We arrived the next day in Hanoi, where we would then get a bus up to Ha Giang the next day or the day after that. We booked another shitty room in the Old Town, and had a little look around but nothing to detailed, we knew we’d be back. We instead readied ourself for Ha Giang and booked our bus, another shit show, this time with twin hobbit seats, but with screened windows. Still. It got us there. Ha Giang is a little city in the North of Vietnam. Ha Giang Province borders China. It was here we had decided to hire a motor bike and do a day loop. We didn’t see much of Ha giang, it actually seemed to stretch quite a ways beyond the two streets we experienced of it as we got off at the bus station, found a hotel across the road, and the place where we hired the bikes from was 200 metres away. QT motorbikes I would highly recommend. The guys took us through a map and told us where we should stay, some we did, some we didn’t but it was nice to have an idea. We went the night before, and sorted everything out. I test drove a bike (the guy was amazed that someone could actually start it, I dread to think of who normally hires these things) and then we would head back the next morning.

Admittedly they were a bit slow as the chap in the office had an issue with a bike on rent he had to resolve, and they didn’t actually give me the same bike as I had ridden the day before (clutch was sticky on this second one) but I thought hey ho and we carried on. The first stretch was to Quan Ba. The ride there was ace, if a little wet at one point. Windy roads, mountain passes. The gears were pissing me off a little but no worries. The views are stunning, particularly when you hit the crest of a mountain. Conny is it transpires a bit scared of going above 60Km/h which does lead to a somewhat less exciting trip but still awesome none the less. That said, she does have cause for worry, given that anyone driving a van or a truck basically thinks that no matter what part or how much of the road they are taking up, so long as they sound their horn, their job is done, it is for you to get out of their way. On one such moment I was actually off the road and Conny was a couple of inches off losing a leg to a truck…but it’s ok, he honked, so he was absolved of any blame had a limb been removed. We arrived at the town of our first nights stop. On the corner in the centre of town is a little place that serves proper coffee and some decent food, so we ate dinner and breakfast there before heading on.

Day two would see us drive up to the very tip of the country and a town called Dong Van. The ride up was equally as spectacular, and again a bit wet…actually, quite wet, but it didn’t matter. The further you get into the mountains the better it gets. The mountains, and the agriculture in them is immense. The hillsides are carved into full scale contour lines of an OS map. The roads wind up into the pine forests and the air changes to that most wonderful scent. At one point we had to stop and queue where the road had slipped away and there were folk just rebuilding it, but rebuild it they did and we were able to mosey on.

We arrived at Dong Van and booked in to a hostel, not the one they recommended but instead the one next door. We headed out and went for dinner. En route, we did see a cooked dog’s head on a table, with the cooked and butchered dog laid out behind it in pieces, which was to say the least a shock, but really, they eat dog here so I shouldn’t be too surprised, plus what makes a cow less worthy of our sympathy than a dog or a horse, personally I see little difference.

The restaurant (the Green Karst) however was excellent. They genuinely understood vegetarian, they had excellent meaty options however for those not of the vege styles, they even asked what music we would like. Better still, the owners take time to teach local kids English for free. I always find it good to try and support such folk so it was nice to do that and have delicious belly-fulls to boot. We ate there again the next morning, their breakfast menu is a winner, I was even given some fruit, that I can’t for the life of me remember what it is, but is the greatest fruit in the entire history of great fruit. Then we headed toward the North Pole. No, not that one, but at the tip of Ha Giang province is a flag pole atop a hill that looks out to China. We climbed it and looked to China. I spoke to a local chap. He was a Mong, the local village were Lolo. These are two very different ethnicities who do not integrate. He was telling me how his village is small and they are only Mong but the next village is also Lolo, this means for him the dating pool is low. He asked me my age and I told him 36, he asked Conny’s, I told him 29, he looked relieved. He checked that she was my girlfriend and when I said yes he told me he is 21, and that his girlfriend is 14. I honestly had no idea what to say.

