VIETNAM (1)
Pedals & Passages: Cycling Vietnam’s Heartbeat
2720 Kilometres – 53 Days25
June – 17 August 2009
Photos
FLIP-BOOK
Introduction: Into the Unknown
Every journey begins with a single pedal stroke. In the summer of
2009, I set out with my cycling partner, Ernest, to traverse the length of
Vietnam—53 days, 2,720 kilometre, and a lifetime’s worth of memories. This is
the story of that journey: the landscapes, the people, the challenges, and the
triumphs that shaped every kilometre.
Chapter 1:
Crossing Borders
Svay Rieng, Cambodia to Cu Chi, Vietnam – 87 km
Under a flood of cheerful "Hellos," we
bid farewell to Cambodia and crossed into the vibrant realm of Vietnam. The
border crossing was a breeze, thanks to our visas—smooth sailing all the way.
As we hit the road, the infamous motorbike traffic made its grand entrance.
Despite the well-maintained roads, the chaos of honking bikes was a sight to
behold.
Our first stop was Cu Chi, a mere 87 kilometres
down the drag, where we decided to spend the night, soaking in the atmosphere,
exchanging currency, and checking local prices. The Vietnamese Dong was a
whirlwind of numbers, roughly 17,000 to 18,000 Dong for every US dollar. When I
hit the ATM, I emerged triumphantly with a bulging bag of cash, realizing I
truly needed a new wallet—one that could handle a little more!
Though I was eager to delve into the fascinating Cu
Chi tunnels, my cycling partner wasn’t game for any diversions. His mantra? He
was on a global biking adventure, not a sightseeing tour. Can you imagine that?
From the start, it was evident that language would
be a significant hurdle. That evening, we encountered a menu entirely in
Vietnamese—no surprise, given our location! The kind restaurant owner called a
friend who spoke a smattering of English to help us out. Despite his best
efforts, we ended up with shrimp fried rice instead of the simple vegetable
fried rice I craved. I was famished and devoured my fill, happily nudging the
shrimp onto Ernest's plate, who seemed more than pleased to indulge.
Chapter 2:
Saigon’s Symphony of Motorbikes
Cu Chi to Saigon – 38 km
Arriving in Saigon, we quickly discovered the
reality behind the rumour of over 3 million motorcycles zipping around the
city. The streets were a captivating yet overwhelming sight, with throngs of
bikes weaving around us. Saigon is vast, stretching almost from the Cambodian
border to the South China Sea, making our journey a short but heart-pounding
one.
Navigating the city centre to find accommodation
was an adventure in itself. Hotels lined the streets in droves, yet pinpointing
the exact one we were looking for proved challenging.
Once we finally settled in, a leisurely stroll
through the market revealed a city bursting with life. Skyscrapers kissed the
sky alongside quaint street stalls and motorbike repair shops. Vendors filled
the pavements, hawking an astonishing array of goods. To my relief, Ernest even
scored some new underwear—not just any underwear, but Calvin Klein! A steal, he
thought, though the price hinted it might not be the real deal.
Perhaps the most amusing surprise was how the
locals still lovingly referred to the city as “Saigon,” rather than TP Ho Chi
Minh City, a term mostly used by the officialdom.
Saigon
The vibrant hustle of Saigon swept us into its
rhythm. The sight of thousands of motorbikes zipping through the streets was
nothing short of mesmerizing. Every Vietnamese rider seemed to possess an
extraordinary balance, seamlessly conducting their daily lives on two wheels. I
watched in awe as they chatted on their phones, smoked, comforted babies, and
even delivered steaming bowls of noodle soup—all while weaving through the
chaotic traffic. It was astonishing to see a patient exiting a hospital on a motorbike,
an IV drip still swinging from their arm.
We spent a good chunk of the day in our hotel as
Ernest discovered SuperSport and learned that South Africa was set to play the
British Lions. The tension was palpable! Thankfully, they emerged victorious,
sparing us the anguish of a loss. Ernest celebrated the win with a local brew.
Chapter 3:
Coastal Roads and Mountain Passes
Saigon to Cia Ray – 72 km
Leaving Saigon was an adventure in itself, as we
navigated the frenetic traffic. The ride was lacklustre—endless stretches of
highway with little to stir the imagination. But fate smiled upon us when we
discovered a bustling motorbike lane, which surprisingly seemed busier than the
car lane. It was clear that the motorbike was king here, and sticking to their
lane not only kept us safer but ensured we avoided the relentless trucks and
buses. It took nearly fifty kilometres of cycling before finally escaping into
quieter roads.
