The big trip. The single most exciting trip I've wanted to do in Vietnam. Known as the 'Top Gear' route since a few years, but before just 'Ho Chi Minh Trail'. On Sunday, the 22nd of August, we leave. The hotel receptionist girl Ngoc allows me to use her bike, Remko and Lee hire one. Around ten in the morning after filling up we set out. I have the whole trip planned, all the sights marked. We just have to pick what to see today, and what on the way back tomorrow.

Not getting exactly lost, but definitely not the road I've had in mind, we follow Cua Dai beach up north. Beautiful weather, the sun's out, it feels great to be on the road. All I have on me is my daypack, my shorts and swimming pants. Passport, money. Less than an in the Marble Mountains start looming on the left. Five huge marble outcrops in an otherwise flat countryside, on top of each a pagoda. All of a sudden a girl pulls up beside me and starts talking while we ride. She invites us to the biggest pagoda to go to, and I talk about what we're doing, what she's doing, etc. Really weird... We'll visit them on the way back.

Going by Danang we turn right to visit Monkey Mountain. But not before exploring a huge white statue - probably a Buddha - we see at the foot of the peninsula which Lonely Planet has been strangely quiet about. Zipping up at the hilly roads, taking the turns all leaned in, the ride itself there is pure enjoyment. The lady Buddha is nice, only locals around, a pagoda and great-looking weird Buddhist statues all lined up. The view is awesome over the bay, seeing all the way back towards Cua Dai, China Beach and Nam O Beach in the north. We don't stay too long though, cause the serpentine to the top of Monkey Mountain is pretty long and the view is definitely better.

We move again, zip down the mountain, and taking a sharp turn, head for the top. I think to the top, because there are no signs, and I'm not even sure it's leading there. But this is superb! Switching down to second gear we race up the steep mountain slope, even forced into first gear at times. The road is in a great condition, we only meet a few other people, and no cars at all. This is the best! Heading up all the time we can't find the top. We pull up next to an army radar installation past bright red "forbidden entry" signs. The guard - hardly twenty years old - doesn't see us until I tap on his window. He jerks up, a huge submachine gun across his chest and totally contrary to previous experiences with the army, gives me sleepy smile. Helpfully explains me where to go for the top. I was expecting at least a gun pointed at me. Or angry shouts. Or something. He.

We continue to one of the tops, pull over and walk up to the lookout. Some locals are having lunch here, or on a romantic getaway, and we get some friendly smiles. There is not much to see though. Clouds are moving quickly, either obscuring most of the view or showing a hazy Danang bay. There is probably another top somewhere higher, but as the weather doesn't seem to improve we decide to move on. Tomorrow if we have time we'll come here again.

We race down the slopes, back towards Danang. Well, Remko and Lee do. I descend slowly, always scary of not being able to stop, or lose my balance and fall if I hurry too much. R&L don't listen and as I trail behind I am hoping I won't see any or both of them sprawled flat against some tree, or down in the deep abyss. Luckily nothing happens. We cross the huge Danang bay bridge which is a pleasure by itself, racing past at 80km/h on an almost completely deserted road. We spend the better part of an hour looking for a restaurant and gas station in Danang. It might be the third biggest city in Vietnam, but it's totally unremarkable. Who cares though, we're here for the ride. And the best part is just going to come.

Passing 20km's of Nam O Beach another mountain - Troung Son - blocks the way to Huế. A tunnel has been built to cut travel time by more than an hour, but motorbikes and trucks aren't allowed inside. Who would want to do that though, when the most gorgeous part of the trip is taking the old mountain road. Especially now that Hải Vân Pass is devoid of most of the traffic!! I don't even have words for this. Monkey Mountain was great, but this; this can only be talked about in superlatives. The serpentine road without any traffic, racing up around 40-50km/h, the bends, that great feeling. I definitely need a motorbike! And the views! The views are just gorgeous. The clouds are gone and we see tens of kilometres to the south. Beaches, towns, the sea, I love this sooo much!

