When the narrative continues, we find the Bleached Bunch leaving Son La, and hoping to cover the 225 kilometers to Sapa in one day. Sapa, as we know, promises riches beyond the gang’s wildest dreams: food that does not include the words “noodles” or “broth,” real wine, a bed without cigarette burns, and a day without motorbikes. Suzy is very excited, and feels better each day on the bike, though the third day will surely test her newfound skills. She is also very nervous because Big Hopper and Crazy-Legs Mick have decided to attempt a “shortcut,” which will surely end in some sort of disaster, in addition to taking 2-3 times as long as the other route. Unfortunately, Mick has also inherited his father’s love of shortcuts, although even Mick realizes that “avoiding the traffic in North Wilkesboro” is never a good reason for one.
Level IX: The Morning Ride
Scene 1: The day starts off with a spectacular, surprisingly reasonable, and enjoyable ride through the mountains northwest of Son La. The gang has the roads to themselves, and all agree that true bliss must involve gunning a motorbike down mountain roads early in the morning. (We all agree about that, right?) The gang makes great time on the straight, well-paved roads, and handles the 25 kilometers or so to the shortcut in good time.
Scene 2: Arising great anxiety and, against everyone’s better judgment, the gang leaves behind the comfort of the well-paved Highway 6 for the dirt, rocks, and confusion of Route 107. Route 107, judging from the amount of construction presently under way, will be a fantastic northern route to Sapa in approximately 35-40 years. Right now? It is a mishmash of dirt, construction equipment, road crews, small towns and livestock. If the gang can handle the 35 kilometers of dirt however, they can avoid some backtracking on the main roads. Route 107 meanders through gorgeous country, road conditions aside, and the high plains and mountainous feel of the landscape conjures up visions of Colorado and Wyoming. The gang appreciates the lonely road through the backcountry of Vietnam, and delights in the looks of awe and surprise on the face of everyone they pass. Apparently, not many American families of five ride through the dirt roads of north-central Vietnam by motorbike. I can’t imagine why.
Scene 3: The crane II? The gang, after a half-hour or so bumping down the washed out dirt roads, approaches a logjam where a large area of the road is under construction and complete occupied by a large piece of machinery. Several motorbikers are stopped, assessing the situation and deciding what course to take. The only possible way through (which certainly doesn’t look possible at first glance), lies outside the left shoulder, where a gap of a few feet separate the large pit and machine and a huge wall of corncobs (really, it was just a huge pile of corncobs. You can’t make this stuff up). Ol’ Reb, never one to enjoy waiting in lines, promptly declares that the route is passable, and motors over. She drives up onto the hill off the road, controlling the bike on the bumpy shoulder, and then drives through the pile of corncobs, popping out quickly on the other side, ready to continue on. Eventually, everyone else follows her lead, which is good, because the work crew never acknowledged the traffic jam that began to form. It was also good for many bonus points because, you know, who hasn’t always wanted to drive a motorbike through several feet of corncobs.
Level X: The Afternoon: Making Time
Scene 1: The shortcut was worth it. The first half was pretty rough, what with the corncobs and the random rock beds of the half-completed Route 107, but after some tough going, we came up a hill, rounded a corner, and were greeted with a gorgeous overlook of a lake, one of several breathtaking sights that day. The rest of the way was pretty easy going, all of the way into Quynh Nhai where we stopped for lunch and rejoined the main road, Highway 32, which would take us almost all of the way into Sapa. After lunch, the gang made the best time of the trip so far, and Suzy just leans back, enjoys the beautiful weather and the open roads, and watches the kilometers tick away towards Sapa. The road itself proves perfect for riding, and the gang slows down only for gas and to admire the small towns they pass. As the gang closes in on Sapa, they begin to feel exhilarated about being so close, about reaching their goal, and about the quite impressive feat they have achieved. They even get an unexpected boost of morale when they realize that Sapa is actually about 40 kilometers closer than they thought. This is tempered by the realization that, once again, Mick and Big Hopper have been foiled by the map. Suzy wonders for the 124th time why they continue to follow these totally inept, directionally challenged, often-wrong but never-in-doubt morons. She is way too nice to point this out, though. Fortunately.
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| Thanks for taking the pic. Now give me the camera |
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| This was more common than you might think |
Level XI: The Final Push
As the Gasbag Gang reaches Highway 4D and the final push into Sapa, they are feeling exceedingly good about themselves and their prospects of actually reaching Sapa. This is a game, however, and they face one last series of hurdles to leap before they can enjoy the relative comforts of Sapa. In a surprising turn of events, Lumpy and Suzy neglect to gas up shortly before Highway 4D, and enter the ascent to the final mountain pass into Sapa hovering near empty. Mick and Big Hopper, stunned that they themselves are flush with gas, and confused about the role reversal, nevertheless resist the strong urge to chastise those short-sighted gang-members for not respecting the limitations of the fuel tank (actually, they might make a dig or two. I mean, how often do you really think they get that chance?)
