We woke up fairly early on Wednesday, as we had arranged to meet Craig in Long Hai at about 7am. It was pouring with rain and Mel said that there was nooooo way she was riding in the pouring rain, so we waited for the rain to lighten up before we set off on our way. The timing worked out perfectly, as we arrived at our meeting point two minutes before Craig!
A unanimous decision was made that we should try to follow the coast for as long as possible, rather than go on the more direct (but boring and busy) highway. You would think this would be easy, ocean on your right and you're going the right way. However, trying to find the road that follows the sea turned out to be a different story. Thank goodness for Google Maps, which kept us (mostly) on the right track! The road was beautiful, as it wove through the country-side, and we enjoyed many picturesque sights along the way.
The drive was pretty similar to the trip from Ho Chi Minh City to Vung Tau, in terms of the quality of the roads, and the lack of real, large, open areas of country-side between small towns and bigger cities. When the buildings did die down though, and the landscape started becoming more open, our appreciation of the true beauty of Vietnam began to increase.
There were areas where the police were out stopping motorists and I developed a nifty tactic to avoid their field of vision, and subsequently avoid our imminent pulling-over and fining for some-or-other fake offence. This new (genius) tactic is to always travel in a small group of predominantly Vietnamese motorists, and make sure that you are never at the front of the group. When a cop is spotted, the entire group naturally slows down, and becomes a tighter knit unit. You then need to drive closer to the middle of the road, and block the cop's view of your face. If they don't see you, they can't pull you over. If they do see you, it will be too late for them to stop you anyway, and you are safe to continue with your travel fund still in-tact.
Despite one or two unplanned 'short-cuts' off the beaten track, we found our way to Mui Ne without any issues. We rode past rice paddies, dragon fruit orchards, countless deserted beach resorts and pristine ocean views to get to our destination. Our bums were extremely numb from the long journey, and Craig and I would stand at every robot (or traffic light if you are a reader from outside of South Africa) just to get some blood flowing into our legs.
Mui Ne is a small beach town filled with beach resorts and sun-burned Russians. The beach is long and narrow, and the sand is white. On its day, the sea is an inviting turquoise, and there are small waves which lap onto the hot sand. Like in Long Hai, the water is as warm as bath water and quite salty compared to Durban sea water. The wind can really blow there, and this has made it a popular place for newbie, novice and advanced kite-boarders and wind-surfers to visit and play.
When we arrived, we rode around and found a place which had an available room. Then we walked the busy street and found a place to eat some fresh seafood for lunch. Mel was still feeling under the weather, so she didn't have the biggest appetite. By now, I was also starting to feel the beginning stages of a tummy bug and thought that I would subdue it by drowning it with copious amounts of well earned beer. Needless to say, this was a poor tactic, and by that evening, both of us were sufficiently wounded by our newly acquired parasite stow-aways that we had to call it a night at about 8pm. A poor show, and big disappointment, seeing as we had driven all this way and couldn't even join in the infectious party atmosphere all around us. We hoped that the following day would be a better one.
The early night was certainly a wise decision, as when we woke up in the morning (well rested and feeling a little better) Craig was nowhere to be found. When we left him the night before, he was with some of his friends that we had met up with. So we decided to go to their backpackers to see if he was there. We found him, but he was still sleeping. Here came our next problem - the room that we had stayed in was only available for one night, so we needed to find a new place to stay. We walked along the street, met by "No rooms available" signs at every place we could find. Walking in the searing, Vietnam heat got us feeling pretty ill again, and we even considered catching a bus back to Saigon because we weren't sure we could face the long ride back. Unfortunately, we had our bike so this wasn't possible. Eventually we found a suitable, vacant place, and it ended up being a great move. The 'resort' is right on the beach, and has loungers which we spent much of the afternoon on, in-between lazy ocean dips and cooling fresh water showers.
We were still both feeling worse for wear, and were in bed early again on Thursday night - only able to stomach some french fries and dry rolls for dinner. It was for the best, as we had work the next night back in Ho Chi Minh, and still had the long, gruelling bike ride back to overcome.
We woke up early on Friday morning and squashed our clothes back into our backpack. We briefly enjoyed the glassy sea view in the morning light, before we hopped on our bike and hoped for a quiet, uneventful ride home. We were still feeling pretty average and our breakfast consisted of a few bites of dry bread roll and some water. The roads were relatively quiet (compared to any other time of day!), apart from some speeding, hooting, swerving busses which sped past every few minutes.
Our journey was off to a cracking start, and we were making good time - we were even going to fit in a nap before work at this rate. We stopped for petrol about twenty minutes out of Mui Ne (before entering Phan Thiet), and I checked Google Maps to see the route. There was a little road which would take us to the highway and bypass the city (always a good option, because city = traffic = stressed Ross and Mel).
The road was a LOT smaller than it looked on the map, and we ended up driving down tiny alleyways, past cows, chickens and some ducks and through a market. Just as I started wondering if we should maybe turn back, we reached the main highway. We joined the big trucks, speeding busses, hooting cars and swerving scooters and settled in for the long trip.