Yet, language posed a constant challenge. Just when
I thought I had a grip on Vietnamese vocabulary, I’d stumble upon the many
meanings a single word could hold. It turned every interaction into a small
adventure of its own.
Cia Ray to Phan Thiet – 96 km
The ride to Phan Thiet was rather uneventful,
lacking the picturesque scenes I had imagined when dreaming of Vietnam. We were
greeted with friendly “hellos” from locals, yet the occasional “Fuck You”
served as a jarring reminder that not everyone was pleased to see us.
Amidst this, I discovered street vendors selling
green guavas, artfully sprinkled with salt and chili—an unexpected yet
delicious combination! My primary reason for stopping in Phan Thiet was to get
my laptop repaired. What I thought would be a quick fix quickly became a
hassle, compounded by my limited Vietnamese.
This seaside city had a strong odour, leading me to
learn it produced a staggering seventeen million litres of fish sauce each
year. That explained quite a bit! Despite this, Phan Thiet charmed us with its
pretty river harbour and colourful fishing boats bobbing gently in the water.
Phan Thiet to Mui Ne Beach – 37 km
A short cycle along Vietnam’s stunning coastline
led us to the quaint settlement of Mui Ne. So small was this gem that we
completely missed the turnoff! After some backtracking, we found the perfect
spot right at the beach. I was eager for my first swim in the South China Sea,
but to my surprise, found the water not as warm as I had hoped.
2 July – Mui Ne Beach
We opted to spend two days in Mui Ne due to my
pesky bike problems. Ernest rolled up his sleeves, attempting to fix it
himself, but it became clear I needed a new bottom bracket. While Ernest
tinkered, I soaked in the beach vibes and indulged in some of the best
Vietnamese coffee I’ve ever tasted. Naturally, it came piping hot with a side
of extra water—just how I like it. The Vietnamese tradition of sipping strong
coffee sweetened with condensed milk was a treat, and I savoured every sip.
Chapter 4:
Encounters with History and Hospitality
Mui Ne Beach to Ca Na – 134 km
As we set off the following morning, the road
before us stretched out like an endless canvas, flat and wide, inviting us to
pedal onwards. My bike, however, had its own soundtrack—a series of squeaks and
rattles, with each turn of the pedal accompanied by a clunky protest that
echoed the remnants of yesterday's repair debacle. The landscape around us was
surprisingly different; the climate had a more arid feel than the tropical
paradise we were accustomed to in Southeast Asia. Cacti dotted the scenery, particularly
devil fruit plants, hinting at the intense sun and scarce rainfall.
Ca Na to Nha Trang – 140 km
In the heat of the day, Vietnam slowed down as the
locals embraced their daily siesta—hammocks strung up everywhere, and
shopkeepers napping amidst their goods. We often found ourselves easing the
shopkeepers back into the waking world, their sleepy surprise turning into
smiles as we filled up our water bottles. Despite the laid-back rhythm around
me, Ernest seemed unusually eager to push on, and so we did, with me feeling
more drained with each pedal stroke until we finally reached Nha Trang.
A Day in Nha Trang
Nha Trang buzzed with so much to see that I decided
to linger a little longer, extending my stay for an extra day. If Ernest was
intent on racing ahead, that was his choice—I wanted to dive into exploring the
area. My day kicked off with a visit to the historic Cham towers perched on a
rocky outcrop, their ancient stories whispered by the wind. From there, a
motorbike taxi whisked me up to the majestic White Buddha, perched high on a
hill, watching over the bustling town. The day wrapped up with a refreshing
swim in the warm embrace of the South China Sea—pure bliss!
Nha Trang Adventures
The next day called for adventure aboard Mama
Linh's famous boat tours. We set sail toward a breathtaking island, where the
fun never seemed to end. Snorkelling in crystal-clear waters, dancing to upbeat
tunes, and enjoying the floating bar became the highlights of the day. The
feast of fresh, juicy fruit felt like a tropical paradise on a plate! As
evening fell, I treated myself to a mouthwatering pizza—a luxury after months
of instant noodles. Each bite was heavenly, a true gastronomic delight!
