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.   

Seoul - June 20

View from Namsan

We step out of the airport at Incheon to board the highly convenient and affordable subway system, bound for the 55 minute ride to the Hongik University station in the Hongdae neighborhood.  Korea is a special destination for us because we have hundreds of Korean students and a handful of Korean friends, so we felt like its an important travel destination.  A major highlight of our trip was spending an evening with 10 of our recent graduates in their home country.  They took us to the massive Gwangjang Market for classic Korean cuisine - Mung Bean cakes, kimchi, soondae (blood sausage), and some bevies.  Full of deliciousness, they took us to the river for a light and water show before partaking in late night graduate only games in the park - we love them so much and shared hours of laughter together.

Molly drooling over the best bowl of ramen ever

Piling up the mung bean pancakes

Hongdae is supercharged with excitable street walking.  Mobile phone accessory stores, beautiful traditional paintings, Korean bbq, and vintage clothing stores shock the passersby with eye candy.  Trendy youth sport squeaky clean white shoes, black jeans and a white T or a light dress, toting a combo of their devices, a handbag, or a backpack.  Men congregate in 2s or 3s and puff a cigarette on the corner.  Ramen shops and dumpling shops advertise their delicacies in unmistakable Korean characters. 

The food is out of this world.  Our first night, Molly said I get to choose dinner since it's fathers day and we're expecting - a boy, btw.  So I chose what I thought was a familiar BBQ shop that was teeming with folks our age, typically a good sign.  The friendly staff helped us decipher the menu a brought out the best english speaker from the kitchen to aid our ordering.   It turned out we ordered a $25 melody of three flavors of pork entrails - teriyaki, salty, and traditional Koran spicy.  The flavor was outstanding, but the texture was a bit too much for us to handle the entire dish (more suitable for 3 adults), and left my own insides stirring a bit throughout the night.  A good memory nonetheless.  More on the food later, as it deserves.

During our first morning we sipped a good drip coffee at the Coffee Lab on Hongdae st. before heading off to our staircase climb to the Seoul tower in Namsan Park.  23 degrees Celcius?  Couldn't have been more relieved.  

Later in the day at the massive Gyeongbokgung Palace, I ran into a mate from my Minsk Football Club in Hanoi, Lee Dunning.  What are the chances of meeting an Irishman I know from Hanoi in Seoul, a massive city of 20 million?  1 in 20 mil I suppose.  To add to the odds, we saw each other again a couple hours later on a different street near the entertaining walking streets of The Bakchon Hanok Village.  

Master Lee at the Doosan Bears game.

The next day, the three of us when to a Doosan Bears baseball game.  So fun!  A must do when visiting Seoul, especially for sports fans.  Fried chicken slathered in sauce, french fries, and pizza can all be purchased outside the stadium, along with liters of beer to be enjoyed while cheering on your team.  No time for eating or drinking during the home at bats though.  The cheer squad is on their feet, chanting and cheering for every single home at bat - a long time, especially for this 4 hour game.  

We couldn't have asked for a better stop on our trip home.  It worked out perfectly as a 4 day layover en route from Hanoi to the US for our greatly anticipated summer vacation.   

Bali

Bali

A place of fast paced, smiley scooter riders, beautiful people from every corner of the interior solar system, and an overdose of trendy surf shops and coffee corners. The beach is buzzing with surfers and swimmers, dogs and drinkers. It is packed, but everyone has their space and respects everyone else's.

This vacation, planned during the tail end of our fall break vacay to Australia visiting long time besties Pete and Hayley, has been much anticipated. Pat Hughes, another new great buddy and fellow St. Paul Eagle, has been influential in maintaining the hype of the trip.  Big thanks to Pat for showing us the ropes and being a BIG BOSS.  Growing up in Jakaraka for his entire schooling, he frequently escaped the big city to shred some waves on the Bali beaches. To fully round out the experience, our dear friend and colleague Catherine provides wise insight, balance (literally, she crushed headstands at the Yoga Barn), and a contagious laugh. Big thanks also the Craig Money, Alex, and John for all the pro tips. Mol and I are so grateful that we connected with all these people. Its always fun see bring friend circles together. Venn-dia-friends.

