The wonders of cycling in Ha Giang

Background: The pitch was perfect for a cruiser descent with one of my ultimate homies, Keaton.  No pedaling or breaking required as we slammed past massive fir and hemlock trees, and stellar clear views of the Cascade River valley and the opposite ridge.  We earned this 20 mile descent the day before

The year was 2017 and Keaton and I had ridden up to the pass with his then partner sagging in his truck.  We camped on the only flat space available near the trail head and in the morning we hiked the couple of miles to the pass.  After the hike, the ride down was worth every second of the eternal  climb.  This was our first super fun longer ride together but not to be our last. 

Keat and I have been riding bikes together since we were kids.  Once we fled a truck following us in the alleys near his old house on 29th.  Another time I broke my ankle riding my dads old mountain bike in the foothills where Keat and friends were building a bike park.  In high school we'd ride to school together almost every day of senior year.  Boise is made for bikes.

Keat and I have been the tightest of homies since grade school.  Our friendship was fortified by a 6-month stint living together in Bellingham in 2013.  For my birthday this year, Molly planned to invite Keat over to Vietnam for a cycling trip.   We were hyped on cycling the Ha Giang loop; a 4-5 day tour through the northern mountains and Hmong villages with enough elevation gain to choke up even Sir Edmund Hillary.  The plans were coming together, until it all fell apart due to coronavirus.

First day near the top of pass to Quan Ba.

Preparations: On Saturday March 7th, our school declared Spring Break 2020 had just started, three weeks before originally scheduled.  After seeing Molly and Jett off to the airport for their Vietnam exodus (another story to come), I had only Sunday to prepare for a solo trip to Ha Giang, salvaging spring break and intentionally planning a trip which would require massive physical effort, limited time on my phone, and away from my now lonely house.  So I rode around Hanoi looking for bus rides, padded shorts, tubes, racks, bags, and basic repair gear.  Thanks to Matty, Dave, and Liz, my cycling buddies here in Hanoi, who lent me critical pieces of gear.  I spent Sunday night packing my bags, re-rapping the handle bars, and shooting the breeze with Matty and Chad.  I was anxious because I had never been on a multi-day cycling tour, I had an interview at 6am on Friday morning for which I needed wifi, and I was playing in a massive Minsk football match scheduled for Saturday.  So I had minimal room for errors.  Hundreds of people motorbike these roads, but few people cycle them.  I got this, right?

Night before preparations

By the Numbers: 5 days, 24 hrs of riding, 12 hours on a bus, 370 riding kms, 9,000 m elevation gain, 3+ kilograms of friend rice, fruit, and banh mis, 8 beers, 7 flat tires, 1 haircut, 3 Canadians, and 1 stoked rider.

By the Letters:  As I mentioned, I was stoked, but a bit anxious - about my gear, riding alone, poor brakes, and missing my end-of-week obligations.

From the moment I clipped in my anxiousness subsided.  I pedaled from the bus up the valley on a hot sunny afternoon, feeling exactly where I needed to be.  I smiled to the locals as I passed and gave ma-halos to the passing motorists.  I could here the birds by the river and pedaled hard against the slight incline.  This was just what I needed after a week of sadness saying goodbye to Molly and Jett.

Quan Ba - Heaven's Gate

The first night after my 50km afternoon in the hot sun, finished by a brutal 3pm, 800 m climb, I landed in Quan Ba, a small town and a common stop for people after a half day ride in the Ha Giang province.  After cleaning up at a hotel (Van Duy) off the main street, I settled into a cozy Vietnamese restaurant around sunset.  The grandmother/owner drew me into her restaurant with her forceful yet friendly tone.  So I ponied up next to a small group of travelers, hoping to spark some conversation.

Chin Khoan Ramp - Literally switch backs within switchbacks

What I discovered next solidified my acceptance to traveling alone on this trip - the travelers weren't interested in me, but the host lady and I kicked it off.  Within 10 minutes I'd nearly exhausted my supply of Viet language, telling her about my family, my son, my experiences in Vietnam.  I asked about her life, her business, and her elbow she had injured after recently slipping in the kitchen.  I realized that traveling alone allowed me to connect with the locals in a way I otherwise wouldn't have had I been with friends.  Touring with my friends wasn't an option, so discovering the connections I made was able to make with Vietnamese provided a different yet equally strong memory.

Beautiful place to change a flat

Three nights later while finishing "the loop," I returned to Quan Ba after completing an amazing 100km day and immediately sought out another evening at the same restaurant - HOAN HAO.  The hostess' grandchildren were playing around and I was able to talk with them about cycling, football, and food.  I recognized and applauded the young boy's special relationship with his younger sister.  I told him I have two sisters and how important it is to be nice to younger siblings.  Later that night after dinner around 8pm, I walked him and his sister to the hairdresser 500m down the road and we all got haircuts and hair washes.  They waited for me and I waited for them.  On the way back, I bought us all kit kats and the boy mentioned how much fun we were having.  I agreed, smiled, and shared my genuine enjoyment with these two before sending them back to grandma for the night.

