Put it on your bucket list
Stu Hunt finds there is no such thing as light traffic in Vietnam.
Not all bike-packing experiences are created equal. There are plenty of overland epics that require horsepower and perseverance. Vietnam isn’t one of those.
When the Top Gear crew filmed their trip, it was all for laughs but plenty of people watching must have thought to themselves ‘‘that looks doable’’.
So it’s a bit of a thing now – bike-packing light. A little riding experience doesn’t go astray, you have to be vigilant, but the bikes are small and the speeds are low.
This takes a little planning but there’s a welltravelled path and the tyre prints are all over the internet.
When US troops arrived in Vietnam in 1965, in Da Nang, they walked up the beach and were greeted by the locals with floral wreaths.
When they paused long enough to look around they realised they’d landed in paradise and they were being greeted by angels.
A country steeped in natural beauty and populated by a humble and gracious people.
Sadly the pleasantries ended there. The war was 50 years ago. It was a chapter, a drawn-out and violent one at that, but not completely out of sync with the country’s troubled history.
But today’s Vietnam is still a beautiful place. From the surreal green of the rice paddies to the densely forested hills and valleys. It has a scent somewhere between sandalwood and vanilla and the night air is still and sweet. And warm. The food is fresh and fragrant, and the people friendly. The beer is cheap.
The cities are a bit of a mess, though. Equal parts decaying French grandeur, urban sprawl and swarming traffic. And the motorbike is king. Well, the scooter anyway. Thousands of them constantly pulse and surge through the city in a slow but chaotic dance, to the thin, metallic chorus of horns.
Our plan was to ride from Ho Chi Minh City to Hanoi in 15 days. A shade under 2000km on XR150s. Not a luxurious machine but nearly purpose-built for this job. Almost a barracuda in a sea of sardines.
The plan: pick up the bikes in Ho Chi Minh City and wind our way more or less along the Ho Chi Minh Road to Hanoi.
So on a very warm day wearing as much riding gear as we could stand, with our luggage tightly secured, we set forth.
It was a very tentative start and not all well thought through. The timing spared us the worst of the traffic but there is no such thing as light traffic in Vietnam. Any time of day you get on the main roads you’re joining the salmon run.
Experience has taught us that the best way to get out of the city is to hire a guide. There is no shortage of people who will offer this service. But lacking this insight, we bravely forged our own path.
Now, probably the easiest way to explain Vietnam by motorbike isn’t chronologically. It’s probably best to break it down.
On the road again
Negotiating the traffic was the worst part but, oddly, the most exhilarating.
Once you’re on the main arteries there isn’t too much direction-finding needed, you more or less just follow your nose. But on the outskirts, it’s a little less certain with a multitude of T-junctions and no signs as such.
Navigating was a little trial and error. The first stop was Cat Thien National Park, but we hit something of a camel track on our first attempt and the back-tracking cost us what little daylight we had left. As night falls the show begins.
The roads are not good. There are main highways, which are OK, but the towns have been badly chopped up by heavy traffic.
Mix this with the heat, opposing traffic in your lane, impatient truck drivers, acrid black smoke from rubbish lingering in your line of sight, unpredictable canines, equally unpredictable pedestrians, and potholes you need to lower yourself into, and it’s quite a ride. All you can do is hold on, stab at your horn and hope. And the farmers dry their rice on the roads at night.
In Vietnam, there are typically two routes everywhere. The highways designated QL and the B-roads. One is busy but smooth, the other is a mix of roads not much wider than footpaths built from concrete, but these are the mountain passes that get you away from the bustle and into the hinterland. But every now and then you’ll hit a mountain pass like the one between Dalat and Nha Trang, with an exceptionally well-engineered road and a series of swooping corners that take you to the edge of your chicken strip and leave you with a wild grin.
The scenery
As soon as you’re out of the city you’re in the jungle, with endless greenery that enfolds you.