Chapter 5:
Trials & Triumphs
Nha Trang to Tuy Hoa – 130 km
To my surprise, Ernest was still around and we set
off again. The day unfolded beautifully, brimming with vivid colours as the
route hugged the coastline. The exquisite turquoise sea sparkled alongside blue
mountains under an unbroken sky. Occasionally, our path veered inland, leading
us through lush emerald-green rice paddies where grass-hatted farmers worked
diligently. It was in these moments, surrounded by such vibrant beauty, that I
truly felt like I had arrived in the heart of Vietnam. Each pedal stroke became
a celebration of the journey, the landscapes, and the lovely rhythm of life
around me.
Tuy Hoa to Quy Nhon – 102 km
The ride from Tuy Hoa to Quy Nhon was a
100-kilometer rollercoaster of hills, each steep ascent rewarded by
breathtaking views that made the struggle worthwhile. The sun beat down
mercilessly, and we were drenched in sweat as we cycled through charming little
villages, where locals were busy drying rice, coconut, and cassava beneath the
sweltering sun.
We stopped for lunch at a quaint fishing harbour.
The scene was lively, with locals savouring steaming bowls of noodle soup
perched on tiny plastic kindergarten chairs. I crouched uncomfortably, wishing
for a little more legroom.
Upon reaching Quy Nhon, we were met with an
unexpected challenge: every budget room was fully booked due to the university
entrance exams, adding a whopping fifty thousand extra people to the city’s
population! Our only option was a pricier hotel, but at least it came with a
lavish buffet breakfast—trust me, we certainly made a dent in their profits!
Quy Nhon to Sa Huynh – 118 km
By morning, we left the coast behind and headed
inland through hilly terrain. The heat radiated like a furnace, with a hot wind
that added to our exhaustion. I found myself echoing the question we’d been
asked countless times on this trip: “Why are we doing this?” It felt like only
the two South Africans and mad dogs braved the midday sun, as even the
villagers sought refuge in the cool shade of trees.
We conquered the hills and finally, after 120 kilometres,
rolled into Sa Huynh. This small village, blessed with pristine beaches and an
absence of tourists, felt like paradise. Our accommodation, though showing
signs of age, was a steal. The room boasted an air conditioner and a
bathtub—until I discovered that the hot-water system was less than reliable,
leaving me with a painful blister from the scalding tap water.
Chapter 6: “Come
see my shop”
Sa Huynh to My Khe Beach – 79 km
I woke up early the next day to capture the sunrise
over the South China Sea, the sky painted in breathtaking hues. The heat was
already creeping in, promising another scorching day.
During the day Ernest bought about getting a new
saddle; the old one barely held together with duct tape after miles of terrain.
A detour took us through Quang Ngai, where we
visited the Son My Memorial site. This powerful location once bore witness to
the My Lai Massacre, where over five hundred villagers lost their lives on
March 16, 1968. The chilling accounts and haunting photographs displayed in the
museum served as haunting reminders of the brutality of the American war.
With a sombre reflection, we pressed on, just two kilometres
further to find an aging wooden bungalow perched on stilts right by the beach.
The seawater was pleasantly lukewarm, and being a Friday evening, the beach was
buzzing with locals from Quang Ngai celebrating the start of the weekend.
My Khe Beach to Vinh Dien – 125 km
The journey from My Khe Beach to Vinh Dien was
another 125-kilometer, sweat-drenched challenge. Fortunately, ice is always
available in the tropics. In the early hours, we watched ice sellers whisking
by on bicycles, transporting hefty slabs of ice to businesses. The moment
something was served from those polystyrene cooler boxes, it would be icy cold.
Once again, it felt like the only humans braving
the midday heat were the two of us, as even the local dogs lounged in the
shade. I could almost feel my energy evaporating in the scorching sun, but
after what felt like an eternity, we finally arrived in Vinh Dien—the gateway
to Hoi An. I was utterly spent and gratefully stumbled upon a hidden café,
offering budget-friendly rooms, as a well-deserved respite at the end of
another exhausting but fulfilling day.
Hoi An
The short ride to Hoi An felt like a furnace blast,
the sun beating down as I navigated through a whirlwind of tourists,
motorcycles, bicycles, and pedestrians. Just as I was starting to feel
overwhelmed, Ernest disappeared in the chaos to do his shopping only to
reappear once I had found a room.
Hoi An, with its enchanting historic Old Town,
beckoned for a day or two of adventure, and I couldn’t resist immersing myself
in its charm.
