven baskets by the side of the road. Stilted homes lined the streets, children, ducks and goats all wandered across the path freely. In general, things were a lot less organised than in China, which I liked. With the time already past 5 p.m. I decided to bed down and prepare for the long journey south to Bangkok.

 

29 November - Na Teuy – Luang Nam Tha – 38 km

Biking out of Na Teuy was on a cool, misty morning. Route 3 was a relatively new road and in good condition. Not only was Luang Nam Tha closer than envisaged but the road descended the best part of the way, not something I ever complained about.

Typical to Laos, kids came running as soon as they spotted a foreigner, calling “Sabaidee, falang” others merely stared dumbfounded.

Arrival in Luang Nam Tha was early and I uncovered a room and booked a one-day trek into the park the following day. Luang Nam Tha was an authentic Laos village with a handful of shops, loads of backpacker-type guesthouses and restaurants, a bank and a post office. The night market, as usual, sold cheap eats and was an excellent place to pick up a bite before bed.

 

30 November - Luang Nam Tha

The three-day hike would have been lovely, but too pricy, and instead, I settled for the one-day walk. Early morning our small group of four set off by tuk-tuk to the start of the hike.

Walking in the forest, past waterfalls and thick indigenous forests was marvellous. Midday we were served a traditional lunch of sticky rice and vegetables. The hike ended at a small hilltop village where tea was served and where one could taste the famous Lao Whiskey (moonshine) - it genuinely took your breath away!

 

1 December - Luang Nam Tha – Vieng Phoukha – 60 km

Upon leaving, the morning mist was still lying thick in the valley. The day’s ride was a short but picturesque one with mountains, covered in a lush, dense forest along both sides of the road. For the most part, the route was downhill, making an enjoyable ride. En route I met a fellow female cyclist on a two-month biking holiday in South East Asia. We chatted a while and I was happy heading south and not north.

A roadside cave was begging to be explored, and a keeper collected a small fee to guide one through the cave. Good thing as well, as the cave was black as night and at least the keeper had a torch (albeit weak).

Reaching Vieng Phoukha was around lunchtime where I located an excellent guesthouse with wooden bungalows upon stilts overlooking the river. The place was tranquil and peaceful and the landlady was extremely accommodating, making the place an ideal overnight stop.

The vegetable soup from her humble kitchen made a tasty meal. By evening, more food was served, this time vegetables (predominantly water spinach fried in a wok with soybean sauce, garlic and chillies) served with sticky rice. Sticky rice was the main stable in Lao and was eaten with virtually anything. So sticky was the rice one had to tear it apart, roll it in a ball and then dip it in your food. The rice was served in a woven basket or wrapped in a banana leaf - immensely filling and chewy.

 

2 December - Vieng Phouka - Houei Xai – 122 km

I knew the day would be a long, slow one and departed early, at least by my standards, but not until being served breakfast by my friendly host. Once the early morning mist burnt off, the day became most pleasant. Although the day started promising a few nasty hills were encountered. The path deteriorated, becoming gravel in parts, making a dusty ride to the next village. Keen to reach the border town of Houei Xai, I pushed onward regardless.

During my ride I met three more cyclists heading north and after chatting a while we wished each other Godspeed, and resumed our travels. The route was again scenic (like all of Laos), and a pleasure out on the bike. The way south led past numerous settlements, rivers and valleys. Rivers were the central bathing spot, and early afternoon it became a noisy affair with kids laughing and squealing as the whole community was there to take their daily bath.

Following a good day of cycling, I pedalled into Houei Xai at around 17h00, all sweaty and dusty and booked into the first available guesthouse.

 

3 December - Houei Xai

Houei Xai was a small one-lane village along the Mekong River banks, sporting a plethora of guesthouses and food carts. I handed in my laundry and spent the day strolling along the river. By evening, Ernest reappeared and, as was the case with me, looked hot, dusty and sweaty.

 

4 December - Houei Xai

One more day was spent in little Houei Xai, and there wasn’t much more to do but watch the sunset over the Mekong River.

027 CYCLE TOURING LAOS (1) - 2009

LAOS (1) 2009
1304 Kilometres – 28 Days
17 August – 13 September 2009

MAP

Photos

 

17 August - Bao Lao, Vietnam – Xepon, Laos – 50 Kilometers

The Vietnam/Laos border crossing came without a great deal of difficulty. All one needed was an application form, $35 and a photo. Unfortunately, there were no ATMs on the Laos side and Ernest returned to draw money on the Vietnamese side, which could then be changed to Lao kip. I didn’t particularly appreciate changing money at borders as it was a tricky affair and seldom a win-win situation. But, at least it provided enough local currency to reach Savannakhét, the next sizable town.

Laos immediately appeared more laidback, less populated and with fewer motorbikes than Vietnam. People carried their wares in woven baskets on their backs or shoulder poles, and friendly kids called “Sapadii, felang”, making me instantly fall in love with Laos. The first day of riding in Laos came with stunning vistas and a few hills.

 

18 August – Sepong (Xepon) – Donghen (Dong Hen) – 133 Kilometers

The route between Sepong and Donghen was pleasantly undulated past dense forests, valleys, rivers and waterfalls. Like the previous day, children called, “Sapadii, falang”, translating to “Hello, foreigner”, from their stilted homes where water buffalo, goats, chickens and black pigs roamed freely. Our route led past small villages and Buddhist temples surrounded by rice fields. The air was fresh and smelled of herbs, cow dung and smoke from charcoal fires, coupled with scenes of women preparing food on open fires and small children herding cattle reminded of Africa.

The rest of the day consisted of overtaking villagers going to the market in basic, wooden, homemade carts and others in equally minimalistic longboats heading upriver. Finally, following a hundred and thirty-three kilometres and dodging chickens, goats and small black pigs an unexpected roadside guesthouse at Dong Hen rolled into view. This small settlement made a perfect overnight stop.

