Day 21: Dong Xoai – Ho Chi Minh City

Distance: 66.21

Time: 5:39

Average Speed: 11.7 mph

The last leg, the final furlong, the end was nigh, all I needed to do was cycle 60 miles and I was done. Not that I was getting complacent, there could be a 5000 metre pass in my way for all I knew. But, after an early climb, the road took a turn for the better, and it was gradually descending for much of the day.

The road passed through a few endless towns, and with little in the way of scenery to keep me occupied, I found other distractions instead. I pondered why there seemed to be a cluster of speakers piping out bird song at the top of every tall building. I noted the fire remains outside every house – assuming them to be some form of New Year’s ritual – and I watched as several women sprinkled salt on the pavements outside their homes, clearly it’s not just Scotland that’s expecting snow.

I passed crashes too, on an otherwise empty section of Highway a car had smashed straight into the back of another, and further along the road, two scooters had had a collision, with one losing its front wheel in the process. Police were in attendance.

It was 34 degrees in the heat of the midday sun, and trying to push on into a 13 mile an hour headwind, I started to fade fast. Taking shelter in the next shop I passed, I downed two ice cold cans of juice and ate a large bag of crisps. Temperature back in check, I was still starving. After many days of running at a calorie deficit, my Bun Bo Hue noodles in the morning clearly hadn’t been enough. I rode on for long enough to find the next Com Ga stall. Approaching the counter the woman stated ‘Com Ga’, and that sounded ideal, a fried chicken wing with a huge pile of aromatic rice and a fresh ‘slaw.

Back on the highway, traffic was light, and most of the businesses along the route were still closed for Tet. The quiet roads made it frustrating at the stop lights as they counted down for 45 seconds or more, with nothing travelling the other way.

Eventually, I found myself on busier roads as the road crossed a huge roundabout under a bridge, then crossed the Sai Gon river into District 1.

After winding my way through the city streets, passed rows of towering hotels, I located my own – the Silverland Yen – arriving just in time for afternoon tea. Later, I took in the views from the rooftop terrace, a moment to reflect on a wonderful trip.

I call this one ‘Orange Juice with Saigon Skyline’.

It had taken me 21 days to cycle from Hanoi to Ho Chi Minh City, a total distance of 1,196 miles, and an average of 56.96 miles a day.

Day 20: Gia Nghia – Dong Xoai

Distance: 76.45 miles

Time: 6:33

Average Speed: 11.7 mph

Looking back at a cycling blog I read before I came here, I was reminded of a comment made about the section of the ride from Saigon to south of Kon Tum. ‘A lot of the riding up until this point has been hard in a not fun, feels like punishment way.’ I didn’t know exactly what he meant at the time, but I do now.

I climbed back up to the main road, before stopping for some noodles and unidentifiable meat. Setting off along the highway, at half past 9, the road plummetted before instantly climbing a 10% gradient back up again. Over and over the pattern repeated, the steepest route down the hill, the steepest route back up again, no skirting around, no plateaus, no valleys. I imagined photographs of the Great Wall of China with the wall replaced by a road.

But then, as I climbed back up to 750 metres, I zoomed out the map on my Garmin, and saw the relief map of the area’s topography for the first time, and it looked like I was about to reach the end of the mountainous terrain.

The road descended in installments, with plenty of sharp little climbs thrown in for good measure, then, gradually some flatter sections were introduced and when the sun went behind a cloud, taking the edge off the 33 degree heat, I started to make some headway.

I stopped for a Banh Mi and Nuoc Mia (sugar cane juice), before stopping at a large service station canteen for a coffee, Vietnam-style, served with condensed milk and heaps of ice.

While pedalling along, a couple of snarling dogs emerged at the roadside in a flash, they were too close to outpace, so I employed my other tactic, slow to a virtual standstill and wait for them to lose interest. Further along the road, another dog chased alongside me at full speed. As its pace waned, a teammate was primed to take over the race, and when its pace waned I made my escape, relieved that these dogs seemed more interested in sport than dinner.

