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Published: August 23rd 2007
Hmong Girl
On the way to Xin ManWith only three-quarters of a page on the area we’d be spending the next week and a half in, our guide book was as good as gone. We had to cover 979 kilometers armed with only a contour road map and a healthy sense of adventure.
I Love You!
The road is rapidly deteriorating. It started as a two lane paved road but now it’s a one lane track of loose sharp rocks that splits and there is no road sign. We stop and ponder where to go, when moments later another motorbike passes by pointing up the road we were leaning against. He stops and politely asks, “Can I help you?” We can’t believe our ears - he speaks decent English! We follow him to another Y in the road where he explains that both roads go to the town of Xin Man but he isn’t sure which one is better. Another 2km away is the school he teaches at and tenured teachers more familiar with the area will be able to better direct us. The school houses half a dozen young men: teachers in the morning to over 200 students that walk up to three hours
to arrive for class at 7:30am. I’m amazed at the amount of children attending the school because we haven’t passed a village in ages and there are only a few sporadic homes dotting the distant hillsides.
With clear directions we are told to keep following the overhead power lines. Our guide book says the road is only accessible by 4WD or experienced motor bikers and we soon find out why. A single track of loose rock, steep hills, bumps and swells in the dirt it could have been any neglected power line road from home. The back jarring bumps were worth it as we were rewarded with stunning views of valleys stretching stretching out into the distance and minority people in beautifully stitched clothes heading home along the road.
We arrived in Xin Man just before dusk. After a long, rough ride I take off my helmet, stretch my legs and watch the boys unload the bikes from the hotel lobby. The teenaged girl at reception is soon by my side, standing quite closely. I tousle my helmet hair and the receptionist joins in, stroking my hair, my cheek, and then back to my hair. At first I'm
a little taken aback, but smile, reveling in the attention.
Later that night, we are digesting a big dinner when a nearby table of a dozen middle aged men invite us over for shots of rice wine. Of course it would be rude to decline… Jarrod and Rob do a few shots with the men sitting immediately beside them, however, my glass is being refilled and raised for every person around the table and then a few extra with the fellow across the table from me who proclaims,
“I love you!” with a silly grin.
The following day we stayed the night in Ha Giang where we had to get a permit to visit the area north of there, close to the Chinese boarder. Getting the permit was relatively hassle free as there was a motorbike tour guide there who spoke English and could translate the police officers questions for us.
Home Alone and Scared
Heading north we followed an aqua green river valley where we encountered a flat back tire. An hour delay to get it repaired and then we were off again heading out of the valley and up into the mountains once
more. The terrain looked as though stones had fallen from the sky, dropped into random piles, to form the mountains. It was gorgeous. The hillsides were so steep I would be hesitant to walk down them but they had plowed, terraced and planted corn crops and rice paddies wherever workable soil was found. Evidence of farming was everywhere.
We stopped for a break near a mud home and seven kids appeared, their parents were out working the fields. They hadn’t seen a camera before so we spent time showing them how it worked and got a few photos of them. The youngest boy, about two years old, was shy and stood alone by the doorway. Wearing just his t-shirt he looked cute all by himself so I wanted to take his photo too. Only when I turned to him his blank expression turned to distress as he started to cry and then continued to pee himself he was so petrified. Needless to say, I aborted the photo when he started to get upset.
Just a few kilometers down the road we passed a herd of goats climbing around the rocks and a kid goat had just been born
not more than a hour or two earlier. It stuck close to mom because it could barely walk with it's wobbly legs.
Pork Roast Dinner
We arrived in the small town of Dong Van just in time for dinner. At the side of the road there was a cut out oil drum filled with white hot coals cooking a whole pig, snout to tail. We quickly freshened up for dinner and an hour later made our way to the pork roast. Using the "pick and point" method to choosing our meals, we pointed to some fresh vegetables and a chunk of pork. Minutes later chunks of pork arrived at our table. We shifted pieces around the plate with our chopsticks searching for edible meat. The piece we had picked out was void of any meat - just skin and fat. It's a mystery what happened to all the meat in just one hour!