 

19 August – Donghen - Savannakhet – 73 Kilometers

The ride to Savannakhet was lovely, rural, and scenic, with tiny settlements and roadside markets. It was a pleasure out on the bike. The slight breeze was barely enough to cool us down, and I sweated buckets. Upon arrival in Savannakhet, time remained to find accommodation at a leisurely pace. Before unpacking, Ernest searched for bike spares, but to no avail.

With a large section of the population being Buddhist, finding vegetarian food was easier than in Vietnam. I used this luxury well and found a decent plate of food at a pittance. Sticky rice seemed the staple and was eaten with each meal. Rice boiled in a banana leaf was also popular.

Once again, I bought a SIM card, but, as was the case in Vietnam, one could send SMSs but not receive any.

 

20-21 August - Savannakhet

Savannakhet was a maze of crumbling French colonial buildings and old Buddhist temples. But, as always, sunset was the best time to be out, and people sat outside eating from roadside stalls while old men played board games and kids ran amok. Hundreds of food carts lined the river frontage and villagers sat on kindergarten chairs, chatting and watching the sunset over the Mekong River.

Being Buddhist “Lent” we woke to the sound of gongs and monks chanting prayers, a wonderfully peaceful way to start one’s day. There seemed even more than the usual amount of street food available. It was a novelty sampling all the strange and delicious dishes.

Ernest spent a considerable part of the day fiddling with his bike, which was in constant need of attention.

 

22 August - Savannakhet – Tha Khaek – 131 Kilometers

After an additional day in Savannakhet, the time came to start heading north. The slightly hilly route came with a cloud cover, making comfortable riding. Lunch was noodle soup from a mobile cart, and I could’ve sworn it contained frog legs, but then one never knows what ingredients are in the dish.

 

23 August - Tha Khaek

A day of leisure was spent in Tha Khaek (Thakhaek). Although there were interesting caves nearby, Ernest was uninterested in visiting them. So instead of dragging him along, I hopped on a tuk-tuk to investigate these caves. Afterwards, I did my laundry and chatted to kind monks at temples. Tha Khaek was a lovely little village with a riverside setting, old French-built buildings and quaint restaurant/coffee shops. All this made pleasant meandering along the riverfront, watching men fish in longtail boats and ladies peddling wovenware from shoulder poles.

By evening, I got a takeaway pizza and beer. I enjoyed my food overlooking the Mekong River with Thailand across the opposite bank. Like a true South African, Ernest found it difficult to walk past anything resembling a barbeque. To his surprise, he found not chops and sausage but pig intestines and a bowl of crickets.

 

24 August - Tha Khaek - Vieng Kham - 107 Kilometers

Ernest and I, parted ways and, in the morning, I continued with an immense sense of freedom. The first few kilometres followed the “Great Wall of Lao”. This kilometres-long Kamphaeng Nyak wall was a geological phenomenon caused by fissures. Still, its physical resemblance to a human-made structure led to many Lao myths about its origin. Based upon legend, the wall was an animal trap built by ancient giant-like people. Others say it was made as a defence system, and some guessed the wall was used to stem floodwaters from the Mekong.

I felt good following a day of rest, but the euphoria didn’t last long. Shortly beyond The Great Wall, my front wheel started wobbling like an eggbeater. The damaged hub made going in a straight line downright challenging.

Being a rural part of Laos I wobbled past ladies tending cattle or driving goats to better feeding grounds. As has become the norm, the road continued past modest Buddhist temples and kids on bicycles who found it the highlight of their day to give chase.

A bizarre roadside market sold enormous cockroaches, dried frogs, grilled squirrels and cut-up monitor lizards. Seeing lizard feet on a plate made me uncomfortable.

A hundred and seven kilometres and seven hours later (cycling time, not including stopping), I finally crawled into Vieng Kham, completely exhausted.

Lo and behold, would Ernest not be at the same guesthouse. It was probably not unusual as the guesthouse was practically the only place to stay within a stretch of 200 kilometres. None were thrilled to see the other, but I was too exhausted to care. Never a dull moment.

 

25 August - Vieng Kham

In the morning, I looked around for a new front hub but only found an old, rusty, second-hand one, probably from the 1800s. Ernest must’ve had a plan up his sleeve as he offered to fit the hub and spent the best part of the day doing so. I knew this would cost me later, as he needed new bike parts, but I’d little choice and accepted his offer.

 

26 August - Vieng Kham – Pakxan – 92 Kilometers

I was as happy as the proverbial pig as my bike ran like a dream compared to my previous ride. Unfortunately, Ernest struggled with limited gears. Hopefully, all could be repaired in Vientiane, a hundred and fifty kilometres away.

The views were sublime, and no wonder the area was such a popular travelling destination. The stretch of road between Vientiane and Savannakhét formed part of the “Golden Triangle”. We thus encountered several motorbikes, moving slightly faster than us.

Almost halfway to Pakxan was the Kading River, a large tributary of the Mekong. The road crossed at the confluence of the two rivers via a Russian-built bridge commemorating the first person in space. Yuri Gagarin, a Soviet pilot and cosmonaut, was the first human to journey into outer space when his Vostok spacecraft completed an orbit of Earth on 12 April 1961. What a brave man and a true explorer.

The river was a popular stopping place for superstitious truck drivers who would light a cigarette before crossing the bridge. Once lit, they would toss the burning cigarette into the river below, to appease the legendary water serpent believed to live in the river mouth.

 

27 August - Pakxan – Pak Ngum – 90 Kilometers

From Pakxan to Pak Ngum was a lazy day of cycling, accompanied by two-wheeled tractors (for lack of a better word) pulling homemade wooden carts, loaded with jovial ladies in conical hats. Scores of “Sapadee, falang” came from children and small villages and Buddhist temples jutted out of the forest around every corner. Even though kids were super friendly, they would run to the safety of their mother’s apron as soon as one stopped to take a picture. Others would stand stock-still, allowing one to take a picture, and then shyly retreated to their homes.