As the road dropped to under 200 metres for the first time in over a week, I became even more determined to get finished for the day. As I rolled into Dong Xoai, after another 76+ mile day, a man on a moped came alongside, he persisted in talking to me in Vietnamese, every time I motioned to him that I didn’t understand, I seemed to be answering whatever he’d asked.

At first, Dong Xoai did not seem like the place to be. The first hotel I made for was closed. Then I booked the only place available on Expedia, and got there to find it was also closed. Fortunately, it was third time lucky, and not only was BomBo open, but it was also a half-reasonable hotel, and just across the road was a huge New Year’s celebration.

Did I mention, I’m only 60 miles from Saigon…

Day 19: Buon Ma Thuot – Gia Nghia

Distance: 77.1 miles

Time: 6:44

Average Speed: 11.4 mph

Happy New Year from Vietnam!

Well the day has arrived. Tet, the Lunar New Year, Vietnamese New Year, whatever you’d like to call it. I do vaguely remember reading something about the ‘Tet Festival’ before I came here, but I didn’t really see how a festival would have any significance to me. It was the Yorkshire cyclist I spoke to in Phong Nha that suggested it was something to worry about, and he’d already booked his accommodation to sit it out for a few days. Obviously, that’s not my style, so I went down a different route: get to big city the night before, stay in fancy hotel, eat lots of food; cycle long way to next big town, and hope that some entrepreneuring local decided a national holiday wasn’t a good enough excuse to stop making money. It was my plan and I was sticking to it.

My hope that – much like Christmas back home – the roads would be deserted, seemed like a furlorn hope whilst I watched from my hotel room last night, as the mopeds departed, en masse, from the Buon Ma Thuot fireworks.

Setting off, the roads were busy, and there was an energy in the air. People wished me Happy New Year as I pedalled along, there were no trucks, just family-full after family-full of mopeds, with a new record high of 5 people.

The first 10 miles were a breeze as a gradual descent was only improved by a pleasant tailwind. By the time I’d been cycling for an hour I’d racked up almost 15 miles. But the tailwind didn’t last, and either did the descent.

Once again, just as I was starting to believe it was all downhill to Saigon, the road started to climb, the hills were rolling, and every time the road started downwards, I could already see it was climbing higher again ahead. From a low of 300 metres, the road climbed to 750 metres by lunchtime, when I reached the attractive lakeside town of Dak Mill. I stopped for some kebab skewers from a food stall by the lake, it was a relief to get some shade from the midday sun.

After lunch, the road kept climbing, little by little. 800 metres, 850, as it inched towards 900 metres I was certain this was the high point of the route, but after a short downhill, the road was climbing again, back to 900m, then down to 880m, then back up again, finally topping out at 950 metres, luckily the views were almost worth the effort.

Even as the road started to fall, there were regular re-ascents as the road weaved its way along the landscape. These Highlands had been true to their name, the road seemed to pick out the highest line available at all times, not necessarily optimal for cycling.

Passing through the empty streets of one hilltop town, a girl on a moped lost control on gravel on the other side of the road, to make matters worse she was carrying a small child. She seemed to be ok, luckily it wasn’t a big fall.

So, much as the roads seem safer than they probably should, the incident count on my journey so far is: bicycle with buckled wheel in Hanoi, two moped riders who crashed on an otherwise empty road in Phong Nha, moped rider who’d gone into the ditch near Dong Hoi, two mopeds that had crashed and had chalk marks around them – like it was a crime scene, and now this one.

After 77 miles and over 5000 feet of climbing, the road finally dropped as I entered Gia Nghia. Arriving at my hotel, everything around looked shut, but I took a wander and found a woman washing dishes in front of her restaurant. She made me a very tasty bowl of noodles with Tofu, but I was wondering what I should have ordered when the lady and her family sat down to a large pile of savoury pancakes.

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…