Cyclusion

I'm done with cycling! I finished on the central Viet coast in a little nowhere town called Quang Ngai, with a round 1000 miles having rolled beneath the wheels. The bike and I traveled on separate trains north to Hanoi, me in AC soft sleeper, she in the luggage car of a local train. It took 24 hours of chugging north to reach Hanoi, capital of Vietnam where I have a week of saddle-free time before heading home.

Here's a map of the complete overland route. Biking is in red, trains in blue, bus in purple and boat in yellow.


View Larger Map

Central Vietnam

It's been wonderful cycling weather in Cambodia and Laos - the cool season is warm and dry with enough breeze to make it comfortable for long stretches in the saddle. All that changed as soon as I crossed into Vietnam which has only two seasons - summer monsoon and winter monsoon. My first full day in Vietnam comprised 11 hours cycling through drizzle and pouring rain. Memorable certainly. Some parts were even fun. I made a sorry sight standing in various hotel lobbies in Hué trying to find a room for the night.

There's a whole load of stuff to see in central, coastal Vietnam. Here are some highlights.

I interrupted some kids larking around riding water buffalo on the road between Hué and Da Nang. They didn't seem to mind.


I never discovered if this guy found anyone else to brush-joust with in Hué.


Ever wonder where Sir Giles Gilbert Scott got his inspiration from? Inside the citadel at Hué.


Self portrait on the long, winding pass between Hué and Da Nang.


And down the other side of the pass. I hoped this wasn't advance commentary on my downhill cycling.


This sprightly, cheerful old crone showed me around several shrines at the Marble Mountains. She was delightful.


This enormous cave in the Marble Mountains housed several shrines. It was deserted and amazingly atmospheric.


Hoi An is a beautiful place. Under a similar agreement to that which saved Oxford, Cambridge and Heidelberg during the Second World War, both sides spared Ho An in the American (Vietnam) War. It is a fabulously scenic place left just as it was in colonial times. There are few buildings more than 40 years old in the rest of Vietnam.


Hoi Anne harbour at sunset.


I decided to get my expedition beard shaved off and a haircut in Hoi An, since the cycling was coming to an end soon. Against my better judgment I was lured into this scarecut establishment by the silky, English phrases of the girls working there - "You! Haircut!" etc. A proper shave is usually a great value treat in developing countries, but this experience reinforced one of my traveling maxims - always get a dude to do the shaving. My nerve broke and I left this place still with half a moustache.


What's goin' on 'ear then? I've no eyed ear. Surgical earwax removal at a barbershop in Hoi An.


Cycling though the countryside is lovely, particularly on the quiet back roads. The paddy fields make a wonderful vista but rice cultivation never seems anything less than backbreaking, muddy work. There's little mechanisation to rice production in Vietnam.


Ca-phe Phin is the drink of choice for the long distance cyclist in Vietnam. Super-strength coffee is very slowly percolated onto condensed milk (see glass on the left). Ice (da) is added for a refreshing cold drink that gives you a double sugar and caffeine rush. Like Red Bull only tastier and prettier.

The Ho Chi Minh Trail

For a couple of days my cycle route followed parts of the Ho Chi Minh trail through Laos and Vietnam. The HCMT was the supply route that was used by North Vietnamese forces in what is known here as the American War. The countryside is mountainous and covered in dense forest and jungle. Dropping from one valley and climbing into another it was easy to see why the traffic along the multitude of trails proved impossible to stop.

I passed a series of former American military bases along what was once the DMZ, including Khe Sanh, site of the fiercest battle of the entire war. There's nothing much there now except some rusting helicopters and the old landing strip, on which nothing will grow. There's also a small museum full of propaganda which leaves you with the false impression that the North Vietnamese scored a famous victory. Pictures of smiling North Vietnamese girls carrying boxes of supplies are contrasted with photos of American soldiers "showing their terror" during the battle.

An American soldier apparently once said that "you could lose Khe Sanh and you'd really lost nothing at all". Standing in the drizzle in the mountains and jungle in middle of nowhere, I couldn't agree more.