Molly, please relax

Part 1: Canggu 

Canggu, the popular beach just up the coast from Kuta and Seminyak. Imagine people ripping up the surf, lounging at the beach, and the nearest lush pool at N & B villas. That's us! B-E-A-UTIFUL. 

After arriving late on Saturday night the 30th of March 2019, we crawled to the villa through the 10:30 pm traffic. I was beyond stoked to arrive. After a couple of Bintangs, Pat and his buddy Craig Money and I went to the Pitstop Burger joint for a late night lamb slider and some fries. Then Craig drug us to the Gimme Shelter punk rock bar where we met the owner and guitarist, Made J (pronounced maw-day). Badass name. Gimme Shelter was from Pats dreams. Only punk rock? Cheap Bintangs? Sign this boy up! The balinese have a set of names for each child based on the order in which they are born, so we met a lot of Mades.

While in Canggu, we hit up three different of beaches and ate amazing food. Milk and Made was certainly a favorite restaurant, and we all got pretty rowdy at the fine establishment of Ule Kan. Pinkies out for Catherine! Renting motorbikes with the help of our villa owner to cruise around was certainly the right move for transport Parking was easy, the traffic not so bad, and the cool constant 20k/hr breeze was always welcomed.

People

Our impressions of the people in Bali were VERY positive. The locals running businesses and offering services were all very helpful and generally friendly. When asked, the Balinese are happy to cater to tourists and enjoy communicating with us. Many employees traveled from other parts of Bali to work in the more touristy areas. The tourists also were quite well mannered. No one I saw was causing a stink or being obnoxiously. Just as it should be when traveling - respecting the space, the people, and calmly navigating stressful situations. The nature of people were an important aspect of the Balinese vibe. This may forever live as memory of the trip: Pat with a smile, cracking a joke sporting the patterned pool robe and a sun hat. Stacy classy, Pat.

Surf

Canggu beach vibes

When not lounging at the villa pool or eating Indo grub, we hit up the beach. The accommodations beachside are so convenient. Roll up, rent some shade, slurp a coconut, lather the fun screen, grab a board for the day, and hit the surf, all for about 200k (15 USD). Old Man's beach turned out to be my favorite. The board rental dudes were friendly and flexible. So were the waves. 

Our first day at Old man's Beach, Big Boss and I followed Craig out to the less crowded but deeper wave on lookers right of the big rock. I caught a few, but mostly just swam around. The deep waves were too big for me, but C$ had zero trouble catching one after another, after another.

The next day, I got smoked by the surf. I was in need of a bit of positive beach time so I invited Molly to walk from Canggu to Old Man's beach for a sunset str♡ll. That day at Echo beach, Pete and I got pretty spooked after being washing machined by a few massive waves that broke into a bed of rocks. Then I came into the easy zone, but still split the board in two. I had to pay for half the board, which was no biggie in the end, but more so, my surf spirits were more shredded the appearance of snapped board.

During the recovery sunset walk, again, the beaches were packed. But packed felt totally normal. Everyone was doing their own thing and enjoying every minute. Dogs roamed all around, folks lounged in chairs sipping cold drinks, kids played in the sand, swimmers "waded" in the beach breaks, young men played soccer, and there were 120 surfers just PLAYING in the rapid succession of perfect, rolling, four to five foot waves. At any one moment there could be 20 people surfing four different waves, one behind the other, everyone noticeably having the time of their lives. The sun was setting beyond the thin cloud layer just above the horizon. The ambiance was warm. The air itself was red-orange. If beaches had alpenglow, this was it. We sat on a sandy knoll and admired the iconic Bali surf scene. The party wave was in full effect and we enjoyed commenting on the skill of the surfers from the shore, as we have done many times before.

Stoked from the night before, Pete and I were back at Old Mans at 8am the next morning to catch glassy post dawn waves. Again, the water was crowded, but there were ample waves for everyone, at every skill level. Pete and I stayed close at first and warmed up on easy whitewater. Later I moved out to the midlevel zone and stood up on a few small faces. After an hour, this had already been the most fun session of my life. To save my energy, I rode back in and snacked on a yogurt berry parfait, sipped an iced mocha, lathered the sun block, and went out for two more sessions. I reentered. I swam through the little channel to the left of the breakers. It was hard to wait for the perfect wave because they were all perfect. I alternated between catching an oncoming breaker and just practicing standing up and riding on whitewater. I was able to navigate the board and adjust my feet enough to dodge other surfers and sometimes gun for the face. I listened to more experienced surfers give their friends advice. "When the board starts to tip down, push up and get your feet set before while still in your plank position." If advice were an element, this nugget was gold. I rode the slow right breakers over and over. By the time I was finished, it was nearly 1pm and it had been the most fun surf day ever. I haven't surfed much, but I now see why Indo is a surf Mecca. I look forward to meeting the Old Man again.

then get 'em!

