Leaving Hoi An, we stopped at My Son ruins, a small complex of temples dedicated to worshipping the Hindu god Shiva. The site is thought to be the longest continuously inhabited place in Indochina as an integral part of the Champa kingdom that ruled what is now Central Vietnam from the 3rd to 17th centuries. It was designated a UNESCO site in 1999, despite extensive damage caused by US bombing of the Viet Cong hiding out there during the war. We noticed bomb craters were almost as numerous as the crumbled buildings glowing warmly in the evening light.

We were determined to get back into the hills on the Ho Chi Minh Highway, so from My Son we turned inland on one of those “short cuts that’s really a long cut” roads that Matt always digs up on his various route finding apps. It may not have been such slow going if the dirt road had not turned to puddles and mud in a heavy rainstorm the night before. Matt really prefers that I ride ahead of him, so I was the one to discover a deceptively deep puddle with some loose rocks on the bottom, enough to send my top-heavy big-booty bike careening into the mud. Of course, I went down with it and Matt safely documented from afar. Ok, he did get one boot muddy too while helping to extract my bike and me from our predicament.

A few more days of hot, hilly riding (what’s new?), and meeting some real characters along the way, brought us to the likeable city of Kon Tum. We encountered genuinely friendly people and lots of good street food, the two most important aspects of our travel at this point. That evening the streets echoed with deep drum beats while groups of adolescent boys roamed the streets and took over intersections for lion dances and fire-blowing performances. While watching one troupe perform in the courtyard of a mansion in exchange for a generous donation from the occupants, we learned that this was only the lead up to the actual Mid-Autumn Festival the next day.

Not wanting to miss out on even better festivities, we decided to stay an extra day in Kon Tum. The following night was more of the same lion dances, but with the addition of teams of performers snaking long, flowing dragon puppets through the streets. That alone was quite a feat since so many people turned out to watch from the seat of their motorbike that the streets were packed and intersections were at a stand still, but this appeared to just be part of the tradition. The festival is largely a celebration of children, who are given gifts of lanterns and fun masks to wear. In Kon Tum, bands of teens had crafted their own large-scale lanterns, the ever-popular minions included, which they paraded above the crowds like a low-tech Macy’s day parade. We also bought some of the traditional moon cakes from temporary stalls that reminded us of fireworks stands for 4th of July. The dense moon cakes were filled with a sweet paste and a hardened egg yolk in each half when split in half.

We continued south, overnighting in another fun city called Buon Ma Thuot, and passing by scenic Lak Lake, then arriving late in the day at the junction for Hwy 722, an alternative route to Dalat. The first ten miles of our ride the next morning took us on a gentle climb through coffeeland and poor communities, but the road was in solid shape even with a fun rope-pulled boat ferry crossing on a small river. Then it abruptly turned to dirt as it steeply ascended a hill that formed one side of the broad valley. The road soon narrowed to a deeply rutted footpath, which in and of itself would have been rideable except that it was made of a treacherous layer of extremely slippery compacted clay. We barely maintained enough traction to push forward and even then the wheels slipped out from underneath our bikes a few times.

How could this be the correct road? Our route apps insisted that it was, so I googled “Road 722 in Vietnam” to see if we could get more information on what lay ahead, optimistic that this was just a temporary inconvenience. Sure enough, a blog entry popped up written by some motorbikers who had similar ambitions as us, but sought out this road from the Dalat end. It took them seven hours to go 15 kilometers, mostly pushing their bikes through really rough conditions. And they were going downhill.

We had provisions to camp, which would be a given if we continued on. But after only covering one and a half miles in two hours and not really having any fun, we realized the scope of the adventure. It would be a real feat of endurance with some moments of misery to make it the 40ish miles with 5,000 feet of elevation gain to Dalat. Or we could turn around and take the regular road to Dalat, thus having more time to see more of Vietnam. As though it was sent to put an end to our indecision, it started to rain and the leeches came out. So... We reached the same town where we had started that morning in the pouring rain. We were muddy, soaked, and disheartened from not being hardcore, but still happy to be off that hellish trail marked as a highway on multiple maps.

