Brave rides 2000km on her little red scooter through chaotic cities and peaceful countryside.
The roar of traffic rings in my ears. It is the sound of hundreds, perhaps thousands of motorbikes, scooters and cars coming to life around me, surging towards the intersection ahead.
Vehicles come from the left, the right, from in front and from behind, some doing u-turns in the middle of the intersection and others driving in the wrong direction down the one way streets. It is pandemonium and I am right in the centre of it, driving for the first time on my newly purchased scooter in one of the busiest cities in Vietnam, Ho Chi Minh.
With an estimated 8.5 million scooters and motorbikes in the city, driving on the roads almost seems like a death wish. I sense this acutely as I desperately try to avoid hitting the vehicles weaving across the road and the people trying to cross by foot amid the traffic.
Idling in the middle of the intersection, for the first time I think, maybe it wasn’t a good idea to attempt to drive almost 2000km from the south of the country to the north – by myself.
Maybe the mechanic who handed me my beloved little red scooter, Penelope, was right when he said, ‘‘wow you are really brave, no Vietnamese women would ever do that. In fact, most men probably wouldn’t either’’.
At the time I took it as a compliment; but now I can see why Vietnamese women wouldn’t drive from one side of the country to the other. However, I make it through the intersection and the next one, and the one after that and I even find myself enjoying the madness of it all.
I realise that as chaotic as the roads seem, there is, in fact, a system, albeit one that isn’t written down but more discovered as you go along, and it does work. The other thing I notice is the absence of angry drivers. There is no aggression, finger pulling or cussing, at least none that I understood anyway, and people seemed genuinely calm and relaxed even as a scooter pulls out right in front of them almost causing a crash. I am impressed by it, even respectful of it.
Another equally impressive feat is the amount and variety of items that can be stacked on a scooter without the whole thing toppling over. Observing these loads becomes a source of entertainment as I leave Ho Chi Minh on the first leg of my journey, a 300km stretch from the city to the picturesque town of Dalat situated in the mountains of the Lam Dong province.
The road is long, occasionally winding and surprisingly well maintained. As I drive I pass scooters loaded with chickens, ducks and even dogs in small cages on the back looking extremely uncomfortable but resigned to their situation. I laugh out loud as a scooter carrying five people and a child crammed in the middle pushes past me in the throng of traffic.
Behind it, another carrying 15 boxes stacked on a back rack held on by some tenuous looking bungee cords passes by. The driver looks perfectly content as though unaware of the looming tower threatening to collapse on his head.
Despite the entertainment, the supposedly six-hour journey feels like it will never end. Desperate for a break, I pull over at a roadside restaurant for lunch and check my navigation app. Alarmingly, it still reads five hours. It dawns on me that my little scooter, as good as she is, will not cover the distance in six hours going at 60km per hour.
Eight and a half hours later, and with an incredibly sore bum. I reach Dalat. I am yet to find out that sore bum will become a constant companion on my journey. But four days later, now onto the second leg of my trip, I realise this will be a sad reality.
I am driving with a group of people, all travellers like myself, who are heading from the North to the South. Together, we plan to bike 631km to the city of Hoi An, stopping overnight in Nga Trang and Quy Nhon.
Coming down from the mountains of Dalat, the scenery is stunning. To the left stretches green rice fields, hills and small villages with a clear blue sky backdrop. Farmers working in the fields appear as small dots in a sea of green.
As we descend, the air grows considerably hotter until it becomes stiflingly humid. At first it’s bearable but when halfway into the trip my back tyre deflates the heat becomes a curse. Thankfully, I am in a small town when it happens and a mechanic is conveniently around the corner. After a small fee and half an hour, I am back on the road.
Twenty minutes pass without issue but then I feel my bike wobble dangerously. The back tyre is flat again. Another mechanic, this time a man I meet on the roadside, comes to my aid and again changes the tyre. I watch carefully as he dismantles my bike and puts on a completely new wheel. As night falls I feel grateful for my travelling companions who keep me company as we wait for the mechanic to finish.
Two hours later – and another slightly larger fee – and I am again on the road but I can feel something is not right with my bike. The back wheel sends a slight tremor up the bike when I drive. Once again, I pull over feeling extremely frustrated at the situation. A third mechanic later and I discover the previous mechanic has unbelievably managed to put the tyre on backwards.
Thankfully, I would be mechanicfree for the rest of my journey – something I am particularly grateful for as I embark on the next solo leg of the trip which involves crossing the Hai Van pass.
The 21km stretch of road is touted as the most beautiful scenic coastal drive in Vietnam.
Popularised by the BBC TV programme Top Gear, it is a drawcard for tourists who often rent motorbikes to drive the pass themselves. It’s a drive I am looking forward to.
Signs appear shortly after I leave the city of Da Nang and lead me to a road winding up and over a mountain. It is flanked on the right hand side by stunning views of the ocean; to the left by green mountains.
Most of the traffic on the road involves other tourists soaking up the views and trucks loaded to the brim with squealing pigs. The trucks move slowly up the mountain pass forcing bikers to edge precariously around them.
It is hazardous at the best of times. However, today the weather is perfect, the sun blasting the road and those on it.
Rest stops for bikers to check out the view are frequent and 20 minutes into the journey I find myself pulling over, camera at the ready to capture the view. In front of me the blue ocean glistens. Small islands dot the otherwise empty space. It is a view you might find in New Zealand.
On the other side of the pass, the similarities become even more pronounced as the coastline comes into view. I can’t help but think to myself of the view of Tauranga’s coastline from atop Mt Maunganui. It is a stunning view.
Further inland, I am offered an equally if not more striking view of the landscape as I take the Ho Chi Minh Highway from Phong Nha to Ninh Binh, and then to Hanoi on the last leg of my journey. The highway is the alternate route to the coast linking Hanoi and Ho Chi Minh. For the most part, the road is empty of traffic and people and towns and cities are few and far between.
As I begin my 187km drive from Phong Nha in the Quang Binh province to the neighbouring province of Ha Tinh, I am completely surrounded by mountains. The drive is peaceful and the air cool. I pass