Part 74: Central highlands....
This was the only way to travel Vietnam they say; by motor bike. Taking in the surroundings and the parts that are simply not accessible by bus. To completely immerse your self in the history, escape the crowded cities and feel the wind on your face.
From the minute I got on the back of the bike I felt really happy.
The knowledgeable guide was filling me with a steady stream of information and facts about the surroundings. Even if It was quite difficult to make out what he was saying exactly with the helmet on, and the noise, but I soon got used to it; doing my best to remember everything he was telling me for my blog.
It was surprisingly comfortable too, and the rear luggage box acted as the perfect back rest. I felt a new sense of freedom; elation, even as the morning sun shone down on us, picking up speed on the open road - now this was much more like it.
Jack led the way with arms aloft, followed by Corina, wasting no time snapping pictures, whilst I was at the back of our mini convoy, observing and watching.
No sooner had we left Nha Trang behind we were witnessing far remoter and rural lands; exactly like my friend Martin had said.
As much as I'd liked the coastal roads and cities, they were firmly on the normal tourist path. This on the other hand, was heading to the central highlands and right into the heart of the Vietnamese country side, well away from the regular trail.
I gave Corina the thumbs up as she continued capturing shots of the scenery as well as a few random snaps of me and Jack.
It was quite an iconic site passing emerald green rice paddies full of working farmers donning their distinctive conical hats to shield them from the sun, exchanging waves with the workers and many children who were riding on the back of trucks and tractors, greeting me with a smile as we passed them.
It was clear to see we were all happy and thoroughly enjoying ourselves, and the camaraderie even at this early stage between us was great.
Our first stop was at a road side to snap pictures of the rice fields and surrounding mountains in the distance, soon to be where we were heading. Corina's guide lit a cigarette, then took his time explaining the importance of the rice paddies, which were mostly owned by the government, then leased back to the farmers, who as well as paying substantial rent, had to return a percentage of any profits made by selling on the rice. Seemed a pretty harsh deal for the farmers to me; but this is how it was in this area.
I almost immediately began perspiring in the heat, and it was a relief to feel the cooling wind soon as we got back on the motorbikes, continuing our journey inland.
We'd been on the road for more than two hours and it was soon time for a breakfast stop. The guides pulled up at what was essentially just a wooden shack where a peaceful lady began demonstrating how to make steamed rice paper by hand; firstly soaking rice, then grinding it with water into a slurry paste with this very simple looking machine. Thinly spreading the mixture onto a cloth that's stretched over a wide pot of boiling water. The resulting rice sheet was steamed for about 30 to 40 seconds, before she removed it with this wooden stick, rolling it out,
and lastly filling it with a savory mixture of pork, shrimp and mushrooms.
Our guides explained that this was a typical Vietnamese breakfast and where eager for us to sample some of these skilfully prepared rolls.
Unlike me, Jack and Corina were not overly enthused about trying some, and both were feeling a little queazy for some reason. So there was a potential awkward moment looming, but once they reluctantly tasted some in front of the guides and watching eyes of the peaceful lady, who was awaiting our responses, they realised that they were actually quite delicious.
The 3 guides, despite their initial gruffness, were very protective and eager to please us - which was reassuring to know, especially since we would be heading into the unknown with them for a few days.
It was still morning and after waving good bye to the lady, and putting on a well overdue layer of suncream, it was on to our next point of call.
Driving for another hour or more till we reached a tiny 'ethnic minority settlement'
These are villagers that the government have given land too, so they could keep their culture of years gone by going. There are many different ethnic groups in Vietnam, each with their own language, lifestyle and backgrounds. Remaining far away from developing society, many are poor, leading very simple lives and are referred to as 'minority people'.
Now, with the aid of government funding they have schools, hospitals and basic infrastructure. The guides dropped us off at one end of the village and asked us to meet them on the other side, so we walked through unattended. Their facilities and housing seemed extremely modest with barley 200 people living here.
One or two pigs and chickens wandered the dusty street and few villagers curiously looked at us, and for a brief moment I did wonder what they really felt about these 3 intruding strangers, but they were really friendly if not a little shy at first.
Corina approached a few of the children and handed out some felt-tip pens, which they seemed to really enjoy, plus it broke the ice somewhat. We continued through and met a group of bare chested young guys playing cards, drinking rice wine or 'happy water' as they call it. One guy in particular was so drunk he could barely stand and stumbled on the floor as he tried to greet us. His friends erupted into a frenzy of laughter and offered me a glass of rice wine which I knocked back. It was like rocket fuel!
Everyone we met were so accommodating, allowing us to venture without hesitation; this was very humbling and we carried on walking through the village till we reached the other side, spending quite some time taking it all in.
When we reached our waiting guides, they explained the agricultural importance of the minority people to the Vietnamese government, and I did feel satisfied that there was no exploitation, especially since they explained the level of investment came back into the community and I left good in the knowledge that people here are very happy.
There was no definitive itinerary, instead putting our complete trust into the guides, and when we climbed back onto the scorching black seats, we had no idea where we were heading next.
My guide continued to point out places of interest on the road, often pausing for just a minute or two for perfect picture opportunities. He knew these roads like the back of his hand.
One of the highlights that afternoon was stopping near a bridge at a delightful fresh waterfall on the side of a mountain. We followed one of the guides down an embankment on foot over some slippery rocks to see it close up. The fine like spray of water in the air was almost like air con and felt so cooling. I was seriously tempted to jump in for a swim, but the guides assured us there were better ones to come, so we climbed back to the bikes and onwards and upwards we went.
The roads became windier and less pot holed, as we ascended into the rolling, green mountainous landscapes. stopping by more incredible viewpoints to take photographs and to give us the chance to stretch our legs, and so our bums didn’t ache too much.
After a few hours of travelling we stopped for lunch in another local shack, for traditional Vietnamese food of course. It was good to have the guides there to explain what the various dishes were, even if they didn't quite grasp that Corina wasn't a fan of soy sauce, yet they still drenched her dish in it. She smiled politely and ate it anyway. Not that she had much choice, as this was all there was.
They were so very hospitable at all of our meal times, always putting more food into our bowls, ensuring we were happy.
It was a good place to get to know our guides better and bond around the table, and the more we got to know them the more likeable they became.
This was so far from the tourist trails and most definitely one of the best things I'd experienced on my journeys so far, and to share it with such wonderful people was amazing.

When it was time to get back on the road after lunch, the valleys and scenery became more and more spectacular, briefly stopping to see how rice wine was made, also at strawberry, artichoke and black pepper plantations, peanut farms, tiger balm plants and every time we did, the guides taught us so much about the country’s culture, about traditions, history, agriculture, cuisine, and general ways of life; It really was inspiring and so far, a fantastic experience.
I wasn't sure how far we were from De Lat but we'd been on the road for almost a full day, well over 1000 meters above sea level, and we had not seen one single tourist - everything could not have been more perfect. That was until my motorbike made a loud 'clunking' sound just as we attempted to overtake Corina, instantly slowing down in the process; it did not sound at all good!
The others continued ahead not realising we had stopped whilst we had no choice but to pull over by the side of this road in the middle of nowhere.
The guide asked me to quickly get off the motorbike, and our worse fears were soon realised when he crouched down to notice the chain had snapped clean off!!
Shaking his head a few times before looking up to the skies as if to say 'now what' There were no sign of the others either - it had all been going so well too.
Unfortunately there wasn't a great deal what I could have done to help personally, aside from asking if he had a spare one; he didn't give me the answer I was hoping for; as of now, it was late afternoon, we were stranded, quite some distant from the nearest town, and needed a plan before dark..and fast..