Our path followed the Mekong River; from time to time the route ran flush next to the river, and at times veered inland, only to meet up with the river a few kilometres further. Water buffalo enjoyed the abundance of water and villagers sold smoked fish and other delicacies at roadside markets.

 

28-31 August - Pak Ngum – Vientiane - 70 Kilometers

It didn’t take long to get to Laos’s capital, and Vientiane was one of the most accessible capital cities by bicycle. We pedalled straight to the bike shop to inquire about Ernest’s all-important spare parts - only to find the shop locked. Neighbours told us the owner was away in Thailand and would return after the weekend. First thing Monday morning, we returned to the shop, but still, it was closed. This time, neighbours informed the owner would be back the next day.

Waiting wasn’t all bad, as walking the streets of Vientiane was pleasant. Touristy shops sold beautiful handmade jewellery and silk items, and the lack of rip-offs and touts made relaxing exploring. The river frontage came alive at sunset whilst an aroma of barbequed meat filled the air.

 

1-4 September – Vientiane

The following day, the bike shop was open and I bought a new hub which Ernest insisted on fitting. I preferred the bike shop to do the work as it usually worked out less expensive. The chainring Ernest required needed to be ordered from Thailand and would take a few days, and I handed my bike in for a service.

From Vientiane, plans were to cycle toward China, and we thus visited the Chinese consulate. The visa application seemed far too easy as the single requirement was a simple application form, and instructions to return in three days to collect the visas. Amazingly, it appeared I’d a Chinese visa, but I felt like the proverbial dog not quite sure what to do with it.

In the meantime, Ernest and I sought less pricey accommodation, as Vientiane would be home at least three more days. While investigating the city, I found the “Blue Banana” pub/restaurant, with air-con and Wi-Fi. There one could sit all day drinking a cold beer (over ice - the strange things people do) and watch the world go by.

Vientiane must’ve been the world’s most laidback capital. It was so laidback quite a few Western bums were hanging around. They resembled old-time hippies, stuck in time and out of luck, bumming from travellers with sad stories of money stolen and late pension payments.

 

5 September - Vientiane – Hin Hoeup – 102 Kilometers

With bikes fixed and Chinese visas in our passports, we left Vientiane, which then felt like home. The way north was picturesque, albeit with a little taste of the hills to come.

I watched in horror as a traditional cockfight took place. Even though gambling was illegal in Laos, villagers regularly organised these fights. The fight was a bloody and messy affair as roosters fought to the death for cash prizes.

 

6 September - Hin Hoeup - Vang Vieng – 65 Kilometers

From Hin Hoeup to Vang Vieng was a short but hot and hilly ride. The landscape was; nevertheless, jaw-droppingly beautiful. Vang Vieng, known as “Chill Out Town” had the most scenic location any village could hope for. Situated along the banks of the Song River and surrounded by stunning limestone cliffs, it explains why Vang Vieng was such a trendy backpacker hangout.

 

7-8 September - Vang Vien – Kasi – - Phou Khoun - 100 Kilometers

The route to Kasi was even shorter than the day before but hillier. Ernest had his fair share of bike problems but did the necessary roadside repairs.

The path climbed up over mountains and past numerous hill tribe villages. Stunning vistas continued, and Kasi was reached around 14h00, and made an excellent place to stay the night. Our early stop gave us plenty of time to sort out the bikes (hopefully, once and for all) and go to the market. Ernest bought himself a decent-sized buffalo steak at a low price. At the same time, I stuck to my usual noodles to which I added tofu purchased at the market.

The large grapefruit bought proved disappointing, hard as a rock and exceptionally dry. As with nearly all the fruit in the region, it’s eaten sprinkled with a combination of salt and chilly.

 

9 September - Phou Khoun - Xiang Ngeun – 106 Kilometers

The day consisted of a slow, hard slog up many mountains. Hills were steep and long, and we encountered at least two long climbs, one of twenty and fifteen kilometres, which took forever on our loaded bikes. We wheezed our way up the steep inclines and five kilometres an hour was about the average speed but, where there’s an up there must be a down!

Once in Xiang Ngeum, I couldn’t face cycling up one more hill, and even though Luang Prabang was a mere twenty-five kilometres away, I couldn’t be moved. The room was small, hot and windowless, but I took it anyhow as there were no other options in this tiny settlement.

 

10 September - Xiang Ngeun - Luang Prabang – 25 Kilometers

The following morning, we emerged at 5.30 to chickens’ clucking and found the morning market in full swing right upon our doorstep.

Following a short twenty-five-kilometre ride and only one hill, our path reached Luang Prabang. Luang Prabang looked like a fabulous place to investigate. Still, Ernest’s excuse was his concern about getting to the border in time and didn’t want to linger.

 

11 September - Luang Prabang – Pak Mong – 115 Kilometers

The road followed the Mekong much of the morning, and even though still with sharp ups and downs, there were no monster hills like the previous days. The scenery stayed inspiring as the route took us past many tribal villages where weaving and spinning yarn was the most important business, and which villagers washed and dried by the roadside. I was more than happy to arrive in Pak Mong where one could bed down.

 

12 September - Pak Mong – Oudom Xai – 85 Kilometers

The monster hills returned and accompanied by pelting rain, made exhausting riding. Our path became a muddy mess with massive potholes, a problem not just for cyclists, but all vehicles found the going challenging. Trucks becoming stuck, and motorbikes slipping and sliding were par for the course.

I was delighted to roll into Oudom Xai and have a warm shower and a bite to eat. By then it felt all I did was cycle and eat. At least on top of each hill was, what Ernest called, the “Welcome Committee”, hordes of children calling “Saibaidee, falang” with great enthusiasm as we approached.