Highway 725 proved to be a real road, even recently expanded and improved, so the 4,000-foot climb up to Dalat went quite smoothly. While the cool mountain climate requiring long-sleeves (or a winter jacket if you are Vietnamese) was indeed a nice relief from the heat, we were not particularly drawn to the city itself. The real charm of the area is in the outlying attractions, such as waterfalls, which we were not exactly motivated to ride to on the one rainy day we had for exploring. But since we had worked so hard to get up there, we had to at least see something exciting. This took the form of “The Crazy House”, a fanciful creation of a radical architect who seemingly sculpted buildings out of cement rather than constructed them. Dalat’s famed kitsch is popular with Chinese tourists, whom we followed on vine-shaped staircases that traversed steep rooftops while basking in the irony of a “natural theme to inspire people to be closer with nature” made entirely out of shoddily-painted concrete.

We actually much preferred the 100 Roofs Café, a lesser-known alternative with the same core concept as the Crazy House. We stumbled upon it by chance and almost passed it by since the tiny storefront did not reveal the vast multi-floor maze of dark rooms and narrow passageways inside. It would have been perfect for Halloween. We got an intimate tour from the daughter of the visionary architect, who is--not too surprisingly--friends with the creator of the Crazy House.

In the afternoon, we took shelter from the rain in Dalat’s extensive market, sampling strawberries and wine, local products that thrive in the otherwise pine-forested hilly terrain. A nice stop at Pongour Falls on the way out of town the next day rounded out our Dalat experience.

Next we were aiming for the one and only Ho Chi Minh City, more commonly called Saigon by the people who live there, albeit with a little bit of trepidation. We were able to take back roads for most of the way, rapidly descending into the heat once again.  Our route protected us from the worst of the traffic, but gazing across hazy valleys indicated we had not escaped HCMC’s notorious air pollution blowing inland. Out came the pollution masks for the first time since… I don’t know when.

Having arrived to Saigon first through an industrial zone and shipping port, we were pleasantly surprised with the feel of the city once we got into the heart of it. Referred to by numbered districts a la Hunger Games, we headed straight for District One and found an alley-based neighborhood with quieter guesthouses than the nearby backpacker district of Pham Ngu Lao, lazily known as PNL. The volume of traffic was certainly intense, but having already been subjected to two months of Vietnamese-style driving, it was not nearly as intimidating as we had been led to believe it would be. The one issue we really had was motorbikes honking us, as pedestrians, when they opted for the sidewalk over the road. Really? Where would they prefer us to walk, in the middle of the road?

After a few days of taking in Saigon, we concluded that it was like a Vietnamese version of New York City: real, gritty, edgy, bustling, essential to find your niche, but also possible to find anything you desire, such as… craft beer! Hands down the best craft beer we have sampled on this journey, we could have visited Pasteur Street Brewing Company every night if the ol’ travel budget allowed. It came as no surprise once we learned the brewmaster was previously brewing at Upslope in Boulder, Colorado. I was smitten with a passionfruit wheat and Matt loved the perfectly hoppy IPA.

Besides the best beer, we also found the best bike mechanic of our journey thus far. Van claims that the well-stocked, fairly-priced Saigon Bike Shop is only his hobby; his bread and butter comes from customizable bike tours of the Mekong Delta and beyond. We spent a day pampering the bikes with everything they needed except a good cleaning, then turned our attention towards various errands that I will spare you the details of in the city where you can find anything you desire. Including fresh-baked cream puffs and McDonald’s soft serve. Not that we would know from firsthand experience or anything…

One important errand worth noting was meeting up with Tieme, an ex-pat who cycled his way to Saigon from the Netherlands and had some amazing stories to tell over dinner one night. He also happened to hold the key to our future of travel: a non-expired ATM card. We had contacted him through the Warm Showers network to see if he could receive it for us. Little did we know that would involve tracking it down at an obscure post office location to be picked up in person. Dinner was the least we owed him for this essential favor!

All of our errands left us little time for sightseeing in Saigon, but we did make it to the hard-hitting exhibits of the War Remnants Museum one afternoon. In addition to an explicit overview of the American-Vietnam War, it also had an important display of the ongoing effects of Agent Orange exposure in Vietnamese society, and a moving collection of photographs taken by photojournalists from all sides who perished in the conflict.

We took comfort from this gravity with some seriously amazing street food, perhaps the best we have encountered in Vietnam, if not this trip, and that is saying a lot considering the time we spent in Thailand. It took a while for me to come around to Vietnamese food, but when I did, it was wholeheartedly. Bun thit nuong was a personal favorite of ours, made up of grilled pork over cold vermicelli rice noodles, garnished with cucumber, a selection of herbs, and mildly spicy fish sauce. Yes, folks, my husband loves things covered in fish sauce these days. Proof that travel is life-changing!

We could have spent another week in Saigon, ideally not running errands, but our visas were rapidly approaching an expiration date and we still had the whole Mekong Delta to see.

