Dalat is a beautiful mountain town known for its healthy air and French colonial influence. We left there early for Nha Trang, riding first around a man-made lake in the middle of the city and then through the market. Unlike the others we’ve visited, this market offered buckets of strawberries and displays of fresh flowers. Then we began a really big climb.

I thought I’d lose Steven when we passed the Dalat Palace golf course. The first 37k was uphill, generally a slow incline but sometimes demanding extra surges of energy. I fancy myself “the little engine that could”, but am also the self-appointed caboose for our posse. You get the picture – I’m huffing and puffing, relentlessly bringing up the rear.

The countryside is terraced, with well-manicured  coffee and vegetable farms.Agribusiness is evident in the rows of greenhouses that appear occasionally. Side of the road shanties provide shelter for so many families.

We stopped for lunch at a small town café of sorts, but I guess our guide didn’t have confidence in the food since we broke open a picnic. Several tins of grey/beige putty were graciously served, but

all I could think of was Muffin’s Fancy Feast. Laughing Cow cheese on bread with cucumber and tomato hit the spot just fine, though I craved a swab of Grey Poupon.

The next 5k continued uphill and for the most part, it was about pain, sweat, exhaustion and dismay at my delusional self confidence. Reaching the top was sweet. We soon happened on a Buddhist Lunar Temple guarded by two massive Yin and Yang dragons. Very cool – but in the middle of nowhere, not near a village or any homes.