I have broken more chairs in the past 5 months than the previous 29 years of my life. On average I am a foot taller and 50lbs heavier than everyone else and chair construction reflects the local population. I have seen and heard so many snap I wonder if the Vietnamese have a running joke about it.
I left my comfortable lodging in Ma Ca Chai and headed for the popular destination of SaPa. The weather continued to be cold and rain was littered throughout the forecast. The riding left me an opportunity to further reflect on my previous entry and the trip overall. I was feeling a bit better about the path but still lacked motivation and excitement about tomorrow.
Upon arriving in SaPa I learned quickly why people don’t spend much time there. Felt like a misplaced touristy Kathmandu. Hectic, cramped, dirty, and the overcast left me retreating to my bunk for my stay. I was okay with this. Fell back on the ability to recognize the situation and avoid working myself up about it. I read a book who’s title seemed cliche but appropriate.
Finding that while it contained nothing ground breaking, it did mirror some emotions I had experienced. These travel books and memoirs seem to experience all that I am going through but none offer resolution or encouragement for the ‘hard’ parts. Each written from the perspective of after the experience and leave out the in-moment vulnerability and teachings.
I woke up the next morning with a flat rear tire. I knew I had a small leak which I was nursing but now it was a full blown flat. The issue with having a rare bike is the parts are equally as rare. My tools and spare parts were stolen in Hanoi and I neglected to replace anything. I limped along filling it with air at each mechanic I found along the way. Eventually, at a larger city I found a mechanic who was willing to work with me. The shop was large and full of brand name parts I recognized. Only after getting the tube out and seeing a rip at the valve stem, did he inform me that he didn’t have a new tube.
Against my better judgement and out of any other options, he convinced me he could patch it. I have never seen a value stem patch work before but he persistent, his work backed by a guarantee. A guarantee I have no way to every using but this was the situation. He took it to another shop and within the hour I had a patched rear tube. It held air but in my head, I know it is only a matter of time until I am flat again.
During these rides I started to realize that I was getting a bit a head of myself and becoming frustrated about my unmet expectations. While I didn’t want to admit it, I certainly did have personal expectations which were being left unfulfilled and it scared me. Within my mind’s eye of the trip I expected to have things figured out by now. Understand my place in the world and what my next goal would be once I returned. I spoke about coming back and starting a business or at least having an idea that was worth exploring. Currently feeling no closer to accomplishing this or any real direction in my life. If anything I feel even more lost than when I started.
For the first time ever, I am not working towards anything, just the unknown. During my school years while I didn’t know what I wanted to do after, I could focus on my grades. Once I graduated, moved a few times and got a job, I could focus on advancing my career and paying off school. I started working out in order to climb Kilimanjaro and enjoyed tracking my meals, strength progress, and weight. The progress was clear, quantifiable, and the graphs helped me through motivation lulls. I can’t graph this experience or myself out of my pessimistic thoughts.
When I had the idea for this trip I knew exactly how much the trip would cost, how much I needed to make each month, as well as physical goals for Everest. I worked for a year and a half on this plan and executed with precision.
I remember verbalizing the idea in the summer of 2016 and finding it hard to believe the words coming out of my mouth. I remember peoples faces and can’t be sure if I am projecting or they found it as unbelievable as I did. It was such a lofty pie in the sky idea which seemed impossible.
In the past I have found myself making ridiculous claims or ideas and never fulfilling them. All talk and no action. But each time I verbalized this plan, I believed in it more. Thinking that even if I didn’t proceed I would have a nice nest egg for whatever I fell back on. Always a safety net or backup plan as much as I didn’t want to admit it, a feeling of control no matter the circumstances.
Now, that is all gone. I don’t know what the correct choice is or if I am progressing in the ‘right’ direction. I am ‘free’ but with freedom comes a cost I wasn’t expecting. That cost was everything I associated myself with. I lost my identity and slowly realized I never really had one in the first place. I am no longer Joe the Sr Account Executive who had a couple big deals and associated paychecks. I am no longer Joe the guy who spent too much time in excel. No longer Joe who skis and gets up early to spend mornings at the gym. Even my negative personality identities are taking a vacation, Joe who drinks too many Coors and spends Sundays in a physical and moral hangover.
Every aspect of how I judged myself good or bad are now forgotten. Like an old friend who I have lost contact with. These positive and negative aspects of myself were how I judged my progress. There is no more normal, no benchmark to measure. This change of mental scenery has been difficult to accept and live with. It’s completely new and took a lot longer to come to terms with than I would have ever expected. Due in part to never even knowing it was coming.
After my dad passed I had a new appreciation for cliches, because as annoying and obvious as they are, they are right. As much as you don’t want to admit it, they become true with life experiences. I learned “there is always a more expensive watch” early on in my adult years. I experienced this after buying watches, art, cars, and apartments. Experiencing the emotional spending and associated high of expensive tangible objects. Chasing the high was satisfying and a tangible fixture of progress. I was never happy after getting it though, always looking for what was next. There was always something better seemingly mocking me just out of reach.
