The Moose is Loose!



The Loose Moose

Vietnam was to be my last country and I had just under one month to do it. This was a good amount of time, however the question was more about how to go about doing it rather than the time it would take.  What would be the most exciting, adventurous, and off-the-beaten-track way of getting from north to south?  How could I find a little trouble, or maybe get myself lost? I thought about it for about 3/4 of a second, clearly a motorcycle is the best option.

The Gang. Left to right: Ben, Christina, Lucy, Me, Hannah, Shea, Tink

I had about 8 days in Hanoi, sampling the local 20 cent beer while sitting on miniature chairs that were clearly meant for children's tea parties, meandering through the islands of Halong Bay on the "Jolly Rodger" (which couldn't actually fly her scull and cross bones on account of the real pirates in the area), dodging scooters as they careened around blind corners up onto the sidewalk and back onto the street on the other side of a red light, ambling through the many markets, and doing a little research into motorcycles that would take me (hopefully) the 1770 odd kilometres down the coast to Ho Chi Minh City. 

Riding a motorcycle the length of Vietnam is not a popular form of travel relative to the number of people who pass through the country, but thanks in most part to the TV show Top Gear, it has become a fairly well known way of doing it...if you have the time, but more importantly the kahoonies and/or lack the brain capacity to perceive danger (see 'death wish' for more information), I'm still not sure which correlates more directly.  It has now become popular enough that you can easily find several other travelers in Hanoi who are looking to make the trek as well so you can join up with them.
By the time the departure date arrived I had joined up with 2 Welsh guys (Tink and Ben), a girl from London (Lucy), a fellow Vancouverite (Christina), and a Kiwi (Shae) and his English girlfriend (Hannah).  We had quite the crew, and one that clearly rivaled that of the Hells Angels...or something close to it.  Everything seemed to be going perfectly, we had a great crew, that naturally just came together, everyone had bikes that functioned, and minds wide open ready to embrace whatever is thrown our way.  Or so we thought. 



The Moose's 'instruments'



My noble steed took the form of a decrepit old Russian built piece of scrap metal known as a Minsk.  The bare bones bike had no bells and whistles WHAT-SO-EVER, it didn't even have a key, just flip the ignition switch, give it a kick and your off in a cloud of pungent blue smoke and beautiful noise pollution that attracted scowls and death stares from everyone in a 2 block radius.  It was perfect.  Within hours of leaving I had dubbed it the "Loose Moose" due to the constant rattling that came from every component, nut, and bolt on the bike. It didn't take long for our first mishap, and unfortunately I was the root of the problem; 20 minutes down the road the the Moose hiccuped a few times, regained power, hiccuped again then lost power all together, and silently came to a halt with an empty gas tank.  Luckily that was a quick fix and we were off again into the setting sun and truck exhaust.  As the sun sank below the horizon everyone flicked on their lights and kept riding...I however was not so Lucky.  In my case lights most definitely fall under the category of 'bells and whistles' something the Loose Moose lacked in its entirety.  As if riding through some of the craziest traffic in the world on a shitty road, a shitty bike, with shitty drivers going in every direction at their own discretion isn't dangerous enough.  After about an hour of feeling my way down the road we all stopped on the side of the road to make sure we were all there, and in one piece.  We weren't.  About 10 minutes later as we were starting to get worried, Lucy rolled up in a state of pissed off I didn't know capable of the petite 19 year old English girl.  She had been clipped by another rider who cut her off and sent her sprawling onto the pavement, only to be subjected to an even more pissed off Vietnamese dude who thought it was clearly her fault even though he cut Lucy off...fortunately she wasn't hurt aside from a few small scrapes and a busted indicator light and was able to settle the dispute in a routine fashion: tell him to f**k off and drive away. 

