Climbing the Hai Van Pass
After you brave the traffic of Vietnam’s cities, you’ll find coastal vistas and pine-forest-lined roads
Iwas wrestling with my granny gear on the lower slopes of the Hai Van Pass. The route is near the centre of Vietnam. It’s a place I’d been reading about for a decade or so and had longed to ride. I did have a lot of trepidation though. I’d seen reports of wild weather and death-defying tour buses, which had me glancing over my shoulder constantly. Yet, I didn’t come close to a skirmish or a dusting here or anywhere during my whole time in Vietnam.
Organized chaos – maybe that’s one way to describe the traffic on the urban and suburban roads. Absolutely every single Youtube video from Vietnam of motorbikes hurling themselves headlong toward each other is true, and often terrifyingly so. But, not once did I see an accident, which is amazing.
Earlier that same morning, I’d pedalled through Da Nang at rush hour. Da Nang is the seaside city made famous during the Vietnam War as a place for GIS to find debaucherous fun. The traffic was in full fury. The motorbike swarm was mesmerizing to watch; the traffic lights appeared to make no difference at all.
I had to get across the road, and then across the one after that. Given that I’d seen more dodges and swerves than in a flyweightboxing match, and without a single blow ever landing, I just went for it – hands on the tops, away from the brakes, full speed and head on. Even now it brings a nervous grin to my face just to think about it. I’ve lived in Southeast Asia for many years now and can say that had I tried this move anywhere else, I would be lucky to be alive. Somehow it seems a part of everyday road madness here. It’s kind of fun, too, once you
accept your fate, that is.
Within minutes, I was out of the chaos and riding along a sweet coastal road with the dreaded slopes of Hai Van Pass pinching at the distant horizon. The climb is humble, less than 500 m upward. The elevation may sound like a ride in the park, but I can assure that it’s anything but and lives up to its hefty repute.
From end to end, the climb is a little less than 22 km, with roughly half of that being up, and half down. This is the old highway that linked Hanoi with Ho Chi Minh City (formerly Saigon). The pass is near the former north/south divide with the wartime dmz close by.
The divide also marks a dramatic change of climate, which had I not seen myself, I really would not have believed. To the south, it was hot and sunny. No rain in months. The mountainous coastal outcrop that the road straddles breaks up the weather. On the northern side, it’s often wet and chilly. Ahead and above me loomed a dark and mesmerizing cloud. By the time I reached the cloud, the scorch of the southern slopes had turned to a chilly and mist-shrouded alpine-like environment.
The early slopes were steep and relentless, although the coastal vistas from here are pretty special. I was carrying a backpack full of cameras, which drew heaps of applause from passing tourists. I moved at a slow pace. The roadside refreshment vendors were aggressive and couldn’t understand why I didn’t want to stop to buy their overpriced Coke every 200 m or so.
As I neared the final bends toward the summit, the mist chilled my sweat-basted jersey. I was looking for a quiet spot to grab five minutes, and maybe a photo or two. Then I came across a guy with a fully loaded touring bike and pulling a Bob trailer, all flaked out at the roadside. He didn’t seem to be in a communicative mood, so I kept on riding into the gloom of the mist. By the time I finally summitted,
“I just went for it – hands on the tops, away from the brakes, full speed and head on.”
there was almost zero visibility. I was both physically fried and chilled by the mist at the same time, so made a rapid dive back toward the coast.
Climbing the pass did turn out to be a highlight of the trip, although carting a hefty camera bag over it is not something I’d rush to do again.
After Hai Van Pass, my plan was to ride and bus-hop my way south to the hilltop town of Dalat, which is supposed to have a chill climate and good riding. Since much of that ride would be along a busy main highway, I decided to take a short flight south to allow more time on the best roads and trails, rather than enduring the long and flat trafficheavy transfer stages.
Dalat is a popular area for Vietnamese road and mountain bikers who come to train at this relatively high altitude (1,500 m) and on comparatively quiet mountain roads surrounding the “City of Eternal Spring” as it’s known. Dalat is a much toned-down version of the bigger cities; within 20 minutes or so of riding in most directions, you will find quiet country roads. These are mostly through pine forests and come flanked by numerous lakes that are tucked away between the mountains.
It had taken me a long time to finally get around to making this trip, mostly because it was hard to find the necessary information. For cycling, the midsection of the country and the far north are the prime destinations. Both are worlds apart in character and terrain. On my trip, the sweet pine forest roads of Dalat in the south were a welcomed surprise. I can’t say that Vietnam is the most relaxed Southeast Asian country to travel in, but it’s certainly an exciting place for a great ride.