This would be a fantastic place to end this story, and I honestly wish that I could. BUT... about an hour later, we drove over some unidentifiable, sharp object and punctured the back tyre - bummer. I hopped off and wandered gingerly over to a nearby building to ask where we could get our tyre fixed. I was greeted with the predictable waving of hands to signal disinterest in my problems. I persevered, pointing at our bike and the obviously flat tyre, and miming "Where can I buy a new tyre," using comprehensive hand signals and acting skills. The man watched my entire show, and then pointed to a bus (which was packed with locals, partly disassembled and busy pulling off). I gave up.
We then proceeded to do what we had to, just like coping with so many other things in Vietnam, put one foot in front of the other, and keep moving forward. With both of us weak from our measly breakfast and genuinely concerned about pooping our pants, we headed towards the up-coming small town - slowly. I pushed the bike and told Mel to look out for a mechanic shop. We found one after a short time, stopped, pointed at our flat tyre, pointed at the new tyre lying next to the mechanic and were greeted by the familiar waving of hands. So on we went...
If riding a bike on this highway isn't a scary enough experience, pushing one with a heavy backpack and flat tyre should satisfy all those adrenaline junkies out there's taste for danger. The cars, scooters and trucks don't worry to take a slightly wider berth when passing you. No, in fact, I'm sure that they actually try to see how close they can get to you without actually hitting you! (And this definitely didn't help with the already critical pants-pooping urge that we were facing!) What ever happened to the friendly Vietnam that everybody told us about? The one where the locals are so friendly and helpful...
Anyway, we eventually found a mechanic shop which looked like it might help us. There was a lady who we saw and went through the whole 'pointing at the flat tyre' charade again. Then she just walked off... we weren't sure what to do, so we just sat there and waited. After about 10 minutes a guy came out, looking like he had just been dragged out of bed, and smelling like he had drank all the beer the night before. We didn't actually care, as long as our tyre was fixed so that we could continue on our journey. It was only then that we looked at our watches. Suddenly all of the hand waving, and the look of our mechanic, made sense - it was 7:15am!
The process to fix our tyre was a lengthy one, and after a few bush mechanics were applied, we payed our (ridiculously inflated, westerner priced) bill and proceeded with our journey. The rest of the trip consisted of intermittent standing stops (to get the blood flowing through our critically numb bums), toilet stops (there are no such things as nice, Ultra City stop-offs either) and regular checking that we were on the right track. Needless to say, we got home in one piece. Shattered, but with a story to share...
Perhaps these little birdies will just take the bus next time.
 |
| Checking Google Maps. |
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| Ross wearing a sarong to try avoid being sun burnt again. |
 |
| Pit stop at a hammock cafe. |
The drive was pretty similar to the trip from Ho Chi Minh City to Vung Tau, in terms of the quality of the roads, and the lack of real, large, open areas of country-side between small towns and bigger cities. When the buildings did die down though, and the landscape started becoming more open, our appreciation of the true beauty of Vietnam began to increase.
There were areas where the police were out stopping motorists and I developed a nifty tactic to avoid their field of vision, and subsequently avoid our imminent pulling-over and fining for some-or-other fake offence. This new (genius) tactic is to always travel in a small group of predominantly Vietnamese motorists, and make sure that you are never at the front of the group. When a cop is spotted, the entire group naturally slows down, and becomes a tighter knit unit. You then need to drive closer to the middle of the road, and block the cop's view of your face. If they don't see you, they can't pull you over. If they do see you, it will be too late for them to stop you anyway, and you are safe to continue with your travel fund still in-tact.
Despite one or two unplanned 'short-cuts' off the beaten track, we found our way to Mui Ne without any issues. We rode past rice paddies, dragon fruit orchards, countless deserted beach resorts and pristine ocean views to get to our destination. Our bums were extremely numb from the long journey, and Craig and I would stand at every robot (or traffic light if you are a reader from outside of South Africa) just to get some blood flowing into our legs.
 |
| An unexpected short-cut. |
 |
| Dragon fruit orchards. |
 |
| A boat that defies all logic! |
Mui Ne is a small beach town filled with beach resorts and sun-burned Russians. The beach is long and narrow, and the sand is white. On its day, the sea is an inviting turquoise, and there are small waves which lap onto the hot sand. Like in Long Hai, the water is as warm as bath water and quite salty compared to Durban sea water. The wind can really blow there, and this has made it a popular place for newbie, novice and advanced kite-boarders and wind-surfers to visit and play.
When we arrived, we rode around and found a place which had an available room. Then we walked the busy street and found a place to eat some fresh seafood for lunch. Mel was still feeling under the weather, so she didn't have the biggest appetite. By now, I was also starting to feel the beginning stages of a tummy bug and thought that I would subdue it by drowning it with copious amounts of well earned beer. Needless to say, this was a poor tactic, and by that evening, both of us were sufficiently wounded by our newly acquired parasite stow-aways that we had to call it a night at about 8pm. A poor show, and big disappointment, seeing as we had driven all this way and couldn't even join in the infectious party atmosphere all around us. We hoped that the following day would be a better one.