The thick carpet of green is only broken up by the scattered villages, then the more intense emerald green of rice paddies, from which come the odd water buffalo enjoying some break time by
sunning themselves on the road.
They are big but not that quick off the mark. They were largely unperturbed by being buzzed by motorbikes all the time.
The stretch of the Ho Chi Minh road between Khe Sanh and Phong Nha is a spectacular lattice of river valleys and limestone outcrops.
It goes without saying, but when you’re on the bike you really feel connected to the view.
Closing in on Phong Nha National Park, the limestone pillars and cliffs become more imposing and conceal an amazing network of caves.
When we got to Phong Nha, the hotel concierge started to sell us on the idea of seeing a cave. My mate, Shane, said ‘‘we have caves back home’’. The concierge shot back with ‘‘you funny man’’.
Phong Nha itself is a tangle of hotels nestled against the cliffs but it has a youthful buzz to it.
We took the train into Da Nang then rode the short stretch to Hoi An, which is a bit of a resort gauntlet with the imposing Marble Mountain towering over the strip like a rock chimney stack.
Hoi An itself is just pretty. The quaint market village straddles the river, and each shop and restaurant is steeped in character and charm. This was where we put the motorbikes aside and explored on foot for a couple of days.
Dalat was similarly ordered and picturesque. If I lived and worked in Vietnam, Dalat would be my pick.
The food
The coffee is thicker than sump oil and it’s liberally sweetened with condensed milk. You get used to this, but I’m not sure I’d say I enjoyed it.
Caffeine, however, is caffeine and, even if I have to spoon it in, I’m not going to be denied.
Every time you sit down, they pour you this straw-coloured, odd-tasting tea. Again, it’s a taste I never acquired.
But the food is magnificent. The Vietnamese do a lot with a little. Lemongrass, coriander, ginger, mint, chilli. Even if we ate simply in some of the smaller, quieter villages, the dishes were fragrant and inventive.
In the restaurants of Hanoi, classical French cuisine is given the Vietnamese treatment, so you’ll have dishes such as roulade but they’ll come with a tamarind or passionfruit sauce.
For my money though, the best food we ate was the street food.
Banh Mi is a sandwich but not as we know it. Built from a baguette and layers of flavoursome ingredients, they are assembled with a deceptively large amount of care and attention. I almost wept when I tried one for the first time. A tour of Vietnam devoted entirely to the pursuit of the Banh Mi would not be a wasted experience.
There was a chicken dish in Khe Sanh that was quite tasty, but the fact the chicken’s head came along for the ride was a little off-putting.
The trains
We took two overnighters to cut out four days of riding, to cover as much ground as we could in the time we had. In theory you could cover 2000km in 10 days but anything much more than 200km a day is a whole day in the saddle, a saddle that wasn’t as much sewn and stuffed, as forged by the devil’s blacksmith.
Sleeper trains are a little hit and miss. The first time, we were sharing a six-berth. The top bunks are close to the ceiling, which takes on something of the coffin lid.
The beds are comfy enough but this is not the Shinkansen.
Vietnamese rail is a little bumpy. OK, a lot bumpy. I was being shaken so much at one point I woke in a panic thinking I was caught in one long and violent earthquake. So sleep was evasive.
The train from Dong Hoi to Hanoi was far better. Just a four-berth so we had it to ourselves and, a big plus, figured out where the light switch was so darkness and sleep reigned.
The people
Vietnamese people are by and large humble and shy, hospitable and friendly. You can’t really generalise about people when you only have brief encounters with a few of them, but there’s a lot to like about the Vietnamese. They all ride, for starters.
The scooters
This is a country used to maximising its resources. The scooter is just about one of the most versatile resources. Did you know you can carry a dining table on a scooter?
And don’t be fooled into thinking that seat is only big enough for two people. It can accommodate four and the family pet.
We Westerners just think we need a four-seater car to get the family around in.