|08-08-2009, 04:03 PM||#1|
Joined: Jul 2009
Location: Seattle, WA
Blood, Sweat and BeerLao: The Ho Chi Minh Trail in Laos
Five guys riding Honda XR250s on the Ho Chi Minh Trail in Laos – 2,500 kilometers in 12 days in November-December 2008.
The Ho Chi Minh Trail is the route by which the North Vietnamese moved men and military material through neighboring Laos to battlefronts in South Vietnam during the Vietnam War. It has been called one of the greatest military engineering feats in history. The North Vietnamese had their own name for the trail: the Truong Son Strategic Supply Route, named after the Truong Son mountain range that divides Vietnam and Laos. More simply, they called it the Blood Road.
The trail ran through Laos because the U.S. could not deploy ground forces there to block it. The 1962 Geneva Accords, which the U.S. signed, declared Laos neutral and prohibited the presence of foreign troops. So the U.S. resorted to a massive bombing campaign to interdict the trail, bombing Laos virtually round the clock for nine years. Laos is the most heavily bombed place on earth. Keeping the trail open was crucial to the North Vietnamese war effort and to the ultimate Communist victory and they defended it with anti-aircraft artillery and surface-to-air missiles, shooting down some 540 U.S. aircraft over Laos.
Digby: Veteran adventure rider and guide, based in Hanoi by way of Australia. One the first, and one of and few Westerners to have extensively explored the Ho Chi Minh Trail.
Ian: Expert dirt bike rider from Australia.
Ray: Rides a chopper in Switzerland.
Steph: Expert dirt bike rider, motocross racer and trials competitor from Australia.
Bob: Me, from Seattle, writing my first RR. No appreciable experience on two wheels on-road or off since the 1970s when I rode a two-stroke Bultaco and a Yamaha RD350. Recent, but not-very-applicable experience with Ural and Chang Jiang side car rigs. (And no, I did not ride this 125 cc Minsk on the trail although there I times I wished I were on it).
Preliminaries: We met up in Laos' capital, Vientiane (more correctly called Viang Chang). It is charming, ramshackle city of dilapidated old whitewashed French colonial-era buildings and Buddhist temples along the Mekong River. Unlike Asian mega-cities such as Bangkok and Beijing, it still has a lot of dirt roads and you are likely to be awakened by roosters crowing. Pictures from my hotel room balcony:
These tuk-tuks are the taxis in Vientiane; they are steered with a set of motorcycle handlebars. Usually the driver is napping in a hammock slung in back:
We spent a couple days acclimating in Vientiane, then started the ride.
Next: the ride.
Suqsuda screwed with this post 08-23-2009 at 07:29 PM
|08-09-2009, 09:34 PM||#5|
Joined: Jul 2009
Location: Seattle, WA
Ho Chi Minh Trail Continued
DAY ONE was an easy ride south on Route 13, a paved highway that runs along the Mekong heading south from Vientiane. We planned two-to-three easy days before getting to what was our trail head at the Vietnam border -- time I needed to accustom myself to being on a bike again. I felt something like blind faith or a forlorn hope that my vestigial riding skills would return. Isn't the saying 'It comes back to you, like riding a bike?' But I'm not sure this was the kind of bike they meant.
We turned east onto Route 8, up and over a mountain pass, then onto a red clay dirt road to Kong Lor.
Here Steph motors up a side road to an overlook:
This was the view:
Crossing rice paddies toward an eco-lodge on a riverbank at the base of the distant mountains just past the tree line. If there was a real road to this place, we never found it; it is visited and provisioned by river.
The cross-country ride was hard going. The paddies are squares in a chessboard pattern separated by dikes about a foot to a foot-and-a-half high and just wide enough to walk on – that’s the green line I am approaching. Some paddies were flooded mud wallows and others dry enough to cross. You had to move like the knight on a chessboard -- two squares forward and one square left or right -- trying to pick a passable route. We ended up spread all over the field trying to pick our individual routes through, getting mired in mud and turning back.
I figured out quickly that you had to hit the dikes head on to get over them. As a novice off-road rider I found that the shocks on these bikes suck up enormous impacts. But hit the dike obliquely and you’ll go down. That’s what happened to Ray. Worse, as he scrambled free of the falling bike, the butt of the handlebar came down and speared his foot, mashing his toes. He ended up limping for the rest of the trip. He also hurt something in his rib cage -- either from falling or from the strain of lifting the bike back up.