The early night was certainly a wise decision, as when we woke up in the morning (well rested and feeling a little better) Craig was nowhere to be found. When we left him the night before, he was with some of his friends that we had met up with. So we decided to go to their backpackers to see if he was there. We found him, but he was still sleeping. Here came our next problem - the room that we had stayed in was only available for one night, so we needed to find a new place to stay. We walked along the street, met by "No rooms available" signs at every place we could find. Walking in the searing, Vietnam heat got us feeling pretty ill again, and we even considered catching a bus back to Saigon because we weren't sure we could face the long ride back. Unfortunately, we had our bike so this wasn't possible. Eventually we found a suitable, vacant place, and it ended up being a great move. The 'resort' is right on the beach, and has loungers which we spent much of the afternoon on, in-between lazy ocean dips and cooling fresh water showers.
We were still both feeling worse for wear, and were in bed early again on Thursday night - only able to stomach some french fries and dry rolls for dinner. It was for the best, as we had work the next night back in Ho Chi Minh, and still had the long, gruelling bike ride back to overcome.
We woke up early on Friday morning and squashed our clothes back into our backpack. We briefly enjoyed the glassy sea view in the morning light, before we hopped on our bike and hoped for a quiet, uneventful ride home. We were still feeling pretty average and our breakfast consisted of a few bites of dry bread roll and some water. The roads were relatively quiet (compared to any other time of day!), apart from some speeding, hooting, swerving busses which sped past every few minutes.
Our journey was off to a cracking start, and we were making good time - we were even going to fit in a nap before work at this rate. We stopped for petrol about twenty minutes out of Mui Ne (before entering Phan Thiet), and I checked Google Maps to see the route. There was a little road which would take us to the highway and bypass the city (always a good option, because city = traffic = stressed Ross and Mel).
The road was a LOT smaller than it looked on the map, and we ended up driving down tiny alleyways, past cows, chickens and some ducks and through a market. Just as I started wondering if we should maybe turn back, we reached the main highway. We joined the big trucks, speeding busses, hooting cars and swerving scooters and settled in for the long trip.
This would be a fantastic place to end this story, and I honestly wish that I could. BUT... about an hour later, we drove over some unidentifiable, sharp object and punctured the back tyre - bummer. I hopped off and wandered gingerly over to a nearby building to ask where we could get our tyre fixed. I was greeted with the predictable waving of hands to signal disinterest in my problems. I persevered, pointing at our bike and the obviously flat tyre, and miming "Where can I buy a new tyre," using comprehensive hand signals and acting skills. The man watched my entire show, and then pointed to a bus (which was packed with locals, partly disassembled and busy pulling off). I gave up.
We then proceeded to do what we had to, just like coping with so many other things in Vietnam, put one foot in front of the other, and keep moving forward. With both of us weak from our measly breakfast and genuinely concerned about pooping our pants, we headed towards the up-coming small town - slowly. I pushed the bike and told Mel to look out for a mechanic shop. We found one after a short time, stopped, pointed at our flat tyre, pointed at the new tyre lying next to the mechanic and were greeted by the familiar waving of hands. So on we went...
If riding a bike on this highway isn't a scary enough experience, pushing one with a heavy backpack and flat tyre should satisfy all those adrenaline junkies out there's taste for danger. The cars, scooters and trucks don't worry to take a slightly wider berth when passing you. No, in fact, I'm sure that they actually try to see how close they can get to you without actually hitting you! (And this definitely didn't help with the already critical pants-pooping urge that we were facing!) What ever happened to the friendly Vietnam that everybody told us about? The one where the locals are so friendly and helpful...
Anyway, we eventually found a mechanic shop which looked like it might help us. There was a lady who we saw and went through the whole 'pointing at the flat tyre' charade again. Then she just walked off... we weren't sure what to do, so we just sat there and waited. After about 10 minutes a guy came out, looking like he had just been dragged out of bed, and smelling like he had drank all the beer the night before. We didn't actually care, as long as our tyre was fixed so that we could continue on our journey. It was only then that we looked at our watches. Suddenly all of the hand waving, and the look of our mechanic, made sense - it was 7:15am!
 |
| Epic fail! |
The process to fix our tyre was a lengthy one, and after a few bush mechanics were applied, we payed our (ridiculously inflated, westerner priced) bill and proceeded with our journey. The rest of the trip consisted of intermittent standing stops (to get the blood flowing through our critically numb bums), toilet stops (there are no such things as nice, Ultra City stop-offs either) and regular checking that we were on the right track. Needless to say, we got home in one piece. Shattered, but with a story to share...
Perhaps these little birdies will just take the bus next time.
 |
| Back on the Cat Lai Ferry - almost home. |
You poor little birdies!!! Hang in there you are doing a good job and im so proud of you 2!! xoxo
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