That was enough for day one so we found the next guest house and booked ourselves in.  This particular place was an absolute gem.  Bed bugs were thriving, the blankets were moth eaten, the water barely worked, and when it came out of the tap it was as if the Mekong River itself was flowing through the pipes, we could have made pottery with the mud that was oozing out of the faucets.  Even for $2.50 we weren't impressed, but nothing we couldn't laugh off over a few beers at the local tire repair shop...go figure. I gotta hand it to the Vietnamese, they can always seize an opportunity to make a few Dong off a group of Westerners!
Having made little progress on day one we were keen to get moving in the morning and make some ground.  We were aiming for Cuc Phong National Park a little over 100km south.  But an uneventful day is something that does not happen in Vietnam so naturally we did not enjoy the smooth exit we were imagining.  Christina had given a copy (luckily) of her passport to the guest house owner and for reasons beyond me she had then sent it down to the police station.  We were assured that it would be dropped off in 10 minutes.  Two hours later, tempers were flaring and the more we asked the less English the women knew.  Finally it was suggested that we just leave it considering by this time if they wanted to make multiple copies and distribute Christina's identity they would have done so by now.  So with that we disappeared in a cloud of dust and blue Minsk smoke, on to bigger and better things.
The sun was out and the Loose Moose was happily rattling its way through rice paddies and dense jungle.  Of course that didn't last long, and all of a sudden I was frantically going over the checklist of routine problems that can cause a Minsk to go to sleep.  Turns out it was simply as loose wire and I was back on the road playing catchup with the rest of the gang. 
After a quick stop and photo opp with a massive artillery tank and the pristinely dressed guard on duty we used Lucy's first breakdown as a lunch stop...something that lasted 1.5 hours getting her choke and carb adjusted.  Today was not Lucy's day.  One hour down the road her rear bearing literally exploded and the resulting shrapnel shredded the inside of her wheel.  Luckily she rolled (sort of) to a stop right in front of a small family garage, and immediately everything was dropped and 3 Vietnamese started ripping apart Lucy's back end - were talking about a motorcycle here - after finding the shredded remanence of her bearings the dude who seemed to be in charge motioned that a new wheel needed to be bought from a larger garage down the road.  He hopped on his scooter and took off down the road holding the broken wheel in one hand.  We passed the time with a few beers from a neighbour and charades conversation with the rest of the family who were infatuated with Christina and insisted on marrying her to each of the males in the group. Two hours of work and 450,000Dong ($22.00 Canadian) later, Lucy had a new rim, bearing, and drum brake and we were back on track.  With two hours of riding ahead of us and light failing we turned off the main road onto the route that was to take us to Cuc Phong.  Not good riding conditions to say the least: I had no light, the other motorists were all on their own pages and the potholes literally swallowed you whole.  Shea rode beside me so I could see and we pushed on into the night until we arrived at a nice little guest house just outside of the National Park and settled in for a tasty home cooked dinner of some something-or-other with a side of stuff, followed by some much needed sleep.
Our planned early start turned out to be about 11:00am but no matter, the sun was out and it was casual Friday so we saddled up in shorts, singlets, sunnies and  left our helmets behind for the leisurely drive through the park.  First stop was a cave about 4km along a narrow road winding its way through dense jungle on either side, rolling over small hills and around jagged rock outcroppings.  The cave itself was great...but at the same time it was just another hole in the rock and I have logged some serious time underground in the last few months.  We cruised for a little longer, but had to get back for the main attraction: The Monkey Rehabilitation Centre.  What we didn't know is that on this day the main attraction was having lunch at the guest house amongst a gang of old school samurais prepping for a movie shoot...in the middle of absolute nowhere...what?? Moving on, there are monkeys to be seen.
As is normal throughout the entire world, human encroachment on wild animal habitat is ever increasing, and as much as people talk about it and comment on how things need to change and deforestation needs to be brought under control and so on and so forth, that's as far as it goes.  Even in developed nations its one of the largest, if not the largest issue facing wild animals.  So what chance do they have in developing countries like Vietnam?  The answer is slim to no chance at all.  Cuc Phuong National Park however is doing its part, and having some great success as well.  Arriving at the Monkey centre we were immediately greeted by the crashing, screaming, screeching and various other unidentified monkey sounds coming from the rows of enclosures that housed over a hundred monkeys from 16 critically endangered primate groups, 13 of which are endemic to the Cuc Phuong area.  They are amazing creatures and sad to see them in such dire situations, but at this point they are safer in the park's rehabilitation centre and semi wild enclosures than out in the wild.  Such is life, unfortunately.
We hit the road aiming for Than Hoa but after a few hours the Loose Moose started losing power and eventually quit all together.  I figured it had to be a blockage in the fuel line, but with the light failing there was nothing to do about it until morning so I linked up with Tink and he dragged me into the next town where we found a guest house for the night.  I have no idea what this town was called or even where it is on a map but by the way everyone acted toward us, 7 westerners rolling up on shitty motorcycles was clearly not a common occurrence.  It was if the circus had come to town.  People were crowding the door way to get a glimpse of the white people, giggling away at anything we did, they were even getting up out of bed to come have a look.  It gets very old VERY quick, let me tell you, and especially after a long day.  We finally got away to our rooms for some peace and quiet for the night.  If only we could prepare ourselves for what was in store the following day.
I woke up early so I could tend to my piece of junk bike (I was getting frustrated...to say the least).  I took the the carb apart and cleaned it thoroughly, finding no problems or blockages so that meant it had to be in the gas tank.  There were no surprises that the fuel filter was completely caked with metal flakes off the inside of the tank and when I took the tank off and drained it I was left with a handful of junk that had probably been swirling around in the tank for years.   As everyone else was packing up their gear to leave I went into town to try and find some two stroke oil, something nobody had...two stroke engines are a thing of the past.  As I was heading back I was met by Hannah running down the street saying there was a fight! Not knowing what to expect I parked the Moose and ran back to the guest house where the entire town had once again gathered to witness the circus' next act.  This act however was starring the guest house owner who had all of a sudden doubled our rate from 300,000Dong to 600,000.  We couldn't for the life of us figure out why, and with absolutely no English and an I-don't-give-a-shit attitude that would put a 14 year old girl to shame, we were getting nowhere.  To make matters worse the women had gone to Ben's bike, and taken the keys.  Ben got a hold of her hand with the keys in it but couldn't do much more without getting violent, and when a number of the towns people started getting agitated and stepped forward he let go, preferring not to get into a brawl with an entire town, and likely getting our asses Kung Fued.  Within seconds of him letting go the keys were passed through several hands and disappeared into the crowd.  That was enough, we were at the end of our tethers and wanted out of this town as soon as possible.  Shea and I hustled the women into her guest house and sat her down to talk to her, attempting to take the civilized, reasonable route.  She knew damn well that she was just trying to rip us off, so we offered her another 100,000Dong to get the keys back so we could just leave.  She wouldn't have any of it.  By this time she had turned from an attitude inflicted 14 year old to an incoherent disobedient 3 year old and wouldn't even try to listen, even when I brought out my phrase book and put a clear explanation in front of her.  It wasn't until the police arrived that she grew up a bit and in a flare of 7 year old temper tantrum she started pleading her case to the 'authorities'.  The room had turned into a legitimate court room, with the accuser and accusee pleading their cases to the judge, and the crowd watching the action intently from behind.  Naturally everyone was on the owner's side because whatever bullshit she was spewing they understood, where as we could have been explaining the meaning of life to them and it would have made no difference.  They had the upper hand until we brought out the ace in the hole.  The town's English teacher, who we had met the night before while buying more Hao Hao, (instant noodle of choice) arrived with her entire class in tow, and took the position as our lawyer, and a damn good one at that.  Finally, what we were trying to explain was translated and presented to the officer, who had done nothing until now except for get incredibly stoned off the local tobacco type substance that everyone smokes in the country.  When the women still didn't give up the keys we again offered another 100,000Dong but our lawyer wouldn't let us, and I quote "Do not give anything, I hate this women." After our explanation was translated the entire town turned on the owner, scoffing at her and telling her to give the keys back.  People lost interest and began filing out in disgust.  Finally she realized she had lost and called her daughter into the room and instructed her to give the keys back that she had been hiding in her pocket.  We got up and left as quickly as possible, but not before thanking the English teacher profusely for standing up against her entire town to help a group of foreign strangers.  Apparently there is still hope for humanity.  These kind of people are few and far between, but they are the ones that stand out the most and leave the greatest impression, I'll remember the old bag from the guest house but that's all I will remember her as.  Unfortunately, the world needs bitter, unhappy individuals because without them you would never realize just how good other people can be, and those are the kind of people that make the world a better place.
So, after all that, my bike still wouldn't start so Tink towed me a few kilometers to the next town where a mechanic fiddled with the carb for a bit, kicked it to life and we were back on track heading for the beach town of San Som.