Ray's foot (hope this doesn't violate the ADV ban on nudity in pics):
Later that night:
Ian: 'Ray, you feeling a lot of pain?'
Ian: 'You know what you can take for that?'
Ray: 'No, what?' (hopeful inflection in voice).
Ian: 'Take a can of harden the f*** up.'
I also fell in the rice paddies. I hit a dike that was too high, got the front wheel over but the rear wheel hung up on top of the dike, and the bike bucked and unseated me and then fell on top of me. The impact knocked the wind out of me and popped the gas cap loose. I was momentarily trapped under the bike while gas glugged-glugged from the tank and soaked my jeans as I scrambled free. I envisioned the gas igniting from contact with the hot exhaust and incinerating me. I struggled clear but my adrenaline was spiking like I’d been injected with a drug.
I was alone in the rice paddies when I fell. I got the bike started and rode over to a stand of bamboo, shut off the engine and put down the kickstand and dismounted. In the sudden silence with the engine off, I heard the bamboo swaying in the wind, the leaves and branches rattlings and the bamboo trunks as big as my limbs rubbing against each other, which made a beautiful sound like the timbers in the hold of a wooden ship bending to the wind, or like being inside a stringed instrument - like being in a Stradivarius. I consciously let it calm me. Then got back on the bike.
We found our way to the lodge with appetites for a whole roast suckling pig waiting for us for dinner:
Look carefully and you'll see a jar of applesauce that Digby thoughtfully carried from from Vientiane to complement the pork:
|08-10-2009, 06:53 PM||#6|
Joined: Jul 2009
Location: Seattle, WA
Day Two: Some velvet morning. In daylight, we saw our surroundings for the first time:
We stayed in these huts:
We relaxed in the morning:
The inn is situated on a river:
I lingered after breakfast:
Steph worked on his bike:
We rode back across the rice paddies and up the road to Kong Lor cave:
Kong Lor cave is 7.5 kilometers long with a river running through it and under a mountain. I'm told it's under consideration to be named a UNESCO World Heritage site. The dirt road leading there is bound to be paved and there will be bus loads of tourists visiting; but not when we were there.
Guides took us in shallow-draft wooden canoes that they hauled with ropes through rapids to the mouth of the cave.
You could possibly load a motorcycle into one of these canoes and resume your ride on the other end of the cave on the other side. I don't know whether anyone has ever done that.
We had to get out a few times to pull the canoes over sand bars. The cave has high vaulted ceilings and there were massive log jams wedged into rock outcroppings on the roof. For the water to be high enough to do this, it must come out of the mouth of the cave like a fire hose sometimes.
We returned along Route 8 heading for Tha Ket, a provincial capital on the banks of the Mekong. Digby flatted a rear tire on a curve while crossing the mountain pass. I didn’t see it but Ian, who was behind him, later said he didn’t understand how Digby possibly kept the bike upright. There was an oncoming truck and he likely would have gone under its wheels if he had gone down. You could ride for an hour on that road without passing an oncoming vehicle but there it was, bearing down on him like a bad date just when his tire punctured.
Notice the helmets set on the ground? Flat repaired, we took off again but just down the road Ian braked to a stop, tore off his helmet and started swatting at his head. Turns out an army of miniature red biting ants had crawled into his helmet while it sat on the ground. I never left mine on the ground again.
We got into Tha Ket just at sundown -- another old French colonial-era city on the banks of the Mekong. Dinner that night was a Lao barbeque. The metal cone fits over a stone bucket of embers that sits in a hole in the table. You barbeque beef and chicken on the dome and pour broth into the trough to boil greens, vegetables and eggs.
Day Three: Up early with plans to ride to the Vietnamese border where the main Ho Chin Minh Trail enters Laos.
We stopped on the way out of town so Ian could get a new front brake rotor (I get the feeling that ADV readers like to see pics of repairs).
I like the small Buddhist shrine in the garage, which I like to think is meant to bless your ride.
Teaser: maybe Ian should have paid obeisance or left an offering.
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