Confident this cliche was reserved for material processions, I thought it was where it existed. I realized a few days ago how it can be applied to everything, including experiences like my trip. There is always a higher peak to climb, always a more remote location, strange foreign culture, or bucket list experience. Always something else that can be chased with the associated high. A reality which didn’t seem possible before. Experiences were the contrasting expense to material possessions. Rationalizing as long as I spent my energy and money on this other expense, life would develop organically. But there is always a bigger trip and always someone to compare against. A never ending dick swinging contest for the players involved, same same but different.
Now, questioning my motives behind the entire thing and feeling lost. I am often physically lost while riding but this was a different mental lost. Seeking out answers for big questions in new ways. Ways where there is no framework or worn path to follow. No benchmarks of progress just searching for the rare confidant who understands shimmering like a beacon of hope. Luckily, I met such a guy after a long ride past SaPa upon entering the northern province.
We got talking about software and nerded out for a few hours while we bored everyone else at the homestay. It was great and felt comfortable for the first time in a long time. He was a developer from Spain and I enjoyed our conversation very much. He was fluent in English and our experiences on both side of the table allowed us to draw familiarity and relate-ability. Life looks different between us but we could draw parallels.
He was passionate and was confident in his views of the workings of his world. We would certainly handle situations differently but could understand each others perspectives. Currently on a two month holiday but had previously completed a year long trip after some success in the software world of Europe. He was accomplished, a leader in his space, and now working as a freelancing expert. Speaking for hours about tech trends, our goals, and lives up until this point. Someone I could relate to and learn from.
During a break within the tech heavy conversation I asked him about his long-term travel experience. I felt that if anyone could relate, it was him. I shared with him how I was feeling lost and uninspired, my current state of mind and how to function in this new life. How I expected to have a new vision by now and something to work towards. He listened intently and with a smile knew how I was feeling and experienced the same during his time.
During his experience he realized that he had emptied himself. His mind, his energy, his passion. There was nothing left in the tank. Ideals that were once solid was now just a distant memory. Life is different and that was the point. You can’t prepare for the empty feeling but it’s part of the journey and something we should be lucky to experience.
It’s terrifying to think of being empty, to leave behind all that you have built your life on and believed part of the character of your foundation and foundation of your character. But a beautiful new experience emerges once you are empty, an opportunity to rebuild and be selective on what you replace it with. You have a choice on what to carry over to this new identity and what to leave behind. A rebirth of sorts.
Until this point I hadn’t thought about being empty and the associated opportunity for further development. I had just felt a crippling inability to hold onto anything familiar leading to an anxiety filled ‘fight or flight’ response. I was unable to look at my experience from the lens of his perspective. I just felt bad and didn’t know why which had to be wrong. Totaling a negative judgment of my experience and inability to be present.
I shared how a looming cloud of failure blanketed my current mind. How I expected to be enlighten with the purpose of my life by this point. Feeling foolish once verbalized and again with a smile, shared he knew how I felt.
Explaining, while it is important to have great lofty goals, the greatest achievement of your life shouldn’t be the focus of your day to day. Only to realize your greatest achievement would be to look back at your life. The inability of forecasting the future is to be human, that is life. To be paralyzed by the lack of knowing your greatest achievement of life is a fools game. The focus needs to be on the present and immediate next steps. Making the right choices in the short-term creates the foundation for the great things that happen later. Realizing I have been focused on skipping steps, the clouds lifted and the moment became clearer.
Thinking back on my life thus far I realized the truth in his message. The reality of this trip couldn’t have come to fruition without the steps I have taken up until this point. This moment has been building my entire life. From the choice to go aboard during school sparking early goals of travel. To graduating and feeling trapped under my college debt providing my motivation for financial freedom. All of these seemingly irrelevant and random experiences built a foundation that allowed me to make a choice to go on this trip. They all needed to occur, in order, to prepare for an experience grander than I could have previously mentally conceived.
The decision to stay at the homestay and continue the conversation with him also needed to occur for me to hear this message. It is all building, testing, and challenging me for something I cannot know or see yet. Having the faith in the universe and in myself is the challenge and being present is the only aspect I can attempt to impact.
Only after our conversation and being the last people up did we introduce ourselves. I sat up late digesting my thoughts and pondering how weird life is. How the message was exactly what I needed to hear from someone who’s name I didn’t even know and probably wouldn’t see again. I wondered if I have had such an impact on someone else like he has me. An impact I wouldn’t be privy to either.
I woke up early the next morning and enjoyed a great banh mi with the other guests. I thanked my new friend for our conversation and we set off on our perspective days.