After dinner I headed back to the hotel to finish laundry (our water completely ran out from Jarrod's shower) hoping the water would be flowing again but it wasn't. In the end, at 8pm, the hotel owner and I were squatting in the
street with tubs of laundry washing dirty socks and underwear. Squatting and scrubbing clothes proved to be challenging. My shorts are two sizes too big now, and all of my panties were in the process of being washed. Not only was I drawing a crowd being a white girl doing laundry in the street so late at night, I now had to try my best to hike up my shorts to cover my bum crack. A moon-lit plumbers butt likely wouldn't have been appreciated!
Laundry complete and our bags moved to a new room with running water (all completed by Carol), Jarrod saunters in to the room saying some Vietnamese men on holiday have requested my presence back at the restaurant for a few drinks. Again, it would be rude not to show up. Many toasts of rice wine later, we have discovered there is a system to Vietnamese drinking. One man is delegated to fill up the shot glasses. You finish a shot, look back down at your glass and it's been refilled already. An empty glass is not appropriate. Another man is delegated to tell everyone when to drink. Like most drinking parties, any reason is a
good reason to raise the glasses. They can say our names - Drink! We're from Canada - Drink! We like the local sausage - Drink! Jarrod's gone outside, Carol - Drink! In our party, the fellow telling us when to down another shot was the first to be sick. At 10 o'clock the restaurant was closing and so we all moved on to a local karaoke parlor where the tunes were pumpin and niether of us was to shy to take up the mike more than once. After only an hour of karaoke they were also closing up shop so we turned in at 11pm after a very enjoyable night on the town.
Rubber Boots and Piglets
Every Sunday morning hill tribe people walk from miles around to attend the "minority" market in the nearest village. At sunrise we could hear that things were getting going, when we arrived at 8am some people were already heading back home. We stayed the night in the village of Meo Vac more out of necessity (it was raining and we didn't want to go on) and were the only westerners in town. This was not a market influenced by tourists.
Hand-made Blades for Sale
Men shivering in the cold The people shopping here smelled like campfires, not Chanel #5.
Spread out on blue tarps covering the concrete floor minority people sold rubber boots, brown plastic sandals and bright plaid head scarves. The market spilled outside the building with different areas selling numerous authentic items. It was like walking around the outside of a western grocery store: produce, dairy, meat, and bread. Only with a Vietnamese hill tribe influence. One end of the market sold fruit and vegetables out of bamboo baskets. Another side was for live animals. First chickens tied in bundles by the feet which then led to pigs and squealing piglets. The odd dog was tied up and countless cows were up for sale. Their owners patiently stood beside the animal waiting for someone to show interest. One teenaged boy with his cow stood gazing at me for what seemed like minutes. To break the ice, I walked over to him and offered him a handful of pumpkin seed I was snacking on. Slowly he put out his hand to receive the seeds. I smiled, made eye contact, cheerfully said, "sin jow, hello". He stared back, still blank faced and quiet so after a while I
walked away. It's like he was so bewildered by seeing a westerner the cat got his tongue!
Past the live animals, men lined up beside neat piles of hand made blades and hoes; tools for frontier families to tame the wild mountainside. And lastly there was the food court section. Hot blood soup and slosh were being gobbled up at every table. Normally, if a food vendor has other people eating at it (turnover is good) we're game to eat there, but this minority market food was the first market in Vietnam that we just weren't interested in. Unidentifiable bits of who knows what lay in bowls, the tables were dirty with chewed on and spit-out chicken bones and nothing wet our appetite.
After an hour of lingering through the market the clouds were starting to close in and a light mist filled the air. Time to get on the bike and get going.
The End of the Road
Our next destination was only about 60km away. Rob's map (our biking buddy) showed a road, however, our map didn't. For the first 20km the road was just lovely, paved and smooth, and then it just
When the Clouds Broke
On the road, where the road ends stopped. There was a clear horizontal line where the pavement ended and mud began. Thick mud and then a river. We got off the bikes to scope out the situation. Two women passing on a motor bike assured us that it was just this little section that wasn't paved, over the hill things improved. And if girls could do it then surely we could too! We decided to take the risk and trust that the road would improve over the hill. As we walked the bike through the muddy clay the skies darkened and started to rumble. A lighting bolt brightened things momentarily and then thunder cracked loudly right above us. Two minutes later the mist turned into a downpour and the Vietnamese construction workers laughed at us from under dry shelters. Still, in the pouring rain, we persevered.