We had a lovely evening running around the completely deserted resort town of San Som trying to find a meal that wasn’t served in broth. As hard as we tried, that just wasn’t an option, so Pho it was, again. The beach was beautiful, we went down after dinner to try and put together a fire, but with no wood or really anything necessary to start and maintain said fire, we opted for plan B which was to commandeer someone else’s. We ended up joining a group of Vietnamese who were on holiday from a recently opened hotel down the road and once again become the main attraction at the local circus, but some very nice people who spoke decent English so we were able to have a conversation.
We were off the following morning with the sun blazing and feeling good about the day ahead. Then my chain fell off. I had it put back on then it fell off again. I put it back on myself, and again it fell off. I finally had the back wheel realigned and the chain managed to stay on for the duration of the day. The road worked its way through some really hilly, windy terrain which provided some great riding and spectacular views. We arrived in Tan Ky in the evening at which point the Moose died on me and wouldn’t restart. This was the beginning of the end for the Loose Moose and I adjusted my goals and aspirations that I expected from it from getting me to Ho Chi Minh City to just making it to the end of each day. There were some brand new noises that clearly should not have been there.  Of the most concern was the rattling coming from the cylinder…never a good thing. And the more I drove the worse it seemed to be getting. At this point I began researching ways in which I could dispose of the Moose in the most spectacular way possible. A cliff would have been satisfactory but ideally I wanted it to end up in more pieces than a plunge off a cliff could provide. My heart was really set on explosives. Vietnam has a very special aspect of its tourism industry that immediately came to mind: shooting range. You can shoot anything, with anything. In this case the ideal weapon of choice would be a rocket launcher.  Usually reserved for blowing up cows (something that didn’t exactly appeal to me, surprise surprise), I figured they would have no problem replacing the cow with a moose. Unfortunately, after some extensive research, I found the closest shooting range was just north of Ho Chi Minh City, a distance that would undoubtedly never be reached.

