On the very first day, I seem to have punctured my tyre. In the morning I patched the tyre, then set off for the mountains with minimal luggage. The first 80 kilometres are boring, but then the mountains begin. Due to a lack of signposts, we get lost and end up on a very small road to Da Lat. I don’t know whether the road has potholes or the potholes have roads. We often travel at just 20 km/h.
The first pass is a nice climb. After half an hour’s heating we are in the clouds. It’s getting cold in Vietnam for the first time, my clothes are too thin. Wisps of cloud cling to the steep rainforest slopes. Red earth burns under black clouds, Jörg’s exhaust pipe in front of my smart new history jacket.
Riding a motorbike in Vietnam is even worse than the already pretty bad descriptions in all the guidebooks. There are no rules, none at all. Each of us must have had the opportunity to die 50 times today.
Nobody looks when they turn onto the road. Nobody. Sometimes something comes towards you on your side. Free choice of local traffic-mopeds or really fat overtaking lorries. If they’re nice, they draw attention to themselves by honking. Nobody swerves, they only give you two options: Grab or ditch.
Four children, no more than nine years old, overtake me at 90 km/h on their motorbike. They overlook an oncoming bus and swerve out of the way at the last second. Apparently, the German driving licence is not recognised in Vietnam. I understand. The Vietcong are suspicious if you can produce one at all.
It’s incredibly loud on the roads in Vietnam. Missing exhausts, loud engines and constant honking. At one point, a bus honks next to me. This has two effects: Firstly, the 110dB almost knocks me off my bike. Secondly, my ears ring for almost an hour.
A massive thunderstorm rolls in, lightning strikes, the thunder echoes off the mountain slopes. Then it starts to pour, I’ve got my laptop in my rucksack. Luckily we are almost in Da Lat. After four hours travelling 170km, I’m exhausted. Just after the town sign, a couple of Vietnamese point to my tyre. My second flat tyre in 24 hours. Get the tyre fixed, find a hotel, eat, work and off to bed.
I would advise anyone against cycling in Vietnam. Too dangerous and demanding. After a total of over 70,000 kilometres on a motorbike in all corners of the world, I could hardly relax for a minute today.
It’s roadkill Vietnam, baby! Enjoy.
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.