Current location: Dien Bien-fukin-Phu, Vietnam.
Let's see... So I was hauling ass towards Lai Chau, half an hour behind these two French guys, ok...
On my way from Huoi Ke to Lai Chau I started losing power. In the morning I had had no problems riding up steep roads on fourth gear, but now I was struggling to get up little hills on second. I had no idea what was going on, I'd given the bike little breathers all along the way like I had been advised, and hadn't had any troubles with the engine so far.
I made it to Lai Chau, stopped at a roadside stall for coffee and called the mechanic at Vietnam Motorbikes for advice. He told me to drain the carburetor, as it might cause loss of power. I did as I was told and took off. Draining the carb had done the trick and I was once again running with full power.
The rain started to pick up again, and I decided to play it safe and put on my rain gear, and sure enough, as I stopped the light drizzle turned into a downpour.
After getting my waterproofs on I headed towards the mountains again, aiming to get to a town called Muong Lay before nightfall. The rain lasted for about 45 minutes, which was a good initiation to driving in the rain on shitty roads. The rains of the past few days had filled the dirt roads with potholes and it was obvious parts of the road had been recently swept away by landslides, but I was still making good time.
At one point I arrived in a town with a long straight stretch of paved road, and the sun was now shining, so I decided to take off my waterproofs as I was getting hot.
I got changed and took off again, thinking the road would be paved from there on. It wasn't. It so wasn't.
What followed was an hour of various depths and consistencies of mud, and I had to say farewell to clean clothes, as I didn't want to put my weatherproofs back on because it was hot as hell.
As I entered a small village, I saw a westerner standing next to a bike shop. I had caught up with the Frenchmen. I stopped and shouted "bonjour!". Imagine their surprise. There they were, in the middle of nowhere, and a guy on a bike just shows up and addresses them in their own language. We started talking and decided to have lunch at the village. They had both had minor accidents on the way, and one of them was getting their back wheel changed. I told them I was aiming for Muong Lay, and they thought they could make it all the way to Dien Bien Phu before dark. We decided to ride the rest of the way together and took off.
They'd never driven motorbikes before and I soon got bored of the slow going and decided to scout ahead. I rode alone for about an hour and a half before I arrived at a bridge that was closed. Excavation works were underway on the hill on the other side, and big chunks of rock were bouncing on and over the road. The guard told me it would take 45 minutes, but I was anxious to get going. I thought about sneaking past the gate and riding through as the rock slide subsided for a couple of seconds. The guard obviously saw this and just put his helmet on my handlebars and started chatting with me in his broken English. I thought, what the hell, saving 45 minutes probably isn't worth the risk of getting a boulder in the head, so I put my bike on the stand and started eating the Vietnamese peanut bars I'd bought for snacks.
About half an hour later the Frenchmen caught up with me, and it turned out one of them had crashed into a car and broken his indicators and headlight. He was alright, but the bike would need to be fixed. As the guard let us go we rode the rest of the way to Muong Lay together.
The sun was already behind the mountains as we reached Muong Lay, but as the road was good and there were three of us, we decided to try and make it to Dien Bien Phu anyway, even if it meant riding in the dark.
We hadn't gotten 500 meters out of town when my chain came off.
To the closest bike shop we went and had a little part in the back replaced and the chain tightened.
The sun set and we rode in the dark for two hours in a neat line, the French with the good headlight leading the pack, until we reached Muong Cha, a little town 55 km from Dien Bien Phu.
We were all tired and decided to call it a day and stay the night in the only guesthouse in town.
The next day we took off early, as the Frenchmen had friends waiting for them in DBP.
About 20 km before DBP Victor Mike decided to act up again. I was slowing down for a bridge and as I downshifted the engine locked up along with the back wheel. Luckily I wasn't going too fast so I managed to stop within three meters. After rocking the bike back and forth I managed to get it going again, but the engine was making a terrible racket so I stopped at the next shop, a hundred meters from where the engine locked up. I called my mechanic again and he and the grease monkey at the shop had a brief conversation, the end result of which was to take my engine apart and see what's wrong.
I told the Frenchmen to go ahead as they had a meeting and were in a hurry to cross the border to Laos.
After an hour the engine was back together again, and while the bike ran without trouble, there was still an unnerving clicking sound. I loaded up, paid the man, and rode very carefully to Dien Bien Phu.
The two French guys had met up with their friends, and were having the headlight and indicators changed.
They had decided to cross the border as soon as they got the bikes back, so we had lunch and then the guys were off. I stayed behind to check out DBP and to get the bike fixed, as I didn't want to ride into Laos on a bike I wasn't sure of.
And here I am. It's 08.30 and I'm hoping to get the bike fixed before noon, but as the next "big" town in Laos is just a hundred or so km from the border, I'm not in a hurry.
This concludes my journal of adventures through the Tonkinese Alps, and once I cross the border to Laos my reporting will become less detailed, for writing these four pieces has had me sitting on this computer for a total of at least 10 hours (although most of that has been due to the computer being slow in uploading pictures), and that's too much for me.
Let's see... So I was hauling ass towards Lai Chau, half an hour behind these two French guys, ok...
