Vietnam: Motorcycle Diaries, Day 1 (200 km)

When Erin and I first arrived in Vietnam, we knew we wanted to do something adventurous, something daring, something off the travelers' trail...just two weeks later, straddling a 125cc Russian Minsk motorbike, with a heavy bag strapped on back, twisting around treacherous mountain roads and through hill-tribe villages, we are doing just that!

I have quickly concluded that I have no business whatsoever driving this hog of a bike (driving a four-wheeler as a kid and two recent spins on a wimpy scooter should not give me the "experienced motorbiker" label, but it does give me a strange [albeit false] sense of security!). Miraculously, however, Erin and I made it through Day 1 of our Northwest Vietnam motorcycle adventure without so much as a scratch (on our bodies, at least!).

After a nervous breakfast, we headed over to Cuong's Bike Shop in the Old Quarter of Hanoi. Due to money, safety, and Erin's fear of committing accidental suicide, we agreed to nix the "2 Bad Girls, 2 Bad Bikes" plan and instead share a bike, with yours truly in the pilot seat. After a quick tutorial on motorbike maintenance and repair (to which I pretended to listen...I am Evil Knieval, not a mechanic!), we loaded our massive leather saddle-like bag onto the seat, donned our helmets and Barbie face masks, and I climbed onto the bike alone. Our guy promised to escort us through the madness of Hanoi, so with Erin on his bike and me following (with great fear, might I add!), we began the hectic journey through morning rush-hour traffic.

Words cannot describe traffic in Hanoi (our guidebook strongly recommends travelers not to drive a motorbike here), but the deafening horns, choking black exhaust fumes, and rows upon rows of motorbikes, cars, and trucks narrowly missing daring pedestrians were the least of my worries! My problem was how to drive the danged thing! The Minsk is a monster, as I soon discovered, and way out of my league. This big daddy sits high off the ground, requires a strong kick start, weighs as much as about four of me, and has no gauges or dials indicating speed, gas, km/h, or even what gear it is in! Sputtering alone through Hanoi, and after about five or six times stalling out, I began to sense that I was in way over my head...before I knew it, however, Erin was climbing on back of the bike, and with a wave to our escort, we began barelling west on Highway 6...no turning back now!

Fortunately, once we left the edge of town, traffic began to lighten, and I could finally focus less on getting creamed by another car and more on getting a feel for the Minsk and its transmission. Just as I was beginning to relax, a woman started pushing her bicycle across the road right in front of us...well, I did my best to avoid her with killing Erin and I, and that meant clipping her back tire! She was angry, but we kept going!

We were soon coasting through the beautiful green rice paddies and small shops and homes of the countryside. We stopped for lunch in the town of Hoa Binh for a meal of tofu, tomatoes, rice, and soup. Soon, we were back on the road, and as we began our first hill climb of the trip, our bike broke down. Already? Now, I have never lived in the mountains, so I am completely clueless how to drive through the ups and downs and what gears are necessary, but I could not believe I had already ruined the bike. Fortunately, a kind man came by and discovered that our gas tube was leaking...he tied on a wire to rig it back into place, and soon we were heading back up the hill with no problems.

Of course, I spent most of our driving through the hills completely grinding out all the gears...talent takes practice, and I am glad to have such a rugged machine on which to! As we were just coming over a large hill, we drove straight into a wall of dense, gray fog that lasted for over an hour. It was so thick inside this cloud that we could barely see ten feet in front of us...we kept our high beam on and honked our horn throughout the drive. Also, it was freezing cold! I asked Erin to lean against me as we trudged through, using body heat to keep us warm...I felt like the scene from Dumb and Dumber! We were definitely not dressed for this cold mountain air! Finally, we broke through our foggy prison, finally arriving in the small town of Moc Chau around 5:15 pm.

We found a dingy guesthouse to crash for the night before a dinner of our standard Com (rice) Pho meal...tofu, tomatoes, and rice...it is the only thing we know how to order! Well, we have 200 km under our belt, and so far so good...tomorrow we have a long drive to Dien Bien Phu, almost 300 km!