So the gang finds itself climbing the steep switchback mountain road with the weather turning quickly cold and two of the bikes running on fumes. Three problems present themselves, as the gang tackles the last 30 kilometers into Sapa:
- Suzy and the Lumpster are almost out of gas. Normally, this would not be a problem because everyone sells gas. Unfortunately, nobody lives on the high, cold mountain pass separating Binh Lu from Sapa. Mainly because it’s freezing cold. This situation leaves the gang with two options. Keep going and hope they don’t run out of gas, or start looking for a tube to siphon with. The gang goes with the former, and Suzy and Lumpy try to conserve the little gas they have as they motor up and over the pass.
- It’s really, really cold. You know, because it’s a high, freezing cold mountain pass. This presents a problem because none of the gang has any cold-weather gear to speak of, because every other part of Vietnam is really hot. Except this pass. Where they are. Freezing. The coldest part of the body when riding a motorbike tends to be the hands. Thus, you alternate between trying to pull your sleeves up over your hands, which never works, because inevitably you create a wind tunnel and the cold mountain wind rushes all the way up your arm, making you even colder than you were before. When this fails, you start riding with one hand while putting the other in your pocket, and then alternating. This method is terrible for many reasons, the main one being that you are trying to drive over a winding, steep mountain pass with one hand. Further, you end up driving with your right hand more often (that’s where the gas is) so your left hand is reasonably warm while your right hand feels ready to fall off. It’s great fun. Little did we know, but Ol’ Reb had gloves with her, and upon arrival in Sapa, promptly complained about how sweaty her hands were.
- It’s dark. This comes as no surprise, because you are still riding your motorbike. The gang comes to realize that in northern Vietnam, the sun sets approximately 30-45 minutes before they reach their destination. Foolishly, they had believed at the outset of their journey that the sun would set at roughly the same time every day, but they quickly realized how naïve this assumption was. True to form, as the gang nears the top of the high, freezing mountain pass, the land grows dark, and they switch on their laughably inadequate headlamps. Let me tell you, driving down a mountain pass on a motorbike in the dark is most definitely a leap of faith.
The gang assumes their night formation: single file, with Lumpy and Big Hopper in the middle because their taillights don’t work. Fortunately, at the bottom of the pass, they reach two small stores, each having a few liters of gas, so they can strike one problem off of the list. The weather even seems to turn a little warmer as they reach the bottom, and they start seeing signs for Sapa with kilometers in the single digits.
The gang feels wonderful as they pull into Sapa, still in single file, still a little cold, but proud and happy to have reached their destination. It truly was a marvelous feeling, a real sense of accomplishment, regardless of whether it was, well, “fun” or “relaxing” in the traditional sense. Mick, for one, wouldn’t have traded those three days for anything in the world.
That night, after Big Hopper made it clear to Mick that he was not to take an hour to find a hotel room in order to save $2.75 (it was hard, trust me), the gang settled into a nice, clean, good smelling room in wonderful, touristy Sapa (sometimes touristy is good- like when you have been in small towns, crappy hotel rooms, and eating nothing but Pho for three days). Everyone they meet is stunned and impressed that the gang has ridden on motorbikes from Hanoi in three days (and to be honest, the gang is a little bit stunned themselves). Suzy delights in the wonderful Italian dinner they enjoy, complete with red wine. The gang lingers over dinner, truly proud of the accomplishment, and reflecting over the incredible journey they have undertaken. That was a wonderful moment.
The next day the gang does nothing. They had planned on maybe going up to the mountain pass, or checking out the area, but even looking in the direction of the motorbikes is out of the question. On top of that, the weather is cold and overcast, and makes it very easy to be lazy. Some of the gang does a little shopping, and walks around the lovely mountain town, but for the most part? We were lazy. Sapa is a beautiful town, tucked away in the far north of Vietnam, a few miles from the Chinese border. It lies at the eastern edge of the Himalayas, and draws great crowds for its famous markets, the perfect location, and the mild climate. Sapa, and the surrounding area, is one of the most ethnically diverse areas in the world, with many distinct ethnic minorities descended from tribal peoples in the area. Many of these peoples may be seen in the markets selling their wares, and they can be very persistent. Once they realized that we had Lumpy with us, we had an entire contingent sitting outside our hotel the entire day.
Our day in Sapa was marked in time by the musical stylings of the great Sapa Long-Distance Funeral Band. Apparently, a woman who lived next door to our hotel died the night before we arrived. Now, this death (though we obviously mourned for her family) affected us because of the SLDF Band that parked itself directly outside our hotel for approximately 14 hours that day (I, for once, am not exaggerating). The band knew one song really well, so, obviously, they decided to play that song all day. The band had kind of a “beginner on bagpipes with some of his drunk buddies on drums” kind of feel, and needless to say, after a few hours, we were singing the melody long before they got to it. I’ll tell you, nobody mourned that woman’s death more than we did.
Unfortunately, as much as the gang loves Sapa, they have to leave early the next morning, after a reinvigorating day of rest. They must cover the 350 kilometers to Hanoi in a day and a half, and plan on covering as much as possible on the first day. And that early morning probably comes a little quicker than the gang would like.