On my way from Huoi Ke to Lai Chau I started losing power. In the morning I had had no problems riding up steep roads on fourth gear, but now I was struggling to get up little hills on second. I had no idea what was going on, I'd given the bike little breathers all along the way like I had been advised, and hadn't had any troubles with the engine so far.
I made it to Lai Chau, stopped at a roadside stall for coffee and called the mechanic at Vietnam Motorbikes for advice. He told me to drain the carburetor, as it might cause loss of power. I did as I was told and took off. Draining the carb had done the trick and I was once again running with full power.
The rain started to pick up again, and I decided to play it safe and put on my rain gear, and sure enough, as I stopped the light drizzle turned into a downpour.
After getting my waterproofs on I headed towards the mountains again, aiming to get to a town called Muong Lay before nightfall. The rain lasted for about 45 minutes, which was a good initiation to driving in the rain on shitty roads. The rains of the past few days had filled the dirt roads with potholes and it was obvious parts of the road had been recently swept away by landslides, but I was still making good time.
At one point I arrived in a town with a long straight stretch of paved road, and the sun was now shining, so I decided to take off my waterproofs as I was getting hot.
I got changed and took off again, thinking the road would be paved from there on. It wasn't. It so wasn't.
What followed was an hour of various depths and consistencies of mud, and I had to say farewell to clean clothes, as I didn't want to put my weatherproofs back on because it was hot as hell.
As I entered a small village, I saw a westerner standing next to a bike shop. I had caught up with the Frenchmen. I stopped and shouted "bonjour!". Imagine their surprise. There they were, in the middle of nowhere, and a guy on a bike just shows up and addresses them in their own language. We started talking and decided to have lunch at the village. They had both had minor accidents on the way, and one of them was getting their back wheel changed. I told them I was aiming for Muong Lay, and they thought they could make it all the way to Dien Bien Phu before dark. We decided to ride the rest of the way together and took off.
They'd never driven motorbikes before and I soon got bored of the slow going and decided to scout ahead. I rode alone for about an hour and a half before I arrived at a bridge that was closed. Excavation works were underway on the hill on the other side, and big chunks of rock were bouncing on and over the road. The guard told me it would take 45 minutes, but I was anxious to get going. I thought about sneaking past the gate and riding through as the rock slide subsided for a couple of seconds. The guard obviously saw this and just put his helmet on my handlebars and started chatting with me in his broken English. I thought, what the hell, saving 45 minutes probably isn't worth the risk of getting a boulder in the head, so I put my bike on the stand and started eating the Vietnamese peanut bars I'd bought for snacks.
About half an hour later the Frenchmen caught up with me, and it turned out one of them had crashed into a car and broken his indicators and headlight. He was alright, but the bike would need to be fixed. As the guard let us go we rode the rest of the way to Muong Lay together.
The sun was already behind the mountains as we reached Muong Lay, but as the road was good and there were three of us, we decided to try and make it to Dien Bien Phu anyway, even if it meant riding in the dark.
We hadn't gotten 500 meters out of town when my chain came off.
To the closest bike shop we went and had a little part in the back replaced and the chain tightened.
The sun set and we rode in the dark for two hours in a neat line, the French with the good headlight leading the pack, until we reached Muong Cha, a little town 55 km from Dien Bien Phu.
We were all tired and decided to call it a day and stay the night in the only guesthouse in town.
The next day we took off early, as the Frenchmen had friends waiting for them in DBP.
About 20 km before DBP Victor Mike decided to act up again. I was slowing down for a bridge and as I downshifted the engine locked up along with the back wheel. Luckily I wasn't going too fast so I managed to stop within three meters. After rocking the bike back and forth I managed to get it going again, but the engine was making a terrible racket so I stopped at the next shop, a hundred meters from where the engine locked up. I called my mechanic again and he and the grease monkey at the shop had a brief conversation, the end result of which was to take my engine apart and see what's wrong.
I told the Frenchmen to go ahead as they had a meeting and were in a hurry to cross the border to Laos.
After an hour the engine was back together again, and while the bike ran without trouble, there was still an unnerving clicking sound. I loaded up, paid the man, and rode very carefully to Dien Bien Phu.
The two French guys had met up with their friends, and were having the headlight and indicators changed.
They had decided to cross the border as soon as they got the bikes back, so we had lunch and then the guys were off. I stayed behind to check out DBP and to get the bike fixed, as I didn't want to ride into Laos on a bike I wasn't sure of.
And here I am. It's 08.30 and I'm hoping to get the bike fixed before noon, but as the next "big" town in Laos is just a hundred or so km from the border, I'm not in a hurry.
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| The roads are frequently swept away by landslides so there's no point in paving them. |
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| You really learn to appreciate sealed roads here. |
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| Some pretty sketchy bridges spanned the river, none of which I had to cross, unfortunately. |
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| If you really look hard you can see the excavator at the top of the hill. |
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| Having resigned to waiting for 45 minutes I kicked back on the bike. |
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| All of a sudden we had a proper road under our wheels. |
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| The river valley we were following had me thinking of the Norwegian fjords. |
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| It's not only people, trucks, buses and other bikes you need to look out for. There are also pigs, dogs and water buffaloes using the roads. |
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| Ah, Victor Mike at the shop. Again... |
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