There are still thousands of tons of unexploded ordinance 'UXO' all over Laos, Cambodia and Vietnam. These signs are common in Vietnam and Laos. In Cambodia, people missing limbs are common.


This US tank is all that's left of a whole valley of destroyed and abandoned equipment near Ban Dong in Laos. It was part of an unsuccesful raid on the HCMT by South Vietnamese forces.


A smashed Chinook slowly rusts at Khe Sanh.


It's not all doom and gloom in the border area. In fact, if you didn't know any better, you'd think that Lao and Cambodians had been living in a peaceful, innocent idyll for the last few decades, always smiling and laughing. As I ride past, kids come running out of the stilt houses every few hundred yards and shout "sabadee!" and "goodbye!" (sometimes even "hello!"). It makes for constant entertainment.


Sunset approaching the Viet border from Laos on route 9.

Hostage to Hospitality

Savannaket is the kind of place it's great to travel to. There's nothing really to 'see' but it's a perfect town to wander the quiet streets, chat to people and generally hang out. I decided to stay a couple of days as a break from the bike.

For the second time in as many days I found myself hostage to Lao hospitality. Watching a game of petang I was soon adopted by Dr Two, a surgeon from the local hospital, and we began an all day petang-watching fest of drinking and eating. We started with rice whiskey spiced up with goat gonads and moved on to eat the 'nads themselves. As a result I am assured I will become a "very strong man".

We traveled across town from one petang venue to another, finishing at the 'stadium' for an all day knockout competition. Petang seems to be identical to French boule, but I'm no expert. The guys in Savannaket certainly were though, and the competition was enthralling. My team pick from the first round was defeated in the final, an absorbing game. It was all toped off with much Beerlao and backslapping. An unexpected and great day.

Kids on the street outside the local Wat. This is about as busy as it gets in Savannaket.


The town has a blend of dilapidated French colonial architecture and Laos laid-back-ness that is common to Laos - and Cambodia.


Dr Two and the author. He doesn't look all that pleased in this picture but he soon picked up after a few glasses of goat whiskey and Beerlao.


There was much discussion, advice and measurement on the field, here at our first petang venue behind the bus shelter.


It was Lao National Day and so there were spectators aplenty wherever we went.


The final was played under floodlights at the local 'stadium'. The dude in the blue shirt is a virtuoso and now town champion. Destined for the national team I was told, and after watching his game I can believe it.

Cambodian Riviera

The flight from Bangkok to Phenom Penh was considerably quicker that my previous trip out, and a lot less effort. The 5 days it had taken by train and bike were swallowed up in 75 minutes. So the plane takes about 10 minutes to cover a day of cycling. I must remember to fit that saddle mounted turbofan next time.

I switched one Matt power for a handful of horse power and headed down to the south coast to kill a couple of days before the Phenom Penh Water Festival. The towns of Kampot and Kep used to be the place to hang out for well-to-do Cambodians before the war and Khmer Rouge regime. The place is full of dilapidated French colonial buildings and abandoned villas. Very atmospheric and picturesque. Things are visibly picking up however and I'm sure you'll see it in the Thompsons Holidays brochure very soon.

Downtown Kampot with its French colonial charm. Kids are everywhere. The majority of the Cambodian population is under 25.


Volleyball is a popular street game, something Cambodia shares with Nepal.


Quite a crowd gathered for the game, with players and spectators serviced by noodle sellers.


This abandoned villa in Kep is now home to squatters.


Forget the car which runs on water, in Cambodia, my awesome little Honda ran on Pepsi! I hear diet is better for the environment.

Back in Bangkok

After 500 km I reached Phenom Penh, the capital of Cambodia, of which more in another post. It was strange seeing Westerners again and as I cycled the busy streets looking for a guest house I felt a little sense of achievement at having got here under my own steam - so far I've not seen another Western cyclist on the roads of Cambodia.

Soon after I arrived, I was off to the airport to fly back to Bangkok to see my buddy Moleskin Matt get married. What a fun and fascinating time! Moleskin met his wife Poom while he was working in Bangkok several years ago. He's quite the South East Asian connoisseur, speaking Thai and having completed several of his own cycle odysseys in Thailand, Laos and Vietnam. It was great to catch up with him and meet Poom, who is predictably as terrific as young Moleskin. A perfect match.

