VIETNAM (1)2720 Kilometres – 53 Days25
June – 17 August 2009
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.
