There's something about falling asleep on a bus during a long night time journey that I love. The sleeping (often gently snoring) bodies wearing eye masks and blankets pulled up to chins, rocking back and forth with the bumps and turns of the road is both amusing and strangely calming. Watching the world outside through a crack in the curtains rush past in bursts of light and dark silhouettes and finding that perfect sweet spot in which you can finally fall asleep.

We woke up in a freezing Sapa valley where our breath rose in shimmering florets in front of our faces and a dense fog clung doggedly to the trees and street lamps. We waited for our guide to collect us and nursed a strong coffee in a small cafe that was mercifully open.

When she did arrive, because of her golden front tooth and mismatched clothes she reminded me of a little pirate. She was very friendly and welcoming however and led us through a large market hall for a free breakfast of noodles and broth - the meat looked questionable but my hunger won out over my speculation and chopstick prods.

Sapa itself overlooks deep valleys that have rice terraces cut halfway up almost every mountain - it looks as though the contours of a map have been made into an etched reality where they cascade down to the valley floor. There are a number of tribes dotted around the mountains, our guide Soe, was from the Black H'mong people and had a seemingly infinite knowledge of the thousands of tracks and trails that led over the hills like tangled vines. I was surprised at how developed and developing Sapa was, once a sleepy French hill station it is now packed with towering hotels and busy cranes that all seem to be vying for the best view of the valleys beyond - I hope that it doesn't eventually ruin the charming beauty that abounds here.

As nine o'clock came around we started our assent into the mountains. We were accompanied by eight others, a talkative and friendly group that suggested a fun few days together. We were also accompanied by a rolling mist which seemed to follow us like an excited dog until we final rose above it, some three kilometres into our hike.

We had come too early in the season to see the postcard terraces that held thick, vibrant green stalks of rice and were instead treated to a muddy green host of terraces that had just been planted, ready for the warm weather and sun of summer. The valleys still looked incredible though and after ten kilometres of reasonably steep hiking we arrived at our homestay in San Seng.

We slept in the rooftop of a big barn which had a musty wooden smell and large wooden floor boards that creaked spectacularly as you walked around. It was brilliant.

We were then introduced to Moa, our host and tour organiser. A tiny woman who had an intoxicating and demonic laugh which matched her sharp sense of humour. She introduced us all to the bane of trekking life: 'Happy Water'. This large bottle of moonshine was passed around in small bowls and thrown back quickly in the hope that the taste wouldn't linger for too long in the mouth. Things inevitably got out of hand and after roaring laughter and jokes we staggered up the ladder to or mattresses. I am leaving out sacred details that I will have to take to the grave as to release them would darken the reputation of American and British tourists, as if it wasn't dark enough already.