We were on the road again the following morning after a very uneventful evening in a very uneventful town. Today’s goal was Phong Na Farm Stay, a brand new hotel opened in the middle of nowhere that gives a fantastic opportunity to participate in the rural life of local Vietnamese. This however, was a pipe dream, and as usual it was just a matter of time before something went wrong. It started to rain so we pulled over to gear up, the Moose was hard to restart, but it did in the end so we pushed on. After a fuel stop it refused to start. Eventually I strapped myself to Tink once more and he gave a pull start which worked beautifully. I pinned it so it wouldn’t stall again and was making great time until I came to a fork in the road and was forced to slow down, not knowing which route to take.  Shea and I opted to stop and wait for the others to catch up. It was getting dark so we pulled into a truck stop to wait and grab some food. Words of advice: don’t stop at Vietnamese truck stops unless you absolutely have to. Shea, Hannah and I walked in and as usual everyone stopped to stare. I went to the women who appeared to be in charge of the kitchen and went into the routine of acting out what I wanted to eat. This fell on deaf eyes, because she was far more interested in figuring out who was sleeping with Hannah. I assured her it wasn’t me, at which point she excitedly began offering up boom boom with each of the available women in the room. I made it clear that I wasn’t interested in trucker stop girls and what I really wanted was something to eat. Finally I pointed to one of the meals on a neighbouring table and motioned for her to please duplicate the creation for us (there was no broth, this was exciting). As we were eating and beginning to get worried about the others, Lucy called with some bad news. Ben and Christina had crashed when a dude on his scooter pulled onto the wrong side of the road to pass a truck and went head on with them. The Vietnamese guy was absolutely hammered.
Lucy drove down with Ben who had hurt his leg and hand and then she led Shea and I back up the mountain to the scene where Christina was being tended to by a group of drunk Vietnamese who thought the answer to her swollen cheek, bad concussion, and state of shock was beer. Tink had stayed with her and had got some hot water from them and blankets but we wanted to get going as soon as possible because we had been told that we were not allowed to spend the night at the truck stop. This meant we had about an hour of riding to go to the closest guest house. This was a bad scene. Eventually when Christina felt well enough to go, which was erroneous considering she asked what happened about five times, and to this day still has no recollection of the majority of the day, much less the incident, we got her on the back of Shea’s bike. The other guy had been quickly removed from the scene and the situation was considered resolved. Calling an ambulance or police never even crossed our minds because it would have just been a waste of time. It’s every man for themselves in Vietnam, and especially in the middle of nowhere. I drove Ben’s bike down which seemed to run without a problem other than a broken break lever. Just when we thought we had everything under control, Lucy’s chain fell off and we were forced to push her bike up the hill then coast down the other side to the truck stop. When we finally arrived back we began negotiations into how the hell we were going to get ourselves to the closest guest house about 35km away. After some time we convinced them that we had no chance of getting anywhere that night and made it clear that we were going to stay the night and leave in the morning.
Several bruised limbs, a concussion, and a broken break lever is nothing considering what could have happened. All things considered they were EXTREMELY lucky.
The situation was still bad, Ben’s clutch hand was banged up, Christina was badly concussed, the Moose was on its last legs and now was truly no better than scrap metal, and I was facing the truth that this may be the end of my motorcycle trip having not even made it half way. Worst biker gang ever.