 

13 September - Oudom Xai – Nateuy – 80 Kilometers

From Oudom Xia, the path let straight up the mountain, and another hard day of cycling prevailed, with hills, rain, roadwork, potholes and mud. While a slow slog the landscape remained scenic past indigenous villages and more friendly kids.

Mercifully, Oudom Xai sported a guesthouse opposite the market where Ernest bought dried buffalo meat, the closest thing to biltong he would find in that part of the world. Also at the guesthouse were two other cyclists. They were on their way south after spending two months in China. They weren’t feeling well, and were planning on taking a bus to Luang Prabang. It sounded a great deal more sensible than pushing on whilst not feeling well.

 

14 September – Nateuy, Laos– Mengla, China – 72  Kilometers

A short twenty-kilometre ride led up a moderate hill to the border followed by a smooth crossing into China. Once across the border, the ATM was more guesswork than anything else, as the machine never gave an option to choose English. In the end, it spat out a few Chinese yuan, and I was bursting with excitement to discover China.

A brand-new highway, with bridges and tunnels, ran to Mengla through an exceedingly picturesque countryside. Bike problems made cycling increasingly tricky, and stomach problems placed a damper on my new find excitement. Thank goodness, the road descended from the border to the first town in China.

At first glance, China was nothing like expected and Mengla was a modern and fast-growing border town and not very “Chinese”. I’m not sure what I’d envisaged as “very Chinese”. My first day in China wasn’t a good one. I was extremely relieved to find accommodation to lay down and spent the evening shivering under a blanket with a high fever. 

0026 CYCLE TOURING VIETNAM (1) 2009

 

VIETNAM (1)

2720 Kilometres – 53 Days

25 June – 17 August 2009

Photos

 

25 June - Svay Rieng, Cambodia - Cu Chi, Vietnam – 87 km

Under scores of “Hellos”, we left Cambodia and entered Vietnam. Already having visas meant the border crossing was an uncomplicated affair.

Once underway, the notorious motorbike traffic was immediately evident. Although the road was in good condition, the traffic was horrendous. Once in Cu Chi, our first settlement, we stayed overnight to check our new environment, change money, and check prices. The Vietnamese currency is Dong, equating to roughly seventeen or eighteen thousand Dong to one US Doller. Visiting an ATM resulted in returning with a bag full of money and I realised I needed a more substantial wallet.

My idea of investigating the Cu Chi tunnels went out the window. My cycling partner was uninterested in detours as he claimed he was biking around the world and not there to sightsee. Have you ever!

From the onset, one could tell the language would be a problem. That evening we found the menu only in Vietnamese, not all strange as we were in Vietnam after all. The restaurant owner kindly phoned a friend who spoke a little English. Still, we couldn’t manage to order a simple vegetable fried rice and received shrimp fried rice. I was starving and guzzled my fair share, only digging out the shrimp that Ernest happily added to his meal.

 

26 June - Cu Chi - Saigon – 38 km

Saigon had over 3 million motorcycles, finding the way congested by motorbikes thus wasn't surprising. Moreover, Saigon was a vast sprawling area, spreading practically from the Cambodian border to the South China Sea. The ride thus was a short but stressful one. However, once in the city centre, finding accommodation wasn’t all difficult as there were hundreds of hotels but finding a specific one was quite tricky.

Once settled, a walk to the market revealed a modern buzzing city jam-packed with tall slick skyscrapers next to ramshackle eateries and motorbike repair shops. Pavements were lined by carts selling large varieties of goods. Ernest even bought new underwear (thank goodness) and not any old underwear but Kalvin Klein. The price, however, suggested it wasn’t the real McCoy.

Almost all referred to the city by its old name, “Saigon”, instead of TP Ho Chi Ming city. The only one’s referring to the city by its proper name seemed the officialdom.

 

27 June - Saigon

Watching the thousands of motorbikes scooting through town was a fascinating affair. The Vietnamese balance on bikes was quite extraordinary, resulting in them continuing their daily lives while driving. They smoked, talked on the phone, fed babies, and delivered bowls of noodle soup, all while negotiating the hectic traffic. It was further not uncommon to see patients released from the hospital on a motorbike – an IV still attached to the arm.

A substantial portion of the day was spent in our hotel as Ernest discovered SuperSport, and lo and behold, wouldn’t South Africa be playing the British Lions? Good thing they won, as watching them lose would’ve been pretty sad. Ernest, no doubt, celebrated with the local brew.

 

28 June - Saigon - Cia Ray – 72 km

Departing Saigon meant cycling through the traffic close to fifty kilometres before being spat out in a less congested area. The ride was dead boring and offered little besides highway and traffic. Luckily, we came upon a motorbike lane, which appeared busier than the car lane. There were indeed more motorbikes than cars in Vietnam, at least by following the bike lane one stayed out of the way of the trucks and buses.

Language continued to be a significant problem. Just as you thought you’d figured out the Vietnamese for, say, hotel or vegetables, you find the word could have many different meanings.

 

29 June - Cia Ray - Phan Thiet - 96 km

The ride to Phan Thiet was unspectacular, and there seemed little of whatever I’d envisaged as Vietnamese. While there were generally friendly “hellos”, we (understandably) had the occasional “Fuck You.”

Roadside stalls sold green guavas served sprinkled with salt and chilly, an unusual but tasty combination.

Staying in Phan Thiet was primarily due to me wanting to have my laptop repaired. Unfortunately, this usually uncomplicated task was more problematic due to my lack of Vietnamese.

Phan Thiet turned out a slightly smelly town. I understood the city produced seventeen million litres of fish sauce per annum. No wonder a tad of a smell prevailed. Phan Thiet, nonetheless, sported a pretty river harbour and colourful fishing boats.