I was heading into the north most part of Vietnam along the border with China. A warm sunny day greeted me and the bike was performing like a dream. I was feeling good with a new sense of comfort for my situation. I climbed the limestone cliffs of northern Vietnam and had the first glimpses of China from afar.
While the northern route is known, it is currently not as popular as the southern loops. The roads are mostly paved but I yearned to get some mud on the tires. I studied the maps and found some trails that crisscrossed the main road. Leaving the comfort of the tarmac I felt free again. Confident in my abilities and excited to see where the trails led.
I spent hours following rock and dirt paths through small ethnic villages nestled in the mountains. As I passed each one more children stood mouth agape, confused by my presence. The views were spectacular and unknown to most visiting.
I watch as little girls herded buffalo with a thin bamboo switch with ease. Passing a man herding a pack of ducks along the thin trail. I didn’t even know you could herd ducks but with a few stragglers he made it look easy.
Having never been a fan of kids, their curiosity and smiles have softened me. Most enthusiastically waving as our paths cross. The ones who are are bit confused and standoffish quickly smiling once I wave first. The children are happy here, playing soccer in muddy fields with buffalo acting as goalies. I cant help but wonder when that smile leaves. Is it an age thing or experience that replaces the once easy smile with a scow or furrowed brow? The hardships are clear on the faces of the older members of their communities, are they just shadowing behavior?
It’s weird to see an adult wearing an easy smile under life normal circumstances. Depending on culture, some may wonder if they are high or being facetious trying to start trouble. I think about when I was a kid and when the smile left my face. I can’t recall a moment or event that happened that was defining of a frown. I wonder if I was aware of the change and what my parents thought. It must be hard as a parent to watch that transformation and seemingly having no impact on its progression. The moment that my universe was no longer happy but sad or indifferent. Being aware enough to face the world without blissful openness and curiosity. Not sure it’s progression but it’s certainly a challenge to reclaim it and be aware of it now.
A few weeks ago I heard rumors of an illegal border crossing into China within the region and studied the map to find it. Google maps doesn’t have it listed but there is spot where a curve in the road and the border become surprisingly close. There are no formal border crossings in this area but the proximity is clear and I decided to check it out.
Along the northern most switchback of the state road I stop my bike and survey the scene. Normal traffic passes as I ride my bike into a clearing toward the border. Finding shelter from the road behind a tree I stop and turn off the engine. It’s quiet on both sides besides the intermittent sound of a passing scooter.
A few more paces and the clearing opens more. Clear as day I see the border and China behind the fence. The border acts only as a road block for the clearing and not a continuous fence or wall. Four foot tall concrete columns painted white with red stripes stand in layered formation connected with a web of barbed wire. It seems the columns were placed first and then the barbed wire was added after to deter foot traffic.
I am so excited to have found the crossing and peak through the wire to see into China. Not surprising China looks remarkably similar to this part of Vietnam. The only difference I can see is the roads are better maintained and made of concrete. After a short photoshoot I survey the scene and wonder why it’s not more overgrown at either entrance.
On each side of the fence is dense vegetation acting as a natural barrier climbing up the hillside. Far too thick to maneuver a vehicle of any kind. A pedestrian could navigate it quite easily on bushwhacking gumption though. To the left I see a worn dirt stair that led up into the brush. Stopping to listen and determining no one was close, I decided to follow the trail.
Up a small trail crested the hill to a flat clearing above the barbed wire maze continuing into China. The trail was steep but clearly used by the local people or tourist, can’t be sure. On the Chinese side I see a man on a scooter and stay still in the brush as he passed. I’m not sure if there are any tourists in this part of China but I very easily could have crossed in and walked to the next village.
I only stayed a few minutes but it was a lot of fun. I enjoyed a ChocoPie on the hill, they really taste different in China. After returning to Vietnam I hopped on my bike and continued my drive to the next city for the night.
The views are great in this part of Vietnam. The terrain is rocky and isn’t the greatest for farming which leaves little of the familiar rice paddies commonly associated with Vietnam.
The following morning I woke early and set off on what should have been a four hour ride south. But after enjoying the views of the Ma Pi Leng pass, I decided to double back and ride it again. This allowed me to explore an alternative route south using local roads opposed to the paved state road towards Bao Lac.
Cutting down towards Bao Lac the road was smooth and I eventually reached the river. From studying the map, I knew I had missed a turn. The road continues NW along the river and does not cross. I needed to go SW and across the river. I double back and see the turn I missed.
When I found it I was confused to say the least. The map split, left the paved road back to the river and right up a dirt embankment to the entrance of a commune. Normally the map doesn’t cut through communities like Waze, they recommend pretty established routes. I wouldn’t call this established. Without any other resources or points of reference, I climb the hill and onto the front step of someones house. Confused, they exit their home and wave around back to the path I elected not to take.
