Having had to stay in Dien Bien Phu for a day longer than planned, I had lost Shawn, who had headed to Muong Lay. My intention was to meet him, though this plan was scuppered when the bank took an hour and a half to process a Western Union pick-up.
The trip from Dien Bien Phu to Muong Lay was largely the same as the others so far: the road was good and the scenery both pleasantly bucolic and imposing. On the approach to Muong Lay, it became apparent that a good deal of building work has gone on in the region, and in the city itself the roads were in various states of repair. There was nothing to detain me here, especially after a mechanic engaged in the now routine pastime of mocking my motorbike! That said, the lake makes for some excellent photography...
From Muong Lay, I decided to follow Lonely Planet's advice and take the route to Lai Chau via Sinho, a village deemed "worth a trip" in the guidebook. The drive to the village was definitely worth it, with the road winding up the side of a mountain through a number of little villages, where the reactions of the inhabitants (especially the younger ones) suggested that outsiders don't pass by often. The road isn't one to be sped along, though, so anyone planning to go up there should take it easy: the surface can be very smooth in places and I nearly came off a couple of times on the bends.
On arrival in Sinho, I saw what the guidebook meant about the "you're not from round here" looks given out by the people. The excited cries of "Hello!" did not ring out from the children, while my arrival in the main square (where a volleyball tournament was being held) was met with cautious, awkward glances from those around. After meeting David, a Spanish cyclist whom I'd met in Dien Bien Phu, I decided to explore some more. It was, however, strangely impossible to get anything substantial to eat from the many restaurants, and I had to make do with some peanuts and some water. The whole place had a "League of Gentlemen" feel to it, so I decided to move on.
This was where things became complicated, and this information is key for anyone planning to take this route in the near future. My Vietnamese road atlas indicated that the road from Sinho to Lai Chau was a decent, sealed one, so I calculated that I ought to cover the forty miles or so in around an hour, arriving comfortably before daylight. How wrong I was! About four miles out of Sinho, the road disappeared, leaving only the most rudimentary of dirt tracks. "Fine," I thought, "it may take me a little longer." Bumping along the track with the locals, it got worse, and worse, and worse, to the point that I was riding over huge rocks, pulling the bike through mud and smashing my suspension as I went through deep ruts. In short, the road was being built, something brought home to me as I dodged the steamrollers, bulldozers and diggers along the way. At least the workmen were pleased to see me!
The sun was falling lower and lower in the sky and I was getting nowhere fast. I cursed Lonely Planet. I cursed my road atlas. Before I knew it, it was dark and I was still sliding through mud and slime. The workmen were knocking off and watched me pass by their shacks as they ate their dinner. They shouted things at me, possibly words of encouragement, possibly accusations of lunacy but, in all honesty, I had no choice but to plough on grimly. The bike was holding up well, though it was beginning to squeak a bit. To anyone planning this trip: leave plenty of time for this section or, simply put, don't bother with it!
Eventually, the "road" became a road again and I was able to build up some speed and eventually came to Lai Chau after hurtling downhill, with only my dynamo-powered light directing me. I was weary and so was the bike, as evidenced by its struggle to pull away from a dog, which seemingly wanted to savage me for daring to stop in a dimly-lit street.
Another tip now: Lai Chau is difficult to navigate in the dark. I spent around twenty minutes wandering around trying to find the hotel I wanted, having to be taken there (act of commonplace kindness) by a petrol station attendant who clearly realised that I would never be able to follow his directions. The Tay Bac Hotel (VND150,000 for a private room) was a welcome journey's end.
The trip from Dien Bien Phu to Muong Lay was largely the same as the others so far: the road was good and the scenery both pleasantly bucolic and imposing. On the approach to Muong Lay, it became apparent that a good deal of building work has gone on in the region, and in the city itself the roads were in various states of repair. There was nothing to detain me here, especially after a mechanic engaged in the now routine pastime of mocking my motorbike! That said, the lake makes for some excellent photography...
From Muong Lay, I decided to follow Lonely Planet's advice and take the route to Lai Chau via Sinho, a village deemed "worth a trip" in the guidebook. The drive to the village was definitely worth it, with the road winding up the side of a mountain through a number of little villages, where the reactions of the inhabitants (especially the younger ones) suggested that outsiders don't pass by often. The road isn't one to be sped along, though, so anyone planning to go up there should take it easy: the surface can be very smooth in places and I nearly came off a couple of times on the bends.
On arrival in Sinho, I saw what the guidebook meant about the "you're not from round here" looks given out by the people. The excited cries of "Hello!" did not ring out from the children, while my arrival in the main square (where a volleyball tournament was being held) was met with cautious, awkward glances from those around. After meeting David, a Spanish cyclist whom I'd met in Dien Bien Phu, I decided to explore some more. It was, however, strangely impossible to get anything substantial to eat from the many restaurants, and I had to make do with some peanuts and some water. The whole place had a "League of Gentlemen" feel to it, so I decided to move on.
This was where things became complicated, and this information is key for anyone planning to take this route in the near future. My Vietnamese road atlas indicated that the road from Sinho to Lai Chau was a decent, sealed one, so I calculated that I ought to cover the forty miles or so in around an hour, arriving comfortably before daylight. How wrong I was! About four miles out of Sinho, the road disappeared, leaving only the most rudimentary of dirt tracks. "Fine," I thought, "it may take me a little longer." Bumping along the track with the locals, it got worse, and worse, and worse, to the point that I was riding over huge rocks, pulling the bike through mud and smashing my suspension as I went through deep ruts. In short, the road was being built, something brought home to me as I dodged the steamrollers, bulldozers and diggers along the way. At least the workmen were pleased to see me!
The sun was falling lower and lower in the sky and I was getting nowhere fast. I cursed Lonely Planet. I cursed my road atlas. Before I knew it, it was dark and I was still sliding through mud and slime. The workmen were knocking off and watched me pass by their shacks as they ate their dinner. They shouted things at me, possibly words of encouragement, possibly accusations of lunacy but, in all honesty, I had no choice but to plough on grimly. The bike was holding up well, though it was beginning to squeak a bit. To anyone planning this trip: leave plenty of time for this section or, simply put, don't bother with it!
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| An ominous, if beautiful, sunset. |
Eventually, the "road" became a road again and I was able to build up some speed and eventually came to Lai Chau after hurtling downhill, with only my dynamo-powered light directing me. I was weary and so was the bike, as evidenced by its struggle to pull away from a dog, which seemingly wanted to savage me for daring to stop in a dimly-lit street.
Another tip now: Lai Chau is difficult to navigate in the dark. I spent around twenty minutes wandering around trying to find the hotel I wanted, having to be taken there (act of commonplace kindness) by a petrol station attendant who clearly realised that I would never be able to follow his directions. The Tay Bac Hotel (VND150,000 for a private room) was a welcome journey's end.
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