Level XII: The Road Home
You thought the game was over didn’t you. Unfortunately for you and the Sore Syndicate, the motorbikes must be returned to the shop in Hanoi in one piece. At this point in the game I imagine that you, the player, and Suzy are both wondering why you agreed to play this silly game in the first place. This ridiculous, long, rambling, questionably entertaining and quite certainly ill-conceived game. Well, all I can say is that you can’t stop now. Not 350 kilometers from Hanoi.
Scene 1: The morning goes very smoothly. The gang makes it to Lao Cai without any problems, and in record time. In Lao Cai, they pick up Highway 70, the road that will lead them all the way back to Hanoi. The gang finds themselves making such good time riding south out of Lao Cai, that they start to think they may be able to do the whole damn thing in one day, despite the distance being 125 kilometers more than their previous best, 225. The road is straight and smooth though, and four lanes in many areas. They are out of the mountains, and flying through small towns and through open country at 60 km/h. They are confident, and would very much like to see the lights of Hanoi that night.
Scene 2: The afternoon is more difficult. This would be the “battling with trucks” portion of the program. The road remains two lanes throughout most of this section, and the gang must constantly pass the long, endless line of trucks clogging the road. It is difficult, and when the opportunity to pass is not utilized, you can find yourself stuck for a good while, losing time. This part of the journey lasts for most of the afternoon, and is not very enjoyable, but it may be better than…
Scene 3: The Hanoi suburbs. Four lane road, bisecting town after town on the way into Hanoi, and forced to navigate the “main street” of every town we passed through. Late afternoon crept into early evening, and we realized while chugging along that we were entering Hanoi right during rush hour. Every kilometer of the stretch through the suburbs was marked with overflowing roads: motorbikes, trucks, cars, buses, all seemingly headed straight into Hanoi, and all shocked by the sight of the five white people screaming through (by that point, we were actually pretty fast). At one point when we stopped for gas, we were faced with the decision of getting a hotel by the airport (which was only a few kilometers away at this point) or going all the way in. For better or worse, we decided to do the damn thing. Little did we know, the most difficult part would be…
Scene 4: Entering Hanoi. True to form, the sun went down with us still about 25 kilometers outside of Hanoi. Picture this: the five of us, in the dark, with crappy headlights and a crappier map, trying to ride into a huge city on roads we had never been on. Trying to stay together, avoid the trucks, and not lose our way. That (to me) was the most difficult part of the trip. Twice we lost each other, and spent a good half an hour regrouping (which was essential since there was only one map and no one knew the way in). The road we had chosen to enter the city on was apparently the truck route, and consisted of an endless line of trucks that gave no ground to motorbikes. You just tried to hold your ground as they barreled through, inevitably getting forced onto the tiny shoulder to let them pass. The road into Hanoi was the one time where the chaotic nature of Vietnam roads really didn’t seem to work very well: the other motorbikers we saw seemed to be struggling as well, trying to fight for road with the line of trucks, but inevitably losing. Motorbikes don’t win that battle.
The highlight of the road in came in the form of a closed railroad crossing. We approached as the gate was lowering, and found ourselves at the front of the line, hearing the whistle of the train in the distance. Following the lead of another motorbiker we saw, the five of us steered up onto the sidewalk and around the gate, and crossed the tracks before the train got too close. Obviously, the trucks we had been battling with for an hour were all stuck behind the gate until the train passed. Our reward for the illegal crossing was a half-hour of open roads, and I’m quite sure that little maneuver saved us an hour or two entering the city. Or, made up for the amount of time we lost by allowing Mick and Big Hopper to hold the map.
At about 8:30, after several hours stuck on the entrance highways, we crossed the main bridge into Hanoi. I can’t describe the relief we felt, as we exited the beltway onto the narrow, cramped, but familiar streets of Hanoi’s old quarter. We slowly made our way to the hotel, only having to check the map once or twice, and gratefully docked the bikes for the night. We had done it though. 350 kilometers in a day, and finished off by braving Hanoi’s rush hour. We won.
We had another relieved dinner, and promised Suzy that our motorbike trip was over (well, except for returning the bikes in the morning, but that was pretty easy, right?) You could say we bit off too much, you could say that we didn’t know what we were doing, we were unprepared, it was dangerous and foolish, and you might be right to question our very sanity. But we did it. And I’m quite sure not many families have done what we did. At times it was stressful, at times it was scary, and at times we probably wondered who the hell would voluntarily do something like that on vacation. But it was amazing. We saw parts of Vietnam that go unseen to foreign eyes, we took dirt roads in between mountains, around lakes, and over hills. We took those five little motorbikes on a ride through the heart of northern Vietnam and we dropped them off at home at the end of it. I’ll never forget feeling the wind, the sun, and the open road, and looking in my mirror and seeing you all behind me. I’ll never forget the communal pride and euphoria we felt sitting around the table together at the end of the day. It was a once in a lifetime experience. And we did it all together. I’ve never done anything like it before, and it is the highlight of our trip. Thanks to the whole gang, for making it so spectacular.
And you never have to play that absurd game again.
Unless you want to…
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