2/6/25
Despite our best ambitions we didn’t leave the house till almost 8am. It had taken far longer than we expected to tidy up and pack our things. We left our old tyres for the owner to hopefully distribute to someone who could use them. We tried to throw our rubbish away. We’d used the bins before. They were next to a huge sign that said no littering. Now the women were shouting at us and pointing to the sign. It made absolutely no sense. We ended up taking it back and leaving it outside the house.
We’d cycled in Istanbul and Bangkok. Hanoi was worse by a country mile. It was insufferably hot already. The scooters literally nudged us. Horns sounded off, making an irritating situation increasingly infuriating. After many kilometres we reached some minor roads. We cycled through tomato fields. Every leaf dead and brown. Shiny red tomatoes glimmering. It was impossible to get used to people coming out of junctions on the wrong side of the road. It was only 9:30am and the temperature had hit 40C. How far we would get was anyone’s guess. At least without heatstroke.
The Mapy route took us down a gravel track. We persevered but it turned into a grassy dead end. Frankie at this point said her wheel felt wobbly. It was a puncture. We sought shade. The tyre was brand new. Not a mark on it. A small cut on the rim facing side. We just pulled out a new tube and stuck it in. Faffing with soap to get the tyre seated. Then we backtracked to find an actual road. We found ourselves on an embankment. It wasn’t too busy. Just a little bumpy and stupid hot. Stupid, stupid, hot.
At the next shop we paused and drank orange juice with a teaspoon of salt in it. Then booked a hotel only 20km away. Our aspirations of 80km was for the birds. After we left the embankment the whole day went completely to pot. Frankie’s rear tyre deflated again. And us along with it. The heat was punishing enough. This was just torture. We walked back along the road and found a municipal building. Then dismantled the bike and set about fixing the puncture. We just weren’t prepared to put another new inner tube in.
It took a few minutes of us faffing. We were trying to use a puncture repair kit that we hadn’t needed once thus far. We didn’t even have sandpaper. Enter an old woman on an electric scooter. She came back with a used abrading disc from a power tool. We were novices. The woman eagerly assisted the fixing process. Fitting the tyre required us to soap up the bead. Otherwise the tyre wouldn’t seat properly. We triumphantly pumped up the tyre. Bang! And down it went again. We dismantled the tyre again to discover the patch had burst open.
We didn’t even know that was possible. The hole was even bigger. We gained more observers. The woman had called her husband. He was extremely confident. Leaving the glue to set for a few minutes and then rolling the patched tube around in his hand. Once again we inflated the tyre. Once again the patch failed. The woman sought out different patches. Ours were inferior apparently. They didn’t work either though. The woman came back with a new inner tube this time. It was 26”, but not wide enough. And it had the wrong valve. Still it went in and the tyre went up. We were still truly perplexed as to what was causing the puncture. It was a brand new tyre and the wound was on the side facing the rim.
Just as success happened. So did misfortune. An unmistakable hissing sound. Not from the freshly inflated tyre. But instead from Jonathan’s rear wheel. Laughter erupted around us. There were at least 10 people watching. It was like a hilarious slapstick comedy show. We looked to the sky for answers. None were forthcoming of course.
Ahhh yes. Another wheel to dismantle. Another patch that failed immediately despite carefully following online instructions. All that could be done was to put another inner tube in. Unfixable inner tubes weren’t an option. It diminished our ability to freely cycle without worry. Especially when the punctures weren’t even from the road so they couldn’t be stopped. In his googling Jonathan stumbled upon a possible cause. The tyre lever. He picked up the tool and ran his fingers over the end. Sharp, jagged plastic. Perhaps each time the tyre was being manipulated into the rim, the lever was scratching the plastic and creating a weak spot that slowly resulted in a hole.
Now taking extreme caution and a smooth tyre ever, we put the new tube in. We finally had two bikes ready to go. It had only taken 3.5 hours. We weren’t sure where the time had gone. Nor had we noticed the building heat. Once we started rolling we felt it searing our skin. It was only 8km to our hotel. There were occasional patches of shade but most of the way we were getting toasted.
The Nha Nghi had a flashing sign outside. A large covered area for our bikes. We parked up and then slumped. The owner appeared, brought us some iced water and we sat by the fan. We felt sick and weary. It was likely we had heat exhaustion. Jonathan’s body was tingling, like he was cold. Headaches developed. He had pain after urinating and it felt like there was more to come even after he’d finished.
The room was clean and cool. Air conditioning and a fan. It was the cheapest place we’d ever stayed. Only 100k. Less than £3. We wandered down the street to find some food. The heat was still stifling even after dark. Gone was the easy vegan food. At the first restaurant the woman just told us “There is meat”. We managed to get chips at the second place. In the supermarket we bought nuts and dried fruit. A small boy served us. It was already quite late. We ate our chips, nuts and dried fruit and got ready for bed. Our headaches were still pounding away.
Surly They Won't Make It 