Day 18: Ea Drăng – Buon Ma Thuot

Distance: 46.87

Time: 4:22

Average Speed: 10.7 mph

Before I set off this morning, I noticed that one of my pannier rack screws was missing. I’d fished one out of my bag for Pierre the other day, I should probably check my own bike more often, I thought. I rolled along looking for somewhere to pick up a Banh Mi for breakfast, but failing that I stopped outside a roadside restaurant. The sign seemed to say rice and then some other words I didn’t know. The woman said hello, so I took the risk and went in. She had beef. Beef and noodles and chicken. It seemed like I’d be able to find something to eat here.

The road continued much like yesterday, from Ea Drăng, at 600 metres, the road rose gradually to 800 metres, then whenever it dropped it would immediately start regaining height again. Also similar to yesterday, the horizon seemed to drop away on both sides, and straight ahead there always seemed to be blue sky just over the top of the hill, and yet the road kept climbing.

I’d had enough of these roads, they were wide and straight and bulldozed through the landscape. Never flat, there always seemed to be some almost imperceptible gradient, and it seemed ridiculous to be grinding along in first gear up what appeared to be virtually flat roads.

A couple on a moped stopped on the road ahead of me, then giggled when I passed. I thought they were maybe going to start filming me as had happened before, but instead when they passed again, the man handed me a piece of fruit, which I decided was probably a Guava as I rode along. Stopping to put it in my pannier another man stopped to ask if he could help me. When I said I was fine, he asked where I was from. ‘Scotland, I know Scotland’. Seemed unlikely, but he continued, ‘Robert son’. ‘Ok’ I said, unconvinced. ‘Yeees, Robertson, Liverpool’. ‘Ha, yes exactly!’ I exclaimed. Robertson, Liverpool, that’s us, Scotland.

I stopped for a Banh Mi during the morning, and then finally, after summitting 800 metres again, the road started to fall away ahead of me. Perfect, a gradual descent for a mile or so, then flat with a tailwind, then it dropped once more. It wasn’t as hot as previous days and it seemed like a waste to finish early, especially as I arrived at the hotel at 10 past 1, too early to check in. But tomorrow is Vietnamese New Year and most restaurants will be closed, so I chose a hotel that will hopefully have a great breakfast buffet, to see me through a long day tomorrow. And a great hotel it is too, in which to see in the New Year, again…

Day 17: Pleiku – Ea Drang

Distance: 63.49

Time: 5:54

Average Speed: 10.9 mph

I awoke at six, with the intention of getting on the road early, but by the time I’d had breakfast and started, it was already quarter past 8. Breakfast took a bit longer than I’d expected as the hotel wasn’t busy enough to run the buffet, so I ordered Pho Bo off the menu. It was good Pho and the beef was several cuts above the standard fare off the street.

Having missed my turn on the way to the hotel the night before, I’d had to backtrack, so I knew the day would start with a climb from 750 metres back up to the highway at 800 metres. Then, back on the highway, it continued to climb.

I’d read that the South-West Highlands was a valley between two mountain ranges, but it didn’t give that impression. The horizon was empty on both sides but the road was still rising, it felt like I was on a ridge, and eventually the road crested the summit at 917 metres.

The road started to fall, and looking ahead, it felt like I’d fallen off of a plateau. The road had dropped back under 700m at Chu Se, where I picked up some lunch. As I shopped, I was reminded of the vain attempts Pierre had had trying to spend his daily budget. I’d picked up a Banh Mi sandwich for 49 pence, a can of coke, strawberry milkshake and two small packs of Oreo-like biscuits for £1.18, then, to see if I could break the bank, I added a big bag of crisps for 16 pence. If I had a budget, I think I’d be under.

By 30 miles I was at 400 metres, and by 40 I’d dropped below 300, this was the kind of day I’d been waiting for. In my imagination, it was all downhill to Ho Chi Minh City, and I started to feel like I was almost there. But, as the road flattened out, the headwind took hold, and I baked in the 32 degree heat, that feeling soon passed. Then my gears started playing up and I got another reality check.

I’d been carrying a water bottle of soapy water and a spare toothbrush for the past few days, waiting for an opportunity to give the chain a clean, and now my gears were starting to disappear, it seemed like a good opportunity. Under the shade of a tree I gave the chain a good scrub, but it was thick with dirt and grime, I needed more specialist equipment. Moving on to the gears, I released the cable to tighten up the front derailleur, only to discover that the cable had almost completely broken through. Fortunately, I had spares so swapped it out for a new one.

Slowly and steadily I ground out the miles in the mid-afternoon sun, I was suffering but it took me a while to realise that the road was rising again, reaching 600 metres by the time I reached Ea Drang. It was still before 4, but after over 63 miles in a colossal fan oven, it was time to finish for the day.

I’ve left myself with less than 50 miles to ride tomorrow – to reach Buon Ma Thuot – where I’ve booked a hotel to see in the Lunar New Year.