Roughly 55 kilometres away stood the My Son ancient
Cham ruins—an intriguing site, though tarnished by the ravages of history and
the war. Unfortunately, my own battle with the flu kept me from venturing
there. Listening to my body’s pleas for rest, I decided to hunker down for the
day and save my energy for the journey ahead.
But as luck would have it, my flu didn’t just
whisper; it howled, forcing us to linger an extra day. While I often find
comfort in movement, I found myself trapped in this vibrant yet overwhelming
place, waiting for the haze of illness to clear.
Hoi An struck me as a magnet for tourists, frantic
and over-commercialized. Everywhere I turned, I was bombarded by persistent
touts—“Come see my shop!” “Special price for you!” “I can make you a beautiful
shirt!” The relentless barrage about manicures, pedicures, and foot massages
drove me to the brink. I longed for a bit of peace amid the bustling market
streets.
Chapter 7: The
Hai Van Pass
Hoi An to Phu Bai – 122 km
The next day, feeling still below par but
determined to move on, I set off with a mix of eagerness and apprehension. As
fate would have it, the route ahead threw three daunting mountain passes my
way. Despite Vietnam's appeal as a cycling hotspot, I often felt like a
sideshow, receiving curious stares and calls from locals who gathered to
witness my struggle, amused by my exposed arms in the sweltering sun. It seemed
that cycling under the midday sun was far from the Vietnamese norm.
As I huffed, puffed, and coughed my way up the
hills, I was rewarded with breathtaking views from the Hai
Van Pass, a stunning backdrop that made every hard turn feel worthwhile.
However, as dark clouds gathered ominously around 4:30 PM, I decided it was
wiser to stop and save myself from battling the rain all the way to Hue.
17–19 July – Phu Bai to Hue – 14 km
The next morning, we rolled into Hue, a city ripe
with history. Our first task was to apply for a costly visa extension, but
while we waited, I seized the moment to explore the majestic citadel. This
sprawling complex was a treasure trove, filled with enchanting temples,
pagodas, and the imposing imperial enclosure where history whispered among the
ancient walls. A staggering 37-meter-high flagpole stood sentinel, a testament
to the city's resilience.
Hue, straddling both banks of the Perfume River,
added to its allure. Just across the way, Dong Ba Market buzzed with
life—vendors hawked their goods, and the air was thick with the aroma of local
delicacies. At night, the Trang Tien Bridge transformed into a kaleidoscope of colours,
its lights dancing in the reflections below, while dragon boat replicas bobbed
alongside, tempting me with promises of scenic river tours. Each moment in this
vibrant city was a reminder of the rich stories waiting to unfold.
Hue to Dong Ha – 73 km
Vietnam is a land steeped in history and stories of
resilience, having fought off invaders from the Chinese to the French and
Americans. As we made our way through, it felt like every small hamlet had a
war memorial—a poignant reminder of the countless lives lost. Dong Ha, perched
on the edge of the DMZ (Demilitarized Zone) along the Ben Hai River, was no
exception. Ironically, despite its significance as a peaceful border, it became
one of the most militarized regions during the war, turning a once serene landscape
into a somber testament to conflict.
Even now, decades later, local farmers continue to
dig through this contested earth, searching for scrap metal to sell. It’s
heartbreaking to know that even 40 years on, unexploded bombs and mines still
claim innocent lives.
Dong Ha to Dong Hoi – 97 km
During the 97-kilometer ride from Dong Ha to Dong
Hoi, the sun was relentless—a blazing orb in the sky that turned the road into
a heated ribbon beneath us. As we cycled towards Dong Hoi, we crossed the DMZ,
an area that has transformed into lush rice fields where water buffalo graze
peacefully. Yet, remnants of the past linger in the form of bomb craters, now
filled with rainwater—somehow, resourceful villagers have turned these scars
into fishponds for their livelihoods.
During our breaks, we savoured strong coffee served
in glasses three-quarters full, with ice floating and a straw sticking
out—sweet, refreshing, and just what we needed. As we pressed on, dark clouds
gathered, and before long, rain began to fall in torrents. Rather than seeking
shelter, we forged ahead, our soaked clothes clinging to us. Fortunately, the
rain let up within a couple of hours, but I secretly wondered if we were being
a bit reckless.
Upon arrival in Dong Hoi, the town welcomed us with
scenic views along the river, but a haunting reminder of the war was evident in
the ruins of a bombed church. We lucked out with our accommodation—a riverside
place with stunning views and an inviting price tag. Despite a ceiling fan
whirring above, the heat left me drenched and yearning for a cool breeze.