We headed down the road and onwards towards our next destination Du, but first we had to negotiate the town of Mia Xu. Upon trying to do so, our bike finally gave in. Lucky it was in town to be fair, but full credit to QT bikes, I found a garage and handed the mechanic who spoke no English the card of QT and they organised that he fix the bike, and QT pay me the money back at the end. 45 minutes and a couple of local tea later we were back on the road and the bike was ace. More importantly this stage of the road was the single most epic and breathtaking part of Asia to date. The road at times windy, at times opening up, along the ridges of the mountain or down the windy roads the scenery always astonishing. The karskes climbing out in epic lush green and granite, with the afternoon sun shading it perfectly, on occasion clouds creeping through, other times clear and bright, whether we were snaking through or slinking along a straight road alongside the were nothing short of mesmerising. If there is one thing every visitor to Vietnam should do, it’s this trip. Before reaching the village we headed to for the next night, we came across another village, and at said village, a Spaniard. Somehow, in seeing that the road was covered in a thick layer of washed in clay, I’d guess a foot deep in parts, save for the two tracks of vehicles’ left and right tyres to the one side, this Spaniard had opted to drive over/through the clay, and not the tracks. What a numpty! Me being me however I couldn’t just leave him there. So we both set about hauling the clay-mud-stuck scooter he was riding out of the bog, our own feet sinking in as we did, but with a couple of goes we got it free and headed our merry ways. We got to our hostel QT homestay, where we met Marc, an exuberantly moustachioed German lad, doing our trip effectively in reverse. We had some good chat, I like the cut of his jib. He was also a vegetarian which made it easier for the cooks at the homestay as we three were the only guests. Boy did they feed us. Masses of delicious food, even I couldn’t polish it off. The most amazing platter of spring rolls, morning glory, tofu with tomato sauce and rice. The homestay itself was a big hall and sleeping quarters were a curtained off area with a bug net in each. The toilet was outside and I really had to go as a storm raged, but apart from that I really couldn’t fault the place. Breakfast was a plate each piled high of pancakes, and I don’t mean shitty American ones, I mean proper English ones, or crepes as the French would call them, with honey and lime. Dee-fucking-licious. We headed off in tandem to the point where our paths separated, and we turned left on to a fantastic road. Barely paved, but a big long straight, flanked either side with thick, tall maize fields and little villages. It turned out that the villages were all in their Sunday best. Formally dressed and gathered at the rally point in the village, not sure if it was a wedding, church, market or sacrifice…there were animals, people and joy in the air, but we didn’t see much further. One of the true joys about driving through the countryside was seeing the locals go about their business. They were often remarkably dressed. Brightly coloured and patterened skirts or dress, some with head scarves, some bare headed. Overwhelmingly handsome folk, most importantly the joy for them to see us foolish folk bounding about on our bikes was evident by their shouts and hellos with wide grin! There were even high fives…one kid crossed just in front of me to high five on my right hand…which got awkward when I nearly killed him then had to release my throttle…not ideal, but fun all the same. After the maize fields, the road took a little turn as we headed once more over some mountains. When I say road, that is most definitely a loose term. There was some definite scrambling involved, to the point Conny rathered walk. She got scared if I slightly overcooked it on the throttle and popped a little wheely. I was having a blast. If I am honest, I think the road had only recently come apart in landslips, at times it was much more like riding a bike up a slow waterfall than a road but it was great, Conny never had to walk far in one go, not that she had to walk, I am fully capable! But the road only gave out for short stretches before being paved once more. Another thing to note is not to go anywhere too fast if you can’t see the road ahead, between potholes, complete removal of road surface, piles of grit, rubble or sand, and straight up cement barriers leaping out to surprise you, it is certainly advisable to take it steady, that said there are enough long straight roads to open up a little. The worst part of our final day was my horn giving in. The horn is the most essential piece of kit when driving anywhere in Asia. Every corner must be preceded by a series of toots just to let someone know not to kill you, the same can be said for any over taking move, be it a rider at the side of the road, a buffalo, or a bus struggling up a hill. Unless you toot, death is almost certain. So, being tootless, we were resigned to Conny vocally tooting in lieu of the horn. Not ideal, but we did indeed survive! Back to the road itself though, the views were excellent once more, today had become a little cooler, and the mists were again creeping over the mountain as we rode. We took the odd detour and climbed along the ridgeline of one mountain, literally cliffs falling away each side as the cool breeze hit us. WHERE DID THAT ROAD TAKE US? We got back to the village with the awesome coffee, knowing that it was only 2-3 hours from home and sat to enjoy their delights once more. Before heading back as the sun came out along the home stretch.

The few words I have written here really do not do this ride justice. It is truly a spectacular. A once in a lifetime. A marvel at every second. The landscape everchanging and beguiling from one moment to the next creating feasts for the eyes like beautiful arts on canvas and snapshots in my head that will last a lifetime in memory.

Handing back our trusty (save for the gears and the horn) steed back was somewhat of a wrench, but every second was a joy.

We stayed one more night in Ha Giang before heading to Hanoi.

