Cycling Central Vietnam
We spent three weeks cycling Central Vietnam before flying to South Korea from Da Nang. We visited the historic cities of Hue and Hoi An as well as some beautiful sections of coastline and endless vibrant rice paddies. The quality of cycling in Vietnam was mixed – at times we cycled some of our favorite roads in Southeast Asia, but the traffic on bigger roads could be downright terrifying.
Route Through Central Vietnam
Download the GPX track for our ride through Central Vietnam. NOTE: This track is for research and planning purposes only. It is not a polished route.
Laos – Vietnam Border Crossing
Crossing the Laos-Vietnam border at Nam Phao was one of the most hectic international border crossings on our whole trip. After so many border crossings in Europe where you hardly even notice you’re in a new country, we’d kind of forgotten how stressful getting into a new country can be. We had to pass a long line of stopped trucks snaking up a mountain pass, periodically forcing us to veer into the oncoming lane in order to get around them, praying a maniac speeding downhill around a curve didn’t take us out.
Luckily the border might as well have been a one-way entrance into Vietnam because very little traffic was coming into Laos. The border guards were very nice and had no problem with the PDF version of our e-visa that we displayed on our phones, having been unable to find a printer in rural Laos. Their dated Vietnam War era uniforms stood in stark contrast to their easy, relaxed demeanor and their omnipresent smartphones.
Construction Chaos
After finally making it through the border station, we headed down the other side of the pass. The first dozen or so miles were under construction, the road surface gone and replaced by a fine, shallow mud that sprayed into every crevice of our bicycles and made our downhill steering quite squirrely.
Eventually the road conditions improved slightly and the mud was replaced with pavement and clouds of dust. Our route into Tây Sơn, the first real town we passed through, was full of loud honking trucks and more dust than the entire rest of our route in Southeast Asia so far. Our immediate impression of Vietnam, especially when compared to Laos, was of a country under construction, growth visible everywhere.
First Impressions of Vietnam
We were pretty exhausted after the day’s events and decided to take a couple days off in Tay Son, the first sizeable town we came to after the border. Our $20/night hotel was more luxurious than any we’d stay at in Laos and this solidified our plans to relax and recoup. Before checking in, we stopped at our first Bahn Mi shop and talked with a group of teenagers for awhile that were eager to practice their English.
There were quite a few restaurants in town, but most of them seemed to be empty and we were a little intimidated to walk into one. We finally mustered enough courage to try, and the waitress who’d been sitting down and browsing her phone seemed quite surprised to see us. It was harder than it should have been to convey that we wanted some food (probably our fault), and she enlisted the help of a random guy on the street to help us order. He gave us a bunch of recommendations and was very enthusiastic about the food for sale.
A Warm Welcome with Snails and Whiskey
On our second night in Tay Son, we didn’t make the mistake of going into an empty restaurant. We tromped up and down the town’s main street looking for a place to eat, struggling to determine what each place was selling. Tay Son is not a tourist town and most of the restaurants gave no clear indication of what they served from the outside, and we were too nervous about being in a new country to venture inside having no idea what kind of food they sold. Despite all of our time spent in foreign countries, we’re still quite shy. It’s a bit of a scene when you walk into a small, local restaurant in rural southeast Asia and the menu options often aren’t very clear. Also due to the late hour, many of the restaurants were near closing and the awkwardness is compounded if we are the only customers in the entire place.
We finally picked a spot that seemed quite lively, although similar to our first night in Laos, the place we chose turned out to be more focused on alcohol consumption than eating. We ordered a massive plate of fried rice because we were a little apprehensive about the other options on the menu. One of the tables near us was occupied by two couples and their swarm of children, and they had a giant two liter bottle of local whiskey on the table that appeared to be a BYOB situation.
They immediately engaged us in conversation, poured a huge glass of whiskey for each of us and scooped up a large portion of their river snails for us to try. It was just what we needed, an extremely warm and alcohol infused welcome into Vietnam. We ate a ton of snails, not discovering that the gritty sand at the end of each slurp was snail poop until we had already downed a large number of the slimy little guys. They tasted pretty good, a cleaner version of how the local rivers smell, not bad but not great. If oysters taste like a salty sea breeze, then snails tasted like a murky tannin filled river, with the texture of thick snot. They’re quite a bit better than that description implies. It was definitely a glad-we-tried-it, not-something-we’re-going-to-order-again situation though.
Highlights of Cycling in Central Vietnam
We left Tay Son and headed towards the coast. One of our fun experiences was stopping at a small Korean restaurant in the middle of a rural agricultural area well outside of any town. It was cold and rainy, a massive temperature shift from the heat exhaustion we experienced in Laos. The only other customers at the restaurant were a women’s group or club having some sort of meeting. They were fascinated by the two soggy foreigners that walked through the door, dripping all over the place and creating a bit of a scene, and the women asked us about our trip and helped us navigate the menu options. We really enjoy these situations; when you’re well outside of any tourist area locals are much more interested in hearing about your trip and telling you about themselves.