Chapter 8:
The Road North
Dong Hoi to Ky Anh – 107 km
I rose with the sun to witness a breathtaking
display of colours painting the Nhat Le River. As we continued our journey, the
sun blared down harder than ever. I often found myself explaining my cycling
adventure to the locals, and their puzzled faces reflected a deep cultural
gap—biking long distances across countries is not a familiar concept here.
Their confused inquiries about why I didn’t opt for a bus or motorbike often
left me stumped.
Ernest and I were still feeling the lingering
effects of the flu, our energy sapped. Navigating the map was once again a
challenge, especially when we stumbled upon a newly constructed tunnel. To our
delight, the tunnel allowed us to avoid a steep mountain pass, shortening our
journey by 12 kilometres. Finally reaching Ky Anh, I was exhausted and dizzy,
craving nothing more than a bowl of noodles before collapsing into bed early.
Ky Anh to Vinh – 107 km
Our morning routine felt like a well-rehearsed
performance: downing strong coffee, packing our panniers, and loading our
bikes. I cherished my electric water heater for its convenience—far less hassle
than Ernest’s method of firing up his MSR stove.
However, the day turned blisteringly hot, with
trucks belting out diesel fumes and dust swirling around us. The heat left me
dizzy and nauseous, but I found solace in the soaring landscapes that
surrounded us. An iPod blasting Jimmy Hendrix, Led Zeppelin, or Queen kept my
spirit alive as I pushed through the struggle.
Vinh turned out to be a welcome respite, a perfect
refuge for our recovery from the flu. We spent the next day resting in bed as
Ernest whipped up a revitalizing fruit and green salad, hoping to rejuvenate us
both. After all, what’s an adventure without a few bumps and plenty of
memories?
Chapter 9:
Through the Heart of Vietnam
Vinh to Tinh Gia – 115 km
The following day dawned brighter, almost as if the
universe was granting me a much-needed reprieve from the flu that had weighed
me down. Perhaps the weather was just kinder, or I was finally on the mend.
Whatever the case, I was revelling in the newfound energy! The soundtrack of
the day was a nostalgic blend of classics—Eric Clapton, Jeff Buckley, Pink
Floyd, and Bob Marley—all providing the perfect backdrop as the kilometres
melted away beneath my wheels.
The roads were surprisingly calm, with only a few
trucks and buses accompanying us. The drivers often greeted us with a friendly
honk, their horns blaring like joyful trumpets. Though at times, it felt like
they could blow me right off my bike! Traffic in Vietnam follows its own
rhythm, a dance I like to call the "Egyptian brake"—they hoot and go,
no brakes needed.
However, the morning took a sombre turn when I
witnessed a devastating accident—a young girl on a bike was struck down by a
truck. Her family gathered around, grief etched on their faces. It was a stark
reminder of life’s fragility; there are no second chances, no rewinds—just a
final farewell.
By evening, I navigated Lang Son in search of a
refuge for the night. After much searching, I found a decent place that came
with a delightful touch—a complimentary comb and toothbrush to make me feel
right at home.
One of the highlights of the day was discovering
“Bia Hoi” (draft beer) sold in one-litre plastic bottles for a mere 8,000 dong.
With the exchange rate sitting pretty at about 18,000 dong to the dollar, it
felt like a steal! It is said that if a person can order a beer in the local
language, you have basically mastered it. Well, if that’s the case, bring on
the fluency!
Tinh Gia to Ninh Binh – 119 km
With Bia Hoi readily available at roadside
eateries, it’s easy to see how drinking and riding go hand-in-hand around here.
Spotting a Vietnamese after a few drinks is a whole other spectacle! Their
faces light up a vibrant shade of red, making it easy to steer clear when a
tipsy motorbiker arrives next to you, one hand on their phone, the other
clutching a cigarette. A tactical retreat is always advisable!
We decided to take a breather and linger an extra
day in Ninh Binh, indulging in much-needed laundry and catching up on everyday
chores. Our evening was made even more enjoyable when we bumped into two fellow
cyclists, James and Tracey from the UK, whom we had met earlier in Siem Reap,
Cambodia. Nothing beats sharing stories with like-minded cyclists!
Ninh Binh to Hanoi – 96 km
The 96 km ride into Hanoi offered a flat, scenic
ride that could have lured any cyclist into a blissful daze. But alas,
punctures and chaotic traffic were relentless companions. Thankfully, the
weather was a shade more forgiving, with only a light drizzle to contend with.