We tow started the bike again and in a sudden explosion of blue smoke and noise, the Moose once again came to life. I rode for a good 150km without issue until a car pulled out in front of me and forced me to slow down more than the Moose cared to accept, and that was it, the Loose Moose was dead. Tink towed me the rest of the way to Phong Na Farm Stay where there was an old Vietnamese guy known as the Minsk Doctor. I still had a chance.

Phong Na Farm Stay is a brand new business run by an Aussie guy and his Vietnamese wife. It is a little gem in the middle of nowhere that serves Western food, beer, and great banter - in English. The experience of trying to communicate with people of a completely different language and culture is a huge part of travelling but its always nice to be able to put the charades away for a day or two. They run a great business and Ben (owner) is very knowledgeable and helpful about the area, as well as his wife Bich (pronounced Bic like the pencil) who was born and raised in the area. The farm stay is located in an area that was extensively bombed during the war and the rice paddies in front of the building are still riddled with unexploded bombs.  It's not uncommon for farmers to run their plows into unexploded bombs buried in their fields, at which point they dig it out and continue plowing. It’s just a fact of life for these people and sadly they can’t afford to let something like a potentially lethal explosive get in the way of their livelihood. It’s a world with far different priorities than westerners will ever understand.
Bich’s mother was always around as well and was a lovely women who always had a smile on her face. She spent most of the days looking after Ben and Bich’s new born daughter. Who would have known that this 4'10", kind hearted, old women was a sniper and field medic during the Vietnam war. This women who was so tenderly looking after a new born child had seen and done things that you could never even begin to imagine. Like I said, it is a different world. She also makes a hell of a good rice wine, something that will immediately put you in your place if you try to take advantage of it!
We spent two nights at the farm stay and took a tour around the area led by Ben.  We went through a massive cave that acted as a Vietnamese supply dump during the war, and then toured along the deserted Old Ho Chi Minh Trail.  Ben has made some key contacts in the area that allows him to take people to places we would otherwise not be allowed to go.  In other words he bribes them.  So after a short conversation the gate was lifted and we cruised on with the park to ourselves.  We ended the tour with another cave, but this one was different because very few people had been in this cave since they were hiding from American bombing runs.  We bumped our way through a few rice paddies, across a dried up riverbed and parked our bikes on the other side.  With Ben in the lead we skirted our way around several huge bomb craters, and hacked our way through an over grown trail until we reached the cave entrance.  I became the 5th white person to ever enter this cave that would have housed hundreds of people during the war...I didn't get a prize or anything, but kinda cool nonetheless!

