Every program I have led for No Barriers Youth has been energy-intensive, but I was a wreck this time when I returned to Hanoi. It was a successful trip and the students and teachers from the Foshay Learning Center in Los Angeles were lovely. The problem was that I got distractingly ill midway through the experience, which really affected my stamina and job performance. The symptoms were suspiciously similar to the illness Matt had suffered through nearly two weeks prior in Kunming, which seems like too long of an interval for me to have caught it from him, but who knows.
 
It took a few days for me to recover to a mostly functioning state of existence, but even longer to receive an extension of my Vietnam visa. The Vietnamese consulate in Kunming would not issue a 90-day multi-entry visa, which I needed for my No Barriers commitment in China. I had to settle for a 30-day multi-entry visa while Matt got a 90-day single-entry one. Oh, the bureaucracy! We would later learn that this was only the beginning of my Vietnam visa ordeal.
 
In the meanwhile, we stayed with Tim and Carlina, great Warm Showers hosts who had kept my bicycle and gear while I was away. They had a lovely apartment near Tay Ho and they generously cooked up yummy pasta dinners for us and showed us the best places to eat in their neighborhood. Despite being in good company, we were getting anxious to leave Hanoi and see more of Vietnam. 
 
Once we had picked up my passport from the visa agency, we hit the road heading west into the hills. We hadn't cycled any significant distance consistently since Matt's rim cracked in Nujiang Valley six weeks before, so it was no wonder that it felt like we were starting the cycle tour from scratch yet again. I had lost my usual heat tolerance after spending too much time in air conditioning and my mental and physical energy levels were still in a delicate state of flux. Combining that with steep shadeless hills on the way to one of the hottest regions of Vietnam at the hottest time of the year made for a couple of rough days of slow progress getting to Mai Chau for me. In contrast, Matt was unusually positive and upbeat, grateful for the return of even my cranky companionship after I had abandoned him for eleven days.
 
By the time we were coasting down the other side of the final hill before Mai Chau, my mood had improved enough to sufficiently appreciate the verdant beauty of the valley from a scenic overlook along the road. Though it was far from wild, the attraction lay in the bright green rice paddies spanning the perfectly flat valley floor interspersed with clusters of villages. Homestays are the mainstay of Mai Chau's tourism and we chose one overlooking what else but rice paddies at the edge of Ban Poom village. Having heard that Mai Chau is "really touristy", we were expecting something a bit more obnoxious, but what we found was laid back, peaceful village bliss. Perhaps it's different on the weekends.
 
As we slowly rode through the neighboring village of Ban Lac, we were invited to join a group of men for a cup of coffee. They were so thrilled that we accepted that the oldest one, wearing a white wifebeater, kissed both of us on the cheeks and insisted on paying. Now that is what I call a good caffeine buzz! After coffee, we explored the network of little roads and trails leading off through the rice fields to other White Thai villages. Venturing further up a side valley, we stumbled upon a large brick production site where laborers threw bricks from a wheelbarrow onto a conveyor belt headed in to a tremendous barn-like shelter. 
 
Later, we met up with a spirited traveler named Donna over beers with the intent of watching a sunset that never materialized. She is an English woman with a passion for cultural costumes expressed through her wittily-titled blog Haute Culture Fashion. Our homestay host cooked up, or more accurately, fried up a dinner of spring rolls, ground pork wrapped in betel leaves, chicken legs, and even a few caterpillars if we dared. We did. Matt thought his tasted like a French fry, but I got a distinctive rancid rubber flavor.
 
We could have easily relaxed at Mai Chau for a few days, but having just gotten on the road again, we thought it better to keep moving. And since I was truly feeling better, there was really no excuse. We said goodbye to the stilted house we had called home for a night and headed south in to Pu Luong Nature Reserve. It was brutally hot, made worse by the fact that each incline consistently blocked the gentle breeze that we could occasionally feel at the top of each rise. It was a clear choice between going as slowly as possible with lots of breaks in the shade or dealing with the risks of heat exhaustion. We tried to keep the sweat out of our eyes long enough to appreciate the beauty of the undeveloped valley we were riding through, but in the heat of the day it was honestly pretty hard to care.
 