Day 16: Dak Ha – Pleiku

Distance: 46.58 miles

Time: 4:58

Average Speed: 9.4 mph

The area around the hotel had transformed into a bustling market this morning, and Pierre arrived back from taking pictures while I was loading up my bike.

The cafe at the hotel opened up onto the street, so the manager of the hotel suggested we get a coffee, and grab some street food from one of the nearby food stalls for breakfast. We opted for the rice stall right in front of the hotel. The dish on offer was sticky rice with shredded fried chicken, slices of an almost chorizo like pork sausage and quail’s egg, so that’s what we had.

We took our time and discussed the day’s plans. I was fairly happy, that, if I made it to Pleiku, then I’d be able to reach Buon Ma Thuot after another 2 days. After that, it was 3 high mileage days to Saigon. I had a day in hand so could take 4 if accommodation options allowed. Pierre’s route would see him leaving the Ho Chi Minh Highway shortly after Kon Tum and heading for the coast at Quy Nhon, then towards Nha Trang and continuing on round the coast.

Setting off around 9, conditions were perfect, it wasn’t too hot, with a light breeze, and the tarmac was smooth as silk. Hills? Yes, well, you can’t have everything. The road featured a series of long climbs and quick descents. After 12 miles, we reached the busy little town of Kon Tum, wandering around the grounds of a Buddhist Temple, lured in by a large Buddha that towered over the west side of the town.

Kon Tum was such a busy little town that Pierre took the opportunity to get his gears fixed, and after several days of making do with 9 gears, he was back to 27. We stopped for lunch, having Bun Bo Hue (beef with vermicelli noodles) on the way out of town.

Another stiff climb and quick descent and it was time for Pierre and I to part ways. It had been a great few days together, despite the steep hills and poor road conditions, the scenery had been fantastic, and we’d had some great food and met some lovely people.

Pushing on, after Pierre turned off towards the coast, the temperature reached a new high of 33 degrees and the headwind grew steadily stiffer.

The long climbs continued, but the downhills had been replaced by long straight false flats, and when I reached Pleiku I was back up at 800 metres altitude.

After several nights of budget guesthouses, I opted for a more upmarket option, with Amazon Prime and Netflix on the TV and great views from the rooftop bar.

Day 15: Dak Glei – Dak Ha

Distance 58.2

Time: 5:27

Average Speed: 10.7 mph

With Pierre and I keen to push on to Kon Tum, we congregated out front, with bags packed, at 7 am. We picked up a few Banh Mis and some water on our way out of town.

Still at 700m, we expected we would be travelling in a largely downwards trajectory towards Plei Can. But, after mile upon mile of ascending and descending along a picturesque valley, the defining downhill contribution never came, and when we reached Plei Can, after 32 miles, and just before noon, we’d just climbed back up to 680 metres.

We stopped for fried chicken and delicious, fragrant, rice somewhat like Indian Pilau, and while we were there we tried to recover some of Pierre’s malfunctioning gears, with little success.

Although the road surface was flat and smooth, it was the hottest day so far, reaching 32 degrees, and the sun was strong, so when the road forked left out of Plei Can and continued to rise and fall with metronomic regularity, it seemed unlikely that Kon Tum would be an attainable target for the day. My thoughts turned to Dak Ha, in about 20 miles. Reaching there would allow me the opportunity to leapfrog Kon Tum tomorrow and make for Pleiku, and that would put me back on track to reach Ho Chi Minh City in 7 days time.

After a short descent from Plei Can, we bumped into two cycle tourists, one from Wales and one from England. The one from Wales also had a Thorn bike, of which he was especially proud, and with its Rohloff hub and Son dynamo, it was a very nice machine. They told us our route ahead was not too bad, we told them their route was ‘a little challenging in places’ and wished them luck for their next six weeks on the road to Hanoi.

Still hovering around the 600 metre mark we hadn’t dropped much, and then the road climbed again, back to over 650 metres, before swooping down an 8.5% slope into Dak To.

Stopping to get cold drinks and ice cream at a shop, we were plied with spring rolls, pork pate and sponge cake, as the family who owned the shop gathered around to wish us well for the upcoming lunar new year celebrations, or ‘Tet’ festival, that occurs on Saturday. It was very humbling and we couldn’t thank them enough.

Finally, along the last stretch to Dak Ha, the hills eased a little, and we passed by fields of crops backed by red dirt mountains. Eventually, we entered the bustling little town and made for one of very few guesthouses to be found.

Dinner was an odd assortment, involving chicken and tiny fried fish, but the real highlight was our waitress, Tram, sitting with us to quiz us on our travel plans and practice her English. She had learned English at the local high school, when she was 12, and still remembered so much, it was remarkable. She was now at Saigon University, studying Japanese, and was home for the Tet festival, she excitedly asked us where we’d be on the 25th, a question we still need to answer as many places close for the holiday.