Part 2: Ubud 

Early afternoon on the morning of the epic surf, we departed for the town of Ubud, where we stayed in a two bedroom villa with a small pool overlooking a gradually terraced mature rice field. Another beautiful spot! Our host was suuuper friendly. Every morning after serving breakfast on the patio overlooking the rice terraces, orchids, and palm trees, he would ask, "what is the program for today?"
Our Ubud-iful program started Wednesday night at a tattoo parlor. Everyone was keen to get a tat in Ubud, but only Catherine left with viking inspired ink.

ArchitectureWhile driving to Ubud, we started to comment on the similarities between the stone architecture of the temples and "fences" lining the streets and the Hindu aspects of the temples of Angkor in Cambodia. Square dark volcanic stone, mostly from the Mt. Agung volcanic area, with many protruding layers and upward hooks on the corners dominate the visual field of the residential areas in central Bali. We only traveled via motorbikes and this building style was very abundant. Statues, according to a guide, are often built around the Balinese new year. Statues occupy every other street corner and intersection, many with Hindu god and goddess inspiration, and others with cultural flare, like the detailed 7 meter tall surfing monkey!

The next morning we hit up the ~1000 year old Elephant cave temple nestled in a beautiful forest valley. Against Molly's will, we hired a tour guide who blessed us with prayer and splashes of holy water. The temple had two areas, the Hindu and the Buddhist. The Hindu Temple was the namesake of the area, but the Buddhist portion was only a large stone carving the size of small house that had fallen into the creek bed after an Earthquake. This was our first bite of forested nature of Ubud.

Our second bite of natural beauty came later that day, and it was the Tegenungan Waterfall. Although crawling with people and blasting party music, it was still a fun scene. We swam at the base of the raging falls and considered riding the massive swings that swung over the falls. Instead we left for an afternoon pool swim and a snooze.

Food

We ate a few lavish meals. Some call it imposter syndrome, perhaps. Kind, smiling hosts greet us with flowers and ice cold cinnamon towels to refresh our heat-rashed skin. Napkins placed in our laps, cold fruity water poured in the glasses. Fresh juices and flavorful saucy asian dishes tickled our palates. Nasi campur, gado gado, nasi goreng, beef rendang (only for tourists because Hindus don't eat beef), and curries, were all staples amongst the crew. There are so many good restaurants to choose from, sometimes we just looked at the map and picked the one with most good reviews. This strategy led us to the nicest 5 star resort restaurant many of us had ever visited, called the Dining Corner. If you wanna blast off your vacation at a luxury villa, blow your load at Kayumanis. We toured the Luxury villas with private infinity pools overlooking the jungle. I felt spoiled to have eaten there. Maybe grateful is a more appropriate feeling. Had I known the elegance of this place, I would have left my tank top and board shorts at home. Next time 😉

Place: Mt. Batur

Hayley and Pete soaking up the sunrise

20 years of crushin it with Pete

Batur Lake and crater

Expectations can be dangerous. Luckily this one wasn't - I expected more dusty dirt roads. All roads are paved where we traveled, which is great for motorbiking. Narrow streets lined with thin slices of grass, vegetation, and a deep gutter.

We awoke at 2am for a transport to the trailhead of the sunrise summit of Mt. Batur. We sleepily chatted with our driver, sipping gritty instant Copi, readying ourselves for the ~4 hour trek.

The ascent was pitch black. A couple hundred people were scattered along the trail with their respective local guides. Big colorful motocross bikes brapped past us with those less prepared holding on to the driver for dear life. Although we could have managed the entire trek on our own, I always appreciate having a knowledgeable local guide with whom to chat, joke, and laugh. Hiring local guides helps to minimize the chaos that unbridled tourists might cause without local knowhow, and provides good stable jobs. Our guide, Roca, one of eight siblings, was from the large crater surrounding Batur. He practiced his English as we spat broken Indo phrases along the route.