As dusk was settling in, we began scoping camp spots and asking villagers along the ridge line road for leads on a place to sleep. We were consistently directed to a rough dirt road plunging to the valley bottom, so we decided to go for it, really really hoping that it would work out. The loose gravel turned to a narrow paved footpath, or what we assumed would only be a footpath. After letting some young drunk guys pass by on their motorbikes, we dismounted and walked our bikes down the steep curving path, not trusting our cantilever brakes to sufficiently control our speed. The path dropped us in to Kho Muong village on the valley floor. We were quickly directed to a homestay, but we were quickly turned off by the quantity of empty beer cans surrounding the host and his insistence that we sit down and begin drinking immediately. 
 
Knowing that homestays have been set up throughout Pu Luong as a community-based eco-tourism initiative, we set off in search of a better option and couldn't have ended up with a nicer family, finding them completely by chance. Similar to the previous night in Mai Chau, they set up a mattress on the floor encased in a mosquito net in the middle of a huge room clearly intended for groups. The paneless windows in the stilted house overlooked a pond with fireflies twinkling above it. We joined the family in the kitchen, which soon filled with about twenty neighbors, most of them women. The reason for the gathering was unclear, as was whether it was a special or regular occurrence. Shots of ruou (Vietnamese rice wine) were poured, but the mood was neither particularly festive nor somber. We later learned from the teen daughter and her translation app that her mother was suffering from fibroids and local Muong custom dictates that people should visit often to keep the ill company and bring good luck to their recovery. 
 
Having arrived at dark the day before, it was no question that we would stay another day to explore the secluded area. We walked through the village and out to a limestone cave with large pillars inside seemingly formed by rockfall from the cave’s ceiling. Locally known as the Bat Cave, we saw more cave crickets than bats, as well as a memorable cave cricket predator that like a centipede with extremely long legs.

For the rest of the day, we relaxed in the shade under our host family’s house, sharing a pot of coffee with the father Nom, and chatting with him in the limited way we could carry on conversation. It also happened to be my 34th birthday, so I was happy add this place to the diverse list of global locations where I have turned a year older.
We had been dreading our departure from Kho Muong village since first walking our bikes down the crazy path. We had assumed we would be pushing them up as well, but did not expect that both of us would have to push one bike together! We would push one bike for a section and park it, then walk back down for the second bike, leapfrogging our way out of the valley bottom like this for over an hour. When we returned to the gravel road, we rode down and out of Pu Luong Nature Reserve, passing some more picturesque villages and greenery-scenery on the way.

Our route for the next five days took us through “everyday rural Vietnam” filled with flat agricultural valleys, climbing forested hills in between them, and small towns where we would find a random guesthouse to spend the night. We succumbed to what I call with disdain “alarm clock cycle touring,” where a rude noise awakes one from blissful slumber as though pedal pushing were a job with a strict work schedule. We learned from the Vietnamese who voluntarily rise before the first light of day that the benefit of a few hours of cooler morning temperatures was worth it. What we didn’t succeed in adopting was the long afternoon nap that gives the Latin American siesta a run for its money. Businesses shut, nary a person on the street, everyone dead to the world in hammocks or wooden platform day beds, mid-day cycling felt like riding through a hellishly hot ghost town.

Our favored antidote to the heat was frequent stops at the ubiquitous nuoc mia stands, always with a shady seating area. Stalks of sugar cane were pressed on demand through motorized rollers, then the light green juice was poured over ice in a hefty glass mug. A pinch of salt and a squeeze of lime made the surprisingly not-too-sweet beverage perfectly refreshing and energizing. As a member of the grass family, sugarcane has a high concentration of vitamins, minerals, and polyphenols, so we had no qualms about drinking a couple of glasses per day.

An ongoing fascination with water buffalos broke up the monotony of rice, rice, and more rice fields lining the road. And then there was the joyful distraction of the “hello zone”, stretching at least a quarter of a mile from either side of the road. Oftentimes, we could hear a faint hello, but not even be able to locate the source. Almost everyone greeted us, young and old, and usually repetitively. One hello would not suffice. The standard was “Hellowhat’syourname?” to which we learned responding with our name didn’t seem to matter and asking “What’s your name?” didn’t seem to register. We were always amused to get an “I love you” and even more entertained by the random “F--- you” too, always yelled by teen boys, not too surprisingly.