 

30 June - 1 July - Phan Thiet - Mui Ne Beach - 37 km

A short cycle took us along the coast to the seaside settlement of Mui Ne. So tiny was this settlement, at first, we overshot the turnoff. After retracing our steps, an abode right at the beach was uncovered. Sadly, my first swim in the South China Sea, wasn’t as warm as envisaged.

 

2 July - Mui Ne Beach

Two days were spent at Mui Ne Beach as I had bike problems. Ernest tried fixing it, but what was needed was a new bottom bracket. In the meantime, I enjoyed the beach and the excellent Vietnamese coffee. Fortunately, the coffee was served accompanied by extra hot water. Traditionally, the Vietnamese drink immensely strong coffee with a good dose of condensed milk.

 

3 July - Mui Ne Beach - Ca Na - 134 km

In the morning, we set out, anew and the way lay flat and wide in front of us. The bike squeaked and rattled and each turn of the peddle, brought a clunking sound. The climate was more arid than what we’ve become accustomed to. A substantial part of the cultivated vegetation consisted of cactus-type plants (devil fruit) – indicating less rain and more heat.

 

4 July - Ca Na - Nha Trang – 140 km

The Vietnamese generally took Siesta during the day’s heat and practically everywhere one could see people swinging in hammocks. Even at roadside shops a person first had to wake the shopkeeper who generally looked surprised at his untimely patrons.

I wasn’t sure what Ernest’s rush was, but we pushed onwards to Nha Trang and I was pretty exhausted by the time we crawled into our destination.

 

5 July - Nha Trang

Nha Trang’s many attractions made staying an additional day. First, I took to the streets exploring the historic Cham towers atop a rocky outcrop outside the town centre. Afterwards, a motorbike taxi took me to the White Buddha on top of a small hill. Finally, swimming in the South China sea’s lukewarm waters was a perfect way to end the day.

 

6 July - Nha Trang

The following morning I joined the famous Mama Linh’s Boat Tours (more a party boat than anything else) to a nearby island. The trip included snorkelling, music, dancing and a floating bar, lunch, and loads of fruit—all in all, a good day out. By evening I splashed out on pizza and following months of instant noodles, the pizza went down extraordinarily well.

 

7 July - Nha Trang - Tuy Hoa - 130 km

I felt strong and the day turned out a beautiful and scenic one. The route followed the coast, and the day became one of colour, featuring a turquoise sea, blue mountains and a cloudless sky. At times our path led inland, and we found ourselves biking amongst emerald-green rice paddies tended by grass-hatted peasants. These scenes made me feel I’d finally arrived in Vietnam.

 

8 July - Tuy Hoa - Quy Nhon - 102 km

The stretch from Tuy Hoa to Quy Nhon was awfully hilly but stunning. Such views didn’t come without hard work and it took biking up incredibly steep hills. The weather was sweltering, and we sweated buckets as we pedalled past small communities. Villagers dried rice, coconut and cassava as we biked past picturesque fishing harbours.

En route, people sat on kindergarten plastic chairs, eating bowls of noodle soup. Unfortunately, the Vietnamese were tiny, and I found the chairs far too small to eat comfortably.

Quy Nhon indicated the end of the day’s ride, but all budget rooms were fully booked, due to university entrance exams. The event resulted in fifty thousand additional people in the city. The only available establishment was an exceptionally pricey hotel. At least the price included a buffet breakfast, where I’m sure, we made a dent in the hotel’s profit.

 

9 July - Quy Nhon - Sa Huynh - 118 km

The path left the coast and veered inland over hills; the heat combined with an equally hot wind made exhausting riding. Numerous times, on this trip, I’ve been asked the question, “Why are you doing this?” On this day I asked the same. Only mad dogs and two South Africans were out in the midday heat. Even the villagers took shelter and rested in hammocks under trees.

We proceeded up and over the hills until finally, and in gathering dusk, slinked into Sa Huynh where digs were right on the beach. The place had seen better days but was a bargain at the price. The room sported an air-con and a bathtub. Unfortunately, the hot water system must’ve been faulty, as the water from the tap burned a massive blister on my arm.

Sa Huynh is a small village blessed with a beautiful beach, and hardly any tourists - a pure heaven.

 

10 July - Sa Huynh - My Khe Beach – 79 km

I was up early to catch the sunrise over the South China Sea. Even at that early hour, I could feel a scorcher of a day coming on. I wasn’t wrong either. What else is there to do but follow suit and rest in the shade, swinging in a hammock?

Ernest bought himself a new saddle and was keen to get to the end of the day to fit it. His old saddle had done service for the trip duration and was held together by duct tape.

Later we turned off at Quang Ngai to explore the Son My Memorial site. Here, more than five hundred villagers were massacred by American GIs on 16 March 1968 (known as the My Lai Massacre). The soldiers involved were sworn to secrecy, but the news eventually leaked - after which the area was bombed and ploughed over to erase the evidence. A US military photographer photographed the event, and these shocking photos are now on display in a museum on site.

On that sombre note we set off to the beach two kilometres further and located an ageing wooden bungalow upon stilts, across from the beach. The seawater was lukewarm, and being Friday evening, masses of people were at the beach, mainly from nearby Quang Ngai, enjoying the start of the weekend.

 

11 July - My Khe Beach - Vinh Dien – 125 km

From My Khe Beach to Vinh Dien the day was again marred by a long hot day of biking in oppressing heat. It felt as if only the two South Africans were out in the midday heat - even the mad dogs rested in the shade. I’m sure I would’ve burst into flames if there was a thing like spontaneous combustion. We finally made it to Vinh Dien, the turnoff to Hoi An. Again, I was beaten and called it quits and mercifully uncovered a café advertising rooms out back at a reasonable price.

 

12-15 July- Hoi An

The short pedal into Hoi An was hot and Ernest disappeared in the chaos of tourists, motorcycles, bicycles, and pedestrians. He nonetheless reappeared after I located suitable digs. Hoi An was a popular tourist destination that sported a lovely historic Old Town and it thus called for a day or two of sightseeing.