Off-Season on the Coast
We reached the ocean on another unseasonably cold and foggy day and looked out on crashing surf for the first time since we left the southeast coast of Thailand some months ago. The beach town we arrived at, Cam Nhuong, was quiet, almost deserted, and most of the hotels and businesses were closed for the season. We managed to find an open hotel just off the beach and locked our bikes up in the lobby on the ground floor. Our room had a great view of the roiling, windy shoreline below. The weather precluded any of the normal beach activities but made for a dramatic scene out our windows.
In the morning we managed to find an adventurous route off the main highway and along the shore, the first of many similar routes we would find over the next week or so. We enjoyed riding the unpaved and muddy route, the relentless sound of truck horns mercifully replaced with crashing waves.
Intense Traffic, Đồng Hới and Huế
Any time we had to be on a bigger road in Vietnam, the traffic situation was downright nerve-wracking. Riding in Vietnam was quite different than riding in Laos. Much busier roads, much more development, and a thousand percent increase in the number of horns going off. The horns really predominate our memories of Vietnam. Just constant and inexplicable. The horn use in Vietnam seems to lack intention, instead of communicating a warning or any useful information, it appears to be a way for each driver to express their frustration with the world, a kind of “I’m here and this is a truck” told to everyone within earshot as often as possible.
Most days we found ourselves riding a wide but hectic shoulder. The roads often have a large central divider, inspiring the locals to ride their scooters against traffic in the shoulder instead of going out of their way to enter the correct direction of travel. We constantly had to pay attention to scooters coming at us head on, people merging into our shoulder without so much as a glance at the traffic they were merging with, and trucks stopped in the shoulder forcing us into the main highway lane.
Vietnam was by far the most challenging riding we encountered in Southeast Asia. Thai and Malaysian highways were similar but we were often able to avoid them with side routes, while in Vietnam we were forced to spend a lot of time on main arteries with no quieter option available.
Peaceful Rice Paddies
Some of our favorite riding in Vietnam was among the vibrant green rice paddies. We must have been passing through during an important part of the season as there were countless workers out in the paddies. Their heavy old bicycles dotted the edges of the fields and the famed Vietnamese nón lá conical hat was ubiquitous. We rode through a long flat valley, heavy fog hanging in the air, progressing slowly towards a tall mountain range, waving at rice farmers for miles.
Rural Pizza Parlors and Country Music
Another memorable stop on our way down the coast was at a highway hotel. The whole area seemed to exist only to serve the highway, a pseudo-town spread out thinly on the margins of the busy road. Dust turned into mud as rain fell in the evening, heavy traffic noise permeated the walls of our hotel, and all foot traffic was relegated to treacherous gravel footpaths on the side of the busy highway. Overall an extremely ugly, heavily populated place.
Compared to the nice walkable areas in the older towns and cities of Vietnam, this felt like an American interstate town distilled, a place where life knelt to industry with little carved out to make the place actually livable. A huge metalworking factory gushed endless smoke into the air and pushed out a never ending stream of heavy trucks, apparently the reason for the town’s existence. Horns constantly blaring.
Glad to be out of our saddles, we walked down the edge of the highway to a pizza/burger place. The pizza was pretty far from good, but it was technically pizza, and the owner played American country music for us. We didn’t recognize the song but appreciated it nonetheless. Quite a pleasant little break from the insanity just outside the door. Overall not a place to visit, but a place we’re glad we saw.
Final Stretch into Da Nang
As we approached Da Nang, we continued the pattern of miserable highway riding interspersed with quiet dirt road explorations along the coast. The entire country seemed to be under construction. In one small beach town, while waiting in line at a bakery, we were approached by a couple of young girls that wanted to practice their English. We had a great time speaking with them and went our separate ways after they exhausted their vocabulary.
They couldn’t have been more than twelve, but they fearlessly hopped onto their scooter and merged into the erratic stream of traffic rushing past us. We got on our way as well, but a few miles down the road they caught up to us again with a new set of questions they had quickly researched in the time since we’d separated. They were smart and curious, and frankly their hunger for knowledge was staggering. As a spoiled kid from the US, I felt guilty about how comparatively little engagement and initiative I’d shown at their age.
Another highlight was riding past two embarrassed dogs welded together post-coitus right in the middle of the street, causing a traffic jam, the mortified expressions on their faces more relatable than any canine expression I’ve ever witnessed. Scooters and minitrucks flowed around them, everyone having a laugh at their expense and honking in lewd encouragement. I didn’t realize that dogs frequently get stuck together after intercourse, most of the dogs I’ve spent time around in the USA are sterilized. It was simultaneously horrifying and hilarious.
We made our way through Da Nang to Hội An where we stayed for a few nights, then headed back to Da Nang to catch our flight to Seoul.