Here we stayed with an old friend from back home, who lives in Hanoi as an English teacher. We were introduced to the joys of Cards Against Humanity and had a few wanders around the city, including the museum…which if I am honest is an absolute cluterfuck of nonsense. Never have I been in a museum and been so overwhelmed by so much nothing as to leave so underwhelmed. Now if that sentence was as hard to follow as it was to write, let me extrapolate. The museum is full of stuff. Almost none of it with any sort of coherence. Especially for an English speaker. I don’t necessarily think that a museum ought to make concession for the Anglophone, however, this kind of did and kind of didn’t. It had a half arsed translation of a handful of the information, which makes one wonder what the fuck one is actually looking at. Add to that the complete lack of flow and the pure shabbiness of some of the exhibits (some looked marvellous however) then the result is positively negative. Overwhemingly underwhelming and at once underwhelmingly overwhelming. It’s quite the feat to be honest. Usually if I go into a museum I have an intent to learn something but there was entirely nothing to be gleaned from this cube so to speak. Even the shonkiest museum in Vientiane had some educational merit, I left understanding timelines and about the influence of communism and the USSR on Laos, plus got to see some of the real life behind the history, which serves to bring it home just how recent the turmoil in this corner of the world was, whereas I had none of that here.

We met with Barry once more, for this week was Conny’s birthday week. He was no longer with Silvia, as indeed, that too had passed. We had decided to head out to Cat Ba, an island in Ha Long bay. We left some luggage at my friend’s house and borded the early morning train to Hai Phong where we picked up a scooter from Hai Phong Motorbike for Rent (he is only on face book, you won’t find him on tripadvisor, but he is really helpful, speaks great English as he also translates for a living, and his prices are super cheap a weeks rental costs between 15 and 18 dollars) and we headed out of town on a 15km stretch of death road to the port. Flanked by masses of traffic from the swarms of scooters some unconscionably heavily laiden, but also cars a plenty and the worse, giant trucks with scant regard for the mere annoyance that is a Westerner on a bike. They would roar past with scant regard for our space or indeed lives. Barry, almost as oblivious to the perils as the Vietnamese lorry drivers themselves, was almost taken out as he crossed an intersection, without looking (although the right was his) and a truck had decided to turn at the same intersection. In his attempts to not die by that truck, Barry oblivious once more swerved right, only at this point I was shitting myself behind, because I had seen that there was another oblivious truck driver entering the road at pace from his right. Somehow Barry last second managed to snake through nonchalantly like nothing had happened. To get to Cat Ba we would have to travel on to another island, by ferry, not exactly luxurious but fun all the same. The locals, as they have throughout Vietnam, pointed and laughed in aghast and awe at my beard. One guy even thrust his baby into my arms to take a photo of it and me, beard et al. It was very odd to say the least.

Another island and another ferry later we ended up on Cat Ba island, the North no less, with Cat Ba town being to the South. It’s not a long ride to the South however, and the whole island is definitely a rough and ready sort of place, if I was honest, I wasn’t really that impressed. That said we headed to wards town for a bite to eat then decided that given the fact it was really busy and loud, we’d head out a bit for our hotel. We stopped at a nice looking, clean, recently redone place for the night. Whoopsy. The morning came but not before the bed bugs. Lucky, it transpires that the bugs did not dig my vegetarian zero alcohol blood. Conny and Barry not so lucky, Barry in particular got destroyed. Needless to say we did not stay another night. We headed a little further out to the sweet potato. Initially only for breakfast and a drink, but then the heavens opened and we noticed that people were staying there. Turned out they had a room for at least the next couple of nights, and I have to say that I was thoroughly impressed. Breakfast was great, the room was clean, large, had AC and wifi and we got chatting to some other fine folk there. We even had fun during the storm driven power cuts. The only fault was that when the weekend came it was booked. We headed down to the Mountain View knowing that we had reserved a room given we had warning that we were to be turfed out of the Sweet Potato. It’s only a 100 metres down the road, so it was no real hassle. When we arrived, we were greeted(loose term) by a chap with zero English, but a defensive expression. He then handed me the phone and the chap we had made our reservation with a day or two before told us he’d be there in ten. He came all nervous and told us there had been a mistake. Despite our booking, and deposit that the room had been double booked and he was desperately sorry. If I am honest, I saw him note our room on the plan and that he had taken a deposit so I had no quarrel with him, I just think he was the scapegoat for a careless owner. We said no worries, asked if a dorm was available, which it was, and he even gave one of us the bed for free as a gesture. More than enough for us, after all mistakes happen. The relief spread across his face as he grinned and said “Oh I was so scared that you were going to be real angry!” to which we told him that would be pointless and that indeed we have all been there, mistakes are not a mythical boogey man, but a very real part of life…or something to that effect, only perhaps less convoluted. My only gripe with this place was that the breakfast was somewhat pitiful, albeit included in the room price. However coming from the Sweet Potato with their excellent breakfast that was also included, this was mightily inferior. It did however have a mountain top pool which came as a redeemer. It’s surrounds were still under construction at the time we were there but it was indeed a welcome dip in the heat and the view is something of a rarity from a pool.