The few times we stopped when people greeted us, it really caught them off guard. They didn’t know what to do. However, one time we circled back to a group of women sitting on the side of the road in the shade of a karst outcrop. For some reason, I was inspired to take their photo if they agreed to it. Before I could even get that far, we were instructed to park our bikes and take a rest with them. They poured tea and pushed pomelo, mango, and starfruit on us. Many smiles were exchanged. Then one woman phoned her daughter with excellent English to come from the village nearby. We chatted with her for quite a while and learned that the women were sitting there to watch over their cattle grazing in the field on the other side of the road. As if on cue, her mother got up and ran off toward the cows, having heard the rumor that one of hers was giving birth. The spontaneous roadside fruit party was one of those simple moments that served as an invaluable reminder of why we travel by bicycle, and it came at a time when we were (re)questioning whether the self-imposed difficulty was really worth it.

We arrived to Phong Nha-Khe Bang National Park at the tail end of a downpour we had been cycling in for eight miles. As soon as we dried off in a hotel room, the sun came out so we got oriented to the area while walking around Phong Nha town. Phong Nha has grown in popularity as a tourism destination in the last few years. While the main attraction is an elaborate limestone cave system boasting the largest (known) caves in the world, visitors are also attracted to the rural countryside surrounding the park. We were no different and explored both aspects.
The following day we toured Phong Nha cave, taking a motorboat from the town upstream to the mouth of the river cave. The driver cut the engine and a team of two pulled oars at the front and back of the sizeable boat into the cave. We traveled about a kilometer inside, but the cave extends much further than that. The key formations were lit up and made for an intriguing sight. Some flat areas just inside the broad entrance of the cave served as shelter and a makeshift hospital during the American-Vietnam War. We also climbed up to Tien Son, a dry cave with a meandering boardwalk through the tremendous, but delicate, formations. The unusually large caves and advanced stalactites and stalagmites have been forming for 400 million years in the oldest karst mountains in Asia, so it’s no surprise the park has been designated a UNESCO World Heritage Site.

Before leaving Phong Nha, we whiled away an afternoon at the perfectly peaceful Wild Boar Eco Farm. The farm is self-sustaining with its namesake product, in addition to peanuts and small plots of other crops. However, the young owner Cuong saw the potential for an eco-tourism venture, perhaps inspired by a now overly-popular neighbor known as The Pub with Cold Beer. The premise of both places is to provide a spot for backpackers to day-drink in the countryside with the added excitement of butchering a local chicken for a tasty lunch. After passing by the Pub, we were so glad that we continued up the rough dirt track to seek out the immensely more charming Wild Boar Eco-Farm, tucked away on a property with an amazing view overlooking a lazy river.

Hammocks with beers were immediately in order, but soon we were hungry. We ordered chicken, priced by the kilo. Cuong drove off on his motorbike and was gone for a long time. Just as we were joking that he would return with a cooked chicken from the Pub with Cold Beer, he came back with a live one-kilo chicken tucked under his arm. We met the poor gal briefly, then watched Cuong through the entire preparation process including slitting the throat and collecting the blood, defeathering in hot water, cutting and splaying out the body for charcoal grilling. Meanwhile, his wife cooked up morning glory with garlic and a peanut dipping sauce with nuts from their farm. It was a genuine farm-to-table experience, slow food that actually lived up the concept’s hype, and was absolutely delicious to the last bite.
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I rounded out the afternoon with an innertube float in the river just as a light rain shower began, then we got to talking with Cuong about his business. Understandably, he wants to grow his limited customer base, expand his menu, and build a guesthouse. We tried to emphasize that his place’s current appeal is in its simplicity and the value of its authenticity. Even with significant language barriers, we got the sense that Cuong’s genuineness will prevail over profit. We trust that he will not intentionally try to make it into something that it’s not meant to be. But places don’t always change on purpose, sometimes they just “get discovered,” a character-shifting force beyond any individual’s control. And if that happens, at least we can remember it as it was before it was gone. Despite the temptation to ask Cuong if we could camp out at his farm for a week, we readied ourselves to keep moving on from Phong Nha.

