Hà Giang:

At the beginning of each month, I write down a few things that I want to do that month.  It is usually general things, but also specific.  Among my March “intentions” I wrote down that I wanted to conquer my fear of motorbikes.  And so I did- kind of.  Hà Giang is in the northern most part of Vietnam, sharing a border with China.  It’s famous for its mountain views, rice paddies, and ethnic minority tribes.

We took a bus from Hanoi to Hà Giang, planning on just doing day trips from the town on a motorbike.  We went to QT Motorbikes and were informed that the main sights are too far to do in day trips, and that we’d be better off doing the four day loop.  So we packed our bags and set off on one motorbike with Sam driving and me on the back.

What to do:

 

We opted to do the Extreme North Loop as recommended by QT Motorbikes (a highly recommended motorbike rental in Ha Giang).

Where to stay:

On the first night we stayed at homestead with To and He in Tam Son, which was an incredible experience. Lucie has dragged me to the keyboard to write this half of the blog. Honestly, it hurts me to put words to our experience in Ha Giang. I know that even my vocabulary pales in comparison to how it felt being in that freezing hut surrounded by strangers turned neighbors over countless shots of rice wine and a karoake ballad. That night gaps were bridged that would have made the UN jealous. Language barriers were shattered. Two people from a completely different culture, upbringing, and background laughed drunkenly together with ever gracious hosts. It hurts me to write down these experiences possibly because they are so precious to me now that I fear my hoarder tendencies have stepped in to prevent me from letting them go.

I miss those nights. The unforgettable nights we spent wiith unforgettable people as we made our way up steep mountains on a motorbike we didn’t know how to drive. Sure there were rough nights where grime and sweat lubricated stiff and aching muscles, greasing tired wheels that needed far more care than an old cot on the floor to afford. It hurts to write about this stuff because we lived out our dreams. People always talk of adventure but he had one. A real live one. And that might be the most accurate way of describing Ha Giang. A real live genuine bonafide adventure.

We went from mountain tops to valleys, the views ranging from downward birds eye views of the most wondrous rice patty fields to Jurassic Park like shrubbery stretching for miles over a rocky cliff face. It hurts to write this because our adventure, the genuine one that I will be telling my kids and our grandkids about, is over. Its gone and no matter how many words I string together to make its mirror image reflect even the slightest bit of what it felt like to be out there, I can never go back. Right now that finality is a little more than I can stomach but for Lucie I shall write on.

After the (minor) crash we couldn’t really continue. A part of us stayed at the base of that gravel landing a top that mountain completely pummeled by the truck that had just barely missed us. After that crash we were shaken to put it mildly and although the scenery was spectacular enough to distract us for a while, we both realized the dangers of what we were doing and how easy it is to die. I was definitely humbled by that accident. Lucie was already a cat in water, clinging to my shoulder blades for dear life. I was an unkillable rambo turned cubicle-office employee after that.  We decided to cut our losses that night and head back home, skipping the fourth day of our trip and we, honestly, do not regret that decision.

Ha Giang itself was not too noteworthy. Our lodging was interesting. A beehive shape with hexagon rooms stacked up over each other and the option of free breakfast which was edible, and free dinner which I thought was above average. I was glad we were on the same page about leaving because I was convinced my Montana girlfriend would want to rough it till the end, but was surprised at how tired she was. Tired of moving from place to place like pieces on a monopoly board.

We had stayed in a lovely apartment in Hanoi the previous week and we wanted to go back. Routine, a clean and comfortable bed, and safe and homey room beckoned us from miles away and we could not refuse it no matter how much we tried. If Ha Giang taught us anything it was our limitations. We now know how far we can push ourselves; the memory of Ha Giang should do the trick in convincing ourselves that it is perfectly okay to stop and go home. Its okay to feel tired and want stability over adventure. Its okay to write about your travels and reflect on them because…Its okay to go home.