We started the day driving north through Da Nang, which is the 3rd largest city in Vietnam. The biggest American airbase was here during the war, and it is also one of the leading ports in the country since the Han River is so deep. It’s a hub of massive construction projects, as well. Big fancy apartment buildings and resorts are being built on China beach, and the American influence is very obvious, much more than I noticed in the other cities we’ve visited (Café Lipton). Two of the 5 large ships grounded by the typhoon in mid-October are not yet repaired, and all along the beach, there are tears in the sea wall.

Once through Da Nang, our van dropped us off to begin cycling up Hai Van pass. The distance to the top is 10k with an 8-10% grade. The road is generally well paved though too many stinky diesel trucks loudly honk their way around the hairpin turns. Not a cloud floated by to shield us from the 95 degree heat and shade trees are few and far between.
The guys started out (4 of them) all piss and vinegar, harboring secret competitive ambitions of being the first to make it to the top. I tooled along for a few minutes and in short order, was on the lowest gear.

The views off the mountain are simply spectacular…lush, thick, green forest, mountain streams and small waterfalls on the uphill side; the magnificent sparkling ocean and a long sandy beach below us. As it turned out, “the little engine that could” couldn’t, since I got off the bike at the 7k mark, determined to keep on trucking on foot. Judy pulled over at 8k, and she and I tried to catch our breath in a tiny patch of shade, next to a little shack. Notwithstanding our being puce, dripping wet, and nauseous, 2 women ambushed us with “You buy something? You very pretty. You want massage? Come in here”. Timing is everything, huh? We could barely muster a “no”.

Steven and the 3 other guys made it to the top (though my Happy Buddha was quite red and ragged) and regaled us with their tales of brute force. After recuperating with cold drinks, bananas and cashews, we were rewarded with the downhill side of the Pass. I have to admit being a bit intimidated by the sand and ruts in the road; they’re an annoyance on the climb, but a hazard when I’m going fast. So I wasn’t exactly a speed demon, but the wind helped defray that deep fried feeling I had from the heat on the way up.

We continued to bike for another 50k, past mile after mile of magnificent ornate marble shrines side by side with typical 2 room shacks. Some of the burial monuments cost many $100,000s, but these folks believe that honoring ancestors in this way leads to great wealth and happiness. Not sure how it works since the debt incurred in building these shrines has to be overwhelming.

We rode through numerous fishing and farming villages where we passed ox carts and cows and chickens and kids on bikes and adults on motorbikes carrying everything imaginable. Many people in both urban and rural areas wear face masks, especially women – it’s really dusty, the exhaust fumes are bad, they want to keep their skin as fair as possible.

Every so often, we got a break to catch our breaths. At one such break, needing to pee like a race horse, I asked Little Phuic to request access to the loo at a home/barber shop/pool hall (2 tables). A young man led me along the side of the house to a door that opened onto a small dark room, and pointed to a barely visible hallway off to the left.


Since there was very little light, I picked my way across the room, careful not to trip on a large mound of tubers. Immediately to my right off the hallway was a room that I guessed was my "rest stop" though it was too dark to know exactly what was where. I crouched over what I hope was the hole and was startled by some shuffling and snuffling noises. Sure 'nuff, not 5 feet from me, were 4 indoor pig pens with about 20 lovely white pigs of varying sizes who were grunting, snorting and humping (and listening to me pee).  Afternoon delights all around!