As it turned out I was wrong about the supposed Honda Win, it’s actually made in China, not a Honda at all. As there was very little else on the market my choices were limited, the only other bikes had almost no chance of getting spare parts for if needed. The last thing I wanted was to be broken down in the middle of nowhere unable to repair the damned thing. The Win is about the most popular bike here, so repairs and spares will prove easy to come by. Which is just as well, I have a feeling I’ll need plenty of both on our 1,000 mile ride south. Loaded up with my pack a brief test ride proved how unreliable first impressions can be. Pulling away the front end wobbled uncontrollably, the weight was too much for the suspension. It wasn’t a promising start, but redistributing the weight improved it a hundred fold. I started having doubts about the sincerity of the guy I bought it from though. Why can't people be more honest? (Photo: Rain forest clearing - Cuc Phoung National Park, North Vietnam)
Expecting SE Asia to be hot and steamy it came as a surprise to hear that the weather forecast for the first few days of our journey to be for heavy rain. But what can you do, it’s all part and parcel for riding a bike. Come rain or shine the road is still there to be ridden, and if you don’t ride when traveling you don’t get anywhere. At least we had decent weather for our first day, finding our way out of Hanoi would have been even more unpleasant in the rain. It was awful anyway, traffic in the city is chaotic, finding our way onto the right road was a complete pain. But we managed, with the help of numerous stops and questioning innocent bystanders. Stopping frequently to ask was the only way to do it, few road signs existed so it was the only way to navigate through the maze of chaos. Unfortunately we’d almost cleared the city limits when James got a message informing him that a parcel had turned up at the DHL office. So we had little choice but to turn back and hunt out the office. (Photo: Running repairs - Rural mechanic's, North Vietnam)
Eventually we didn’t leave the city behind until gone 2.30pm, so it wasn’t going to be a great distance covered that day. For the first hour or so we still had to contend with busy highways, buses and trucks ran almost bumper to bumper, motorbikes wove in and out overtaking or undertaking, whichever proved easiest. It was a manic initiation to riding my gutless fake Honda. Whenever I stopped finding neutral was murder, stalling in heavy city traffic was a nightmare. In the end beating the crap out of the footrest improved this, the gear lever was snagging on the slightly bent peg which restricted free play. It amused the roadside mechanic who lent me a lump hammer, he offered to move the gear lever round but I found it more pleasurable to beat it mercilessly. As the saying goes, “if in doubt, give it a clout”. (Photo: River people - North Vietnam)
Route 6 from Hanoi is a busy trunk route, once we turned off onto highway 15 things got quieter straight away. I’d purposely chosen an inland route to avoid the main road down the coast between Hanoi and Ho Chi Min. Our first port of call was to the Cuc Phoung National Park, a mere 120km from Hanoi. Our late departure meant it was pushing it, we ended up riding a rough track in pitch black conditions, through very muddy and wet conditions. Our lights were almost non-existent, unless revving the bikes visibility was down to a few feet. So we took it in turns to lead the way, neither being that keen to be in front. When I was behind James I could see better by using the light cast by his headlight, mine made a good job of lighting the foliage in the trees overhead though. I couldn’t adjust it any better than it was, riding at night is normally a no no for me; it certainly will be from now on. (Photo: Limestone karsts - Cao Pho, North Vietnam)
Riding blindly in the dark, unsure of exactly where the park was, it was nothing short of a miracle when a guesthouse appeared out of the gloom. Even more miraculous was the family restaurant less than a mile away, they couldn’t understand a word we spoke but we managed to get food and beer. Most the food was actually edible. Whilst the boiled rooster wasn’t the tastiest meal I’ve had it was a hell of a lot better than the instant noodles and chicken intestines served to us a couple of days later. Our trip has been through rural Vietnam, accommodation is rare and food is spartan. However much I think you have to take what you can I couldn’t stomach the intestines, it was like tasteless rubber. There aren’t many places to eat on our route, and fewer who can understand a word of English. Often we're taking pot luck with what we get, but there are limits. I coped fine with snake, though only discovered what it was after devouring a heap of it, it was actually quite tasty. (Photo: Paddy and karsts - Highway 15, North Vietnam)
The scenery has been delightful, though slightly obscured by overlying mist or heaving rain. Most days have seen us get completely soaked, I’m glad I decided to get a set of waterproofs. I nearly decided not to bother and make do with the jacket I already had, I only wish I could keep my feet dry too. Not that it puts us off, it isn’t cold and we’re still making good headway. The countryside is all wallowing water buffalo and peasants in coolie hats. Somehow they recognise us as westerners from afar, I didn't think we stuck out that badly; we’re on common bikes wearing common waterproofs and crash helmets. It’s nice though, everyone we pass shouts out greetings, flashing bright smiles. Our only questionable encounter was in a restaurant, the owner stuck two fingers up at us and walked away when we tried ordering a couple of beers. I can only assume bad feeling still runs deep with some of the older members of society here. I wonder if having an amputee in the family had anything to do with it, amputees have been a common sight in the countryside. Maybe in light of the devastation created by western governments it's not surprising some people still hold grudges. Let's face it the Vietnamese were brutalised by the French then had the shit blown out of them by the Americans. (Photo: Where the buffalo roam - Phong Nha, North Vietnam)