July 29-August 1
Hanoi

Casey was on her way to China to lead a trip for No Barriers Youth and I was hanging in Hanoi for the following ten days on my own. Now I had not truly been on my own in a very long time; many of you know that Casey and I do just about everything together. Other years when she left for these trips I was with friends or family, rather than by myself in a new city. So what was I going to do? Well... Casey (and I) made a long list of things for me to work on and research, of course, but I also wanted to fit in a mini cycle trip to Cat Ba Island.

The first few days in Hanoi were spent on the computer in my hotel room with no window, only venturing out for food and coffee. These forays were through the quaint yet extremely hectic Old Quarter. The banh mi sandwiches and the Vietnamese coffees with sweetened condensed milk were what got me through those days (not to mention countless bowls of pho).

August 2
78 miles to Haiphong

The morning I was to leave Hanoi for Cat Ba Island I hit snooze and woke up much later than I wanted to. I ate breakfast while watching the rain come down. I almost decided to cancel my plans entirely, but I had already paid for a hotel room on the island. I nearly opted to take a bus instead, but the hotel manager would not let me keep my bike in their storage room. Already with no good options, I realized I had also set in motion another reason why I should leave. I had lost the key to the safe in my room and the manager was very unhappy with me. She frowned and muttered, "This is real bad." I braced myself for the worst, but she then only charged me 50,000 Vietnamese dong, a little over $2. I paid and left quickly, never to return, because I worried she would find out that it will cost her much more than that. And I don't want to be around when she does. So off I went, only getting lost a few times heading out of Hanoi. 

I got on a road along a river and through small villages and rice fields, as well as bananas and other crops. It was pretty cool to have little to no traffic after being in Hanoi for so long. The road itself was nice for most of it, that is until it became more pothole than road. I stopped for lunch at a hole in the wall pho restaurant with good food and a nice lady who came over to chat with me. I also watched them preparing a dog to eat. They were burning it on the sidewalk, I think to get the fur off. 

After lunch and a few more hours on the side roads, I was back on the highway and this sucked. There was a shoulder but it was crowded with motorbikes and there were lots of big trucks zooming by, splashing, spraying and scaring me. Did I mention that it was still raining? I tried twice to get off the highway but both times had to turn around because of dirt roads turned to mud. Finally, I got off the highway and on side roads the rest of the way into Haiphong. I arrived around 6:30 after 75 miles in the rain. When I was planning this ride and made a route, it was only 60 miles, not too long of a day. When I used the ForeverMap app, which I use for most of my planning because it routes off the main roads onto nice side roads, it was then 70 miles, a bit longer of a day. Then it became 75 miles because I got lost a few times, almost two hours longer than I had planned! It became quite a long ride for my first time back on my bike in a month. 

I cycled pretty much all day without stopping. It was too rainy for photos and there was no food to eat so I just kept going. It was really weird not trying to keep up with Casey or waiting for her and not having someone to talk to as I rode. Traveling by myself was both rewarding and lonely. I was the only one who had to deal with my bad decisions. I wasn't affecting anyone else. Decisions were faster because I had no one to talk to, only myself. You should have heard those conversations. I didn't have Casey's wisdom to help out so I just did what felt right in the moment, which I would then regret a few moments later. And then sometimes I would be happy with the decision later on. I was lonely though, having no one to share the adventure with. Sure, I talked to my folks and Casey but it was not the same. At the same time, I did like being alone sometimes. It was very different. 

In town, I could not find the hotel I was aiming for, so I rode by two others to scope them out. They said no before I could even ask for a room! Were they really full? Do they hate bikes? Or do they just hate wet bikes? I cycled around for a while until I found one that was both cheap and welcoming to me with my bike. After getting myself un-waterlogged, I went to a local brewery for a dark tasteless beer and super dry fried rice. Unfortunately, it wasn't a great place. Back in the room, I chatted with Casey before heading to bed. My knee hurt on and off throughout the day, and I wasn't so happy about that. 

