In
northern Vietnam the loop from Hanoi through Sapa to above Ha Giang and back is
regarded as one of the most challenging and spectacular motorbike rides in the
region. Hanoi – based artist and writer Bradford Edwards made the grueling trip
to attend the annual “Love market” in Khau Vai near the Chinese border.
The
most practical way to get around in Vietnam’s highlands is by Minsk, the 125cc
Russian motorcycle that has achieved cult status among a small group of
adventurous Hanoi expats. While these bikes beak down regularly (what can you
expect for $US300 second hand?) they can take heaps of punishment on the trail.
The best way to begin a Minsk ride is to bypass the boring and congested routes
out of Hanoi and transport your bike on the night-train to Lao Cai.
I
was tenderfoot, a neophyte in the Minsk touring subculture, having only gone on
day – rides. Fortunately I was with Glenn, a Minsk tour guide, and that was to
prove in the days to come. Instead of heading up to Sapa like all the other
tourists we headed east toward Bac Ha, eventually spending the night in Tan Quang.
This tiny town was most memorable for its unbelievably good value guesthouse –
VND 20, 000 or the price of a coffee at Starbucks. After arriving in bustling
Ha Giang and securing our travel permit (the area around the bolder is
considered “sensitive”) we started the long ascent toward Meo Vac.
The
ride u was gorgeous. The greens kept getting greener and the canyons steeper.
Well – paved canyons, the richest colors imaginable, sprouting waterfalls clean
air …It just doesn’t get any better than his in northern Vietnam.
Looking for love
With
the arrival of spring comes the annual “Love Market” in the small village of
Khai Vai. This is mostly a Black H’mong event, with some Long Trouser Dao also
present. The young can meet potential mates and (rumor has it) established
couples can experiment a bit without condemnation. This is an unusually large
regional market where people trade essentials like’s livestock, tools and
produce.
Few
outsiders make the trek to this particular event, which takes place just a few
kilometers from the Chinese border. The variedly of what we call “costumes” but
is really the H’mong daily garb was andless – no two people were dressed
exactly alike. Every year the colors get more vivid as the H’mong use more
synthetic materials, which tend to be brighter than natural fibers.
There
were food stalls and vendors selling plastic Tupperware, utensils and fabrics.
It was the H’mong version of a Western “county fair” with exactly the same
dynamic of drawing people together from long distances to hang out, do some
business, and party.
Copious
thimble – sized glassed of ruou
(potent locally – brewed rice wine) formed a common language at this
marketplace. Borders were only as far apart as the knee next to your own as you
sat around a short wooden table topped with a bottle of cloudy herbal ruou.
Marcos,
an expatriate who is relaying his near perfect Vietnamese into learning basic
H’mong, had a telling conversation with a man during lunch. “Where do you like?
And how long did it take you to come to the market?” Marcos asked the farmer.
The man replied, “It took me two days by canyon over from here. What about you?
How many days did it take you? And by the way, where is your horse” Indeed.
Times change
The
night before the market musicians performed Khen flute dances and sang their
distinctive lifting songs. Apparently this performance is a new feature at the
market, perhaps started in response to the growing influx of Kinh (ethnic
majority) Vietnamese tourists curious to see what Khau Vai is all about. An
interesting, and somewhat surprising, itilization of technology can be seen in
the portable ghetto blasters that are now carried around playing recorded tapes
of H’mong songs.
Heading
up the rocky trail to the road back to Meo Vac ofter the market ended, we
encountered “rush hour”. Most people were heading out the same way, tire to
tire; a few stragglers lay stretched out on large boulders, trying to recover
from the rigorous demands of communal toasting. One more night in the capital
town Meo vac, nestled high in the surrounding mountains, and we headed back to
Hanoi.
Slip sliding away
We
opted for added adventure, deciding to use a less travelled route than the road
on which we had come, this time from Ha Giang via Bac Me to Ba Le Lake.
We
started at noon on what we estimated to be four – hour trail. It soon became
obvious that it would be slow going. On the flats we sank in the mud so low
that my feet became like snowmobile skis – the font tire had no grip t all. We
slid downhill with brakes locked and heels dug in. The uphill were brutal with
no surface where we could get a solid foothold – we often pushed the bikes up
with the help of two or three hill tribe people. We faced team crossings where
half the bike was submerged and we had to try to race slick stones. It rained
the entire day.
My
pride at not dumping the Minsk for the first hour was quickly dashed. I must
have gone down at least 10 times that day – sliding down slopes, spinning out
in the deep mud, losing control while racing uphill. Even Glenn, 18 years my
junior and an experienced Minsk rider, was having a rough time. Pushing,
pushing, and pushing toward an unknown goal. Another K? Where are we now/ How
much farther to go?
Well
past nightfall with my lights about and driving a few meters in front of Glenn,
I was squinting through fogged and rain – streaked glasses – we had to stop. We
were somewhere in the middle of a muddy, rocky track bordered by the occasional
stilt house. Our luck turned as we reached a ranger station. We were saved.
With a dry wooden bed and running water we were truly blessed.
The
next day we slogged through two more hours on that rough trail to end up at the
riverside and on to gorgeous Ba Vi Lake by flat boat. Eventually we reached the
much longed for paved road. For me, this trip was the perfect reminder that the
journey is the real destination.
This
article written by Lanh Nguyen from Vietnam Heritage Travel
For
original article, please visit:
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