Getting Loopy in Ha Giang
Three days on the world's least forgettable stretch of road
When Vietnamese people drink they do not mess about. No time for talking, no fancy drinks, just shot after shot of corn whiskey. That was our experience anyway, sort of like pre-drinking. They moved on to beer when we hit the pub.
We didn’t want to make the Ha Giang Loop just another weekend piss-up so we avoided the big tours infamous for that kind of thing.
The loop is a 350 kilometre round trip in the North of Vietnam. It is primarily driven by motorbike.
On the tour it was just us, another couple, our drivers and whoever we met along the way in restaurants, bars and homestays.
The Maverick to my Goose was Louis (that’s how it sounds, no clue how it’s spelled). He couldn’t speak English beyond a few words, but I liked him.
We took off like an F-14 and my life was in his hands. Every pothole sprung me up like an ejectors seat. I must have been 5cm off the seat at one point.
It was like riding through a montage fading between triumphant snippets of life and bold establishing shots giving us a good idea of North Vietnam in a short timeframe.
As other travellers passed, we exchanged waves and smiles. The mood was fantastic: the sun was out, the cigarettes were skinny and the engine was singing and despite only sharing a few seconds, you were connected in knowing this is unreal craic.
In a little village called Lung Tam I stopped to use the toilet in a women’s linen cooperative. They showed us around and explained how everything worked.
Leaving the Lung Tam we passed by the next generation of little patriots in their flag t-shirts. One girl, around eight years old had hers bedazzled in silver faux diamonds, which I thought was too flashy and unbefitting of a communist.
My driver not speaking English didn’t really matter. Company wasn’t necessary anyway. It was never boring, getting lost in your thoughts admiring this beautiful land.
We stopped fairly often to take in a view and give our bums a break. There was free tea at most of these shops but you had to share a cup that was only cleaned by rinsing it out with tea from a cold pot. We only had it when we needed it.
At one of the stops, a more built up area called Yên Minh District, a guy from Cavan asked me for a fag.
“Aye that’s no bother,” I said.
He said thanks and I asked, “Where you from?”
“Ireland,” he said.
“What part?”
“Uh Cavan it’s like... Have you heard of Northern Ireland?”
“Uhh.... Yeah, we know Northern Ireland... We’re Irish too.”
“Fuck I thought you were American.”
Second time this has happened to me now, which brings it on a par with the number of times an Asian has told me I look like Harry Potter…
The towns between the mountains appeared to be cast in gold as the sun hit them perfectly while we drove.
At Cao nguyên đá Đồng Văn we visited a look out point with the best place to take a shit in the world. It has an outhouse placed down a brick path on a hill overlooking rice fields chaotically amalgamating like a melted jigsaw.
Here an Asian Mother asked if we could take a photo with her sons. She must read my blog!
We spent that night in the loveliest homestay in Đồng Văn District. It had a pool just outside our room and you could swim overlooking expansive rice fields.
That night we ate with the other couple on the tour. We didn’t drive alongside them and only met at mealtime. They were Swiss and both vegetarian. They came with us into town and brought their guide, who was really fun.
The guide, Stefan, was introverted by her own admission but was clearly intent on not letting that stop her from having experiences. We went to a Karaoke bar and she invited me to sing on stage with her. I agreed and she chose …Baby One More Time by Britney Spears. Somehow, I ended up doing 90% of the singing while she stood still and hit a few notes of the chorus.
We went up again and sang C'est La Vie by B*Witched, which went down a treat with the farangs.
The Swiss couple politely told us they were hoping for a more relaxed evening and left. We thought that was exactly what we were having so after a few more relaxing beers and soothing cigarettes we headed back to the homestay.
Day 2
Day two was as sunny as day one, which we were glad to see after some miserable weather in Hanoi.
It wouldn’t have been so bad if it took a little break around 10am as we did our hike on the Sky Path.
We took some photos on cliffs above some filthy drops.
Why do my legs go like jelly when I’m on a height? It is without a doubt the worst possible reaction. I don’t understand what use this has as we shuffle out on a ledge to take a photo on a ledge over rocks made smooth by previous shufflers.
The trek was nice despite the vertigo. I tried my best to look up from the narrow, rocky road. I made sure we didn’t lose the way back by leaving a breadcrumb trail of sweat-beads along the path.
“Đi thôi! Đi thôi!” We heard that faintly over and over on the trek as our guide and the Swiss couple flew ahead. It wasn’t until we caught up that we actually knew what they meant: “come on”.
The corn is growing all around us, rising like they skyscrapers of Bangkok. The farms go all the way up the mountains and it is all harvested.
After the hike we were excited to get back on the bikes. The cool breeze and a seat were heavenly for about 15 minutes until we went numb again.
When we passed Pavi Hmong Village everyone was out in their best clothes walking down the street. I took my camera out to snap pictures of this festival and put it away as swiftly as I could when I saw the coffin.
Sometimes it’s easy to forget that life goes on while you’re on travel mode. It’s paradise until you get some bad news from back home or even good news that you’re missing.
The typical reminder of this is when you’re on a night out here and you’re wondering why it’s so dead then remember it’s 11pm on a Tuesday.
Unlike my last ride in Phuket, this the bike could actually fit. This ride was overall less homoerotic than that one – but my bum did hurt after!
The potholes became something you looked forward to after hours on the bike. The little jump to readjust your butt, which was somehow both numb and sore.
That night we had a proper Vietnamese session in Du Già, Yên Minh District, Ha Giang.
It was just shot after shot of whiskey made from corn. They have a chant that they say every time:
“Một, hai, ba, zo (zo pronounced ‘yo’)
“Hai, ba, zo
“Hai, ba, uống”
Someone in the group leads the chant and the rest repeat each line.
The best part about drinking here is that you have so many nationalities represented, and everyone is on top form.
That night was like the Olympics for beering. We had Denmark, South Korea, New Zealand, Vietnam Germany, Austria, England and Russia represented. Unfortunately Switzerland failed to qualify.
Day Three
The morning after it was safe to say Vietnam took the gold. South Korea and Austria picked up injuries, but Vietnam was ready to compete again.
I was hungover but I sweated it out fairly quickly on the bike. There could scarcely be a better place to be hanging than the Ha Giang Loop.
Today the main event is a trip to Soan Tung cave. I start to feel sick as we took a long, wide turn like a 2p coin starting out on one of those vortex charity boxes at McDonalds.
The cave was expansive and has a lovely little pool inside. Sadly, we forgot to wear our gear so we just climbed some rocks and snapped a few pics and headed off.
Calm cups of tea shared with a man who lives by the path to the cave capped off an uneventful but pleasant third day. He offered me a go on his Thouc Lao (bamboo smoking pipe) but he didn’t look to be in the mood to clean up puke and neither was I so I kindly refused.
We arrived at the homestay around 5pm, very narrowly avoiding a torrential downpour. Starving and tired, we ordered some Western comfort food.