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.

As envious as we were of Will's determination to explore his way out of the Nujiang Valley without backtracking, it turned out to be quite fortuitous that we stuck to the conventional out-and-back route. While cycling down the valley the day after we returned from Dulong, Matt suddenly felt a rhythmic bump in his back wheel. Pulling over to inspect it revealed a definitive crack in the rim that caused a concerning bulge the tire. It seemed that we had jinxed ourselves by discussing the likelihood of this happening with Will just a week prior. These were the original wheels from buying the bike four years ago and the brake pads had worn distinctive grooves in the rims over 10,000 miles of riding. 

On the upside, we didn't mind having a good excuse to skip over two days of backtracking to Liuku and readied our bikes and bags to hitch a ride in a truck. Despite being conveniently located next to a routine traffic police checkpoint with the vehicles already stopped, all we got were rejections. I looked up the world's for "broken", "help", and "hitchhike" in our Mandarin phrase book and approached the policeman on duty for assistance. He caught on, except for the hitchhike part, and directed a shared minivan taxi to pick us up. Lashing the bikes to the roof on top of each other was not as damaging as we had imagined, nor was the "efficient" (translation: scary crazy) journey back to Liuku as expensive as we had dreaded. We were also surprised to recognize one of the passengers as a Dulong woman we had partied with in Bapo!

In Liuku, we begrudgingly reunited with the rest of our belongings, but still refused to get rid of any of them. It seems that our obsessions with self-sufficiency, worst-case scenario preparedness, frugality, and not planning the future combine forces to make us overly attached to the ridiculous contents of our panniers. Examples range from scuba dive masks that were once useful in Thailand to thick gloves we bought for trekking in Nepal, but maybe we will go back to the ocean, or maybe we will find winter somewhere again, so...let's just repack them!

From Liuku, we took an all-day bus ride to Kunming, "city of eternal spring", so the saying goes regarding its perfect climate. The first order of business was beginning the frustratingly bureaucratic process of getting ridiculously expensive visas for Vietnam. We will spare you the details, but basically it involved getting three different answers from three different staff each time we asked the same question. The second order of business was heading to Pegasus Cycling, a recommended bike shop with a charismatic owner, Hui Li, who passionate about cycle touring. Also a popular Warm Showers host, we admired Hui's photo display of bicycle travelers who've spent the night in his shop over the last few years. 

After two new wheels were built for Matt's bike, we joined Hui on a weekend ride with his cycling club. Sometimes we feel a little self-conscious about how we dress as cycletourers since we sport more "formal" gear than most. However, with the Chinese cyclists gathering in front of Pegasus that Saturday morning, we fit right in with our helmets, gloves, spandex shorts, and cycle jerseys. In fact, we were the ones that looked laid back in comparison to their full body spandex and sun-shielding face masks. Somehow we navigated through Kunming's traffic and out into the 'burbs under development as a loose peloton of about twenty. The 50-mile ride was not always the most scenic or enjoyable with a decent amount of truck traffic, but the destination of Fuxian Lake was unquestionably a worthwhile reward. 

As a popular weekend getaway for Kunmingers, the lake is lined with beachside restaurants. We took over one of them and spent the afternoon swimming in the refreshing clear water and continuing to socialize with the welcoming and friendly cycle club members. Dinner was a feast of family style dishes interrupted by many toasts of a strong corn-based liquor from a flask so big it required two hands to pour. As hungry cyclists, we did a better than average job of finishing the copious quantities of food typical of Chinese dining. That night we created a tightly-packed tent city amongst parked vehicles in a field next to the restaurant. Our extra-large Hilleberg tent drew a lot of attention and many folks came over just to poke their head inside.

The next day was just like the first day, but in reverse. After munching some watermelon and saying our goodbyes back at Pegasus Cycles, we celebrated our third wedding anniversary a few days after the fact with a splurge for dinner and craft beer at Brooklyn Pizzeria. It was impressively authentic and definitely the best pizza we have had in Asia. Our wedding anniversary also coincided with exactly one year of travel on the Before It's Gone Journey, so it was only appropriate that the bicycle connectivity continued when a young man named Tavish spotted our bikes parked outside of the restaurant and tracked us down. He is the proud owner of a Surly Long Haul Trucker as well, which he has already ridden from Kunming to Lhasa with more trips in the works.

