Day 2: Lao Cai to Bac Ha

I don't think either of us were sad to get off the train - I was surprised that Ryan was able to stand upright after having to lie in the foetal position for 11 hours...

Breakfast in Lao Cai would form the pattern for most breakfasts to come - fresh, crusty bread (a hangover from the time of French colonization, and surprisingly available in most places we ended up staying) and for me, strong Vietnamese coffee sweetened with condensed milk. I expected the condensed milk and thought it simply represented a Vietnamese sweet tooth, but after a few days realized it was because of the general lack of fresh milk (and dairy products in general) outside of the big cities.

We were introduced to our driver, who met us with a Ford Transit Van loaded up with our mountain bikes, and set off for Bac Ha.

Along the way we stopped at the riverbank on the outskirts of Lao Cai - turned out the river formed the border between Vietnam and China. Our guide regaled us with stories of China's exploits along the border - like the Chinese "randomly" buying alot of Vietnamese cats (which hungry people in need of money would gladly sell), resulting in the local rat population exploding and destroying the Vietnamese crops. Or the Chinese having a sudden demand for buffalo knees and the Vietnamese killing and wasting a lot of animals for such a small part of the carcass. I'm not sure how much truth was in those tales, but I got the impression that the Vietnamese feel exploited by China.

Over the river to China

We also discovered the reason it takes 10 hours to drive 300km on Vietnamese roads - they are narrow, very windy with lots of blind corners and frequently blocked by trucks. As we slowly wound our way up into the mountains, we gradually ascended into the clouds until visibility on the road was so limited that it was difficult to see the white lines on either side. We crawled the rest of the way into Bac Ha, but my respect for our driver's skill increased significantly (I was mostly just glad that we didn't wipe out over the front end of one of those trucks as they unexpectedly materialized out of the fog). And then, just as we approached the town, we emerged into clear air with the cloud left behind like a white wall behind us.

The town was a buzz of activity for the busy Sunday market. Many people traveled a long way for the market, and most noticeable were the Hmong women in their colourful traditional dress scattered in pockets everywhere in the crowd. We thought they must have dressed up specially for the market, but apparently they wear the same clothes for work at home.

There was everything for sale - from the expected cloth, wall hangings, hats, even small toys made from the same colourful woven fabric, to the unexpected - puppies, musical instruments, buffalo, all sorts of meat (including a pig's head sitting serenely on one table). Scattered amongst the vegetables and noodles in the eating area were platters of intestines. The Brit and our guide were brave (?) enough to try some corn alcohol brewed by one woman who sat next to old, unlabeled water containers brimming with the stuff. The guide estimated it to be about 50% ethanol - it certainly looked like it burned the whole way down, although the vendor (obviously an old hand) swigged a glassful with no problem.

Mmmmm...lunch anyone?? (those are not sausages)

After lunch (pork noodles in our hotel, not intestines in the market), we were introduced to our bikes and went for a "short" test ride. Ryan managed to get left behind and lost within the first 2 minutes, after stopping to adjust his Camelbak at exactly the same time that a bus pulled across where we had turned so that he couldn't see which way we had gone. He rode in the wrong direction to the edge of town before he realized his mistake while we anxiously waited wondering what calamity had befallen him...

The ride took us on a climb through the hills on the outskirts of town. The roads were not steep (I don't think the local vehicles have enough guts to struggle up anything steeper), but the hills were - so climbs would switchback gradually upwards over many (many) kilometres. As we rode up, we passed lots of people on their way home from the markets - riding overloaded scooters or walking with heavy loads, even shepherding buffalo up the road.

After ascending a solid 10km into the clouds, we turned around and enjoyed the ride back down (and the fact that in that direction, we are by far and away the fastest things on the road). Ryan caused many giggles amongst the local kids by riding along the flat outskirts of town with no hands.

That evening, there was some kind of festival in the middle of town. A stage had been set up and we watched a series of acts ranging from traditional dance to a modern singing duet. It felt a bit like "Bac Ha's got Talent". Many of the locals simply rode their scooters into the middle of the assembled crowd and used them as ready-made seating or let their kids stand on the seats to get a better view. We could sense alot of whispers and side-long views directed towards Ryan, until a few people got brave enough to approach him and we realized that they were fascinated by his height. A couple of people wanted their photos taken with him, and then all of a sudden he was mobbed by teenage schoolgirls. There was lots of giggles, more photos and the girls tried out some of their English on us. We eventually had to retire to the hotel before we caused some kind of riot. I guess it's tough being at the top :-)

Ryan's groupies

Here's the stats from Endomondo (except that it only recorded the first half of the ride - the second half was the same but in reverse):