Approximately 55 km away were the My Son ancient Cham ruins (sadly what remained of these ruins were further destroyed by the Americans during the war). I decided not to visit as I was coming down with flu, and considered it best to take a rest day before heading North.

 

Hoi An

My flu became worse, and we stayed an extra day. I disliked being in the same spot for long, but there was nothing to do but wait until the flu abated.

I thought Hoi An an over-commercialised madhouse. One was constantly harassed by touts, grabbing hold of you “come see my shop”, “special price you”, “I make the nice shirt you”, “you buy something “, “very cheap manicure, pedicure, hair removal, foot massage”. They drove me bonkers.

 

16 July - Hoi An - Phu Bai – 122 km

I was eager to get going, albeit still feeling rotten. On a day I least needed it the route threw three mountain passes at us.

Even with Vietnam being a popular tourist and cycling destination, we received a fair number of stares, even calling friends and family to come to look at this spectacle. Women pointed at my uncovered arms and pulled up their noses in disgust at not covering up. In addition, the Vietnamese disapproved of being out in the midday sun getting frazzled.

I huffed, puffed and coughed up the passes and when the weather came in, at around half past four, I called it a day instead of biking the last kilometres in the rain to Hue. At least the scenery up the Hai Van Pass was magnificent.

 

17-19 July - Phu Bai - Hue – 14 km

The following day, we proceeded to Hue, where we applied for a visa extension, which came at quite a cost.

Waiting, I spent my time walking the citadel where many of Hue’s interesting sights were located, and half its population still lived within its two-meter-thick walls. Inside the citadel I found the imperial enclosure as well as a 37-meter-high flagpole, beautiful temples and pagodas, which survived the war.

Hue is located along both banks of the Perfume River and across the river from where we stayed was Hue’s largest market, the Dong Ba Market.

The Trang Tien Bridge over the river was quite spectacular at night. Ever-changing colourful lights lit up the bridge. Dragonboat look-alikes were moored along the side, begging to take anyone with cash on a sightseeing tour along the river.

 

20 July - Hue - Dong Ha – 73 km

Vietnam had many wars, first the Chinese, then the French, and then the Americans. Resulting in even the smallest hamlet having a war memorial. Moreover, Dong Ha was situated on the edge of the DMZ border (Demilitarized Zone – a strip of land along either side of the Ben Hai River, the border between North and South Vietnam). Ironically, the area became one of the most militarised regions of Vietnam during the last war. Therefore, there was no shortage of war memorials and graveyards in this area—what a waste of lives.

Sadly peasant folk continued digging around the area despite substantial warnings, searching for leftover metal to sell as scrap. As a result, even 40 years later, people are still killed by leftover mines and unexploded bombs.

 

21 July - Dong Ha - Dong Hoi – 97 km

The weather was boiling, and the sun-baked down, drying and shrivelling our skins from above. At the same time, the black tarmac radiated heat upwards, leaving us drenched in sweat.

En route to Dong Hoi, situated along the northern side of the Zone, our path crossed the DMZ. Today the area consists of peaceful rice fields and grazing water buffalo. Nevertheless, the area was littered with bomb craters, by then filled with rainwater, which the resourceful villagers used as fishponds.

At rest areas, coffee came served in a glass, about three-quarters full, but exceptionally strong and served accompanied by a bowl of ice and a straw.

Shortly before midday, rain came gushing down. As a long-distance remained to Dong Hoi, we braved the weather and continued pedalling instead of taking shelter. Thank goodness the showers were over in less than 2 hours, still, I thought it was a stupid thing to do.

Dong Hoi is blessed with a great location right upon the river. Still, one got reminded of the war as one entered the town and saw the ruins of a church bombed during the war. We located accommodation along the riverfront featuring lovely river views at seven dollars. Though the place had a fan, I still sweated buckets.

 

22 June - Dong Hoi - Ky Anh – 107 km

I was up early to catch the sunrise over the Nhat Le River, and what a beautiful display of colour. Shortly afterwards, we resumed our journey, even though the sun was relentless. Neither Ernest nor I fully recovered from the flu and felt weak and tired. The map and distance markers didn’t correspond until coming across a newly built tunnel. To our relief, climbing up and over the pass wasn't necessary. We whizzed the 500 meters through the tunnel, where the view revealed the old road winding over the mountain. The tunnel didn’t merely cut out the pass but took twelve km off the distance. Exhausted we crawled into Ky Anh; I felt weak and dizzy and had no energy. I thus ate my noodles and turned in early.

Most villagers don’t have a concept of cycling long distance and usually glaze over when you tell them where you’re from and where you’re going. The Vietnamese were no different. Biking from one country to the next genuinely baffled them. So why not take a bus or a motorbike? I’ve given up trying to explain. I don’t have a decent answer anyhow.

Ice is a big business in the tropics. In the early morning, one could see ice sellers on bicycles carting massive slabs of ice from business to business. The ice is then put in polystyrene cooler boxes; needless to say, one paid extra for everything coming out of that box.

 

23-24 July - Ky Anh - Vinh – 107 km

Our morning ritual remained unchanged: first, we drank coffee, packed panniers and loaded the bikes. My prized possession was my electric water heater used to make a quick cup of coffee. At least this little device was far less troublesome than having Ernest start up his MSR stove.

Again, a blistering hot day greeted us, accompanied by trucks blowing warm diesel fumes and road dust in our faces. Once the going got tough all I’d to do was look up at the magnificent landscape. Still, I felt dizzy and nauseous all day, likely due to the heat, but I stuck the iPod in my ears and battled on. I must’ve gone through the whole caboodle Jimmy Hendrix, Led Zeppelin, Queen, or anything with a half-decent beat would’ve done.