While we waited for our Vietnam visas to be ready, we succumbed to more of the pricey temptations of Kunming's Western food scene. We had eaten local Chinese food continuously for more than a month, so we savored every bite of variety. Our go-to place was Salvador's, where we were in awe of avocados on the menu for the first time on our journey. Sliced avocado on burgers and guacamole with burritos were in order. Their homemade bagels became another staple in our temporarily exotic diet. Another great spot was O'Reilly's Irish Pub, serving Guiness but also specializing in Belgian beers. We got chatting with the owner Tim, who pulled a few Vedett drafts for us on the house when we discovered our mutual Marin County history.

We delayed our departure from Kunming as long as possible when Matt came down with a nasty little flu. Fortunately, he was on the mend by the time we took a bus to the Hekou-Lao Cai border crossing with Vietnam. Figuring out the logistics for stamping out of China was a bit of a process, but eventually we walked our bikes across a pedestrian and motorbike bridge and entered a new country, only the sixth one in just over a year travel. That night we took a somewhat decrepit overnight train to Hanoi, getting a few hours of poor sleep by contorting ourselves into creative positions in our shabby seats.

Making our way over to the Old Quarter early in the morning was a calm, peaceful introduction to Hanoi, but trying to check in to a hotel was a bit of a rude awakening. The Old Quarter is quite crowded and cramped; space is at a premium with tiny hotel lobbies and even smaller rooms stacked up in narrow building on the floors above. While everyone was quite polite about it, they were also quite firm that our bicycles would have to stay outside on a crowded sidewalk during the day, only to be brought in when the hotel locked its doors at night. We did not have a kickstand with which we could wedge them between all the mopeds cluttering the sidewalk, and we didn't trust that hired security guards would be quite vigilant enough to deter "interest" in our unique bikes.

After a multi-hour search, we negotiated a solution with our otherwise top choice of lodging called the Hanoi Blue Sky Hotel 2. We wheeled our bikes into an elevator and locked them to the balcony of the dorm room on the sixth floor, not exactly easily accessible, but sufficiently secure. We very rarely take naps, but they were in order that afternoon since we had a social evening ahead of us. First, we met up with a cycle touring couple whom we had connected with through Twitter. Claire and Andre, traveling as Punctures and Panniers, were taking the train to Lao Cai that evening, but we managed to fit in a lively exchange of our experiences over our first mugs of bia hoi, Hanoi's famous fresh beer. 

Our conversation was briefly interrupted when a disgruntled customer began flinging the hefty beer glasses across the restaurant, shrapnel landing all around us. There is an influential phenomenon in Asia known as "face". People will go to great lengths to avoid conflict in order to "save face", but when the line has been crossed and someone has "lost face", then watch out. A whole series of passive-aggressive behaviors may ensue, or some overtly dramatic actions that ultimately result in a further loss of face, such as the event we witnessed. Despite the apparent risks, we chose a different bia hoi joint across the street later that evening to catch up with Kerri, our friend from NatureBridge and our reason for traveling to Hanoi. She had just arrived from Laos for our meet up as well.

The next four days was a thorough exploration of Hanoi with Kerri. On our first day, we didn't stray far from the Old Quarter with so much to take in just within its compact boundaries. As with anyone who arrives in Hanoi as their introduction to Vietnam, we were fascinated with simple scenes of daily life on the streets. Women wearing pajamas and conical hats selling fruit from their bikes, mobile restaurants in baskets hung from yokes balanced across a shoulder blade, barber shops on the sidewalk, offerings to ancestors left in the most unlikely of places, but casually sidestepped with respect. 

Of course, food and drink provided a focal point to our otherwise aimless wandering. First off, we were surprised to find a newly opened nitrogen-based ice cream parlor in the spirit of our beloved Smitten in San Francisco, so that was our mid-morning treat. After that, Vietnamese coffee stole the show at the trendy Cong Cafe where we discovered that yogurt, coconut milk, and even whipped egg are all delicious mixers with potent shots of brew, though not in the same serving, of course.

We strolled around the tranquil Hoan Kiem lake before grabbing a seat on the balcony of Legend Beer specifically to watch the fascinating flow of traffic through one of Hanoi's busiest intersections. It was an absolute free-for-all of primarily motorbikes, but also taxis, busses, cyclos, bicycles, pedestrians, and occasionally a personal car. Somehow it all worked with no collisions or fatalities witnessed within the life span of our pints. 

Next up was another quintessential Hanoi experience: a water puppet show. Not quite sure of what to expect, I was instantly enamored with the antics of wooden puppets splashing about in a pool of water while the puppeteers stood behind a screen and use controls submersed in the water. A series of vignettes set to traditional music depicted everyday rural life with rice planting, riding water buffaloes, and fishing. More fanciful numbers included fireworks spewing sparks from dragons' mouths and phoenixes hatching from eggs.