The sunrise on the summit, sipping coffee and eating boiled eggs while chatting with Pete and Hayley about our lives, our views, and future plans was one of the more memorable experiences of the entire trip. Something about early mornings and mountains tops really sets the scene for a lasting memory.

Hiking with the homies at Mt. Batur summit, Mt. Agung in the background

When the sun rose, we calmed our sweaty mountain chills by standing next to the steam vents produced by the volcano and watching the monkeys ascend from the crater up to the summit rim. There, they sat and waited to be fed by the tourists. They ate, drank, fornicated, and nursed their young, all right front of us. Humans were witnessing and directly causing artificial population increase due to minimized natural predators and increased food availability. It seems that feeding the wild animals was okay here soley because the creatures are so damn cute.

Back at the trailhead we said farewell to all the other hikers and our guide, and the driver took us to the underrated Batur Natural Hot Spring. Yes, Bali is already hot, but the mountain is coolish. We soaked our bones for an hour and straight relaxxxxxed.

On the descent drive out of the large crater which houses the entirety of Batur back to Ubud, we almost bypassed the last part of the tour due to tiredness - the coffee plantation. Thank goodness we didn't. Our tour guide at the plantation was maybe 23 years old and had already been a guide there for three years. He was stoked be guiding us. Beneath the hectares of coffee and chocolate plants, ginger, turmeric, and chiles line the forest floor. Tea leaves don't grow well in hot temps, so Indo tea is typically made from smaller herbs and the dried roots previously mentioned. In addition, nearly 1000 Luwak weasels rummage through the coffee plants, selectively swallowing the best beans. After passing through the GI tract of the animal, the acidity and associated caffeine levels of the coffee bean drop. The farmers hunt for the excrement of the Luwak, rinse it, dry it, roast it, the brew it so uber coffee connoisseurs can pay $50/cup of delicacy weasel shit coffee. Our dude gave us a homie hookup ($3) and we shared an admittedly delicious bitterless cup.

The Mt. Batur Sunrise Tours nailed it. Hayley said it right, "you couldn't poke a hole in this tou-ah."

Yoga and fitness

Yoga Barn flower design

Bali is like the Boulder, Colorado of Asia. People are beautiful, generally very fit, funky. They love to eat fresh food consciously and spend time with the natural world. Health and wellbeing are bountiful here. Catherine enjoyed Alex's Yin yoga class in Canggu at Odyssey. Then in Ubud we went balls to the wall at the Yoga Barn for consecutive days of afternoon Vinyasa flow. The main studio is a large, open air second floor... barn. I could easily overutilize a month long unlimited pass here and barely scratch the surface of their diverse yoga and meditation offerings. So much combined ancient and contemporary wisdom to glean here.

I love exploring new places on foot. Running through new areas allows me to be with a place at a slower pace than biking, but cover more ground that a walk. In Canggu, the morning beach run was a perfect way to start the day. Our last night in Ubud, Pete and I cruised the streets, smiling at the friendly supportive shouts from kids and guys, and constantly shooing off protective barking dogs of the residential areas.
Green school

The Green school is an international school focused on conservation, community engagement, and solution- based learning. They are also famous for their cutting edge bamboo architecture. Thankfully, everyone else all wanted to tour the green school for an hour one morning. I enjoyed looking at the variety of structures and the projects that students at the school had incorporated into their campus. The educational model of this school is well aligned with my educational philosophy, and could see myself applying for a position here... again.

Closing

I am so lucky to have been born into a situation and to parents who have provided well enough for us to travel around the world. Sure, we did some work on our own, but location of birth is a significant indicator of opportunity one has in ones life, and I was born in a place and in a time which, and to parents who offer people lots of opportunity. As an adult I've always loved to travel, but mostly around the mountain west of North America, over trails, rocks, and snowy glades. Now, I love traveling with my wife and friends, learning local phrases, eating local foods, seeing new sites, and exploring new ways of being wholly healthy and balanced. Bali inspires me to continue this exploration. Indo is intriguing. Thank you Bali, I will be back!

