Mekong to the Coast

The end of new years in Lao was quieter than the start but that was to be expected after 4 days of celebrating and a light but refreshing drizzle.  The plan like the route was a pretty simple one, start early and either find a guest house in Lao right near the border or cross in to Vietnam and ride until we found a guesthouse, worst case stick the tent up somewhere.  With all expectations that we would find something somewhere and that they would let me in to Vietnam with my now dodgy visa (water damage from Lao New  Year celebrations) we set out.

The ride started out like most, busy, uphill and slow; it is always slow coming out of towns.  Once over the hill and out of town though a transformation of the landscape started to take place, beyond the farms that intersected with the roads were beautiful mountains, much like those of Southern Thailand except here views are unobstructed, the roads quiet, and the scenery just goes on and on.  Even villages are infrequent on this stretch of road, and through a combination of choice and necessity we pushed our distances between drink stops up to 30 and 40 km, and these very rural stops only added to making this ride special.

At one stop we encountered some small children who loved to have their pictures taken and then see themselves on the camera screen; they also became the proud new owners of a squirt gun.  While having our final stop in Loas  we had to (the shop owner insisted) have a glass of beer (thankfully not the bottle with the green label - some sort of local poison I am sure) and have water pour down our backs. What more can you really ask for?

From our final bucket of water and New Years toast it was on and in this case up to the border.  I've have certainly done longer and steeper climbs but not many after 150 km and the road started to seem a bit endless and the afternoon sun was starting to tilt towards the horizon.  Final the exit check point and litmus test one for the once water logged passport and visa.  Not that the Laos border guards really should have cared, they could have sold me a re-entry visa but there was some serious scrutiny of my damaged paper work but after much humming and hawing I was given my exit stamp, I was no clear to enter 2 km of no-mans land.  To this point on the trip no-man's land had always been a few hundred meters and the next check point visible not so here, 2 km of the worst roads we had seen since before leaving Cambodia (clearly no one is willing to pay to maintain the infrastructure here) and we eventually reached an enormous immigration building that seemed oddly out of place.

With hope and a bit of trepidation I entered the building and Neil and I handed over our passports.  One look at my visa and its smudged stamp and illegible expiry date and the guard clearly wasn't happy.  The guard took my explanation and the added fact that it was one number of Neil's, issued at the same time and place and disappeared in to the back room.  Sit down have a snack and wait, and wait, and wait.  When he finally did come back at first it looked like now neither of us was going to get in, that would be really bad - the nearest guest house is probably 140km back in the direction from where we just came. Suddenly out came the stamp, click Neil had his stamp and his passport back, mine still lay on the desk being curiously examined. More discussion with a colleague. Finally he opens my passport flicks the pages and hovers with the stamp, then puts it back on the desk and flips back to my visa.  The guard must of repeated these actions 3 times, I would swear he was teasing me; suddenly the blissfully click-click-thud sound I am in!

Hastily documents are collected and we get out of there before anything else can be said; I'm not sure I could handle it if the guy suddenly had second thoughts.  Anyway we are now officially in Vietnam and only a few hundred meters down the road from the boarder and Neil and I both notice that a dramatic change has taken place; physically our surroundings have changed dramatically after crossing a little man made line on a map.  Suddenly we are being pelted with insects, the air is damp and cool, and the vegetation is completely different.  Crossing in to Vietnam here from Laos is physically probably the most drastic change I have had crossing a land border.

At this stage we have minimal water, a handful of biscuits to eat, and no idea how far it is to the first real town or possibly/hopefully a guest house and the sun is starting to set rapidly; we may be using that emergency tent stop, not ideal as I sent my Thermarest back to Canada in a box of extra stuff while in Malaysia.  As it is about to get dark Neil spots what could be a guest house and there are people and with nothing to lose we roll our bikes up to the small building.  The building we quickly figure out is a school not a guest house and the people speak no english or french.  Not deterred we start communicating with gestures that we are searching for a place to sleep and are quickly invited in.  A with no shirt (I think he is the head teacher) starts motioning for us to sit down.  They had just finished dinner and we can have the leftovers - a roof overhead for the night and a feed, result!

As we ate little thimbles appeared on the table and from the iced tea bottle come the smallest glass of water.  Thirsty and not thinking we quickly accepted and poured back the life giving juice and as you probably can guess it was not water.  Probably made from rice behind the school I think this was the teacher's special home brew - good for stripping paint and fueling camping stoves. The thimbles were steadily refilled until the bottle, thankfully small, was empty and with bellies fueled with food and warmed with liquor it was time to sleep in a class room floor under the watchful eyes of Grandfather Ho, before the teacher was able to force his wife or daughter or niece or whom ever she was upon one of us for the night.

The next day predictably started early and the only surprise was that as we prepared to set out at 0630 the children started arriving for school.  I am not sure at what time the school day ended but I do know you would have had a hard time getting me to school for 0630 as a small child never mind me getting myself there like these kids.

The remaining ride was mountainous (though in the good mostly downhill sort of way) and though different the landscapes remained stunning.  Through the mountains, up the Ho Chi Minh Trail and across to Ha Tinh. Armed with dollars with managed to barter for food, drink, and eventually find comfortable accommodations and an ATM in the big city.

That was possibly 2 of the best days of riding in 4 months.