As it turned out I was wrong about the supposed Honda Win, it’s actually made in China, not a Honda at all. As there was very little else on the market my choices were limited, the only other bikes had almost no chance of getting spare parts for if needed. The last thing I wanted was to be broken down in the middle of nowhere unable to repair the damned thing. The Win is about the most popular bike here, so repairs and spares will prove easy to come by. Which is just as well, I have a feeling I’ll need plenty of both on our 1,000 mile ride south. Loaded up with my pack a brief test ride proved how unreliable first impressions can be. Pulling away the front end wobbled uncontrollably, the weight was too much for the suspension. It wasn’t a promising start, but redistributing the weight improved it a hundred fold. I started having doubts about the sincerity of the guy I bought it from though. Why can't people be more honest? (Photo: Rain forest clearing - Cuc Phoung National Park, North Vietnam)
Expecting SE Asia to be hot and steamy it came as a surprise to hear that the weather forecast for the first few days of our journey to be for heavy rain. But what can you do, it’s all part and parcel for riding a bike. Come rain or shine the road is still there to be ridden, and if you don’t ride when traveling you don’t get anywhere. At least we had decent weather for our first day, finding our way out of Hanoi would have been even more unpleasant in the rain. It was awful anyway, traffic in the city is chaotic, finding our way onto the right road was a complete pain. But we managed, with the help of numerous stops and questioning innocent bystanders. Stopping frequently to ask was the only way to do it, few road signs existed so it was the only way to navigate through the maze of chaos. Unfortunately we’d almost cleared the city limits when James got a message informing him that a parcel had turned up at the DHL office. So we had little choice but to turn back and hunt out the office. (Photo: Running repairs - Rural mechanic's, North Vietnam)
Eventually we didn’t leave the city behind until gone 2.30pm, so it wasn’t going to be a great distance covered that day. For the first hour or so we still had to contend with busy highways, buses and trucks ran almost bumper to bumper, motorbikes wove in and out overtaking or undertaking, whichever proved easiest. It was a manic initiation to riding my gutless fake Honda. Whenever I stopped finding neutral was murder, stalling in heavy city traffic was a nightmare. In the end beating the crap out of the footrest improved this, the gear lever was snagging on the slightly bent peg which restricted free play. It amused the roadside mechanic who lent me a lump hammer, he offered to move the gear lever round but I found it more pleasurable to beat it mercilessly. As the saying goes, “if in doubt, give it a clout”. (Photo: River people - North Vietnam)
Route 6 from Hanoi is a busy trunk route, once we turned off onto highway 15 things got quieter straight away. I’d purposely chosen an inland route to avoid the main road down the coast between Hanoi and Ho Chi Min. Our first port of call was to the Cuc Phoung National Park, a mere 120km from Hanoi. Our late departure meant it was pushing it, we ended up riding a rough track in pitch black conditions, through very muddy and wet conditions. Our lights were almost non-existent, unless revving the bikes visibility was down to a few feet. So we took it in turns to lead the way, neither being that keen to be in front. When I was behind James I could see better by using the light cast by his headlight, mine made a good job of lighting the foliage in the trees overhead though. I couldn’t adjust it any better than it was, riding at night is normally a no no for me; it certainly will be from now on. (Photo: Limestone karsts - Cao Pho, North Vietnam)
Riding blindly in the dark, unsure of exactly where the park was, it was nothing short of a miracle when a guesthouse appeared out of the gloom. Even more miraculous was the family restaurant less than a mile away, they couldn’t understand a word we spoke but we managed to get food and beer. Most the food was actually edible. Whilst the boiled rooster wasn’t the tastiest meal I’ve had it was a hell of a lot better than the instant noodles and chicken intestines served to us a couple of days later. Our trip has been through rural Vietnam, accommodation is rare and food is spartan. However much I think you have to take what you can I couldn’t stomach the intestines, it was like tasteless rubber. There aren’t many places to eat on our route, and fewer who can understand a word of English. Often we're taking pot luck with what we get, but there are limits. I coped fine with snake, though only discovered what it was after devouring a heap of it, it was actually quite tasty. (Photo: Paddy and karsts - Highway 15, North Vietnam)
The scenery has been delightful, though slightly obscured by overlying mist or heaving rain. Most days have seen us get completely soaked, I’m glad I decided to get a set of waterproofs. I nearly decided not to bother and make do with the jacket I already had, I only wish I could keep my feet dry too. Not that it puts us off, it isn’t cold and we’re still making good headway. The countryside is all wallowing water buffalo and peasants in coolie hats. Somehow they recognise us as westerners from afar, I didn't think we stuck out that badly; we’re on common bikes wearing common waterproofs and crash helmets. It’s nice though, everyone we pass shouts out greetings, flashing bright smiles. Our only questionable encounter was in a restaurant, the owner stuck two fingers up at us and walked away when we tried ordering a couple of beers. I can only assume bad feeling still runs deep with some of the older members of society here. I wonder if having an amputee in the family had anything to do with it, amputees have been a common sight in the countryside. Maybe in light of the devastation created by western governments it's not surprising some people still hold grudges. Let's face it the Vietnamese were brutalised by the French then had the shit blown out of them by the Americans. (Photo: Where the buffalo roam - Phong Nha, North Vietnam)
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