Blackburns Unite in Vietnam

Checking out the coastal Pagoda - Phu Quoc 

Beach Time with Spunky

Molly and I are so grateful to have spent nearly two weeks with a familial band of Idahoans in Vietlandia.  Blackburns, Betts, Cardoza, Morgan, Radis and Mudie- our blended and extended family created quite the wake on Phu Quoc Island in southern Vietnam.  The spud squad survived the first few days of jetlag, language barrier mishaps, immigration shakedowns, less than sanitary food options, motorbike/flesh collisions, and a New year's celebration induced, brain-rattling hotel orientation. 

By the end of their time, everyone had found their groove.  Rex and his larger than life curiosity, generosity, and bald and big physique  acquired the nickname Buddha by more than one of the locals.  Tara navigated the hit and miss food scene well enough to find a dynamite street BBQ spot by the last. We shared laughs with the hosts regarding their gestures to Tara and Alex about their, unbeknownst to them, future child - a classic projection by the older gen on us 30-somethings without kids. Over vodka shots and rice wine at the plastic tables sidewalk restaurant, we bonded with the family who was joyous serving us and admiring the ease to which we could manage our own table top grill.  Cardoza ate enough local fruit to put a dent in the national supply.  During our final stroll around town before departure, Barb was dodging motos, weaving slender sidewalk corridors, and saying hello and thank you with a seemingly well-practiced accent.  

Everyone was stoked to have good old Spunky Betts and his girlfriend Emily along for much of the fun also.  Spunk and Emily brought young adventurous energy to the equation after their 2 week head-first tour of Vietnam.

It was special to spend the last meal of my 20s with all these wonderful humans and a grip of Hanoi friends too.  I will forever cherish the time spent with my family on their first Asian visit, seeing the friendliness beneath the dusty, and at times crusty initial image of the place and its people.  We like it here well enough and were thrilled to show people we love our new - yet certainly temporary - life.  Now looking forward to our venture to new places and peoples with the Radises next month!

El Nido

While paddling across a small cove after breakfast, our Filipino kayak guide named Aaron catches my attention and points his paddle across the cove to an off white and burnt orange overhung wall a couple hundred meters away.  He quickly performs the apparently international climbing signal to me - hands climbing up a ladder. We silently paddle forth. 

For the last three days, Molly and our dear Bend-based buds Tyson and Sara, and our three local support crew have been thoroughly enjoying the Bacuit bay off the coast of spunky little El Nido town on northern Palawan island.  Our itinerary is dreamy - paddle on SUPs and kayaks from one palm-lined beach to another, playing coy with the distance from the jagged, featured, castle-like, limestone karst cliffs that rise from their wave-bashed erroded undercut, often one or two hundred meters into the sky.  The cracks and seams splitting the rock house vegetation on the nearly vertical stone.   Aaron, in his heavily accented English, may tell us the snorkeling is good here, or we need to hop in the support boat and putt putt to another location.  When we chose it, the snorkeling was incredible - great shallow reefs with big shelf drops for us to free dive and test our nerves under water.  Who knew Mol-oi (her growing Viet nickname) was such a little fish.  She has Casco bay water in her blood.

During the snorkel, our guides would prepare an exquisite lunch of rice, fresh fish, a veg salad and enough watermelon to choke a horse.  One day after a post lunch nap on the boat, we performed an impromptu Christmas concert fir the nearby coral with our boat hand on the ukulele, the captain on percussion, and the remaining 5 as vocalists of varying talent.  We sipped local rum diluted with coconut water while laughing at and with each other over missed notes and made up lyrics - a true bonding moment with our fun loving guides, transcending the differences in our respective roles of client and guide. New friends just enjoying common musical backgrounds.

Filipinos love basketball.  Plain and simple.  Waking up in the beach one morning, wiping my eyes of sand, both blown in from a storm and self produced from slumber, our guides pick up the basketball lodged between the two tree trucks that hold up the fastened 2x4 backboard and rusted rim.  We shoot around for a few minutes. Before long, we are playing to 13 in a 2v2 match on the small patch of packed sand, hardly bigger than a normal key on a court.  No dribbling - only passing, cutting, jumping, and pumping.  Final score: Philippines 13, USA 12.

Little wonder that days later our boat man would rush to unpack our gear after our trip finished only to walk directly to the nearest court to play in the local semi final.  International jerseys, great no-look passes, and hard but smiley play entertained the crowd.  An announcer excitedly gave commentary and updates through a loudspeaker. We watched the game with the other 120+ El Niditos as they played for a trophy, cash prize, and a bottle of Rum provides by our tour host, El Gordo.  A top notch guide and homestay establishment that hosts dozen of community development events throughout the year.