I had seen pictures of single track dirt trails in Vietnam but hadn’t been able to find any. The trails cut through the farm fields and are unmarked. You just have to know where they lead, the benefit of having a local guide. Along this trail there are no people, just winding paths through the mountain side. I get passed by one teenage boy on a scooter who looks more confused than me.
Eventually the trail takes a nosedive towards the riverbank. It was too narrow to turn around and I don’t see my friend from earlier ahead of me. Slowly and with all of my back brake I descend the traverse to the edge of the river.
There is no raft and no people, just water. Across the river I spot a house and wave to a man on the other bank. He stands on the raft and slowly pulls it to the other side using a guide line strung across the river. The turn into the raft is sharp and I question the buoyancy of the bamboo. Motioning me on and making room for me, I start the engine and load up.
The raft is too unstable to use the kickstand and use my feet for balance. Thankfully the river is calm and my guide quickly ferries us across. On the other side my map is useless. I learned that due to landslides, dirt trails can change faster than the maps can be updated. A man on an adjacent mountain sees I am lost and yells out to help, pointing the way to freedom. After crisscrossing the steep trails I made my way out of the river valley. Thankful to have escaped without dropping my bike and without puncturing the tire again.
Bao Lac wasn’t a big town and certainly just a stop over for tourist on the loop. I stayed for two days after sleeping in for the first time in months. Sleeping until 11:30am and waking feeling rested. While I appreciated the sleep, the food left much to be desired. Within the reviews of one of the restaurants they boasted having the best dog meat dishes.
I knew I would eventually encounter dog meat but hoped not by accident. Every dish came with “meat” but they couldn’t or wouldn’t communicate what kind of meat. After one meal of mystery meat I delicately navigated menus and eventually elected to tell them I was vegetarian. My final morning I went for Pho. While I don’t know if it was dog meat, it did fit the descriptions I’ve read and my bowl looked different than everyone else's. Sorry Gibbs.
My final destination in this Northern loop is Lake BaBe, about 6 hours north of Hanoi. Electing again to take the backroads I set off after my bowl of dog Pho.
At some point along the trip I got lost and traveled about 30km off course before I realized. It was quicker to continue to the main road than go back. So I proceeded through the forest and villages further away from any sort of civilization.
As I crested a hill in the dense fog a man flagged me down, or more appropriately stood in the middle of the road and wouldn’t let me pass without stopping. I didn’t see a broken truck or scooter signifying he needed help but he was very animated. Once I stopped and muted my music he started yelling in Vietnamese. He grabbed hold of my handle bars and stood in front of my bike. Obviously I couldn’t understand what he was saying and kept pointing behind me.
I turned around and saw something in the brush but couldn’t make out what it was or what he wanted. After putting my hands up in an effort to say “sorry man I don’t know what you want” he persisted. When my attention was distracted I saw him reaching for the ignition and my keys. Upon realizing it I slapped his hands away and then he started to grab at my pockets and fanny pack. It’s really hard to push someone away when you are trying to balance a motorcycle. After failing to push him away I put it in first gear and grabbed the handle bars. Now he was planted firmly in front of me with his hands pushing back on the handle bars. I yelled at him to get off but he just stood there.
This entire situation only took 30 seconds but felt it was going bad from the start. I decided I was most definitely going to run but it was a little more involved then just speeding off. If I drop the clutch and he is still holding on, I risk him pulling me down as I run him over. Risking injuring myself in addition to this guy and whatever else would follow. I understand that I could have also been misreading the entire situation. I don’t want to kill this guy but I am most definitely leaving, with my bike and possessions.
I let off the rear brake which allowed him to push the bike backwards and get off balance. With the clutch still pulled in I twist the ignition to gave it a good rev. The combination of him falling forward and the sound of the engine made him remove his right hand. With his left hand still grabbing my bike I rev it again and release the clutch causing the front wheel to jump and him to fall. I ran over something during my exit which I imagine was his leg or foot, but in the commotion I can’t be sure. After a few seconds I turned back to see him yelling and shaking his fists as I sped through the remaining turns.
It was a weird situation and I am still not clear what happened. Could have just been desperate for help, or he was trying to rob me. Not sure there are many other alternative situations. Either way I guess I’ll never know, but I’d recognize him if I saw him again with his fucked up teeth.
The rest of the ride was unexciting which was welcomed. I arrived at Lake BaBe just before the heavy rain came in and got a room at a homestay overlooking the water. The frogs and crickets are loud at night and remind me of a mountain house we used to have. I’ll enjoy the lake here for a few days before returning to Hanoi to sell the bike and sort the next chapter.
I have 10 days left in Vietnam and this part of the world. The past five months have given me a lot to think about which I am thankful. Let’s see what what the next 5 months will hold.
-Joe