We successfully made it down the muddy hill, now there was a river. The bridge consisted of about ten bamboo poles tied together floating precariously on top of the water. The left side of the bamboo already had two inches of water lapping over the edge. This bridge has definitely not passed any safety inspection. This is the bridge we
have to cross with our bikes. I tip-toed across while Jarrod walked the bike across, getting his feet soaked from the overflowing river. Why hadn't we bought rubber boots at the market this morning?!?!
But the challenge wasn't over. Immediately at the end of the bridge was a steep, slippery, muddy uphill to conquer. With the engine revving and back tire spinning and spitting out mud the boys pushed our bike up the hill. A little 100 pound, five foot Vietnamese man in bare feet tried to ride Rob's bike, a Minsk, up the slippery slope. Sitting on the seat of the Minsk, his feet didn't reach the ground. He made it about a meter, the back tire spun out and then he realized it wasn't going to work and pushed the Minsk up the hill. I wish we had photos, but it was raining too hard to take the camera out
From there the road improved slightly to hard packed clay. We crested the hill, expecting pavement soon, however pavement never came. For 20km all we saw was hills of more thick mud, hard packed mud and mud with big rocks. Combined with the rain, the road
was extremely slippery, the tires were slipping out and spinning at the slightest turn. Not willing to get injured falling off the bike (we were miles away from help) I chose to walk some hilly sections that were just a bit too much for me. Walking wasn't much slower than biking. I trudged along with mud sticking to my shoes making me three inches taller and five pounds heavier in just ten steps.
The rain stopped and the skies lifted revealing stunning scenery of lush jungle and the odd carved out corn field. We passed only two other people on that road, just enough to give us basic directions at unmarked splits in the road. When we reached pavement four hours later we were soaking wet, muddy and elated about what we had accomplished but also reaching smooth ground. We stopped for a coffee and a quick bike wash at the side of the road. The owner was delighted and honoured to have us. He washed the filthy bikes free of charge and pulled out a special bottle of rice wine - complete with an inch long fly which was bestowed to Rob (thankfully).
Untamed Jungle
We
spent an extra day in Cau Bang to recuperate and spare our bums from another day-long bumpy ride. The town itself doesn't have much to offer so we did in fact end up back on the bike for a short day trip to a local lake. In rainy season the lake expands and fills the small gulleys currently occupied by rice paddies to make 39 smaller connecting lakes. Today, only the largest lake was still filled with water and surrounded by green hillsides. It was a peaceful escape from the city cruising past little villages and markets but back on bumpy back roads.
The following day we said our sorrowful good-byes to Rob. He's been our biking and travel companion for the past two weeks and we would have never ventured so off the beaten track if we hadn't had another person with us. Rob's heading south-east towards Halong Bay and we've got to make it back to Hanoi in three days before our visa runs out, again.
The north-east of Vietnam is stunningly beautiful with thick jungle covering the mountain sides and clean rivers carving out valleys. The mountains in the west, completely terraced with rice paddies
have been replaced by smaller green fields of corn or sugar cane. As usual it was a beautiful ride.
This has truly been an adventure of a lifetime with breathtaking scenery and genuinely lovely people. We'd do it again in a heartbeat.
Travelers Tips:
*We rented a Honda 125cc from Cuong Motorbike Adventure in Hanoi (Rob also rented his Minsk from them). The bike was great and had custom racks on the back for your bag. Helmets are for rent from them ($1/day) but generally are beat up and dirty. I'd suggest buying your own helmet (about 200,000 dong) then you can choose the style, it would fit better and be clean. Cuong Motorbike Adventure is in the Lonely Planet. cuongminsk@yahoo.com
*Our Route: Hanoi - Mai Chau - Son La - Dien Bein Phu - Lai Chau - Tam Duong - Sa Pa - Xin Man - Ha Giang - Dong Van - Meo Vac - Tinh Tuc - Cao Bang - Thai Nguyen - Hanoi
*See our previous blog 735 Kilometers: A Long Long Way From Home for Hanoi to Sa Pa
*It took us 17 days. We spent two nights in Sa Pa, Cao Bang and Thai Nguyen and those extra nights could be eliminated if you're on a tight schedule.
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Louise
non-member comment
WOW
What an adventure! Thanks for sharing it, your blog is amazing it transports me there to be with you and then when I finish reading it is quite a surprize to realize i am still here sitting on my sofa with a coffee not crusing through mystical valleys with you both. Where are you taking me next? love Louise xox PS - Carol you look fabulous as a biker chick!