I didn't have my mind set on climbing, as my hands were pretty torn up from exploring the needly vertical aspects of lagoons the previous day.  As we approached the rock, Tyson scoped the route that would eventually test my deep water solo limits.  I stood on the front of his paddle board to start the route and cautiously traversed to a small ledge on bulletproof stone.  Looking over to the next section required constant vigilance of the sea depth and wave pattern below me, as it looked tricky without an easy exit.  A few fun exposed moves later, I leaped 20' into the ocean, rising up to bask in homie props and safety.  Sara's turn. She strong-armed the first major overhang, a characteristic of every good looking route in the area and made the traverse to ledge before executing an obviously well practiced backflip.  With no rush from our guide (ever) we paddled home to be welcomed by Gordo and his wife Christina for another amazing meal and story time. 

We are so lucky to be traveling with good friends for the holidays. So grateful for the wonderful Filipino guides, host's, servers, ballers, chefs, kids, and captains, for the food, the fish, and the feeling of family.  Excited to see the Blackburn's in a week.  Merry Christmas!

Relaxing mornings... and Fansipan

Horizontal max out, pre-curry and ginger tea Dinner in Pai

Historically I equated productive mornings off with rushed breakfasts, pre-dawn approaches, and all days hikes/climbs.  While they will never completely escape future morning repertoires, I have fully prioritized sleep while still rising early to eat a bowl of pho, blast through pages of a good book, stretch, sip a strong Viet cafe, and write in my journal.  There are too many things to do and my nature is to attempt them all - a recurring feeling, similar to that of my first semester in college.  However I am learning to prefer slower, deliberately-paced exploration that builds in time for naps, massages, breathing, and yoga - activities that make the new experiences feel less hurried and equip my brain for appropriately dealing with inevitable hiccups.

Pad Thai and Green Curry food coma - Pai

While in Northern Thailand on our autumn break from school, I found the value in being a full blown tourist - on a guided tour.  From the elephant park to the street food tour, I found full value in being a team tourist - I fired off questions in between full group announcements and found myself at the heels of the guides when we were moving, awaiting another question.  Am I that annoying student who is too engaged?  Maybe.

Intimate with elephants

We rented a motorbike and slowly made our way to the hippy town of Pai after the most stunningly green and windy drive.  The 130 km drive took us nearly 6 hours after our stops to hilltop coffee shops, huge double waterfalls, and random streetside temples.

Scooter senorita

Moloi hiking with Manoi, the 34 year-old Elephant rescue

Moloi - stretching it out after a refreshing soak in the Mork Fa waterfalls

Following our week in Thailand, we were blessed with the opportunity to lead a week long school trip with each other and two awesome St Paul friends.  The main itinerary for the 5 days? Embark on a 3-day trek to Fansipan, deemed, "the roof on Indochina" at 3,140 m.  We had 27 students ranging from never-hiked-before and never-been-actually-dirty-before ninth grade Korean students to Vietnamese Seniors who considered this a standard vacay.

Our three Vietnamese guides, all of whom I grilled about life as a mountain guide in Vietnam after growing up a H'mong villager, led our not-so-motley crew up the mountain.  The hike started meandering through the Villages and their people - piglets, chickens, ankle deep mud puddles and a drizzle so thick it looked as if it would never stop (which it didn't) - welcomed us into the trip.  The students were HUGE troopers, but were exhausted arriving into our lunch site at 3:30pm, 7 hours after beginning the hike.  Immediately myself and the other teacher chaperones questioned the guides and their ability to estimate the needs and abilities of our group.  A boiled egg Bahn My lunch and a short afternoon, followed by two raging fires and 9 hours of sleep on a wooden floor brightened our spirits for day 2, although not for long

Putting on wet muddy shoes was soon forgotten by meandering through more green, mossy, narrow bamboo-lined mountain spines.  During our 5 days on the trip, there was only a 15-minute span when we could see more that a couple hundred meters across the valley.
Settling into camp 2 was an oxymoron - 8 people crammed in a 12 foot wide platform with soaked clothes, a fire only hot enough to dry the soaking wood, and students visibly getting sick from the conditions.  It was a challenge even for us teachers to hold it together.