The top is a bit of a letdown. As we slow down for a quick pit stop we are swarmed by hawkers wanting to sell us all kind of crap. God, just leave us alone! So we don't really take a rest and head down. But the views on the descent are just as gorgeous. We can see the train snaking down by the foot of the mountain, more beautiful beaches! Maaaan, I wish this road would go on forever!

We near the bottom and stop for a rest. I need to go take a dump anyways, and with now toilet inside I take a tissue and head for the bushes. As I'm finishing up I feel a sting in my right foot. I lift it and the whole thing is just red. Red with blood, flowing from some unseen wound, down my heels, onto my sandals, soaking the soil red. WTF? In my initial shock I don't even feel the pain, just look, numb struck. Some f***er put down some steel nails in the ground. Landmines? What sick f***ing mind would do this? Still in shock - I think, as I don't feel a thing - I put back on my shorts, only thinking about how to not get them bloody, and stumble back on the road. Trailing blood. Luckily I must've missed every major artery, and just hit a small vein as the blood itself is really dark and after the first few wipes and washes slows down to a small trickle. But here we are, in the middle of f***ing nowhere, on a motorbike, still having to go another 150km's.

I must've been very very luck for our stop was near the only railroad crossing in the area. The train arrives in about fifteen minutes and the people working here manually pull down the gates I stumble toward them, trying to ask where I could get some gaze, or disinfectant or something. He gasps at my bleeding foot, takes me by the hand and guides me to their little signal house. There I am totally taken care of. So very, very nice. I love Vietnam!

We leave amid many, many thanks, continuing the way to Huế. Luckily it was my right foot that was pierced, the one you don't really use, just for braking, so we stick to the original plan. We do not take Highway 1 - aka Death Wish Road - but cross the Tu Hien Bridge after getting lost quite a few times - it is pretty hard to find that one tiny crossing to go off of HW1 and onto the dirt road. We continue past sleepy little villages, hideously ugly Chinese cemeteries to Vinh Hien and finally back to the mainland over the Truong Ha Bridge towards Huế. The sun is setting now but I am too tired to stop every few metres for a photograph. We should need somebody in the back, just for taking pictures. Maybe next time!

By the time we enter Huế it's already well past seven and dark. Circling around, not finding the hotel we were aiming at, temporarily losing Lee, dead-tired we just pull up at one. Quick shower, food, and off to discover the city by night! We cut this short halfway though as my foot starts to hurt pretty badly when walking. Sleep then. I think I'll visit the hospital tomorrow just to be sure and have professionals look at it. Don't want my foot falling off.

It is throbbing all throughout the night, but by morning the wound seems to have settled. The bandage hasn't soaked, the cut looks clean, the surrounding tissue isn't hurting. I can even stand on my foot. I decide against the hospital, we'll waste precious time anyways by going there. Rather spend it on Huế. Kicking the engine, we hop over to the palace. Huế was the imperial capital of Vietnam back in the time of the emperors and the whole centre of the city is a huge palace. Inside this citadel is the Imperial Enclosure, and inside this is the Forbidden Purple City, for the emperor's eyes only. Of course most of the place is now in ruins as the French - in response to local opposition - have burnt down the imperial library and removed every single object from the citadel, down to mosquito nets and toothpicks. 1885. You gotta love the French!

We park the bikes and check out the flag tower. Its square is swarming with university students, all taking photographs of themselves, the flag, the citadel, everything. I just stand there, smiling, waiting my opportunity, I offer to take a photo of the whole class. The bravest student then asks me to stand in the crowd for a group photo. After that, the onslaught is unstoppable. One by one they come up to me, single, with a girlfriend, with a friend, and I end up on more than a dozen photographs and cameras... like some kind of a celebrity. Lee and Remko arrive, and the girls now comfortable with the situation rush to them, wanting pictures with them as well. It's crazy. It's a good fifteen minutes later that we manage to escape after the very last girl has had a photograph of us. I hobble off towards the entrance. The palace itself isn't too exciting, mostly ruins, reception halls and some other buildings. The gardens are nice. But the rain starts more than once, so mostly we just stare outside waiting for it to let down before moving on. It's very tiresome hobbling around on one foot, so I just crumble into a corner, exhausted. Vietnamese tourists come up to me, surround me, pull up my hand, I let it fall. They poke, tug at my 'fur', laughing, joking; what a weird curiosity they have found here. So strange. Where on earth would total strangers touch your hair, feel it, look at in awe.

