Before leaving our guesthouse in Pho Rang, Nha Nghi Ha Thánh, we left a note for our dinner guests from the previous evening, An and Mai. The note asked that they email us for further English lessons.
Last night as we left our guesthouse in search of dinner, a young girl ran down the street to stop us. She introduced herself as thirteen year old An. She was wearing a Taekwondo Gi. She asked if she could practice her English with us. After a few minutes of awkward small talk (awkward for me, she handled the situation with class), a young man of fourteen, Quan, asked if he too could practice his English with us. We learned that both An and Quan’s parents were teachers at the local school. They were encouraged to practice their English with tourists. An had been in her Taekwondo class when our hotel called to let her know that two English speaking tourists had checked in. She ditched her Taekwondo class, rode her bicycle to our hotel where she ditched her bike to look for us on foot. Quan was bicycling by with his girlfriend, who was too shy to meet us. As we spoke with Quan and An, two adults hid in the darkness with beaming smiles of pride, taking pictures of us. We assumed these were An’s parents. They were. We asked if they would all like to join us for dinner. The parents declined but gave us permission to take the two children. We walked to a nearby rice house and with An’s assistance we ordered fried rice for dinner. Not long after starting our meal, a sweet young girl of 6 and also in a Taekwondo Gi joined us. This was Mai, An’s younger sister who was driven to the rice house on dad’s scooter. We enjoyed our meal with our three new young friends, talking about our hobbies, what makes Canada and Vietnam wonderful and the dreams and aspirations of our dinner guests. After a short walk after dinner, we bid farewell to our new friends.
After filling up Shawn’s rear tire with air, it had managed to deflate overnight with no obvious sign of damage, we left Pho Rang by 10:30 am. We were headed to Xin Man. If anyone has cared to plot our path, you will note there are several more direct routes to travel east to west. We are zigzagging North – South – North, avoiding highways and primary roads, in search of the road less traveled.
The first part of the drive out of Pho Rang was glorious. We rode alongside a muddy river that snaked across the valley floor, passing palm trees and thatched roof houses. Corn dried in the sun. Back in the relative South (still far North of Hanoi) it was hot and tropical. As we rode we could see the mountains looming in the North. Cloud covered mountaintops beckoned us.
We began to climb.
As a sign welcomed us to Ha Giang province the road suddenly changed from smooth asphalt to rocky, pothole covered track. What a welcome indeed! We rode the bumpy, narrow dirt track along a ridge line that offered incredible views into the valley below. It wasn’t long before the crazy, bumpy ride descended into the town of Yen Binh. It took an hour and fifteen minutes to travel the 42 km to Yen Binh.
From Yen Bing we turned left at the sign for Na Tri. This would take us another 62 km North to Xin Man. The road was in slightly better shape, having been paved at some point, but the road itself was far more treacherous. Only wide enough for a single vehicle, never ending blind corners and many sections of road long gone from the mountainside crumbling into the valley. We climbed to incredible heights through “first gear hairpins”, cringing through every corner in fear of an oncoming vehicle. If there were views, and I’m certain there were, I was oblivious to them.
After cresting a hill with magnificent lake views below us, we made our way back down. At the base was a small village, Na Chi. I pulled over to catch my breath. Shawn pulled up in front of me. “Umm, your tire is looking kinda low.”
Shawn’s rear tire was looking more than a little low. Luckily in Vietnam you are never far from a motorcycle mechanic. When a country runs on scooters, over 30 million of them, you are never far from someone who makes a living fixing them. Sure enough after showing Shawn’s tire to a few people we were directed to the local bike mechanic. Within minutes we were surrounded by curious young boys. At least a dozen stood in silence watching us, with a dozen more watching from the slope across the street. For the entire 45 minutes it took to remove the wheel, swap tubes and replace the wheel, we were watched. If we looked at the children above us, they would run away laughing. Those near us just stared. The only laugh I could get from them was when I re-enacted the nail going into the tire, exploding air into the sky. Otherwise they just watched, and as they got more comfortable- moved closer to me. I imagine the presence of a Caucasian man is rare, but not completely unheard of. A blue eyed, blond haired woman seemed to completely overwhelm these young boys who live totally off the typical tourist track.
The young boys weren’t the only ones who were curious. Watching village life always intrigues me. The goat being half dragged, half running behind a scooter. A man carrying four young boys, the oldest no more than 5, on his scooter. The scooter supply chain – people delivering mind boggling loads by scooter. Huge bags of rice, 6 car tires, propane tanks, livestock, 8 foot bamboo beams, stacks of bricks. You name it, there is a scooter delivering it. No matter how remote the customer, or how life threatening the road conditions, it will get delivered. By scooter.
After paying 50,000 dong ($3) for the tube change and another 25,000 Đông as a tip, we were on our way. It was 1:30 pm and we were hungry. We stopped at a clearing in the shade to enjoy our picnic lunch. Buns with canned tuna, mandarin oranges and chocolate filled cookies. As we ate our lunch on the roadside, people would roll by on their scooters. First seeing the “real” motorcycles, they would turn their heads and strain to see who was driving them. Sitting in the grass, hidden by the bikes, they had to turn their entire bodies to get a glimpse. This would distract the driver. This would distract the driver as they headed into a blind corner. I was certain we were going to be the cause of a head on collision.
Back on the road we continued our journey. After more cringe worthy curves with steep drops best ignored, we came upon the 500 year old tree and Thac Tien waterfall. The waterfall was deserted and we enjoyed the moment of respite before continuing on our harrowing journey into Xin Man.
As we got closer to Xin Man the curiosity of the Vietnamese grew once again. I could hear “Hello!” being yelled out of the forest, without ever seeing the person yelling it. As oncoming scooters drove past Shawn, their drivers would whip their bodies around to see who was driving. This would invariably cause them to swerve directly into my path.
We arrived in Xin Man at 4:15 pm. It took almost 6 hours (including pit stops and a tire swap) to travel 105 km.
We checked into the Xinman Hotel and enjoyed street food for dinner. BBQ pork belly, coal roasted sweet potato and steamed buns filled with corn. Washed down with a Halida beer and Choco Pies.
Live Life Epic 