With Christina still recovering, Shea, Hannah and I hit the road on our own and planned to meet the others in Hue in a few days. The Minsk Doctor had worked his magic brilliantly and the Loose Moose was back from the dead once more and in as fine form as it could be (which isn’t saying much) and we were back on the road heading for the Vin Moc Tunnels, then onto the coastal town of Dong Ha.

One of far too many

Like the more popular Cu Chi Tunnels located just North of Ho Chi Minh City, the Vin Moc Tunnels are a network of impossibly small tunnels that somehow housed hundreds of Vietnamese trying to escape the constant barrage of American artillery and bombing runs in the area. So after a number of wrong turns, Shea’s bike being stuck in first gear, then his chain falling off, then again, and asking clueless locals directions, we finally arrived at the tunnels eager to cram ourselves into claustrophobia. Hannah was feeling under the weather and opted to post up in a hammock while Shea and I went and tried to get ourselves lost.  After a few casual pictures with an Asian tour group in front of a backdrop of large bombs…(I just don't understand what they do with these photos?? What do they say during the slide show when they get home to their friends? “oh, look! The next 32 pictures are of different combinations of our tour group with these two random white dudes! Look at how tall and fat they are, they must eat too much”…I’ll never understand) we quickly hustled our way into the tunnels before them and proceeded to wander our way blindly through the maze. Every few feet there were small alcoves dug away no more than four or five feet wide and seven or eight feet deep that would have housed an entire family. Then a larger room that acted as a meeting room, a maternity ward, kitchen, radio room, and so on (that all had a striking resemblance to the standard 4 x 7 living spaces). The living conditions must have been awful, yet these people endured years of it; long enough to need a maternity ward.

There were a number of tunnels that weren’t lit and had 'Do Not Enter' signs, so naturally we took these tunnels in hopes of finding something interesting. With nothing but my camera as light we stumbled through the pitch dark until we came out at a lookout overlooking the ocean where someone would have sat and watched the American ships just off shore as they launched countless bombing runs and artillery attacks all over the area. It’s a pretty surreal feeling knowing that only several decades ago these things were happening right where I was standing. After feeling our way around for another little while we began to get anxious to get out and get going, something that proved slightly more difficult than anticipated. I wouldn’t go as far as saying we were lost…but we definitely weren’t found. Not until about half an hour later when we stumbled back out into the light conveniently right back at the front gate where we left Hannah and the bikes. I call it natural male intuition…but you can call it what you like. (dumb luck is not acceptable.)

We arrived in Dong Ha and went straight to Tam’s Café which had been suggested by Ben at the farm stay. It is a western style coffee shop/restaurant with great Vietnamese food and drink and all served to you by a staff of deaf or blind people. It’s an amazing thing to see in a country where a person with a disability is essentially just out of luck. With little infrastructure to begin with much less something for people with disabilities it is a great stride in the right direction.

We went back to Tam’s the following morning for breakfast and another Saigon style iced coffee (delicious) and were met by Tam himself. We chatted for a while and then he insisted that we let his brother take us to a lake where we can get the best fresh fish in the area. Didn’t have to ask us twice. The sun was shining when we met Tam’s brother en route to the lake, and after a potentially very informative tour of the Quang Tri Citadel in a Vietna-menglish dialect that I barely understood a word of, we arrived at a beautiful lake with a number of quiet, thatched roof huts built on stilts out into the lake.

With water lilies and lotus flowers surrounding us, we dove into cold beers and a kilo and a half of freshly caught fish that we wrapped into our own fresh spring rolls using the rice paper provided. It was perfect, and we could easily have stayed there all day eating and drinking but unfortunately we had some ground to cover in order to make it to Hue before dark.

