Da Lat to Nha Trang....

.....or "Falling Down" Starring Alex Saroian as Michael Douglas

Good Morning Da Lat

We awoke in Da Lat to an overcast morning and the knowledge of some pretty serious hills ahead of us.  Overnight Julia had hosted a small conference at the end of our bed between some active local bed bugs and her feet.  They had clearly appreciated the food and drink she had laid on, as was evidenced by the trail of little red dots up her tootsies!  I of course benefited from sleeping with someone much sweeter than I am - them's the breaks I suppose :)

Moving on, we saddled up and set off shortly after a funeral cortege passed our hotel.  How ominous and frankly, how apt given what was to follow.  Today we had 2 legs of 20km up some ridiculous climbs to 1500m above sea level, followed by a short transfer up to 1700m (this bit being too steep for even our sturdy little pins).  After the transfer we would enjoy a leisurely 30km downhill that would culminate in a break then 2 15km legs to the finish line.  Assuming you have made it through school passed the age of 8, you will be able to add all those numbers up and arrive at the princely sum of (drum roll) ....100km!  As 30km are downhill, perhaps this is not a huge number.

However 40km were on the most ridiculously challenging ups and downs yet.  Urgh.

As we cycled out of the hotel, after said funeral cortege, we noticed lots of money....Dollars and Dong strewn in our path.  My Armenian nose (wanted to say little Armenian nose, but that would be a lie!) twitched at leaving all this money on the ground, but it was fake.  Apparently the Vietnamese believe that if you throw lots of fake money around the dead will be rich in the afterlife.  Pardon me for questioning a culture, but, well, I think you know where I am going here!?!  It's FAKE!

Da Lat is like a small Alpine town transplanted into the Vietnamese mountains.  Lots of faux chateaux with Asian elements that the local architects just couldn't help but include.  There is a big lake and it's almost like a mini-Geneva as you cycle round it, taking in the classy swan-shaped pedalos waiting to be, well, pedalled across the lake.  The wind was up, but the going was flat and the ride was starting out enjoyable.  Julia and I were with a few others following Chi up at the front and before long he was leading us astray. I say astray because we went uphill.  Seriously uphill.  Ouch.

Signs of Life

That first 20km was through small village after small village, steadily getting more remote until they were basically a bunch of houses huddled around the road with big drops on either side.  At the beginning we had passed greenhouses and agriculture, a cemetery and other signs of life (yes, yes I get the oxymoron there), but then it all just petered out.  By the time we arrived at a lonely petrol station at the top of a hill we were puffed out and wind beaten.  

The wind was very strong up here and it seemed it was either in your face or on your side, never behind you, which in hindsight makes perfect sense!  At this point Julia made the incredibly wise decision to give her aching ears, throat and chest a break.  She'd been carrying a cold for the last few days and the elevation and exertion were doing nothing to help her recover, so she hopped onto the bus.

Traditional Mountain People's Communal House

Damn I wish I had done so as well.  

The next 20k were in essence a small hell on earth.  If I say I mounted the last hill crest and said to myself "I've nothing left in the tank.  The bus is either at the bottom of the hill or it will have to come and collect me.", then you can picture how finished I was.  It started well, with a lovely downhill that turned into a real Saroian moment, as I realised I had left my backpack behind.  Luckily it was on the bus not on the ground at the last stop, so I waited and watched the group cycle past me.  Picking up the pack, I pushed on, determined to be strong and best the hills.  Pah!

Nahn patiently waiting for us

There are times in life where you've nowhere to go; rocks and hard places, Scylla and Charybdis, devil and deep blue sea.  This was one such time.  We had 24 gears on our bikes and on some of the horrifically long and steep uphills I was in the lowest gear, looking down and almost begging my bike to manufacture a few more to drop down into.  I was literally pootling along but my legs were churning away, whirling like amphetamine fuelled Dervishes, just trying to keep momentum up.  The thought of getting off and walking was a definite no, even though it would have been faster!  As I say, between a rock and a hard place, or rather between my pride and a b*stardly steep stretch of hills.

I would like to say the views were stunning, but my vision was tunnelled.  As I cycled (? is that the word for what I was doing?) and passed members of our group their faces mirrored the pain I was feeling.  Dropping down to the bus on the other side of that final hill was a moment of joy unbridled.  Boy oh boy was I happy to see Julia and the red coach of comfort.