Haircut buddies

In between my nights at Hoan Hao, I met two other amazing people, Angie and Alex.  I met them, along with young Ediour, at the top of a forked pass heading down to Dong Van after 90 kms at 4:30pm.  I had planned on turned left, and they right, until they convinced me to follow them down the valley to Dong Van instead of on my own up another grueling climb to a remote home stay.  I'm so grateful I followed them for so many reasons.  First, I would have been riding into the dark.  Second, I spent the next two days with them, leapfrogging up and down to Lung Cu, the northern pole of Vietnam, eating amazing meals together, and sharing travel stories, party stories, and laughing laughing laughing.  Both nights of dining with them, not a single one of us looked at our phones - we just ate, drank, and were merry.  I knew they were extra special when, on their day off, they woke up with me at 6:30 to see me off on my journey.

Montreal mountain folk friends

The riding on the trip was incredible.  Massive uphills, switch-backed downhills, and a few sweeping descents that cut through the sides of a mountains like a low angled scar.  The sweat on the climbs reminded me of why I decided to do this - I love to push myself physically in the mountains, something I've loved for a while.  The small peaks rose out of bigger based mountains and pocked the landscape with tree-covered karsts.  The landscape and the relief were undeniably attractive - that's why people go there, including me.  Yet now that I'm home, I find myself sharing most the interactions I had with others.  For those who travel alone a lot, this is old news.  But for me, I don't, so I appreciated these unexpected encounters.

1 km to go!  

The final day was a ride from Heaven's Gate back to Ha Giang city.  40 kms of absolutely cruiser downhill.  Most fun I've ever had on a bicycle was this morning.  I had just finished an interview, I was rested and revitalized.  I was blasting tunes, dancing on the pedals, and waving like a fool to all  the merchants.  It reminded me of hooting and hollering with Keat down from Cascade Pass three years ago.  Next time brotha!

Showered, fed, rested, and happy. 

I'm already revamping my bike set up for more weekend rides around Hanoi. In my final months here I'm starting to take Vietnamese classes again.  I'm hoping my bicycle and my weak yet improving language skills will help me soak up these final moments with the lovely people in this beautiful country.

The Cat Ba Tridem

In spring of 2018, My sister and her boyfriend finished their respective stints as Ski instructor and patroller in Summit County with plans to visit my wife and I in Malaysia for our April break, and follow us back to Vietnam for another week of exploring the natural landscapes of the far Eastern lands.   

They boarded a plane bound for Malaysian Borneo only to step off the tarmac to a near 80 degree F temperature shift and a blazing equatorial sun.  Again our goal was to embrace the coastline, the mountains, and the wildlife of this massive island.  We motorbiked in tank tops through monsoon downpours to majestic white sand beaches.  We climbed Mt Kinabalu, Malaysias highest peak at 4k meters that shoots out of the jungle into a granite massif, which looks as if the rock had gravity-dependent runnels, resembling the snow in North American peaks as it succumbs to the unmistakable pattern of late spring rain.  We hitchhiked at night across the tip of the island in the fastest, narrowest, bumpiest, most swervy, scariest rides of our lives.  Back in Vietnam we explored caves of limestone karsts, swam in waterfallls with locals, .  Finally, to finish their Asian Adventure, we all rode a fairy over to Cat Ba Island for a final exploration of Lan Ha Bay, which is a shallow blue/green bay sprinkled with thousands of 80m limestone karsts, all capped with subtropical greenery.  We went deep water soloing and Kayaking through the cliffs, and marveled at the contrast of sea and land.  In Cat Ba, people slowly scoot around in limo-length golf carts, scooters, bicycles, and finally, tandom bikes.  These are the activities we intentionally planned, in an attempt to recreate in the Asian natural landscapes, much as we do in our North American recreational culture.  One adventure we didn't plan was a triple ride on a tandom bicycle, now called the Cat Ba Tridem.

Before I explain the tridem ride, I have to give a quick briefing on Vietnamese bicycles.  Having lived in Vietnam for years, I have noticed how bicycles play an important role in the culture of personal businesses and mobility around cities, towns, and villages.  In Hanoi, the capital city and major urban hub, 3 hours from Cat Ba, middle aged to elderly ladies push their rickety, yet functional crusier-style cycles all over the city, pedaling fresh fruits, baked goods, veggies, clothing, trinkets, even Karoake machines blasting traditional Viet tunes.  In the neighborhoods, young people, often students and of all ages, pedal single speed full-sized bicycles as their primary commuting vehicle.  All bikes look like they have been ridden for generations.   One major feature of these young commuter bikes is a makeshift seat over the back tire for a second rider.  These seats are often just a metal rack, just as you'd see on a traditional bike-touring rig.  The back seat rider either casually dangles their feet on either side of the wheel or delicately places them in the chain stays.  Kids give each other rides to and from school; in villages this can a hilly, 5 km one way commute.