After a great day of riding, I thought I might get through my first day without a bike mishap. That was a joke, obviously something was going to go wrong. Ten kilometers out of Hue my chain got in a fight with itself and in a symphony of twisting, shredding metal, it exploded and I left most of it on the highway behind me. That was the last straw, I was either leaving Hue on a new bike or on the bus.

Our arrival in Hue marked our arrival back into civilization. The city is large, bustling and has the craziest scooter traffic yet. We arrived during rush hour (which doesn’t have a particularly distinct beginning or end) and were quickly forced to change our riding mentality from aggressive avoidance to ultra aggressive contact. We actually had to use your feet to fend other people off and if there was space in front of you, you take that space or else someone else will cut you off and take it themselves. It was great fun. We checked into the DMZ Hotel and for $5.00 a piece the three of us shared the nicest hotel room I’ve seen since I left the western world, no bed bugs no Mekong River water; a nice change to say the least! Hue Backpackers is run by the same company as Hanoi Backpackers and is set up in the same fashion so we threw our gear down and went to the bar to meet up with the others and have some drinks.

The following morning I woke up late, but excited.  Today was going to be a big day: I was in the market for a new set of wheels! I made my way to the old quarter where there are countless shops selling all kinds of motos.  To the serious distaste of the shop owners, I window shopped for a bit to get an idea of prices, then came across a 125cc, Chinese built, blah, blah, blah, who cares, it was sweet! He told me it was 10 million Dong, so I countered with 3 million.  In the end he settled on 5 million but he'd buy my bike for 1 million...haha, what an idiot!  Unfortunately the Loose Moose didn't go out in the glorious supernova that I so wished upon it, but it was finally out of my hands, and I rode away with a new ride that was going to get me to Ho Chi Minh City...I hope.

The new ride!

 


Thien Mu Pagoda

  Shea and I cruised around for a bit, visited some temples just outside the town and then made our way back to the hotel to figure out our evening.  My new bike is beyond night and day, its something so drastically opposite to the Moose I don't know what it is.  The comfort, the ease at which it drives, the smooth gear system, a speedometer, and lights!

The following day was a milestone for us, we made the entire trip from Hue to Hoi An without a single problem! The drive was beautiful, winding up and down roads along the coast and then finally over a pass, past some American pill boxes and down the other side into the city.  Hoi An is a lovely little town.  The main strip is divided down the middle by a small arm of the nearby river, with lanterns and tasty restaurants lining its banks.  We grabbed some food and had a quick explore before heading into a bar for some drinks and then called it an early night.  We had a big fishing trip ahead of us.

Shea came up with the idea that if we can get out onto the river with some locals, and fish with them we should be able to work out some sort of deal where they will cook up the fish we catch after.  Sounds like a good plan to me.  So after some serious charades, we struck a deal with two women who agreed to take us out fishing and then bring us back and have the fish cooked up for us at a nearby restaurant. 

Turns out it wasn't quite what we had in mind.  We paddled to the other side of the river, tied up to a moored boat and were each given a hand line to fish in the muddy 4 feet of water while the two women went to sleep.  Oh well, it was sunny and we were doing something different.  About an hour passed with nothing, then I made the catch of the century!

That was enough 'fishing' for one day.

A real fighter this one

After spending the majority of the last two months on or near the beach, I was itching to get back to the sand and sea, so with the sun blazing, Shea, Hannah and I hopped on our bikes and rode the short distance to the nearby beach. This is more what we were looking for!  Beautiful white sand, turquoise water and beach chairs strewn among palm trees. Shea and I cruised down to the end of the road and parked to take some pictures and just see what was there. As I'm snapping away, I hear a metal on metal crunch and to my dismay I turn around to my bike on its side and a car basically on top of it. The idiot had backed into it breaking the kickstand in half and smashing a rear indicator light. We both started yelling at each other in our own languages, obviously getting nowhere. He tried to walk away several times but we wouldn’t let him until he gave me some money for the damages. After some more arguing and animated gesturing, I managed to get 200,000 Dong off him at which point he tried to show me the scratch on his bumper. Nice try buddy.  I needed the beach more than ever now, and a day of relaxing in the sand and swimming did the trick wonderfully.