Vinh made a good enough spot to recover from our flu, and we stayed in bed the next day. Ernest concocted a fruit salad as well as a green salad hoping it would aid the recovery process.

 

25 July - Vinh - Tinh Gia – 115 km

The next day turned out significantly better as I’d either finally recovered from the flu or it wasn’t as hot as the preceding days. Whatever the reason, I was delighted with the improved circumstances. The best part of the day I listened to great music from yesteryear, including Eric Clapton, Jeff Buckley, Pink Floyd, and Bob Marley, and the day flew by.

Although the route wasn’t busy with cars there remained a significant number of trucks and busses, at least they usually made their presence known by a friendly toot when coming up behind you, at times loud enough to blow you off the bike. Traffic in Vietnam appeared to drive on, more commonly known as, the “Egyptian brake”, hoot and go. Then, early morning, we witnessed a young lady on a bicycle killed by a truck. Her family sat weeping around the body. This put me in a pensive mood; it’s final, no take two, no replay, it’s game over.

By evening it took considerable time to find a suitable abode at the right price. The digs uncovered came with the compulsory comb and toothbrushes.

The interesting part was that one could buy “Bia Hoi” (draft beer) in one-litre plastic bottles at 8000 dong - (1 USD = 18000 dong). So the saying goes if one can order beer in the local lingo you’ve pretty much mastered the language; if that was indeed the case then my Vietnamese was coming on nicely.

 

26 July - Tinh Gia - Ninh Binh – 119 km

As “Bia Hoi” was sold at roadside eateries, drinking and driving didn’t seem a significant offence. Spotting a Vietnamese who’d been drinking was relatively easy as their faces turned bright red. When a red-faced Vietnamese on a motorbike pulled up next to you, sending an SMS one-handed while holding a cigarette in the other, it’s best to get out of the way.

We stayed in Ninh Binh an extra day, relaxing and doing laundry and other chores. The evening was spent socialising with two other cyclists, James and Tracey from the UK, whom we’d previously met in Siem Reap, Cambodia.

 

27-28 July - Ninh Binh - Hanoi – 96 km

The route into Hanoi was flat, scenic, and uncomplicated but came with punctures and horrendous traffic. At least the weather was slightly better with only a tad of a drizzle. Unfortunately, once in the city, rain came bucketing down. Finding lodging in the old town's narrow lanes where street names changed every few blocks, took forever. Hanoi’s old quarters were a maze of narrow alleys congested by tourists and Vietnamese alike. The streets and pavements were jam-packed with peasant peddlers in conical hats selling various goods and nibbles.

 

29 July - 4 August - Hanoi

In the morning, we went to the Chinese embassy to apply for our onward visas. The news that South Africans couldn’t obtain a Chinese visa in Vietnam was a total shock. We were stunned and quite speechless. But then, when cycle touring, not a single day is without a surprise.

Still, I was secretly pleased as it meant I could cycle Laos. I further thought that the most scenic part of China was the Yunnan and Sichuan Provinces. Yay, to the authorities in Hanoi!

In the meantime, I arranged with my sister to send me a new bottom bracket and a few other spares, which would take a few days to arrive. In the subsequent days, I handed in my laptop to be repaired and spend the rest of the time eating, drinking, and exploring. While investigating the pedestrian lanes, I came upon the grilled dog restaurants. Prepared on a spit, they weren’t much different from a pig on a spit – still, it was weird.

On one of my walkabouts, I met Marc, a Canadian cyclist. We’d previously met in Nepal and I saw him in Bangkok. By evening the 3 of us frequented a pizza restaurant offering “eat as much as you can”. Don’t tell that to a cyclist if you’re planning on making a profit.

Early the following morning Ernest locked himself in the bathroom, as the door handle malfunctioned. His call for help reminded me of “The Way Up To Heaven” by Roald Dahl. After considerable deliberation I eventually passed him his cycle tools through the air vent. But then, taking all our discord, I should’ve paid for the room a week and pedalled out of there. Hahahaha!

 

5 August - Hanoi – Hai Phong – 109 km

The best was to backtrack and cross the border into Laos further South. Well-fed and rested, we eventually got underway. The day’s ride wasn’t scenic as we stuck to the main road which led to the coast—nearly the entire area was built up and came with hectic traffic. Mercifully, a large part of the way had a cycle path. Even though used as a market and clogged by loaded bicycles and other forms of transport, it remained a blessing. At least fruit carts were abundant (predominantly peaches), which were eaten sprinkled with a mixture of salt and chilli powder.

 

6 - 7 August - Hai Phong – Cat Ba Island - By ferry (14 km)

We bike to the pier, where I surmised we were overcharged. The ferry turned out to be a real rust bucket, not a car ferry (as led to believe). Instead, our bikes had to go on the roof atop bags of rice, crates of noodles, and casks of Bia Hoi. Communism was genuinely dead, and Capitalism was very much alive.

The two-hour trip to Cat Ba Island was nevertheless spectacular. Cat Ba Island is a nature reserve sporting a craggy and rocky coastline. The island was sparsely populated, and we bedded down at an 8-dollar abode. Still, the room overlooked the “hotel strip” and fishing harbour - a brilliant sight. Staying the following day came easy as the weather came in, and we watched a fantastic display of thunder and lightning thru the bedroom window.

The island was popular with both domestic and international tourists. As is the case at other holiday venues in Vietnam, Karaoke and Massage was available at every second shop (aka “Singing & Sex”). Like nearly all men, Ernest loved how the “girls” were trying to drag him in for “massage boom-boom”.

 

8 August - Cat Ba Island – Ha Long City - By ferry (37 km)

Eventually, I dragged Ernest, kicking, and screaming, from Cat Ba Town. The ride to the harbour at the island's northern ends was a hilly but extraordinarily scenic twenty-two-kilometre ride. Luckily, we were in time to catch the car ferry which took us across Ha Long Bay to Ha Long City. Words cannot describe the scenery and photographs cannot capture the beauty of the rocky island cliffs and absurd rock pinnacles jutting out of the sea.

