'...and whatever comes our way' 1/2 (Ha Giang)

It is 8:50 AM and I'm sitting in the hotel lobby. My 'Easy Rider' was supposed to pick me up twenty minutes ago. The 'Ha Giang Loop' in Vietnam near the border with China is a must. The multi-day motorcycle tour, where you either drive yourself or ride in the 'Easy Rider' version at the back, is offered by countless hostels and tour companies. In the budget version, you often travel in groups of 30 people and stay in oversized dormitories in accommodations that no longer deserve the name 'Homestay'. 'Happy Water', a synonym for Vietnamese rice wine, flows endlessly. With that, one gets the courage to perform karaoke every night in front of the other 29 fellow travelers, and the next day, they jump on the motorcycle with a hangover. What is 'the time of my life' for a 20-year-old Englishman is pure hell for me. Nevertheless, Ha Giang is worth it for its landscape. The densely forested mountains, deep gorges, and rice fields and small villages of the Tay and Hmong minorities in between are absolutely worth seeing. So I researched and found a company that does the Ha Giang Loop but focuses on outdoor activities like hiking and kayaking. The group size is limited, and the company seems to be little known, which means not every Gary or James from Manchester will be joining.

Only the organization is not really their strength. After the academic quarter has passed, I write to my contact on WhatsApp that I am now waiting at the hotel. The reply is: 'Hey Max, I'm sorry. It's my fault. I thought you would start tomorrow.' Oh no. I had specifically written that I was setting off from Hanoi to Ha Giang yesterday and would be ready in the hotel today. A misunderstanding related to the fact that there is a Day 0 and Day 1. Day 0 includes the pickup and ride from Hanoi, which I have already taken on myself. On Day 1, the actual tour begins. A concept so confusing that one could have double-checked for safety.. Postponing is not an option, as the weather is currently acceptably cloudy between two storms. In any case, the organizer promises me after some back and forth that a driver will pick me up and take me alone. A completely individual tour, I'm happy to accept.

'Leo' is my driver, just like my Slovak travel companion who has already taken me along in Ninh Binh. I see this as a good omen. After packing my necessary items water-tight in a plastic bag on the luggage rack, it could actually be time to go. But when I ask for knee and arm protectors, we have to stop at the tour office again. Protective gear is standard with most tour operators. No offense, I think, but I just feel safer that way. In full gear, I make a silly sight. When it's pouring rain, I additionally wear the typical Vietnamese rain cape: a plastic bag on top with three holes for head and arms, bottom one as pants, and two plastic bag shoes. On top of that are the protectors and the helmet. When the weather suddenly swings to sunny, you sweat buckets in it. Dennis Hopper in 'Easy Rider' looks different.

After the first viewpoints and small talk during the ride ('Are you married?' - 'No, are you?' - 'I have a wife and one daughter'), we stop for lunch. Leo mixes an excellent lime-garlic dip and we discuss the tour plan over spring rolls. Apparently, everything is quite vague, not like in the day plan of the original group tour. But that has the advantage that Leo can respond to my wishes. I quickly make it clear that I definitely want to do the hike mentioned in the tour description and see the Hmong villages. He thinks it over and seems to be mentally sketching a battle plan. For the first moment, we need to cover some ground since we started late due to the misplanning. 160 km over steep serpentine roads is quite exhausting. I have to hold onto the luggage rack each time we go uphill and downhill to avoid sliding forward or backward.

At the last viewpoint for Day 1, we stand over an endlessly deep gorge. Leo looks as if he is hesitating. He is not sure whether we should dare the hike down to the river or rather take the motorcycle to the harbor and then take the boat. The mountain stream beside the path might have more water than usual due to the rain. 'Okay, let's do it,' he makes the decision for us. We go down initially with the motorcycle until we turn onto a paved path that is barely half a meter wide. We park the machine in a wooden shed. For a few thousand Dong, we park it overnight with a family from the small village on the slope. The barn reminds me of the museums of the Georgian watchtowers in Mestia. Metal tools hang on long nails driven into the boards.

'Hiking with Crocs,' Leo laughs at me. They squeak every time he takes a step forward with his rubber sandals. He is not the first Vietnamese guide to lead through the underbrush with the popular Crocs. But on the steep muddy hillside, it is the maximum possible difficulty level. After we pick some agave from the tree as a snack, it shows at the stream that his footwear is the superior one. He easily stomps through the rushing current. I stand there awkwardly with my Decathlon hiking shoes. Leo piles up some rocks to create a step in the water, allowing me to hop across to the other side on dry feet. We arrive at the 'Eco-Homestay'.

I still have kayaking on my list, so Leo leads me down to the dock. As he helps me into the boat and pushes it into the water, I realize: 'Ah, I guess I'm doing this all by myself.' With a life jacket and paddle, I finally have everything I need. 'Be back for lunch at 7.' Yes, Mom.

I paddle into the twilight towards the two rock walls that remind me of the Lord of the Rings scenes at the end of the first part. With the soundtrack in my ears, only the lembas bread and the ring on the chain are missing.

At dinner, I meet the young travel group that is on a parallel trip with a couple of Americans, Kiwis, and an Australian. They had more or less accidentally booked the Ha Giang Loop as a bus tour rather than a classic motorcycle ride. To still experience the feeling of nature, they are now 'camping'. Well, the tents are pitched right between the steps and wooden houses. It feels more like camping in the parents' garden. I'm glad to have my bungalow for an extra €20.

After a few rounds of Happy Water, we move on to the karaoke part. For a so-called 'Eco'-Homestay, this is not very ecological, I think. When the wildlife has to listen to the same international screeching every night with the same Backstreet Boys songs. Oh well, it can't be helped. I sing too. During the Australian Vietnam veteran anthem 'Khe Sanh', the Australian and the Kiwi singers join in the chorus at the end. When we visited the former military airfield Khe Sanh during the DMZ tour in 2018, an older Australian drew my attention to the song. Until then, I didn't even know that Australia was involved in the Vietnam War. Just a few soldiers and a handful of planes. None of which had served in Khe Sanh, he had told me.

Leo sings as well, and not badly. He mentioned that before working as an Easy Rider, he worked at the waterworks. But always pressing the same buttons was too boring for him. So, he decided to learn English and work independently as a driver for various Ha Giang Loop companies. However, he still feels connected to the waterworks, because before he starts to sing, he tells me that this Vietnamese song is dedicated to the workers who built the dam. It is the dam at whose dammed river we are now sitting and on which I just kayaked.