I was starting to stress a little about my time left. I had a flight from Ho Chi Minh City to Bangkok on December 20th in order to catch my flight home to Vancouver on the 21st. I had four days left and a hell of a lot of riding to do. I thought about selling my bike there in Hoi An and ended up getting some interest and for a decent price.  When it came down to it though, it wasn’t about the money, it was about pride and man points.  If I sold the bike there, I would have basically made it a little over half way. That just would not cut it. I didn’t come here to ride halfway. So, the following morning we were up and on the road at 6:30am with the goal of making it all the way to Nha Trang, 580km away. Generally, we average about 60km an hour because the bikes can rarely go faster than that, and it becomes too dangerous and difficult to dodge potholes, people, live stalk, or whatever else might find itself in your path. That means we had about ten hours of riding ahead of us plus stops. It was going to be a loooong day.

Everything was going great for the first four hours or so, then Shea and Hannah broke down. There had clearly been some ad hoc work done on his rear sprocket previously and it had come loose and snapped all the bolts in two. It did not look good. What we didn’t know is that we had rolled to a stop in front of the Vietnamese motorcycle MacGyver. This guy was unreal, he stripped off all the old bolts, and after about an hour and a half of welding, grinding, hammering, and whatever else he fit the sprocket back on the wheel like a glove, and we were back on the road again. We definitely were not gonna make it to Nha Trang before dark, but we decided that instead of stopping in some tiny town, it would be best to just push through it and get there. It was a big push, through driving wind and rain, and massive potholes that were invisible until you were basically in them. But thirteen hours after we left, we were finally having a beer in Nha Trang. We didn’t last long though, and after some food we crashed hard.


Nha Trang Harbour

Nha Trang is a beautiful coastal city, with a great beach, some really nice surf and a fun night life. After much debate with myself, I decided to stay in Nha Trang for the last few days and enjoy the beach before heading to Ho Chi Minh for my flight…by bus. This was the end of the line for me, I had to sell my bike. I bought a ticket on a night bus for the evening of the 19th, then devoted the rest of my day driving around town frantically trying to sell my bike, which nobody seemed to want. Eventually I found a buyer (for a lot less than I was hoping) and that was it, the bike was gone and I was back on the loser cruiser. A sad day to say the least; I was not ready to put an end to the riding adventure and sure as hell was not ready to go home.  However, looking back at all the amazing, crazy, funny, and just plain weird experiences from the previous 3 weeks I couldn’t stay upset for long. I had seen a lot of country that very few travelers care to bother with, I had met some incredible people and experienced some amazing culture: the good and the…not so good. All in all what could I possibly have to complain about.  As much as I hated the Loose Moose by the end, it was the reason we found ourselves in a lot of those crazy, unforeseen circumstances, and it was the people I was with that made them all positive no matter how dire the situation looked at the time.

Not only in Vietnam, but throughout the last seven months gallivanting around the world, there have always been beautiful landscapes, serene views, impressive monuments, ridiculous nights and everything in between.  But for me it's not the places that make themselves memorable, it's the company that you soak up a view, admire a temple, or piece a night back together with that make these places the experiences you will never forget, even if the company is your own.  This is the reason we seclude ourselves from the comfort of the people and places we love, it is the reason we strap our lives to our backs and disappear into the unknown, its the reason we attempt to teach little brats a new language, sleep in a hammock between two palms, trek through the highest peaks in the world only to end up back at the bottom, and it is definitely the reason we buy shitty motorcycles and ride off into the sunset.  Experiences form the foundation of travelling and open your mind to the diversities the world has to offer, and with an open mind opportunities are endless!

The world isn't going to see itself, so if you don't do it somebody else will.

Next stop, home sweet home.