August 3
16 miles plus boat and bus to Cat Ba island

I was going to wake up early so I could catch the first ferry but I was so tired that it did not happen. I got to the ferry dock in the pouring rain. The first boat company said "no bikes." The second company said it would be the same cost for my bike as me! The third company wanted a lot but I was able to talk him down a bit, but then he said the road was real bad for biking so he did not recommend I go this route. He suggested yet another company and gave me back my money. This shocked me more than getting denied, an honest man who was not just trying to make a quick buck on a tourist. It was very refreshing. So I could have cycled straight to the other dock as he suggested, but it was about 10 or so miles and it was still raining so hard. Finally, the fourth company said no problem for the bike and the price was lower than the others. I guess sometimes persistence really does pay off, but before this point I almost gave up and headed back to Hanoi. This had become such a hassle that I was already dreading getting back from the island, but I decided to go anyway.

This was one of the decisions that I regretted in the moment but would later look back on as a success. The bus ride to the ferry was along a muddy road with heavy truck and bus traffic, which I would have to ride back on. I loaded the ferry easily, but as I got off the boat and approached the bus to Cat Ba town (included in my ticket price) the driver said 'No!' to my bike and drove off. So what could I do but get a pack of cookies for breakfast since I had not eaten yet and ride the 15 hilly miles in the rain to town? It wasn't a huge deal, but I paid for the bus just like all the others who got on. Actually, I payed more because of the additional bike fee. At least the ride was not so bad even though my knee did hurt, and did I mention it was raining? In fact, I think the ride would have been amazing if I could have seen anything. Parts of the road were so flooded that my feet were under water while pedaling.

I got some amazing smiles, looks of wonder, thumbs ups, and shouts of encouragement as I rode. I wasn't sure if it was because of the weather or what. Whatever the reason though, it always made me smile back no matter what mood I was in. If you ever pass a cycle tourer in your car, don't honk right next to them even if it's just to say hi. It can be a shock and hurt the ears. Wave out the window or give a shout of encouragement instead. It helps a lot. Or even better, if you have a spare water bottle or some fruit, stop and share it with them.

The only easy part of the day turned out to be checking into my hotel. They gave me no problems about the bike and I had a great view from my room on the fourth floor with a floor to ceiling window overlooking the bay. Sure, the ceiling leaks a bit and there are plenty of ants, but it only cost $9. I spent a few hours walking around town, mostly made up of eateries and hotels, but the local market was cool. The streets were flooded above the ankles in a lot of places. I ate some pho and a pastry and headed to the room to rest. By then I was a walking zombie. 

August 4
17 miles around Cat Ba Island

What a surprise, I woke up to yet more rain so I was lazy about getting ready to sightsee that day, but luckily it soon stopped raining. Breakfast next door had great coffee, a good pancake and eggs. It was a nice ride up to Cat Ba National Park. I hiked on the only open trail since the rest were closed due to wet weather, fallen trees, and bad trail conditions. It was a great hike up through a rainforest. Of course, I didn't see any big animals, but I did see crabs, lizards, skinks, birds, and some cool vegetation as well. There were nice but overcast views from the top. I took my time on way down, stopping to check out a small cage of sad-looking monkeys. Supposedly it was a temporary location for them after being rescued. Passing by a 'zoo' featuring deer, I went into the visitor center to see the animal display room but it was all locked up in a decrepit building. Through the window, the taxidermy looked pretty scary, maybe some of the worst I have seen.

On the way back to town, I stopped at Hospital Cave. This was an interesting cave with a bunker built inside of it. It was used during the American/Vietnam war as a shelter and hospital. It reminded me of being in Battery Townsley back in the Marin Headlands. Then I went to a harbor area near Cat Ba town with awesome karst formations and a floating fishing village. That evening, I found a bia hoi joint with good local beer and asked for pho for dinner. At first they did not want to serve me, but after asking nicely again, a guy got on his motorbike with an empty bowl and came back with it full! I don't know where he went to get it, but it was good.

August 5
7 miles on Cat Ba Island

It was yet another slow morning because of yet more rain. After breakfast, I worked on stuff for a while then signed up for kayak tour with Asia Outdoors for the following day. Casey said to stop worrying about money, so I listened to her. When it stopped raining, I got on my bike and went exploring to some view points and then up a very steep hill to Cannon Fort. Walking around the fort was like walking around the Marin Headlands. The fort is built into the hillside will gun trenches and cannon holes and the have these creepy-cool mannequins around the gun and sitting at desks. I think they need these in the Headlands. It brings some life to the fort... I had the place to myself for most of the time while sitting at a viewpoint looking over the bay, until a very large group of French came by and overran the place.