Once we hit the bustling streets of Hanoi, though,
the heavens opened up, and the rain came pouring down. Navigating through the
old town felt like running a gauntlet—every corner turned revealed an
ever-changing maze of alleyways where street names transformed as quickly as
the local vendors hustled with their goods. The narrow streets overflowed with
life: tourists mingled with locals, and each alley teemed with peasant peddlers
in conical hats, offering an assortment of intriguing snacks and treasures.
Even in the chaos, there was a palpable energy in
the air—a reminder that every pedal stroke brought me closer to more
unforgettable experiences.
Chapter 10:
Hanoi and Beyond
Hanoi
Our travels took an unexpected twist the next
morning when we set off to the Chinese embassy to secure our onward visas. The
bombshell dropped: South Africans couldn’t obtain a Chinese visa in Vietnam!
Stunned and momentarily speechless, we stood there absorbing the news. But then
again, isn’t that what makes cycle touring an exhilarating journey? Each day is
a wild card, bringing surprises at every turn.
A secret thrill bubbled within me, though. With
this visa snag, I could now embrace the beautiful trails of Laos. I couldn't
help but think how the most breathtaking landscapes in China lay within Yunnan
and Sichuan Provinces—so, cheers to the authorities in Hanoi for this
unexpected detour!
While waiting for my sister to send me a new bottom
bracket and some spare parts—a shipment that would take a few days—I decided to
explore Hanoi. I dropped off my laptop for repairs and then indulged in the
local cuisine, savouring every bite. As I roamed the enchanting pedestrian
lanes, I stumbled upon the intriguing grilled dog restaurants. Watching the
meat spin on the spit, reminiscent of a pig roast, was peculiar, to say the
least!
On one of my adventures, I bumped into Marc, a
fellow cyclist from Canada. We’d met in Nepal and crossed paths again in
Bangkok—it felt like fate! By evening, the three of us found ourselves at a
lively pizza restaurant boasting an “eat as much as you can” special. Little
did they know, telling a group of cyclists, “eat all you can”, was like opening
the floodgates!
The next morning brought its own absurdity when
Ernest found himself locked in the bathroom—thanks to a faulty door handle. His
comical cries for help reminded me of Roald Dahl’s “The Way Up To Heaven.”
After pondering my options, I decided to pass him his cycling tools through the
air vent. In retrospect, given the daily discord, I should’ve just paid for the
room and pedalled straight out of there! Hahaha!
Chapter 11:
The Coast and the Islands
Hanoi to Hai Phong – 109 km
With a new plan in mind, we decided to backtrack to
cross into Laos further south. Well-rested and well-fed, we finally hit the
road. However, our ride wasn't as picturesque as we’d hoped; we stuck to the
main thoroughfare leading to the coast, surrounded by sprawling development and
frantic traffic.
Yet, fortune smiled upon us—much of the route
featured a dedicated cycling path. Though it doubled as a bustling market,
packed with laden bicycles and busy vendors, it was a blessing in disguise. The
vibrant fruit stalls were plentiful, and I indulged in juicy peaches,
generously sprinkled with salt and chili powder. What a feast for the senses!
Hai Phong – Cat Ba Island – By Ferry (14 km)
Our day kicked off with a bike ride to the pier,
where reality hit hard: we had definitely been overcharged for our ferry
tickets. The much-hyped “car ferry” was actually a weather-beaten old rust
bucket! Our bikes? They found themselves stacked precariously on the roof,
balancing atop bags of rice, crates of noodles, and barrels of Bia Hoi. It was
clear that while communism might be a chapter in Vietnam’s past, capitalism was
very much alive and kicking.
The two-hour journey to Cat Ba Island surpassed our
wildest expectations. Nestled within a nature reserve, the island flaunted a
rugged, rocky coastline that felt almost untouched by time. We stumbled upon an
$8 room that offered a stunning view of the vibrant hotel strip and a bustling
fishing harbour—a sight that truly set our hearts racing. Just as we settled
in, the weather turned, prompting us to prolong our stay. From our cozy refuge,
we witnessed an electrifying display of thunder and lightning that danced
across the sky, captivating our senses and keeping us glued to the window.
Cat Ba Island is a melting pot of domestic and
international tourists, creating a lively atmosphere that was hard to resist.