Back to Cat Ba Island:  After a raucous traditional Vietnamese dinner of sautéed greens, BBQ's chicken, and a baked fish from the bay, all washed down with too much strong rice wine, we opted to find our way home via a roadside rented tandem bicycle, paid for with a one hundred thousand Vietnamese Dong (5 bucks bucks).  This tandem bicycle, much like the aforementioned traditional bicycles, had a back seat rack over the tire. There were three of us.  There was only one answer. I had never seen ride 3 grown adults to a tandem in Vietnam.  We debated back and forth as to the safety and feasibility of successfully riding a Cat Ba Tridem.  The excitement of the unknown overrode our sense of safety and comfort, and we mounted the tridem.  The local vendor was highly encouraging of our upcoming tridem attempt.  Matt, the least experienced rider, took the helm, Megan in the middle, and myself in the back.  We swerved enough to scrape the pedals on the pavement, and had multiple near misses as we coasted down our first hill.  We whooped and hollered like we hadn't during our entire trip.  Megan was in tears of mutual enjoyment and terror having no exit plan in the middle of the tridem and no control over the breaks, rolling speedily down the street.  Pedestrians, both local and travelers, pointed and laughed with us as we began to manage the balance on the bike.  Our ride ended at family run beer hall, yet another staple of Northern Vietnam.  Our faces were red with joy and bellies were aching from laughter.  An unexpected mode of travel left us marveling at the possibility of three on a bike. 

Collectively we spent thousands of dollars on this 15- day trip.  Dozens of emails, wire transfers, sunburns, planned excursions, and hours of planning made this trip possible.  Yet, one of our favorite memories and shared experiences was the curbside decision to mount a Cat Ba Tridem and coast into the night, not aware of the outcome.  The risk wasn't great, as some fly-by-night outdoor pursuits can be, but more importantly making time in these long international travel excursions for daily doses of spontaneity can make memories for a lifetime.  Every time we see riders on a tandem, we are reminded of the joy of riding our Cat Ba Tridem, and time spent traveling, adventuring, and leaving time for unexpected happenings with my family and friends.   

Mentorship and Inspiration

Yesterday I skied with two buddies on Mt. Tumalo in the Oregon Cascades.  It was a striking blue bird day, with unimpeded
views of the snow covered Three Sisters.  This ski tour was a second reunion of the Blackburn, Schmidt, Cam spring mountain trio.  Last year around this time we boot packed our skis up to the snow line at the base of Three-Fingered Jack for an awesome descent down the East Ridge.  We have been blessed with loads of snow this year, so we played the safe approach game and went to Tumalo instead.

This picture is iconic for two of the features.  First, is one of my best buddies Benny is featured in the foreground.  The second, is the middle peak in the background - Middle Sister, or "Hope".  Back in 2009, Benny and I were between our Junior and Senior years of college, waiting for fires to burn the Oregon Forests so we could have summer work... an unusual quandary.  So we filled our packs with gear for a three day trip into the Three Sisters wilderness.  Our goal was to camp at a lake near the base of Hope the first night.  We hiked through the afternoon, found the lake, and established our camp under a scraggly weathered tree, ten feet from the edge of a 100 ft. cliff.  That night after dinner, we sat on the edge and watched the sunset slowly over the western Cascades, with Hope beaming in the alpenglow behind us.  It was an ethereal experience, and my first true backpacking overnight.

The next day, we rose with the sun as is peaked over the mountain, and began our trek to the summit.  Shortly after reaching treeline, we lost the trail and scrambled our way over large boulders to the summit scree-covered summit ridge.  The summit climb took longer because we lost the trail, and we were tired and hungry on top.  Benny had forgotten his snacks back at camp and I traded a bit of our meager rations for a cigarette on the summit - wow, how times have changed!  As we descended the mountain, hungry and parched, we glissaded down the western Renfrew glacier for over a mile.  The glacier was steep enough, and out boots just long enough to act as skis.  Luckily, the August snowpack hadn't revealed any crevasses.  I don't think I knew about crevasses at that point anyway.

We made it safely back to camp that night and back to Eugene the next day.  Looking back on this trip - thanks to Benny for being the brains and motivator of the idea - it was an extremely formative experience. People are the motivators and initiators of great ideas.  Mountains, lakes, cliffs, and alpine wildlife bring us back to a feeling of security, centeredness and humility, but people are the motivators, and mentorship is the relationship that buds growth and viability in the backcountry.  Many of us have played to role of mentoring and teaching in the outdoors, and all of us have played the role of learner.  Friendships grow stronger, and learning about ourselves and our purpose on Earth become more visible, when the mentor/mentee relationship is dynamic between friends, and over time.  My friendship with Benny has taken this path over the last ten years as our lives always reconnect.  We have taught each other the benefit of mutual inspiration, and I owe it to him the importance this interdependence has played in the trajectory of my life since that trip.