After we go get our bikes - oh, of course the f***er tried to overcharge us for parking; he said 20.000 dong, but I've asked around and it should be only 2.000; so I gave him 5.000 forcefully for the two bikes like I know what I'm doing and he wouldn't dare say otherwise - we exit the citadel, and turn right before crossing the bridge over the Perfume river. Towards the Tu Thien Mu pagoda. Supposedly an icon of Vietnam it's not really interesting. I wait by its foot while my fellow drivers go up the stairs and explore. This 'Lonely Planet' book really sucks with recommendations...

It starts raining again. Won't really stop. Slows down, but then starts again. We stand in a shop window, waiting, wasting precious time, so finally decide to just go. Skip the royal tombs we intended to visit and just go back. If the weather turns better enjoy Lang Co beach, and the Marble Mountains which close at 16:30. Should be doable as it's only eleven in the morning. We put on our ponchos, the rain slowed down to a drizzle and head out. On Highway One. It is really death-wish road. It's bad enough taking it on a bus, seeing it overtake right against oncoming traffic, forcing trucks, cars on the escape lane. Not even to speak about motorbikes who supposedly don't even exist and should just pull over so the kamikaze busses can speed along. But doing the same thing on the bike... wooow. Watching every second if any of the oncoming crazies will overtake or not, listen to the inevitable horn that means "pull over now or die!" is very demanding. It's probably even a bit enjoyable in good, dry weather, but when it's raining or wet, we go much much slower and the emergency procedure repeats itself about every minute; listen for the horn, swirl to the side, brace for the wind of the passing bus, truck, look out for potholes, bicyclists, pedestrians and pull back to the road if nobody decides to crash into you from the other direction. f***ing crazy. A totally, almost surreal ride.

I think we have spent all our luck. The clouds, once so promisingly moving away from us, gather in dark groups and the godforsaken rain starts in earnest. Not even rain, but buckets of water streaming down from the sky. We are all covered in our ponchos, looking like idiots, but at least dry. On any of the small passes you can just see the water racing down the road, making conditions very slippery. On top of this, just as we start ascending a small serpentine I feel that my bike is acting weirdly. Hogy bazd meg a jó Édesanyádat, nem kilyukadt a kerék? Főleg ebben a kibaszottan szar időben? Eh, I mean flat tyre. Of course I'm last in line as the most "experienced" rider, Lee and Remko are miles ahead. And my pierced foot. And it's raining, eh zuhog. After about a quarter of an hour I think they've realised I'm missing, turn back and the three of us start going back towards civilisation. I send Lee ahead to maybe find somebody who can help us, and I push my bike very cautiously down the serpentine road, always prepared to jump into the ditch if some Vietnamese madman decides to turn me into road kill.

And we find a tiny place, just opposite the rail crossing we crossed the day before towards Tu Thien bridge. Very, very nice people, they help us to a place nearby where they can fix the tyre. Lee goes with them, Remko thankfully pushes my bike, I just supply the money. Give them about $20 just in case, who knows how much they're asking. The locals don't speak a word English, we draw on pieces of papers trying to communicate. Real fun: they're trying to explain how far to Remko has to push the bike for the garage. 5km. Pretty far I think, and the mother and daughter get into an argument about the distance, and finally agree on 50km. FUUUUCK. That's almost back in Huế, can't believe he has to push it this far back. Probably seeing my shocked face, their discussion erupts again. Big smiles, scolding each other... 50m. Ah :) They also try to explain me how much it costs to fix the tyre, I think. I think at least that's what they've been trying to say. Although writing down the sentence in Vietnamese doesn't help at all without a dictionary. And I've lost my little phrasebook somewhere months ago. Reverting back to kindergarten, I draw a flat tyre, a wrench and a dollar sign. Biiig smile. Yes! Haha. It's only 10.000 dong, unbelievable, 40ct. A half an hour later Lee and Remko come back, they've been massively overcharged, paying 60.000 dong. I can only laugh; less than 3 Euros for changing the inner tube of the back tyre. Ridiculously cheap.