It was at the Mountain View that they also let us stream the Lions vs All Blacks rugby match on their big screen. We had been into Cat Ba town looking for bars to show it, when we bumped into a bearded Englishman and his Welsh girlfriend, who suggested we try a sports bar around the corner, when that turned out to be a dud, we told them that they would be welcome at our hotel where we could stream it. They did indeed join. We had a nice chat, they had ridden around Ha Giang like Conny and I had done, and Barry was going to. They and Barry drank eight or so beers between them, when the girl was peckish and couldn’t find some crisps, I fetched her my packet from the dorm, which she ate half of and left them on the table. If it weren’t for what happened next I would have said it was a pleasure to meet them and that they were thoroughly decent folk. Only it turns out they are proper YTC prickfaces. When it came to check out on the bill, we were faced with the bill of all their beers, which if I am honest, was a small amount, but at the same time a bit much. As much as we live the life of riley, Conny and I are indeed homeless and unemployed, and they knew this. We have to watch our budget, and I don’t even drink. To be fair I would never really mind paying a beer for someone, especially if company is sound. My problem is that it’s such a shitty thing to do to just fuck off without settling your tab. The choice to pay a beer for someone is not for them to decide, but for me. Really, I now only think back on that afternoon and see a pair of rude pricks. They probably feel chuffed that they got one over on us and avoided their couple of dollars for the beers, and that we suckers got stiffed. Which is sad, I like to save a buck or two, but decency tends to prevail, and it is invariably not at someone else’s expense, regardless of whether or not I have deemed it that “they can afford it”. Worse still, we went out of our way to find them, tell them the bar wasn’t showing that game, and that they could come to ours, and they still chose the cunty option.

Enough of that. Cat Ba town, is a bit rough. I have to admit I wasn’t too enamoured originally, the night turns neon and the Vietnamese and Chinese come out in force, flooding the streets and the garbage that invariably comes with it. That said, it grows on you. There are ways to avoid the shenanigans to a large extent. The first was Yummy 2 restaurant. Much like the Yummy in Phong Na (entirely unrelated as far as I am aware) we went and ate lemongrass and chilli tofu. Very different to Yummy in Phong Na but equally as delicious. It is called Yummy 2, not because there is a Yummy in Phong Na, but because Yummy 1 is actually by the market in Cat Ba. Yummy 2 is a bit more spacious and set back from town making it a bit quieter. The food is the same but we ate many nights at Yummy 2 and it was delicious and welcoming each time. I had a Coconut Ice cream Blueberry shake each time…it was a mindblowing delight. The onion rings starter was ginormous and delightful, so much so that serendipity had seen fit for, at the exact moment I was regretting having not ordered them, our neighbouring table of Swiss folk had ordered them as a side, as such could not fit them in their bellies, and kindly offered them to me to help put them away…of course I obliged. Next on the list of food awesomeness is the Vietnameses Soul Food restaurant. The food there is cooked and served with love by one enigmatic lady by the name of Mrs Blue. The food came out slow, as everything was cooked from scratch, as mentioned, with love, and it was fully worth it. Some of the best food I had in Vietnam, and Vietnam has good food. The third and final place that needs a mention is My Way cafe. This is for when you need a cheese fix. The have western delights such as garlic bread with cheese, grilled cheese sandwich, cheese pizza and chips with cheese. I think you get the point. They do have plenty of other stuff, including a coffee machine, and Italian style coffee if memory serves, but it really was the cheese that got me. I sampled all the above dishes in two sittings and left clutching a surprisingly satisfying giant food baby belly.

By far the most amazing thing to do on Cat Ba was what we had selected for Conny’s birthday. We took a boat into the bay, to snake amongst the Karsts and do a bit of swimming, jumping kayaking and such. We opted for Cat Ba Ventures. Their office is on the main strip by the market, and their price is a little higher than some of the others but they specifically choose a route that avoids all the other clusters of boats and their paths into the main bay. It was definitely the good otion, the other boats can be one amongst hundreds, but we didn’t see a singly other boat until we had finished our afternoon kayak and that boat was coming in to pick up the kayaks we had just left. The day started with a tour out, we passed a floating village and we went around a fish farm, where they have a pet giant grouper, he is quite the beast, and plentiful Kobe, big powerful looking fish that are quite delectable apparently, among others.