The ceremony itself was the third of the week, following civil and Buddhist proceedings. It unfolded over several hours during which the number attending slowly swelled from a hundred to around 600 as family were joined by friends and finally business associates. It was fascinating and much fun and has been a perfect break from the bike for the weekend. Cheers to Poom and Matt!

Poom and Moleskin spent most of the many hours of the ceremony kneeling and greeting everyone with hands pressed together in sawadee. This was the 'pouring of the water' part of the ceremony.


On your knees boy! (as the KLF would have said, had they been invited).


This was the grand finale of speeches, toasting and over 600 guests.


The cake has nine layers, for luck. The 18th was similarly a most auspicious day on which to be married.


It was a very grand and spectacular occasion with ice sculptures and everything!

Ankor. Wat on Earth?!

So it turns out the road from hell leads to somewhere close to heaven. The temples of Ankor, just outside Siem Reap, are something indeed. There are dozens of enormous, spectacular and diverse temples scattered throughout the countryside of jungles and paddy fields. The jungle has invaded them all but has been removed from only some. For the others, it has become an integral part, both binding the stones and splitting them apart, and only adding to the spectacle and atmosphere.

The temple of Ankor Wat is the headline act and certainly an awesome spectacle. Up close it amazes with endless intricate stone carving and detail.


The Bayon is adorned with hundreds of images of the Buddha which double as portraits of the commissioning Ankorian king. The temples are a mix of Buddhist and Hindu, sometimes both at once, as the Ankor civilization oscillated between the religions.


There are many working temples inside and amongst the ancient sites where monks are busy having fun as only Buddhist monks do.


Ta Prohm has been completely overrun by the jungle which has a permanent grip on the temple. It makes for an atmosphere of pure Tomb Raider, unsurprising since scenes from the movie were shot here.


My personal favorite, Preah Khan, is pure Indiana Jones.


By comparison, Pre Rup would seem to be pure Beastmaster (I'm thinking of the final scene on the temple steps where the bad guys are vanquished while the good guys lose only a male ferret in the battle. No ferrets were harmed in the taking of this photograph).


Preah Khan was very quiet and atmospheric. One of the few inhabitants was this girl with her pet - some kind of strange, nocturnal animal (answers on a postcard please). Stranger and stranger are the temples in the early evening.

Into Cambodia

I flew into Bangkok with my bike in a box in the hold. My vague plan is to cycle across Cambodia and Laos and into Vietnam. I've not planned much beyond the first week since I'm sure I'll do a better job of figuring it out as I learn more about the country the bike and me. I've already found out quite a bit. I'm flying solo on this trip while Mary stays at home for a few weeks.

My first job was to get to the Cambodian border. I took the train to avoid the maze of traffic around Bangkok. It was then a simple 7km cycle from the station at Aranyaprathet to the border and a fairly straightforward visa process. Once inside Cambodia the fun began.

The road from Poipet to Siem Reap, my first major destination, was pure hell. Stones and bugs peppered windshields but all I had was teeth and Raybans. Holes, sand, stones, mud and dust made the going very slow. Above all other trials was the dust, which gets everywhere - in your lungs, in your teeth, in the bike, in your gear. I ended each day with my clothes, skin, and bike the same color as the locals. All the color of Cambodian dust.

On the train from Bangkok, approaching the Cambodian border.


My first portrait of the bike. Not quite the same subject appeal as Mary I'll admit, but she does have lovely lines of her own, and 27 speeds.


In my international league of photo-enthusiasm - where the shy Tibetans are the yardstick of reticence - Cambodia makes it's entry straight in at the number one spot with a bullet, beating India and Nepal into joint second place. These kids were absolutely beside themselves at seeing their picture on the camera screen. Although they lived beside the 'highway' the buses don't stop in their village and so I guess they'd perhaps never seen a digital camera. I hope the bike continues to work it's magic like this.


150km of the dusty road from hell.