Of course, the ubiquitous Karaoke and Massage signs were everywhere—a cheeky
tagline of “Singing & Sex” summed up the island’s quirky charm. Ernest,
like many a captivated traveller, found himself irresistibly drawn to the local
scene, as a parade of enthusiastic “girls” beckoned him to join them for a
rather adventurous “massage boom-boom.”
Cat Ba Island – Ha Long City – By Ferry (37 km)
Dragging Ernest away from Cat Ba Town was no easy
feat; he protested like a child clinging to the last day of summer camp. The
ride to the northern harbour was a breathtaking twenty-two kilometres, where
each twist and turn revealed more of the island's stunning landscape. Just in
time, we hopped onto the car ferry that whisked us across the surreal expanse
of Ha Long Bay. Words truly fall short of capturing the breathtaking scenery;
the photos barely convey the majesty of the towering cliffs and surreal rock
formations jutting dramatically from the water.
Arriving in Ha Long City, we navigated our way to
“hotel alley,” where a wealth of lodging options awaited us. The nearby market
buzzed with life, presenting a cornucopia of fresh veggies to complement our
noodles and warm, grilled tofu for our pot.
After settling in, reality hit hard—it was laundry
day. Ugh. Armed with some detergent, I tackled the chore in the bathroom waste
bin. If there’s anything that can dampen my adventurous spirit, it’s the
seemingly endless cycle of laundry. But with the prospect of new experiences
ahead, my spirits were lifted once again!
Ha Long City – Bieu Nghi – 27 km
Barely out of the city, we spotted a quaint little
hotel boasting ground-floor rooms. So unique in Vietnam, we couldn’t resist
pulling in. Most buildings here are narrow and towering, resembling matchboxes
laid on their sides, so this was a refreshing change of pace.
Ernest took the opportunity to work on my bike,
installing new parts. It felt like a scene from a travel show; locals gathered
around, eager to assist and observe this curious foreign visitor. Sadly, the
maintenance job didn’t go as planned, and my bike hasn't been the same since.
Perhaps I’m a tad harsh or relentless, but I do prefer relying on professionals
for repairs! Nonetheless, the adventure continues, and I wouldn’t want it any
other way.
Chapter 12:
The Last Push
Bieu Nghi to Nam Dinh – 127 km
Despite the sweltering heat, the 127-kilometer ride
between Bieu Nghi and Nam Dinh was surprisingly effortless, and we cruised into
Nam Dinh much earlier than we had anticipated. However, finding suitable
lodging proved to be a challenge in this non-touristy area. Our options were
limited to a rather dubious establishment and a pricey hotel. With my wallet
feeling lighter than a feather and no ATM in sight, I had no choice but to
check into the upscale hotel that accepted a bank card.
Once inside, however, all worries melted away. The
hotel was a haven of comfort, boasting modern amenities that felt like a luxury
after a long day on the road. I quickly made myself at home, treating myself to
a long, relaxing soak in the bathtub—pure bliss!
Nam Dinh to Tinh Gia – 135 km
Our ride to Tinh Gia began with a drenching rain
that only intensified as we pedalled through the increasingly gloomy skies. By
mid-morning, it felt more like dusk than day, as a menacing typhoon loomed just
offshore, making for some ominous weather reports on the TV. Luckily, the wind
was at our backs, giving us a slight push forward as we raced against time to
reach the Laos border before our Vietnamese visas expired.
But the journey was anything but smooth. The
relentless rain brought thunder, lightning, and a chaotic mix of traffic,
roadworks, and even flooding. As if things couldn’t get worse, Ernest hit a
submerged pothole, puncturing his front tire. There’s nothing quite like
unpacking tools and doing repairs in the pouring rain—it’s a true test of
patience!
Despite it all, we reached Tinh Gia by 5 PM,
utterly soaked but triumphant. After a warm shower and a steaming cup of soup,
I could finally breathe easily. Cycling 135 km in those conditions was no easy
feat, but we made it!
Tinh Gia to Vinh – 102 km
Backtracking is rarely a thrill, but thankfully,
the distance to Vinh was short—just over 100 kilometres—leaving us plenty of
time to chat with the friendly villagers along the way and sample their unique
version of Red Bull—it's always fun to experience local Flavors.