It should be time to leave but the weather has just gotten worse, rain coupled with huge winds. But after the mother proposes to marry her single daughter to me, I don't really care; we should head out even if fiery comets are destroying the planet. It is well past four in the afternoon. No more beach, no more marble pagoda. We just want to get home. The Hải Vân Pass, aptly named Sea Cloud, we have looked forward to so much has become hell itself. As we make our way up, strong side winds cut the rain into our faces, forcing us to look away, just concentrate on the few metres in front that we can see before us. Periodically the winds let down, at some points even the rain slowing to a drizzle. At the top we don't have to worry about the vendors, nobody is there, just us. We haven't seen a single soul since we started the pass; only idiotic tourists would venture out in such weather... on motorbikes.

We start making our way down, towards Danang. Lee and Remko once again speed ahead as the mountain holds off most of the rain and wind, and once again I trail in the back, cautious of the way down. Especially the slippery, wet, cold way down. And not without reason. In one of the serpentine bends I see a bike on its side, halfway into the ditch and Lee just now scrambling to his feet. Yep. He fell. Told them not to go too fast, but nobody listens until they learn it themselves. He's just lucky he crashed into the mountain side, and not towards the sea. His helmet has a big crack which absorbed most of the fall, and he's got cuts and bruises all over his legs, arms and side. Well done!

He's most likely still a bit in shock and just goes on about how damn much it's going to cost him to fix the bike. I check him, nothing broken, the bike still works. Remko, realising he is on his own, turns back and comes back to us. Lee, the day before loving the mountain pass, now hates it, hates the f***ing bike, hates everything. We slowly descend, going no more than 20-30km/h. Rain, wind, and on top of this it's getting dark as well. Great. Constantly claiming that he is okay, I still insist we visit the hospital in Danang. If for nothing more, just to bandage him up, and reinsure him that everything is good. These twenty orso kilometres take about an hour, crawling at snail's pace. The little bit of Danang city traffic madness we don't even notice anymore. Lee is limping around, and we're trying to find a doctor, or reception, or first aid or whatever to have a look at him but nobody speaks English. Finally we find some nurse in the hospital who takes us to the first aid office. The big white hall is full of really sick, or injured people. Broken legs, knees, cracked heads, arms, probably half of them are motorbike accidents. We expect to have to wait for a while, but he immediately gets a stretcher, a doctor looks at his wounds, disinfects them and a nurse applies the crappiest bandage I've ever seen. I could do better than that. We're out within half an hour and not having to pay anything. "Vietnamese friendship" says the doctor. Heh. In the meanwhile I get an sms from the "girlfriend" Ngoc in Hoi An, worried where we are as I promised her to be back around five, six. It's well past seven now.

We start again, the last thirty kilometres of the trip. And the f***ing rain comes on again. And the side winds *. Winds, horribly strong winds from inland. So strong that I have to lean to the right just to go straight. Squint my eyes as to not have them pierced by water. And doing about 25. In the pitch dark. Tired. Just like in Borneo. My legs are shaking periodically, shivering, holding on for dear life, my eyes latched onto the distance meter, counting down the 100-metres, the kilometres to Hoi An. It's about nine in the evening that we finally arrive. Dead.

This definitely was a trip that I'd never forget. Nor the first, nor the second part!

[*] only weeks later do we hear that central Vietnam has been hit by a very strong typhoon that day, carrying torrential rains and winds, the maximum on the typhoon scale. Or whatever they have here. Several people dead. Ah, yes. I might've encountered this little breeze. I think.