Then we got back on board and headed amongst the huge columns poking out of the water, thousands of little islands as far as you can see. The water was much clearer than we expected, all along Cat Ba on the ferry rides there is nought but murky mucky red stuff, but this was clear and clean. We jumped of the boat, and headed towards a beach for an explore before swimming back. It was here that I decided I would go for a dive of the top deck, a good twenty feet. Forgetting, nay, choosing not to accept, that I am a fat thirty six year old and not a twenty something or teenager with any semblance of physical prowess, I opted for a dive. I had the foresight to declare that I knew it would end badly. It definitely ended. Badly depends on your point of view. Even I found the ensuing belly flop hilariously spectacular. I only wish that I had seen it from an outside perspective…and of course that it didn’t sting quite as much. Then to the back of the boat, here I opted for the somersault, again neglecting the fact that my trampolinist days are long gone, I entirely forgot the tuck and whip required to complete such a move. I, essentially entered the water as if II were taking one of those planking selfies of yesteryear, only I had forgot the camera. I broke the water with the entirity of my back in one single, large and maginficent moment. Yet again, I am happy to say that I was in no doubt beforehand that it would go horribly wrong, and even proclaimed such quite audibly. I just wished that for once I could have been wrong…and that it didn’t sting so much. But alas, sting it did, right I was. But hey, at least my front and back were matching in their pinkness, I will call it my Bodily Ode to the Pink Symmetry, and be happy with that.

Lunch on the boat was a veritable feast, everyone got more than enough delectable goodness. Then we headed for some more sailing and to the Kayaks. As is custom when Conny and I got into a Kayak, we realised that Conny is indeed incapable of paddling straight or in any sensible time, so tensions were fraught from the off but no more than usual. The situation was not helped by the fact that the paddles were odd, straight bladed affairs with no offset for the twist of a paddle strok, plus ours had the tiniest blades ever, everybody else had the same straight blades, but the blades themselves were twice the size of ours, it was like paddling with lollipops, that said, the kayaking was great. Round islands, and through caves. One cave ominously had a no-entry sign/danger sign, and our guide took us in. Conny and I took the rear guard, and having noticed he sounds of a clusterfuck of talentless paddlers in front of us in the pitch dark, we decided to hang back. What we hadn’t noticed, given the darkness, that the current had taken our back end away from us. A fact which swiftly dawned upon us a the back of the boat got wedged between the ceiling of the cave and the water, which in turn sent the front of our boat pivoting towards the same wall. The result was that I had to have a full on fight with a wet, dirty jagged wall from a crouched canoeing position while Conny held my paddle and avoided having her head taken off by the roof of the cave. Needles to say in the fight between David and the immovable object, the beast that I am came through and I smote that prick of a cave. We got out and as the light hit us it became apparent that I was more than a bit dirty, but still, victory was mine.

A bit more swimming and diving followed. Conny even learned to dive off the boat. She even enjoyed it so much that she carried on even when Barry and I stopped and called it a day. That lasted exactly one dive. She scorpioned and has been suffering since! Still, it hasn’t got the beating of her.

I have to say it was a truly great day out, the guides were excellent, fun and even wanted all criticism, negative and positive to help them better improve their service, which is actually something I was quite pleased to hear, although I had no negative criticism to offer, beyond a better paddle perhaps, although I could have just asked for that! Most importantly Conny had a great day to bring her into her dirty thirties, and she was pleased as punch, saying that it was the best she could have hoped for and that it couldn’t have been more perfect. Mission accomplished.

Our other time was spent on the island moseying, drinking, eating. We went for a “gentle walk” up a hill in the national park. I was sweating through my pupils by the time we summitted, having walked near verticle stairs and scrambled up rocks, thinking the track was a loop with a much easier descent. There was no loop however, the down scramble was just as taxing. The joy of the breeze at the pagoda on the top or when on occasion it made its way to us on the hillsides was immense and a feeling to be savoured. But still, we got some exercise, not sure I’d do it all again though!

We left Cat Ba the way we came, and ran the gauntlet back to Hai Phong and further on to Hanoi. Here we spent a few more days chilling with Barry, had some fantastic Indian food and enjoyed the evening scene of fresh beer, torrential rain, and random chat with a charming Welsh couple and a lovely young lady who believed in the Anounaki. From here we said our goodbye’s to Barry and headed to Siem Reap, this time we chose to Bigshot it and fly.