It was also a nice ride back down the hill, except when I was going over the bridge to the fishing port I noticed that I had a flat. Ugh! Conveniently, I pulled into a bia hoi and ordered a beer before starting the repair. Then the big French group came by and ordered beers as well. Either they are following me or it's a small island. The tube turned out to be split along the valve and therefore unfixable. Ironically, I had to ask the group to watch my bike while I ran back to my room for a new tube. Luckily, I had one. So in the end I was able to fix the flat while enjoying some good fresh beer.

August 6
Cat Ba Island

I woke up early and had breakfast at my usual place. I don't usually go on tours if I can help it, but kayaking on my own amongst the karst seemed unwise. So... I got on a big boat with about twenty people, but also plenty of space on a nice sun deck. However--surprise, surprise--we could see the rain coming at us; it was going to pour. We passed by a floating fishing village and many cool karst pinnacles poking out of the water. I chatted with some French Canadians about climbing and traveling. Of course, we got in our kayaks from a floating restaurant just as the rain started. There was an odd number of kayakers, so I was paired with a guy who was part of a group of five young college Brits. Dumb and Dumber came to mind. My partner was not a good paddler since he was nervous and did not trust my steering.

It rained for most of the two-hour long morning kayak session, but not too hard. We kayaked around Lan Ha Bay, the less-visited but just as beautiful bay next to its famous counterpart Ha Long Bay. The paddle trip took us through the amazing karst scenery, a few archways and an open-roofed cavern. Back on the boat, lunch was served family style with three to four people at a table. There was plenty of food and it was pretty good as well. Egg was provided as my vegetarian substitute for the fish, which is unsustainably caught in the area. The sun came out and the sky cleared, so we chilled on the upper deck for awhile while taking in the amazing scenery. As we motored further out, Lan Ha Bay got even more beautiful. We kayaked for two more hours with a little time on a beach. We saw a monkey and lots of cool birds, maybe some hawks or eagles. I chatted with our guide Claire about work, travel, and environmental topics, especially after watching some fishermen fishing with dynamite! Overall, it was a very nice and enjoyable day. Was it worth the extra $7 over other tours? Probably. Was it worth the price over going by myself? Yeah, I was able to go further out in the bay and had some nice folks to talk to.

While eating dinner that evening, I got offered a pretty Vietnamese girl by a man passing by. I declined.

August 7
24 miles back to Hanoi

I packed up and headed out of town, taking the back way toward the national park. A local guy at Hospital Cave Cafe waved at me and yelled "Tea!". I almost just cycled by, but then I turned around after thinking to myself, "Well, this is why I travel by bike." He offered me Vietnamese tea and we sat and chatted for a while. He had very good English as well as speaking five other languages, all of which he learned by talking with tourists. He was in the Vietnamese army and fought in the Chinese war. He was a really nice guy. After a while, I got going again on a nice ride along the coastal road to the ferry docks. The first dock I came across was not the Hadeco ferry, but they tried to tell me that Hadeco would not take my bike so I should just go with them. Liars! I finally got them to point me in the right direction and just a little further down road was Hadeco. I paid 170,000 dong ($8.50) including my bike.

While waiting for the ferry, a group from the infamous Castaway Tour showed up. Most were super drunk and the remainder looked annoyed. One girl said she cut her trip short because it was so bad. I was thankful to get on a different ferry. Very thankful. Back in Haiphong, I went to the train station to get a ticket for later than night, then found the Haiphong Brewery. I was impressed with their amber and bought two bottles as a surprise for Casey when she gets back. I filled up on some street food at two different stalls before returning to the train station. It was nerve wracking and weird to lose control of how they loaded my bike. Casey would have been proud with how calm I was. The cheaper hard seat was not such a bad ride, although anything longer than the two hours to Hanoi could be rough. I returned to the Blue Sky Hotel 2 but they only had a dorm bed available. Their other location had a room, but would not accept my bike. Always an ordeal, but eventually I was able to leave my bike at Blue Sky 2 while I stayed at Blue Sky 1!

The ten days I was traveling solo went by much faster than I expected, and most of the time it wasn't even that bad. Before I knew it, Casey was back and we were planning the next leg of our journey together.