However, navigating the need for a restroom was
quite the adventure in Vietnam. With a staggering population of 84 million
crammed into a land area of around 330,000 sq. km, finding a bit of privacy can
be a real challenge. It’s a stark contrast to South Africa, which spans
1,219,912 sq km and has a population of about 55 million. But when nature
calls, one has to answer, privacy be damned!
Upon arriving in Vinh, we took care of some
necessary shopping before diving into the next quest of finding a place to lay
our heads for the night. Each day on this journey brings its own set of
challenges and delights, keeping us on our toes and eager for what lies ahead.
Vinh to Ky Anh – 103 km
I started the next day feeling like I was dragging
a lead weight behind me. My legs were weak, and my backside—a relentless source
of discomfort—was starting to protest loudly. I wondered if this struggle was
purely mental or if it was the result of my late night and the questionable
dinner choice of instant noodles. I knew I had to dig deep, so I called on the
motivating power of my trusty iPod and a can of Red Bull. Eventually, we rolled
into Ky Anh—nestled within lush rice paddies—earlier than expected. As usual,
Ernest dashed off to the local market for supplies, while I pondered the
unconventional question: how many days can one realistically ride in the same
clothes?
Ky Anh to Dong Hoi – 94 km
Isn’t it funny how you can go for ages without a
single flat tire, only to find yourself battling one flat after another? Well,
today was my turn to wrestle with a puncture, and it hit me as I suspected my
tires were nearing their end. We fought against a relentless headwind that day,
and by the time we rolled into Dong Hoi around 3 PM, I was more than ready to
crash. Alas, our promised air conditioning and Wi-Fi turned out to be
non-existent—definitely a letdown after a long day in the saddle.
Dong Hai to Dong Ha – 97 km
By the next day, our journey took us back across
the DMZ, where remnants of the past lingered in bomb craters and poignant
history. The ever-reliable sugarcane juice sellers greeted us with slices of
sweet sugarcane dressed in lemon juice and salt over ice—refreshing fuel for
weary cyclists! Today marked our last day of retracing our steps, with Dong Ha signalling
the imminent turn towards the Laos border.
Dong Ha to Lao Bao – 83 km
As we headed towards the border, we traversed a
path steeped in history, passing iconic wartime relics such as Camp Carroll and
the famed Khe Sanh Combat Base, all part of the Ho Chi Minh Trail. We climbed
hills that offered breathtaking views of expansive valleys and vibrant fields.
Along the way, the hill tribes we encountered were a world apart from the
lively Vietnamese we’d met by the coast. These communities lived in charming
bamboo huts on stilts, donned traditional sarong-like skirts, and carried their
goods in woven baskets—not quite the ‘bamboo pole style’ we’d seen earlier. Lao
Bao soon became a welcome stop for the night, a place to rest before crossing
into Laos the next morning. Just as Ernest returned from the market with our
last Vietnamese snacks, the skies opened up with a torrential downpour.
Chapter 13:
Into Laos – A New Beginning
Bao Lao, Vietnam to Xepon, Laos – 50 km
Crossing the Vietnam-Laos border was surprisingly
smooth; all it took was a simple application form, a payment of $35, and a
photo. However, finding an ATM on the Laos side proved a challenge, forcing
Ernest to dash back to Vietnam to exchange cash into Lao kip. It was frustrating,
as trading money at borders is rarely in your favour. Nevertheless, we finally
secured enough funds to reach Savannakhet, our next major destination.
The moment we crossed into Laos, the vibe shifted
completely. It felt more relaxed, with fewer people and motorbikes buzzing
around. The locals carried their goods in beautifully woven baskets on their
backs or on shoulder poles, and friendly children greeted us with cheerful
shouts of “Sapadii, Felang!”—phrases that instantly melted my heart. The first
day biking in Laos gifted us with stunning vistas and a few gentle rolling
hills, making every pedal stroke feel like an adventure waiting to unfold.
Epilogue:
Lessons from the Road
Fifty-three days and 2,720 kilometres after leaving
Cambodia, I found myself not just at a new border, but at the threshold of a
new perspective. Vietnam had tested my endurance, challenged my patience, and
rewarded me with unforgettable memories. From the chaos of Saigon’s motorbikes
to the tranquil rice paddies of Ky Anh, from the haunting war memorials to the
laughter of children in remote villages, every moment was a lesson in
resilience and wonder.
As I pedalled into Laos, I carried with me not just
stories, but a deeper appreciation for the kindness of strangers, the beauty of
the unexpected, and the simple joy of moving forward—one pedal stroke at a
time.
