Marco Ferrarese

Goes on a wild ride along a series of divine mountain switchbacks in Vietnam’s northernmost corner.

Below me, the world is split into two unmatched halves, the odd creation of a pretty undecided God. On the left flank of the valley, rocky grey crests soar high from deep gorges, running after each other like petrified waves on the surface of a craggy sea. But to the right, a stark contrast of rolling green mountains cast constellations of viridian paddies as far as the eye can see. It’s as if Mother Nature had randomly picked two wrong jigsaw pieces, interlocking them at her odd will.

I’m observing this puzzle from a strip of high-altitude asphalt, while my rental Honda Wave sputters uphill. The road cuts through limestone walls like a dark gash in an ash-toned body. I feel like a tiny anchovy lost in the middle of this solid rock ocean, so awestruck I can just inch forward and look beyond the cliff to my left, gulping down at every hairpin bend.

This is all in a day’s work for those who dare to venture in the Ha Giang region. Vietnam’s northernmost corner is a place of misty landscapes strewn with conical limestone crags, deep gorges and mountain tribes who have made these ancestral highlands their barren homeland.

If I squint at the horizon hard enough, China’s Guanxi province gazes back at me from behind a curtain of puffy clouds.

What I consider Southeast Asia’s most scenic road trip starts right beyond the small and frankly unattractive town of Ha Giang, an eight-hour bus ride north of Hanoi. It’s a wild 320-kilometre motorbike loop along a series of divine mountain switchbacks, connecting the villages of Tam Son, Yen Minh, Dong Van, Meo Vac and Bao Lac.

This route can be leisurely completed in three days, but the beauty of the scenery commands for longer stays – especially because Ha Giang’s back roads are still under most travellers’ radars.

Resting my wheels at the top of a ridge overlooking a bundle of saw-toothed limestone peaks, I can’t say I’m not glad that Ha Giang remains a hushed secret. But I also wonder why.

No doubt, it can’t be for the special (but very rarely checked) permit required to visit – most of the region’s hotels and guesthouses can get it for a mere $20. And with new accommodation options, a slew of refurbished local restaurants, and the crucial arrival of ATM circuits, travellers should be flocking in as in nearby Sapa.

I reckon people don’t come because to enjoy this stunning yet forlorn slice of North Vietnam, one must rent a motorbike and do the hard work: riding alone against the wind from Ha Giang to the villages of Meo Vac and Dong Van. To me, negotiating one hairpin bend after the other is certainly more rewarding than sharing a touristy mountain village with busloads of other tourists.

On my first day, I set off from Ha Giang’s town limits, and the road immediately starts climbing through forested hills until the Dong Van Geo Park, inscribed by Unesco in 2011. After a couple