“I hope every road isn’t like this.”

I was pushing my bicycle up a steep lane that was in the Muong Hoa Valley. I was fresh off the bus in Sapa and on my way to my homestay about 15 km down the valley. The main road was closed, so the owner sent me directions for a detour. It sent me down a small side road that dove steeply towards the river valley, across a bridge, and then straight back up the other side. My brakes were gripped the whole way down, and I couldn’t even zigzag my way back up the other side.

The narrow track was paved with concrete as it snaked through shabby little villages. Rice terraces climbed up the mountainside until the disappeared up the steep slopes of the Hoang Lien Son mountains. Fansipan, the highest mountain in Vietnam was somewhere above. Little kids, barely old enough to be in school accosted me as pushed my bike, trying to sell me cheap bracelets. I ignored them. Eventually, I was able to pedal and I cruised along narrow paths, passing by a traffic jam through the ramshackle village of Lao Chai. From there, I returned to the main road and made my way to La Beaute Homestay, my home for the next two nights.

Day 1 was done.

***

My trip to Vietnam was made possible due to my partner being away at school, the availability of her mother to dog sit, and a flexible work schedule. Mostly, I didn’t want to be in Revelstoke in November and I wanted to go on another bikepacking trip abroad. Initially, I though about returning to Peru and picking up where I left off my big trip in 2018. But after some thought, I opted for something completely different. I had only been to Asia once before—a two-week trip to Indonesia a decade earlier—and figure with a month available, it was time to go back. North Vietnam seemed to have the best mix of incredible scenery, low prices, and good weather, so I bought myself a ticket to Hanoi. The plan was to spend a few days in the city working and sightseeing, then hit the road for three or so weeks before flying home.

My flight was a bit stressful as my journey out of Kelowna was delayed by 80 minutes, giving me only 20 minutes to make my connection in Vancouver. Amazingly, I made it. Even more amazingly, when I arrived in Japan, the tracker on my bike pinged. I was fully expecting to have to wait for it in Hanoi, so that was a pleasant surprise. Even more pleasant was the amazing, but expensive, sushi I got at the Tokyo airport.

I arrived in Hanoi on schedule at 10:30 p.m., breezed through customs, and picked up my bike. I was out of the airport in no time and on my way to my hotel, located a 30-minute walk from the old quarter. I stayed awake for most of the 24+ hour journey with the goal of being able to sleep through the night and get over the 14-hour time difference quickly. I nearly succeeded.

I won’t bother with the details of Hanoi. It’s chaotic, it’s noisy, it’s polluted, and it’s got an incredible energy. I’ve never seen so many motorcycles in one place and it took me some time to get in the flow. Over a few days, I got some work done, explored the Old Quarter, and visited some museums. Ngoc Ha, the neighbourhood I stayed in, was filled with narrow lanes that connected small lakes that were surrounded by restaurants and cafes. Just down the road from me was a lake where a B52 bomber had been shot down during the war. It stood there as a monument to North Vietnam’s victory in the war.

I planned for four days in Hanoi, but by the end of day three, I was ready to leave. The traffic and pollution (air and noise) was too much for me. Finally, on the fourth day, I got my bike all set up and ready to go. The only casualty during the flight was a flat tire. The next morning, I hit the road at 5 a.m. and pedaled to the bus station to get a ride out of the city to Sapa, where I would begin my tour of northwest Vietnam.

***

Day Two

La Beaute Homestay was nice but creaky. There was great views down the valley and lots of cute cats and dogs to pet. There were a few other guests, but no one was all that social.

I was hoping to do a tour of the Sapa area on Tuesday, but when none were available through my homestay, I instead plotted out a bike loop and set out. Once again, I found myself pushing up a relentless concrete track. My first impression of the area wasn’t great. It was much more densely populated than expected, there were wires everywhere, and I had missed the rice harvest, so the terraces were nothing but mud and dead sheaths of rice. I knew I was too late in the season to experience the shimmering fields of green you see in the pictures, but I was still disappointed with how run down everything seemed.

My thoughts on Sapa were it looked good from far, but was fairly ugly up close. From a distance, the villages were quaint and the terraces marvels of human engineering. Up close, the cracks in the facades were obvious, the garbage visible, and the wires criss-crossed almost every photo. I had to remind myself Vietnam was still a developing country with a majority rural population. Of course, I should expect there to be lots of people in these heavily developed agricultural areas.

My route proved tougher than I thought. It passed through a huge landslide from the previous months typhoon and then turned onto a hiking trail that’s used for a local ultramarathon. I received a few shocked looks from the locals as I pushed my bike up the trail. A few hours later and hungry, I made it back onto pavement, where a steep descent brought me back to the main valley. As I struggled, I realized that maybe I should be less ambitious with my route plans for Vietnam. If it took me this long to go 20 km with an unloaded bike, how long would it take fully loaded?