We ventured further afield the next morning with Kerri on a rented bicycle. We rode across the historical Long Bien Bridge, a local symbol of resistance in the American War, as it is called in Vietnam. The decrepit bridge has a lot of character and provided nice views of the Red River as well. We continued the bike tour around Truc Bach Lake and West Lake, of course fortifying ourselves with food and beverage every couple of miles. We enjoyed snacks and apple-included rice wine at Mau Dich 37, which Lonely Planet perfectly describes as "a unique exercise in nostalgia" since it is "styled after a government-run food shop from the impoverished period after 1976." To counteract the effects of the rice wine, it became imperative to transition a coffee shop if the ride was going to continue. Kerri doesn't normally drink coffee, but she handled a caffeine buzz quite well, even after multiple samples of potent shots of filtered coffee over sweetened condensed milk, the Vietnamese way. It tasted like drinking a chocolate-covered espresso bean! We were instantly hooked and she came pretty close too.

We filled the remaining days with Kerri by visiting some of Hanoi's more formal attractions, such as Bach Ma Temple and the Temple of Literature. All of these demonstrated a strong Chinese presence in Vietnam's history, frequently cited as "a thousand years of Chinese occupation." We also took a cruise by Uncle Ho's resting place, but we had arrived too late in the morning to be admitted into the austere looking mausoleum, an excellent example of Soviet-style architecture.

About the time we were actually able to effectively navigate the Old Quarter, it was time for Kerri to leave for Shanghai. The four days we spent together were a wonderful chance to catch up with her, feel a closer connection to home, and get a thorough introduction to a fascinating city at the same time.

​We stayed in Hanoi for another week, but our focus was "getting stuff done" rather than having fun. I would be soon be leading a No Barriers Youth trip in Beijing and Shanghai, a repeat of the program that determined the start point of Before It's Gone Journey a year prior. Preparation for this included the multi-step process of applying for a new Chinese visa, background reading, a thorough briefing from No Barriers staff on Skype, and storing my bicycle and gear with a Warm Showers host. Meanwhile, Matt was preoccupied with figuring out how he would fill his time in Vietnam while I was gone. Working on the blog, creating videos, fixing up the bikes, and regular life errands filled in the remaining gaps of time. Eating meals became the only time we were actually present in the moment and appreciated the fact that we were in Hanoi. We chowed on all sorts of cheap noodles and frequented many banh mi carts in search of the best. Weeks such as this one used to make us feel guilty that we weren't making the most of every opportunity to travel, but we have come to accept that they are a necessity when your daily life is on the road.

As though exploring hidden trails with our Bhutanese friends was not incredible enough, our adventure was set to continue with a west to east crossing of Bhutan. I wish I could say it was on our bicycles, but that caliber of adventure will have to wait for another time. Perhaps someday we’ll return for the Tour of the Dragon, an extreme bicycle race that nearly every Bhutanese we meet makes sure we know about when they learn that we are cyclists!

It only took one motorbike taxi, one longtail ferry, one "sorngtaaou" (shared pickup truck transport), and one minivan to return to Prachuap Khiri Khan from the little island of Koh Chang. Back in the scenic town, we enjoyed the night market and repacked for the next leg of the cycle tour heading north to Bangkok. The next morning we braved the ridiculously large population of urban monkeys guarding the 396 steps up to a derelict temple complex perched on a hilltop overlooking the bayside town. It was certainly worth the sweaty effort and proximity to primates expecting a handout for the views north and south along the coast.

Leaving Prachuap Khiri Khan, we adopted a leisurely pace essential to survival in the 90-degree-plus sunshine and made camp on a beach at Khao Sam Roi Yod National Park. The following morning we cycled in between dramatic karst pinnacle formations to reach the trailhead for another famous feature of limestone: mesmerizing caverns open to the sky. We hiked up to the entrance for Tham Phraya Nakhon, featuring a pagoda-like "meeting hall" built for King Rama V's visit in 1890. In our typical fashion, we arrived about ten minutes too late to see the structure illuminated by rays of light filtering down through the opening, but the tree-filled cavern was a lovely blend of nature and culture nonetheless. Next we explored the aptly named Jewel Cave (Tham Kaew), featuring the usual cave formations but with the sparkly addition of calcite crystal deposits and the bonus of bat colonies and a whip scorpion sighting.