Day 3.  I hoofed it to the summit 1.5 hours before the rest of the gang with our one student who rolled her ankle the day before and was being piggy backed by a constant alternation of six porters and myself.  The terrain those gentlemen can traverse in broken flipflops almost rivals that of the late and great Uli Steck.  In the end, we all made it to the top and safely back down in the 6.2 km cable car in under 20 minutes.  Our students impressed us.  They cried for home but didn't stop moving.  They didn't like the food much, but ate it anyway.  I could see a few of their bodies changing and their minds becoming more acute by the day compared to their academic selves.  Not often do these students get to physically challenge themselves like this and transfer this grit and perseverance to other parts of their lives.   It was all worth it.  

The eerie forest leading up to Fansipan with 27 partially stoked students

Weekend motorbike getaway to Tam Dao.

Chi, Bia, and Sweat

Kawasaki

Our travels were without peril and our brief layover in Kawasaki was lovely.  As we exited the well-organized train system that took us from the Haneda Airport to our micro airbnb, we immediately noticed the generosity of the locals and the cleanliness of the streets.  Feng shui was apparent everywhere.  From the curbs that barely touched your ankles to the driveways that housed vehicles smaller than an All-American Harley blanketed by bonais, there was no trash and no disorder.  The spaces maximized functionality and human movement - there was no space to waste.  There was no music coming out of the homes, and people talked quietly.

Bicyclists and pedestrians ruled the narrow streets at a leisurely pace.  While walking around after a brief rest, we were noticeably lost looking for a place to eat.  A petite beautiful middle-aged woman who spoke great english approached us and asked with great (yet quiet) energy if we needed some help.  Yes, Please! We are hungry, not for our 10 pounds of trail mix and crackers we packed, but for  local food.  The woman ushered us to her sisters small bakery and asked her sister to hustle down the street to find an open restaurant.  She narrated the entire interaction for us in English and soon we were seating in a clean air-conditioned restaurant, with tenpura and cold soba noodles on the way.  This woman ordered for us and told us how much it cost.  I would eat battered and fried pumpkin every other day for millennia if I had too. Bicyclists and pedestrians ruled the streets and we never saw a single bike locked. 

The next morning we rose early and walked down the street The Kawasaki Daishi Temple.  I can't describe it's beauty and intricacies.  We honored the Yakuyoke Kobo Daishi in a brief prayer before we hustled back to the train > airport.  

Hanoi

We have lived in Hanoi for 40 hours.  We have walked nearly 20 miles around the city already, watching people and their interactions, eating pho, sushi, and seeking fluids for consumption or submersion by the half hour.  Our first impression - the people are noticeably respectful.  They nod as we pass and many say hello with a grin so big it would make my whole face soar to do so, and I try to back at them.  You know how you recognize things that people don't do, and therefore you later notice things they do or others do because of it's absence?  Well the Hanoi's don't holler at Molly, they don't beg, they push you to buy their goods, and they don't care that we absolutely butcher the simplest phrases of their language.  But they will hit you on their motorbikes if you don't move swiftly.

Yesterday in the middle of our morning cruise around the Ba Dihn District, we stopped over at a little restaurant by the a lake for a "quick" bite.  There was a couple of young gentlemen in plastic kiddy chairs with plates full of sautéed greens, salads, and fried tofu amidst their third or fourth Bia on ice all littered on the small plastic table.  We pointed to a picture of a meal we though looked well-rounded from the menu, finished our ration of water, and watched as a dozen more young men began to filter into their respective tables and chairs after parking their bikes, order a case of Saigon Bia, smoke their cigarettes, and chit chat about life.  This seems like a typical Sunday for many men.  We were here for nearly an hour before we went about 1/4km down the street for a rare non-alcoholic bev - iced juiced.  Here, be found our love for the Google translate app.  We have since found a few phrases we have documented on our necessary pocket notebook..  This will be our saving grace as we navigate the language and city we are growing to love.  The streets are busy, some boulevards have full canopies, and the parks are full of children playing, people centering their chi, and passing the shuttlecock back and forth.

Today we will look for an apartment and hit up the ethnology museum.  Stoked and sending love all around.  

Street lined with old bonsai's for ~1.5km

Life of a motorbike