No Fixed Abode: Minority Report

Wed 06 Apr 2016 - Motorbike tour day 2, Mai Chau to Son La

After an all night dog sing song, the cockerels in the village started at 0400 - a tad tiresome when you’re suffering from the effects of too much rice wine. Even the normally serene tune of the unwelcome alarm seemed less tuneful than normal.

But a shower makes all things seem better and we were soon throwing tea down our weary throats and munching very tasty egg and coriander baguettes. After Gunnar and Marco drowsily appeared we said our farewells and thank yous and hit the road once more.

Heading down a dirt track directly opposite the village, our hopes of an exciting day were raised as we wound around the edge of the rice fields and entered a grove of massive bamboo. However, realising we’d made a wrong turn, Flower turned us around and we were soon zipping through another village with lots of brightly coloured garments and cloths hanging for sale. We stopped at a lady working a loom who asked us if we wanted to try then set about trying to sell us stuff. Explaining to both her and our riders that we had no room in our bags for ‘anything’ we returned to our bikes. Before long we’d ridden past further shops with looms and a large resort and realised this was quite a tourist town. Time to leave.

Climbing out of the valley we wound our way up to the cooler air of a high pass where we stopped for something to drink. It seemed a bit of a regular rest area with several shop/cafes and with others also breaking their journeys. As we sat drinking, a couple turned up on a scooter: the woman carrying a bamboo crossbow. As we were all interested Flower started talking to them while Jin tried to string the bow. Failing miserably he handed it back to the guy who applied his foot and just about got the loop fixed to the end of the bow, however, none of them succeeded in arming it. Apparently it was a new acquisition for killing chickens. Good luck with that then.

Winding back down the other side of the pass we came to the small town of Moc Chau, famous for its tea plantations. After declaring an interest in visiting we found a small lane that took us past some tea stalls and into the plantation proper. As we pulled over a lady came running up beckoning us to her stall. Promising to visit on our return we went for a short stroll amongst the tea bushes and admired the views. Sticking to our promise we pulled up at a small table and she poured us a sample of the local tea. It was delicious and before long she returned with bags for sale and us restating ‘no room’, however, a group of men from Hanoi left fully laden.

After a short lunch stop we pushed on with the weather now very hot. We soon came to a roadside waterfall with some local kids playing in the pool below, all fully dressed. Clambering down to join them we could only manage a paddle in the cool water and a good splash around the head and neck. If only we’d had a change of clothes to hand.

Continuing on through the beautiful mountain scenery, past minority villages of stilt houses and ladies in colourful clothes we pulled over at another roadside stall, beside which was a suspension bridge over the river. Leaving the boys to chat to the Thai people we walked across the woven bamboo base of the bridge. It looked a real heath robinson affair but was strong to support the locals on their scooters. Back at the stall Flower explained the Thai ladies wear their hair in a tight bun to signify that they are married then he handed us an odd root that looked a bit like a turnip. He assured us that if we ate it we would not need a drink so we both tucked in to find it very juicy and like an odd cross between an apple and a potato. Whilst munching on our root we noticed one of the ladies was embroidering a small waistcoat with the most colourfully ornate design traditional for her village. Glenn watched for ages, beguiled by her skill.

We left amongst a flurry of goodbyes and thank yous and finished the last few km to the town of Son La with increasingly numb bums - the mileage in the saddle was starting to take its toll. Dinner was taken in a small restaurant across the road from the hotel and as we tucked into duck, pork, beef and noodles (there is always so much food) a thunderstorm erupted and after a particularly large clap all the lights went out. A couple of minutes of eating in darkness proved the power was not going to return anytime soon so the proprietor appeared with a couple of candles, bursting into a rousing rendition of ‘happy birthday’ as he placed them on our table. How romantic, a candlelit dinner for four.

As the storm passed the power returned and we stepped across the wet street to our hotel and our first good night’s sleep for three days.