The wind in My Hoa drops for the first time in many weeks. Down, that means “only” 18 knots here. I go out for some mild cruising with the 12. My friend Tom comes over from Thailand. We put up at the very nice luxury resort My Hoa Kiting Town. In the “lull” we hire 150cc scooters and set off along the winding coastal road to Nha Trang to Cầu Nước Ngọt waterfall. Cold, clear water cools us down nicely.
Two days later, we set off on our big tour. The 600-kilometre journey first takes us two and a half hours to the city of Nha Trang with its half-million inhabitants and white tower blocks. The roads are horribly crowded for long stretches. Tom’s bike breaks down. I’m about to push him uphill with my foot. Tom swaps the scooter twice, then we head for the thermal springs of the I-Resort. Artificial waterfalls, steep slides and hot pools are surprisingly relaxing even at almost 30 degrees.
Around four o’clock in the afternoon, we set off far too late into the mountains to Da Lat, 150 kilometres away. The roads are much better today than on my last visit in 2008, but other things never change. Today, Vietnam successfully defends its top position in the global road death rankings, after the USA, by the way. We drive communist. There is no “my side, your side”. Each side belongs to all comrades. No overtaking lorry pushes me into the ditch any more. But the chronic turning in without looking is still a popular sport. A lap of the 15-lane roundabout in a major Vietnamese city can easily triple the adrenaline factor of a double-looping rollercoaster. Vietnamese scooters transport families of four, tonnes of rice and entire trees.
The spectacular route into the mountains quickly becomes steep and winding. Dozens of waterfalls pass by. From 1,000 metres it gets quite cold. From 1,200 metres we enter the clouds. It gets wet. Our bikes are definitely coastal dwellers. The carburettor is increasingly gasping for air and our bikes are crawling up the steep mountains at only 30 km/h in places. They eat up huge amounts of petrol up here. The sun goes down and our bikes almost run out of petrol. We refuel from bottles at 1,500 metres above sea level.
It takes us another two hours to reach Da Lat in pitch darkness. Electric light gives the illusion of longer days for the seedlings in hundreds of greenhouses in Vietnam’s flower chamber. We look for a hotel in the centre and go out to eat. After a tough journey, a big GoLive demands a night shift until half past twelve.
The next day we visit the old royal palace, the Crazy House and some waterfalls. The first, Cam Ly, is a single stinking, foaming cesspit in the urban area of Da Lat – for the entrance fee of two beers. 60 kilometres out of town, we drive through endless housing estates and full but unspectacular roads to the Gougah waterfall. Next disaster, again dirty water thanks to the lack of sewage treatment plants. We save ourselves the third waterfall. In the evening, we stroll through the gigantic Da Lat market, have dinner and storm a karaoke bar, much to the delight of the already crowded owners and their friends.
At sunrise the next morning, all the Vietnamese are riding in full winter gear. Only half of them wear helmets. The obligatory face mask is proven to have three times the protection factor of full motorbike clothing. Whoever defeats the USA is potentially immortal. We take the cable car over pine forests full of birds for 2.5 kilometres to the idyllic Buddhist monastery of Truc Lam. Then we go our separate ways. I take the 130 km long and less spectacular track down to Phan Rang and My Hoa. Google estimates 3.5 hours. After 2.5 hours, I’ve pretty much reached my destination. I check into the dorm at the Phan Rang Kite Centre and try not to put any more strain on my backside for two days.
Vietnam, Phan Rang January/February 2024
Frank Woelky, born in 1973. Kitesurfer since 1998. Since 2006, I have been combining kitesurfing and web design on trips lasting several months off the beaten track.