Once in Ha Long City, situated, on the mainland, we proceeded to “hotel alley”, where it was easy to uncover an abode. The nearby market sold vegetables to accompany our noodles as well as freshly grilled tofu to add to the pot.

Afterwards, I did my dreaded laundry in the bathroom waste bin. If there were one thing going to get me down, it would be the darn laundry.

 

9 August - Ha Long City – Bieu Nghi – 27 km

Barely out of the city, we noticed a small hotel sporting ground-floor rooms. So unusual was this in Vietnam, we immediately pulled in. Most of the Vietnam buildings were long, narrow and straight up, like matchboxes on their side.

Ernest did my bike's maintenance work and fitted the new parts. I don’t think the people at this establishment have ever had foreign guests, and Ernest had a constant audience as well as willing helpers. Sadly, the job went wrong, and the bike has never been the same. I’m pretty aware that people may think me harsh or relentless. Still, I prefer using professional people to do the job.

 

10 August - Bieu Nghi – Nam Dinh – 127 km

Albeit hot, the day turned out effortless riding and we rode into Nam Dinh earlier than anticipated. Finding lodging was, however, more complex. This wasn’t a touristy area. The only two establishments available were a house of ill repute and an expensive hotel. I couldn’t even locate an ATM. Being out of money, the only option was to stay at the pricey one where I could pay using a bank card.

The hotel was extremely comfortable and had all the mod cons, even a bathtub of which good use was made.

 

11 August - Nam Dinh – Tinh Gia – 135 km

We took off in the rain, rain which intensified by the minute. By mid-morning, the sky was so dark one could’ve assumed it was dusk. One of the feared offshore typhoons (gloomily reported on TV) had crept ashore. Luckily, the wind was on our backs. Our Vietnamese visas were valid for only a few more days, and it took pushing hard to reach the Laos border. Unfortunately, the relentless rain accompanied by thunder and lightning, terrible traffic, maintenance works, and flooding didn’t make the task any easier. Ernest hit a flooded pothole, puncturing his front tyre – no fun unpacking tools and doing repairs in those conditions.

Somehow, by 5 pm, we managed to finish the day’s ride at our target destination. After a shower and a hot cup of soup, I felt a great deal better. Phew, what a task cycling 135 km under those conditions.

 

12 August - Tinh Gia – Vinh – 102 km

Backtracking is never fun; at least the distance was short, giving plenty of time to chat with villagers and enjoy their version of Red Bull.

Finding a bush to use as a toilet wasn’t easy in a country like Vietnam. The total land area is approximately 330,000 sq km and the population 84 million. Compared to South Africa with 1,219,912 sq km, and (I think) about 55 million people. There’s thus no privacy, but when you must go, you must go.

Upon arrival in Vinh, we did the necessary shopping and searched for lodging.

 

13 August - Vinh - Ky Anh – 103 km

I couldn’t find my rhythm. My legs felt weak and my backside sore. I’m sure this was all mental, or maybe it was due to going to bed late and only eating instant noodles. I’d to dig deep and had to call in the help of the iPod and a Reb Bull. Still, we slinked in Ky Anh, situated around a rice paddy, early.

Ernest, as usual, rushed to the market to get foodstuff while I contemplated how many days one can cycle in the same clothes.

 

14 August - Ky Anh – Dong Hoi – 94 km

A person can go months and months without a puncture and then, suddenly, it’s one flat tyre after the other. This time I had the puncture and assumed my tires were wearing thin. We grinded into a headwind all day and eventually reached Dong Hoi into a stiff breeze at around 15h00, leaving plenty of time to do the usual shopping.

I was peed off as the air-con didn’t work and neither did the Wi-Fi, especially after being assured of both at check-in.

 

15 August - Dong Hai - Dong Ha – 97 km

Still, we backtracked across the DMZ with its bomb craters and onwards to Dong Ha. At least the ever-present sugarcane juice sellers prevailed, serving sugarcane with lemon juice and salt over ice, just the thing a weary cyclist needed. Fortunately, this was our last day of backtracking as Dong Ha signalled the Laos border turnoff.

 

16 August - Dong Ha - Lao Bao – 83 km

The stretch to the border ran in a westerly direction past plenty of wartime relics including Camp Carroll and the well-known Khe Sanh Combat Base, which crossed numerous paths collectively known as the Ho Chi Minh Trails. We climbed up hills and overpasses that sported views of beautiful valleys and fields. The hill tribes encountered differed from the Vietnamese met along the coast. Mostly, they lived in bamboo woven huts upon stilts, dressed in traditional sarong-like skirts, and carried their goods in woven baskets on their backs (instead of the bamboo pole with the two baskets dangling from each end).

The border town of Lao Bao meant the end of our rushed visit to Vietnam. It would be years before I could return to investigate Vietnam at my own pace, an experience I thoroughly enjoyed.

Lao Bao made a welcome overnight spot from where to cross the border in the morning. Ernest set out to the market and returned minutes before another storm broke.

 

17 August - Bao Lao, Vietnam – Xepon, Laos – 50 km

The Vietnam/Laos border crossing came without difficulty, and all one needed was an application form, $35 and a photo. Unfortunately, there were no ATMs on the Laos side, and Ernest returned to draw money on the Vietnamese side, which could then be changed to Lao kip. I didn’t particularly appreciate doing this, as changing money at borders was tricky and seldom a win-win situation. But, at least it provided enough currency to get us to Savannakhét, the next sizable town.

Laos immediately appeared more laidback, less populated and with fewer motorbikes than Vietnam. People carried their wares in woven baskets on their backs or on shoulder poles, and friendly kids shouted “Sapadii, Felang”, making me instantly fall in love with Laos. The first day of biking in Laos offered stunning vistas and a few hills.