I want to break free (whilst riding on a clapped-out scooter.)
After living in Hanoi for the last 2 months, I had yet to venture out of the confines of the greater city area and after a few drinks and a cobbled-together plan, myself and 3 workmates headed out to explore some scenes of nature that the city had denied us.
Once we had burnt through a hangover worthy of cheap Bia Hoi drinks, we scrambled to organise and meet at a Big C shopping centre south of Hanoi; with most of the morning lost to us, it was time to begin the journey proper. The route was fairly simple and direct, but thanks to a continuous downpour of rain the mood and the average speed grew decidedly more morose.
Easily the most enjoyable part of the ride to the park (before it became soggy and disappointing) was being able to go at speeds way in excess of those normally possible on the chronically congested city roads – the feeling of continuous momentum was slightly addictive and more than welcome. Once the rain made its stage appearance to boos and hisses, the only positively memorable experience was passing a construction crew surfacing a road and being waved across hot tarmac – the steam blocking our vision and the heady smell prolific in the air.
After accidentally passing our turning towards the park, we doubled back and found a restaurant where we could relax, dry off a bit and enjoy some Bun Cha (thin noodles with pork and soup.) The food outside of the city definitely has a nicer taste and bbq’d pork with a beer was much more pleasing when a fair few dozen kilometres into the unknown. Although, the frequency of Thit Cho restaurants (dog meat) was a little surprising as well; thankfully we had a slightly proficient Vietnamese-speaker in our party, so were safe from ingesting any furry, four-legged friends.
Parks and Rec.
Eventually arriving at the park after more than 2 hours from our time of departure, the cost of entry was 40,000 VND with an extra 6,000 VND for our bikes, which altogether is just over 2 USD. The trail was fairly simple and the roads were for the most part completely paved, which came as quite a surprise; even my 11-year-old, automatic scooter was more than a match for the ominously steep switchbacks and inclines. Before you could realise, you were escalating the mountain at an alarmingly fast rate – something that was very easy to do if you were enjoying every twist and turn the road had to offer to you. Admittedly, fuel consumption was a worry to me – our group had tanks that were half to three-quarters full, but as it turns out, my concerns were nothing more than an anxiety whisper in my ear.
Our first stop was to visit the ruins of a French church about half way up the mountain – the cloister of buildings looked amazing, but the centrepiece of the main church hall was the most breathtaking structure. It looked like something out of an Indian Jones set and the scenery added to the authentic jungle feel of the surroundings. We had managed to make it to the national park on a Monday, so there were thankfully very few other tourists there – there was at least 45 minutes of silence before more excited and camera-wielding fellows came along.
After a semi-disastrous incident of a workmate trying a semi-automatic bike for the first time and driving it into a ditch, we headed further up the mountain to the highest peak possible while still staying on our bikes. The mist had pretty much made a home here and the eery, mythical view was a welcome sight, even if it did block out the views from the mountain slope. Although there was a walking trail to the very peak of the mountain, everyone was beginning to feel the exhaustion of the day and the time was approaching late afternoon. Navigating in the rain, after dark, is not an enjoyable experience unless you are one for misery and stress.
It’s All Downhill From Here
The most pointless action that I undertook on the journey down was turning my engine on. After all my worries about fuel consumption (as there was nowhere to refuel on the slope) the gradients of the switchbacks and straights meant that the only thing needed to propel you along was gravity and a firm grip on the brakes. The automatic clutch on my bike turned out to be fairly confused by my slight acceleration whilst already moving at 30km/hr.
Passing a resort on the way down the mountain, we stopped for a quick toilet break and rest before disembarking back to the flats outside the park. Now with more bustling traffic and a fresh tank of climate-destroyer, we disgruntingly zoomed back towards Hanoi. As there was a military base in the area, there were plenty of soldiers running at the sides of the road and further on there was a group of soldiers armed to the teeth with automatic weapons and RPG launchers marching by the road. If there is anything more intimidating than a large group of soldiers with rambo-like loadouts, I’ve yet to see it here in Vietnam.
Good fortune had given us quite a dry journey for the first hour of our ride back, but as the sun came down, so did even more rain. The second hours was a rather dismal affair that brought little to no joy. It can’t be all bad, I hear you say? Once we had arrived in the south of the city after about 2 hours of riding, we had the welcome of peak rush hour traffic with some of the worst examples of riding and driving I have ever seen. The workmate leading the group, as a navigator, had an SUV driver reverse back onto his bike, getting the rear bumper of his car wedged onto the front guard of my friend’s wheel. Despite shouts of Vietnamese from locals who could see what was going on and several loud bangs on the back windshield, the driver continued to try slowly reversing before getting out, looking a the situation and moving forward. Adding to that, the cutting up, speeding on the wrong side of the road a mere few inches from you and tight gaps – it was a tough hour of battling through vehicles and pedestrians. Another workmate almost came off her bike at least twice and was party to most of the incoming suicide riders – here in Hanoi, you go hard or you go nowhere.
Once safely in the confines of an over-priced, Tay (foreigner) restaurant named ‘New Day’ in the old quarter it was drinks all around and disappointing sweet and sour pork. The joy of the day was well and truly over and all that remained was to travel home and rest up before the inevitably mundane beast of work would bite away on the next day.
Overall?
The trip was definitely worth doing, although perhaps not with a forecast of consistent and torrential rain. Despite being only 50km away according to Google maps, the journey was a good few hours’ ride away (although it may have been errors in navigating which helped inflate the time.) Compared to a normal day inside the city, this was a welcome foray into a small bit of adventure and a good reminder that I am here to explore as well as become ingrained into a humdrum routine of work and then drinks. One trip a month like this will see me right. I hope.
Accidentally Wayfaring 