Day Three

Finally, the first proper day of the trip. I had a nice breakfast at the homestay and set out into the cool, rainy morning. I was the first cyclist they had met, so I had my picture taken before leaving (which I forgot to get a copy of).

Since the main road was closed, I took the same stupidly steep road to start the day that I took the day before. It rained lightly but steadily as I pushed my upwards. I climbed high above the valley, passing a group of backpackers on a trekking tour on my way up. The clouds obscured the views of Fansipan, but they were still pretty amazing as I gazed down at the terraces far below.

I stopped in Sapa for lunch, opting for a plate of pasta as I was craving something western for a change. It was disappointing. Sapa itself is extremely touristy and I had no desire to sticking around. After picking up some snacks, I hopped back on my bike and rode out of town.

The rain continued as I left Sapa. Fortunately, the main highway was a pleasant grade and I climbed toward O Qy Ho Pass, the highest in Vietnam, in the clouds. At the summit, the clouds broke up and the views down the other side were stunning. A deep valley split the mountains, the clouds breaking apart along the green flanks of the mountain slopes. The highway snaked its way downwards, disappearing into the valley below. I had to pay to enjoy this view, but it was worth it.

The descent was an endless series of thrilling curves. Traffic was light and I raced the other vehicle down the hill. Starting at over 2,000 m above sea level, I bottomed out 25 kilometres away and more than 1,200 m below the pass. I went through cool, rain-soaked mountains to the hot, humid valley below. My goal was to make it to a town called Tan Uyen and I also wanted to see some traditional bamboo water wheels on the way there. I was behind schedule, so I stopped outside the local pool hall and quickly plotted out a shortcut that would save me about 10 km of cycling.

My valley ride started at the junction of two highways, where I turned south down for a short stint on the QL32. I turned off onto a single-lane backroad where rice terraces stepped were built up above the Nam Mu river. It was very bucolic and exactly what I hope for when I planned my route through the northwest. I took many picture stops and one of them I was joined by a curious elderly local. He said some things to me that I didn’t understand. I tried to communicate using Google Translate, but he waved away my phone when I presented it to him. Later, it occurred to me he could be illiterate, given this was an impoverished local area and he was from an older generation.

Regardless, I didn’t know what he was saying, and didn’t know what to make of it when he followed behind me. Was he friendly, or should I be afraid? This wasn’t an area that saw many tourists, any, so I continued nervously. A few times, I thought he got bored, but he would always show up. I turned off for the waterwheels, only to find out they weren’t around anymore. When I got back on route, he was there again and kept following me. Even as I struggled slowly up some short steep hills, he continued patiently behind me. Even though I was pretty sure he was just being friendly, I found it quite annoying and would have been much happier to be left on my own.

Finally, I reached a village, where he came up next to me and made some gestures. He disappeared down the road and I figured that was that. A few minutes later, he showed up with a bottled of peach soda for me—a very kind gesture from someone who probably doesn’t have much. He then shook my hand, waved goodbye, and rode off the destination we came from.

The encounter, though it ended positively, took away some enjoyment from that part of the ride, I still had a good 20 km to Tan Uyen when he parted ways and the sun was already setting. One of my rules of bike touring is to avoid riding at night, but that wasn’t going to happen. I picked up the pace but could only go so fast as I enjoyed a gorgeous sunset, the rays dispersing over the mountains, illuminating the skies above.

I reached Tan Uyen in the dark and found myself a spacious room at the modern Hoang Lien Plaza Hotel. My next mission was to find food. My first stop was a fast-food joint where I ordered a pate of lemongrass chicken, fries, and a glass of mango juice. At least, that’s what I thought was getting. When I was served a plate of cold chicken feet, I gagged slightly. I poked at them a little, before pushing them aside and instead enjoying the fries and juice. I left quickly.

Still hungry, I headed down the road and turned into the next establishment I saw—a beer hall where I knew I could get food. Almost immediately, I was invited to sit down with a group of friends who were out for a celebratory meal after their soccer game. They happily gave me shots of rice wine and challenged me to multiple beer chugging contests (which I handily won). They shared their food with me, which included fried rice, frog, water buffalo jerky, and more. One of them was a teacher and spoke a little English, but mostly we communicated via Google Translate. I’m usually not the type to engage like this, but it was a great experience. They kept trying to give me more shots and more beer, but eventually I convinced them I needed to get up early to ride my bike and they relented. They also invited me to play a game of soccer with them, which I also politely declined. I walked back to my hotel, drank some water, and took a pre-emptive ibuprofen before going to sleep.

And so began my bikepacking trip in Vietnam.

Stay tuned for Part 2.