Coming off my third rain day in a row and straight into my fourth, I found myself in the hotel parking lot fixing another flat tire, but at least I was a spared a half hour of working in the rain by the giant awning that covers the first 30 feet out the double glass doors of my home last night. It seems I’m never too far away from my next crowd of people who seem to wonder what I’m doing with all this garbage all over my bike, and where I might be going.
But there were to be more good tidings that day as well in the blessing in disguise variety. My crank, or the part where the pedals connect within the frame, had come apart to a point where even I couldn’t ignore it any longer and had to pull into an abandoned gas station decorated with several hammocks and right across the street from a raging surf brought in from a distant hurricane. Why would anyone be afraid to get their hands dirty at a time like this, is there a better time to fix your horse than in a rain storm?
Looking for a properly sized stick, or scrap metal in the downpour, to accommodate the special fix, I was amazed to hear a girl speaking English, and she was running towards me. Funny enough, she too was on a similar trip through the rain and had even stayed at the same hotel the night before, but we were better off meeting in a storm anyways. I caught up again with Naomi down the road and ended up walking out a few km together, and into a coffee bar for a couple hours, which eventually brought us to an over nighter at a pretty run down joint where we were treated to cold showers and both of us sleeping in our clothes later on. As we tried to find somewhere to eat, we passed by a funeral get together, where I was wrestled by a woman a few drinks in I assume, and possibly ordered/asked/ordered to sit and have drinks. We passed and shook some hands as we went on our way.
We did breakfast and met up with a couple of Naomi’s friends, Ian and Sarah, who were joining her for the day to help her out with her cause of raising the profile of children access to education and healthcare.
We said our good byes but it was not to be, she and her friends ran as far as I biked, so we met up again, had some fun rest days in a great city, and talked about choco pies (wagon wheels) for the next three days at the Buffalo Hostel. Her friend Mikey joined us on day two and we all set off the following morning. She’s a terrific person and was super fun, just what the doctor ordered, even if I have Christmas hits in my song mix now.
Cheers to you Naomi. I’m going to try linking her blog now; http://namrunsnam.com
Did it work?
100 km the next day, it’s funny what a tail wind will do when you’re finally dried out and rested up. I could get used to this. I’m far enough into my trip now that the days are very much blending together like a camouflage jacket hanging in a tree, only just barely recognizable upon close inspection and concentration. Each day’s journey comes with it a thousand passing hello’s, truckers yanking on the bull horn to let everyone know to not make any sudden moves, and bike traffic heading the wrong way straight at me in countless games of chicken, wondering if the opposite rider will actually do something predictable this time. Another bowl of pho soup, another mystery meal as I order buns from a cart on the side of the road and get offered a chair so small that it makes me wonder how Andre the Giant kept his sanity all those years.
Out of the city, off the main drag and a day in the sun. I head to the coast off of Hue, and fresh out the gate from a forced double breakfast by the staff at the Jade hotel. Thinking I must build up my energy I have an omelette, three cups of Vietnamese coffee, four slices of toast, a toasted bun, and a bowl of oatmeal. I venture into rural Vietnam on a walking path that leads through rice fields but shows up as a major route even on google maps. Slow going of course, but worth every cobra free minute.
As I get over to the coast line, I’m invited to take a few pictures and share a little bit of conversation about where to go and how to do it, I can’t thank these locals enough through my days here, the people of Vietnam have been looking out for me since day 1. For the next five hours I roll through a constant feed of concrete houses, coastal views and children on bikes holding my pace and exchanging names and high fives. One little guy tricked me and whapped my hand with his sandal as I held my hand out and it sounded like it made his day. By the expressions as I roll through I didn’t think there was too many westerners on bikes but I met a bike touring group on this desolate road and after a row of thumbs up it was back to me and my Christmas music in my head.
One particular rest stop sticks out in my mind, and points to a scene from earlier in my trip; I roll to a stop, flip my kick stand down with the side of my foot and wait a second to make sure my fully loaded bike is stable enough to stand on its own. I have a water system, that when I can get them, I will buy a five litre bottle and fill up my 1.5 and two 500ml’s, then drink the remainder with whatever food I find. Today I was left looking at a 2 litre surplus to drink on the spot before heading out, but was already very full after my meal. I decided to diesel what I could and maybe leave the rest? There was a small crew of kids semi circling my from fifteen feet away or so, and I decided to tip the bottle nearly upside down, and let a substantial amount spill all over my face, beard, shirt and on the ground as I drank as fast as I could. The mouth piece on these bottles are big enough to so it didn’t take long before my trick was done, and these kids were pretty crazy about it. I hope they showed their parents when they got home.
The hardest day yet, up and down a mountain, the Hai Van Quan pass. Too steep to ride up, so I lean on it and push the horse up the hill. 15 km of sights and sounds that people wait years for. Looking out over the ocean at 10 different viewpoints has my breaks planned in advance and each on topping the last. The first day that I’ve felt over worked and I’m only halfway there? Little did I know I’d be riding the brakes like Ma Taylor all the way down the side of a mountain pass for 20 something km and that my hands would nearly cramp shut because of it. Coasting into town that day felt amazing, and accomplished, like when someones dog comes straight to meet you over a crowd of other people. I still can’t believe I’m on this trip, this vacation, this mission. Thank God I get to be here and I’m able in every way to do it, I hope I never have to give this up.
