14/5/25
When we tried to leave in the morning we were blocked by rain. It started pouring just minutes before we finished packing the bikes. We stood around staring at it for almost an hour. Then we asked them for a coffee. While we were waiting we spotted what we thought might be a Saola head on their wall. Apparently the hunters in the area consider its rareness a badge of honour and refuse to stop. We asked, and they told us it was the head of a giant muntjac. We didn’t even know there was such a thing! We’d only seen petite ones in the UK.
We needn’t have worried about the route being less scenic as we headed towards Vinh. It was a pretty lush landscape and freshly coated in the rain. We crossed a large river and then travelled through fields of rice, aqueducts close by and misty hills in the distance. We saw some women processing the bright orange corn we always saw drying. Maybe it was destined to be chicken feed.
As the road got flatter the number of settlements increased until we were in a large town. We stopped for some fully processed jackfruit. We would never buy it on the skin again. It was too much effort and far too sticky. We were happy to pay for the labour. They seemed amused by the fact that we stopped right there to eat it. Then we set sail again. It was like being in the middle of the fens. A long flat causeway. Through even flatter lands. The land was saturated. Even some of the rice was flat.
The road sporadically turned to absolute shit. Every vehicle had to stop and wait while each person navigated the pot holed road. How it could go from perfectly sealed to what we would describe as a bridleway was mad. Especially given the volume of traffic. We rode through a small town. Streams of scooters as the children all went raging home.
We was soon turned onto a tiny back road. It was a short-lived respite past the duck farms and rice fields. It ended with an unconstructed road. This soon gave way to a sprawling metropolis. We took a dual carriageway 5km into the centre of Vinh. It was a horribly hot, busy road that went on forever. We set our eyes on the prize. A vegan buffet. Frankie had designs on it before we even arrived in the country.
The roads were terrible. Probably the biggest city we’d been to. We just had to put our heads down and hope they didn’t murder us. If anything they were less likely to use their horns. Otherwise the cacophony of noise would be stupid. The buffet was to die for. An utterly ridiculous array of vegan food like nothing we’d ever seen at home and probably ever would. For £3.79 each we stuffed out with multiple different tofu dishes, vegetables, and even a little bit of dessert.
When we left Vinh it was super hot. After 5 km we stopped. Irritated, agitated and flustered by the heat. We’d got used to it being a little cooler. It took us a while to calm down. When we sat off again it a few kilometres of busy road, and more intense heat, then we were back under the cloud. We headed to Kim Liên. Uncle Ho’s birthplace. Apparently there’s nothing much to see, but we just wanted to go for the cultural atmosphere. It’s somewhere a lot of Vietnamese people hold extremely close their heart. We don’t have to pay anything and it’s like a reconstructed version of his father‘s house.
It was a nice cultural experience. We expected very little, so it was an always going to be an improvement. We looked at a couple of routes and agreed we wanted to head back towards the Ho Chi Minh highway. We really had taken a big detour just for the buffet. No regrets. The roads out of town were very busy. They were stupidly disorganised and chaotic. People just overtake and then work out the details later. We had a nice landscape in front of us despite the busy roads. So much rice it was ridiculous.
The QL46 was relatively quiet. Presumably the lorries took the QL15. The Sun was now out in fairly full force even though it was 5pm. We left the settlements behind. Rice fields stretched out before us, they didn’t seem to grow anything else. Young people rode past on scooters. Many people were driving past in nice cars. It was hard to believe that these people would ever be in the fields.
The road became particularly scenic. A large river on our left and a mountain on our right. The Sun was coming down. We never really experienced riding at this time of day. It always been too hot. It was nice to experience something new. A different golden hour.
We rode into Dùng in high spirits. There were so many joyous interactions with people. Young girls making fake cycling movements as they passed on their electric scooters. A man laughing at Jonathan as he sounded his pretend horn “Meep, meep!” The traffic just pulling out, without even so much as a hint of looking first.
It was hard to find a hotel. There were many, but they all had bad reviews. Dirty, bad tempered hosts, overpriced. We decided to try a place that was mislabelled on google as a Vacation Agency. We went past the flourishing market, and turned into their expansive downstairs garage. A woman came out. The moment of truth. Would she be friendly or not. A smile. It’s all that mattered really. We had a box for 200k. We set about washing our clothes. They were filthy. Two long days in the saddle, without a good wash. We didn’t know if they would dry by the morning. We had no choice.
Surly They Won't Make It 