Public Holidays, Overnight Trains and Downhill at 50

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Our trip to Da Lat seemed cursed from the start. First our flight was cancelled. The our alternative, the overnight buses, were all full because of a national holiday. And so, at 5 o’clock in the morning, we climbed bleary eyed into a car for the drive. Seven sleepless hours later we began the final climb to Da Lat. The road winds up tree-covered mountains, through the occasional village. Great views but I was glad of the travel tablet.
The plan had been to go on a motorbike tour but, because of the national holiday, it was impossible to get five Easy Riders. This was a big disappointment but an amble around Da Lat was nice. The locals are very friendly, with children stopping us to talk in the streets. We bought tea and coffee which is grown locally in the cool climate of the mountains. They are also ideal crops for the area as their roots don’t reach too far down into soil which is still poisoned by napalm and herbicides used in the war.
We stopped into a café to eat where the owner was a real character. She sat down at our table, telling us that she is ’the captain of this ship, the pilot of this aeroplane,’ and how she had spent all afternoon making apple crumble if we’d like some.

The next day ended exhausted in Nha Trang train station. It had been a long but exhilarating day which began early in the morning with a short drive out of Da Lat. Once out of the town we got on mountain bikes and began pedalling through small villages, where cows and ox are still used to pull carts and the people are subsistence farmers. While the villages have schools, the children rarely go, instead preferring to spend their days collecting roots and firewood. Education is seen as unimportant in areas where people often live their whole life without leaving their own small community. Children would wave and say hello, while adults clearly thought that cycling is a sure indication of madness.
Soon we arrived at the hardest point of the ride, a 3km climb to the top of the mountain. It was longer than it was steep, but energy sapping nonetheless as we reached the final height of 1700m. Only 50% of riders make it to the top, which is usually shrouded in cloud, so, as we made it under a clear blue sky, we felt both proud and lucky. Views of the jungle filled valley stretched out before us. It was now time for the best part of the ride, a 28km downhill stretch.
The road twisted down the mountain past trees and waterfalls, with a high cliff one side and a four hundred metre sheer drop the other. In parts we overtook motorbikes as we gave our aching legs a well earned rest. Some points had a lovely breeze to keep us cool, at others we would round a corner to be hit by a wall of heat as hot as any oven. On and on we rode, trying not to lose control or speed into the path of the odd oncoming bus, and all the while fantastic views would unfold before us. On reaching the bottom we collapsed into hammocks at a roadside café for our picnic lunch.
It was then time for the second part of the day, kayaking. We set out in our two man kayaks, the river low and gentle due to the dry season. Along the way, birds flew out of the trees which lined the riverbank as we enjoyed the first moments of silence since we left home. Until…..a spider ran up Mam’s leg. We could hear the screams from around a bend in the river and actually worried that they had capsized until we saw them coming towards us. It seems there is to be no quiet in Vietnam.
As we approached a mini rapid, Julie warned Pete of a rock in the river. ’Don’t worry dear, it’s under control,’ was Pete’s reply as they hit the rock, spun around and came down the rapid backwards. After a lot of hard work we arrived at Nha Trang and completed the trip from mountains to coast.

Due to the national holiday (Again!), the next train up the coast was full, leaving us with a seven hour wait for the midnight train. We bought the tickets and found that there was nowhere to leave our bags, if we wanted to leave the station we would have to take them with us. In the meantime, I attempted to use the station’s automated toilets. Obviously I did something wrong because, midway through, the doors locked, the lights went off and hot, soapy water started spraying over me out of the walls. I was trapped in a small metal toilet while it was cleaning itself. I had to physically prise the doors open to escape.
Once in Nha Trang centre we found a sympathetic restaurant where we took as long as possible to choose drinks, food and more drinks. Somehow we managed to pass about four hours there.
On our return to the station Pete went inside to buy some water. Five minutes later two Vietnamese women came out with the water in a bag, laughing, followed by a very tired and stressed Pete. The smallest of the two, who was about four feet tall, did an impression of Pete trying to pay for his water before collapsing against Mam in hysterics. It turned out there had been some kind of confusion with the different notes. 33,000 Dong to the pound isn’t the easiest of currencies to work with.

Photos coming soon

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