On we drove to the start point for the downhill.  Looking back I wistfully remember that moment in days of yore, those halcyon moments, when my body wasn't covered in scratches, lumps and ouchy bits.  Those were the days, when you could shower without gritting your teeth, turn over in bed without waking up and howling at the moon.  Great days.  Great days.  

The downhill started fast, Quentin and I pushing on like a pair of men chased by the devil himself.  I then remembered I had promised Julia NOT to be a d*ck, so I slowed down and cycled by her.....for 2 minutes....then became a d*ck again and sped off to catch up with Quentin.  My vocabulary is not stunted.  I admit I sometimes use the odd expletive, which is lazy.  However in this instance there is only one phrase to use: "Holy Shit!"  

Looking back (not at the time, that would have been suicidal) and having gone through another steep downhill since that day, what I did was so far and away on the other side of stupid it is ....well....idiotic to the point of being retarded.  It was a rare moment when I could actually gain any torque out of my pedals to go any faster.  A bit of research online will tell you that 24 gears, 26" wheel and you have 39.7mph.  I weigh just shy of 90kg and on some of those downhills my momentum took me past 40mph.  At the time it was great.....supreme.  Julia was not so happy.  She tried to catch up, but weighing less than two thirds of me held her back.  So she enjoyed what were apparently incredible views on the way down.  I enjoyed overtaking mopeds and cars....on the downhill sections.

As I came into the fateful bend I realised a few things.  One....I was going ridiculously fast.  Two....oh just watch this.....draw your own conclusions!

Berk!

As it was, a 25 foot slide across the tarmac was painful enough.  Luckily my helmet was on (it took a beating at the back), my clothes were strong (though slightly ripped afterwards) and my camelback was full (the backpack had holes in where I had used it as a sled!).  Adrenalin pumping through my veins I watched one of our group cycle past me.  Apparently Gary thought I was just taking photos by the side of the road.  He can't have noticed that I was bleeding, holding my knee and that my bike was in a mangled heap in the ditch ;)

The rest of the group caught up and expressed sympathy.  Julia did her best not to berate me (did pretty well all things considered) and I hopped (I only had one leg) into the truck with Can aka Mr Vodka.  His suggestion was that I open another bottle of Vodka to pour over the wound.  If I had had one I would have downed it!

At the bottom of the hill was lunch.  Natasha and Julie, with the help of Julia and our mechanic Li, cleaned me up as best they could and patched up the wounds.  I sat sheepishly at the end of the table and Julia shook her head sadly at yet another example of recklessness.  My turn on the bus and I have to say I am gutted.  

Not quite Stratford (and aren't those rings the wrong way round?)

The ladies ooohing and ahhing over Chi's children

Random Songbird

Today was the day that Li, our mechanic and a great cyclist, opened up and we began to know him better.  On the final leg, taking Julia in his slipstream, he pedalled off at a great speed and she had the ride of the tour so far.  By the time she arrived at the last stop she was grinning from ear to ear.  Li, who until now had been fairly taciturn, was also smiling widely and when he saw me, he pointed to Julia, made a pedalling motion with his hands and gave a proud thumbs up.

Li, happy to finally put some speed into his ride with Julia

We all got on the bus again and spent 20 minutes wending our way over to Nha Trang, one of Vietnam's more famous resorts.  Lots of rich Vietnamese and not so rich Russians spending money in one of the many many shops that appeared to all sell the same thing; either tours, tat or beauty treatments.  We had 2 nights here thankfully, so I could rest the knee, hip and arm and we could enjoy a night out.  

Chi had arranged for us all to go out together and enjoy what was one of the best meals we had in South East Asia.  It was a simple affair.  A huge eatery which gave groups of four their own mini-BBQ to grill beef, prawns, squid, tofu and vegetables on.  This was actually great fun and tasted fantastic.  All of us left with a big grin on our faces.  Some of us pushed on and found a great beach bar called the Sailing Club.  We enjoyed some beers and cocktails, the sea views and watching rich kids and Russians dance the night away to terribly cheesy music.  Just before midnight the heavens opened and a light rain began to fall, so we called it a night.

This has been a long post, but we had had a long day and so thanks for reading.......next up, a boat trip in swell weather.