Written by and Photos by Cliff Danger. Posted in Rides
“You sure you don’t want a Honda?” Kevin asked as we looked at the well worn green Russian-made Minsk motorcycle that his mechanic had just delivered. Being both stubborn and lacking much in the way of common sense I said, “No, ‘Lucy’ just needs a paint job, some racks and tools in case she breaks down.”
I came to Southeast Asia to meet people and explore. For the last several years, I’ve been working on a project called “The Bunny Teeth Movement.” The idea came about from a visit to Japan, where my friend, Manami, suggested that I travel the world handing out bunny teeth. She explained that the world is too serious, and that bunny teeth could lighten the mood, one smile at a time.
I’m not suggesting that bunny teeth are the be-all/end-all for world peace, but a smile is a positive in a world full of negatives.
I’d been in Saigon, Vietnam for two days, and was excited to both explore and hand out bunny teeth. Lucy had just been freshly painted, luggage racks were welded on, and the bike was now equipped with all the tools I might need. In hindsight, though, more spare parts would have been a good idea.
The plan was to leave the next morning with a couple guys that had bought Hondas from Kevin: Wes was from Canada, and Shane from California. They had been traveling around Southeast Asia for a couple months, and I found them valuable in my assimilation of the region.
The first destination was Vung Tau, the home of the world’s largest Jesus statue, according to locals. The journey to Vung Tau was nerve racking and thrilling at the same time. Riding a motorcycle in Vietnam is as mental as it is physical; someone or something is constantly trying to run you over or have you run it over.
Scooters, trucks, busses and chickens all compete for a little bit of asphalt; usually, it seems, the one that I am occupying.
Shane and Wes were on a deadline to make it to Hanoi, and I was planning on seeing a bit of the country along the way, so we split up at Mui Ne. I drove towards Dalat and they headed to Nha Trang. Lucy had been acting a bit temperamental the previous day, so after taking her to a mechanic and welder for a little repair, I left for what should have been a five or six hour ride to Dalat.
The morning started early and for the first time in a while it was raining some. I headed to QL-28, which would take me from the coast up into the mountains, and eventually to QL-20, leading to Dalat. The road was very nice, the rain had stopped, and there was no traffic. Just as we crested the mountain, Lucy sputtered a couple times and then simply stopped. There was plenty of gas but no spark.
Highway 27 between Dalat and Buon Ma Thuot. Pavement after a large and long gravel road.
I spent an hour going through my checklist of possible causes—all the while being watched by Vietnamese children who emerged from the jungle. Eventually, a gentleman rode up on a scooter and kindly pushed Lucy and me to the next little village—Gia Bac. As it turned out, Thang owned the feed/convenience store and was also the town mechanic. We ended up spending three days and two nights working on Lucy before Thang was able to get spark.
A lot of time was spent on the porch drinking coffee and being the town curiosity. Perhaps a Honda would have effortlessly taken me to Dalat, but I came to Vietnam for the experience, and three days in a remote Vietnamese village was that kind of experience. Besides, Dalat is a beautiful hill town famous as a honeymoon destination and for its coffee plantations.
Down the road there I needed yet another Minsk mechanic, who made a few more repairs while I handed out bunny teeth. Feeling secure that I would have spark for at least a couple days, I headed north skirting the Cambodian border. The countryside and people were amazing.
From these experiences, I learned a couple things about Vietnamese mechanics: They’re capable of doing almost anything on a motorcycle with a pair of pliers, a screwdriver and hammer, and the repairs are just enough to get you to the next mechanic.
That said, it took four mechanics in four different towns to get my rear wheel bearings replaced. But Lucy was running great… at least for the moment.
I’d heard of a town called Kham Duc that supposedly was the best place in Vietnam for Minsk parts—a hill town that still used Minsk motorcycles for logging. I rolled into town cold, hungry and very wet after being caught in a five-hour downpour. Kham Duc was different; something didn’t feel right. The smiles I’d received throughout my trip so far had been replaced by scowls.
I ended up spending several hours having my clutch disks and a seal replaced—the whole time cold and wet, with various people pointing and laughing at me. After a day of being soaking wet I was desperate to find a place to spend the night out of the weather. I finally found a compassionate old man who rented rooms to loggers. He led me to a little shack with a bed—where I was just happy to be out of the rain. And, I later learned that Kham Duc had been very heavily bombed during the war—no wonder they didn’t like me.
Continuing north along the coastline, I ended up spending a memorable Christmas at a hostel called the Phong Nha Farmstay. The Farmstay was run by an Australian and his Vietnamese wife—who were off to Australia for the holidays. Christmas morning was spent walking around the local village while Dave English, dressed as Santa, passed out candy to the local children. In the afternoon I went for a nice ride through the countryside and explored the caves at Phong Nha. I spent New Year’s Day in Hanoi, where I went to a water puppet show, visited Uncle Ho at his tomb, and met some really great fellow travelers.
From Hanoi it was off to Halong Bay to catch a couple ferries to Cat Ba Island. Halong Bay is famous for its limestone karst formations, and the cruise boats that take tourists for multiple day trips through the islands. After we arrived on Cat Ba, it was about a 15-mile ride from the ferry terminal to the town center. Cat Ba town looks like it was built in 1970 and hasn’t been remodeled since. Its main industries are fishing and tourism, but being off-season it was quiet in town.
After a couple of days, it was time to catch another ferry to Halong City. At the north ferry terminal are Chinese that conduct day tours. Their tour operators told me that the ferry had already left and that the next one wouldn’t arrive for another 10 hours. Since I could see the ferry coming, I told them I would wait. And, about 10 minutes later, I was on the ferry waving as we passed the tour hustlers’ dock.
From Halong City, Lucy and I headed to a town in the hills of Northern Vietnam called Lang Son. The 100-mile ride was very cold, wet and muddy. My hands were so cold the front desk girl had to unhook my luggage straps for me. I was the only guest in the five-story hotel—apparently, January is not the best time to visit northern Vietnam.
From Lang Son I followed Ql-4 to the town of Cao Bang. It was a relatively short ride of 100 miles, but the road conditions were pretty bad. Much of it consisted of foot-deep slippery mud, large puddles and stuck vehicles. I’m not about speed when I travel, but what should have been a four-hour ride turned into a solid eight hours. And, by the time I arrived in Cao Bang I was covered in mud. The attendant at the front desk showed me to a room under construction and allowed me to hose myself off before checking in.
Cao Bang is a nice city, and I found the people to be some of the friendliest in Vietnam. The countryside is very beautiful and full of terraced farm plots.
One day I rode out into the country and came across some very remote villages near the Chinese border. I’m sure that most of these people had never seen a Westerner, so when I stopped for a drink I was quite the curiosity.
The north was very cold and because the weather was turning even worse, I decided to ride back to Hanoi. Upon arriving there, I booked a train back to Saigon where I met a friend from Hanoi and traveled down through the Mekong Delta. Just like most of Vietnam, the people were very friendly, and the countryside quite lush.
Northern Vietnam. Nice muddy road, cold but dry day.
Life in the Mekong revolves around the water. We spent days taking ferries, crossing bridges and shopping on floating markets. While I enjoy meeting people, I prefer traveling solo, so after a week with a traveling companion, it was time for Lucy and me to cross into Cambodia and continue on our own journey.
I recommend visiting Vietnam, but if Kevin ever asks you if you want a Honda, you should probably say “Yes.”
Cliff Danger is an adventurer and photographer who loves motorcycles and travel. If you see Cliff and Lucy on the road, please stop and say hello—they’ll have a set of Bunny Teeth for you.
