In 2019, I organized a 12-day trail ride with a local tour guide operator who directed me to Min. My wife and I met with Min for a night at a central Hanoi restaurant to see what routes he could provide and what I could offer a small group of participants. He drew up a rough route and the locations of overnight stays. I attracted four riders, all in their 70s, to take on the challenge. Unfortunately, one was injured on a South American bike tour. Another ended up needing surgery, so all four dropped out. It’s a good thing they did. If they hadn’t, we would have been completing our mid-February tour dates near ground zero for the initial COVID-19 outbreak.
In the intervening time, Min has amassed a much more extensive inventory of routes to choose from, which is apparent today. His memory of turns is impressive, and he can change routes on the fly.
This ride had no takers from my extensive list of dual-sport riders on Facebook, so I relied on the guides to bring in others to join me. The international group consisted of Luke Sala Tenna from Perth, Australia, for all four days, and Matthew Poole from Brighton, England, who joined us at lunch on day three. His guide was 21-year-old “Crazy” Charlie.
Gear assembly and securing an Insta360 Ace Pro with AI for a review was completed after work four days before departure. I arrived in Hanoi during the busiest time of year—the Vietnamese New Year (Tet Holiday).
I arrived at Tan Son Nhat International Airport in Ho Chi Minh City and was greeted by overcrowding due to stacking flight delays. My first delayed flight out required a turnaround due to “technical difficulties” halfway through the flight.
I finally arrived at my Hanoi hotel destination near midnight in a busy, narrow street of bars with partying tourists and locals. I requested the quietest room and went right to sleep after the three flights, extended layovers, and nearly 20 hours of seat time from LAX.
Luke greeted me for the hotel breakfast. After quick introductions, we geared up for a taxi ride to Min. He was waiting for us with his prepped Yamaha WR250R dual-sport bikes.
We strapped our gear to the rear racks and carried the rest in backpacks. Luke is more familiar with world tours and adept at bringing the minimum amount of clothing needed for the four-day trek and hotel stays.
Me? I was apparently packed for a vacation at the Waldorf Astoria. The one bag I arrived with—filled with my helmet, boots, knee guards, jacket, pants, and gloves—was left at Min’s place with some extra clothing. My backpack housed a laptop, all the Insta360 camera attachments, chargers, batteries, and memory cards. It also included five nights of fresh socks, shirts, an evening jacket, Levi’s, sweatpants, wash rags (affordable hotels in Asia apparently don’t provide them), and toiletries. This would keep me glued to my seat most of the time, as I was pushed forward by the strapped rack bag and my stuffed backpack.
A bigger group would have had a support truck, with the cost spread over more riders. So, I need to recruit more riding partners, or learn to scale down.
The weather forecast promised us four days of dry and cool temps. We left Hanoi in the early hours of cooler temps for some urban street shenanigans. Our route was a big counterclockwise loop out of Hanoi.
We rode through the busy streets on our way out of the city limits alongside commuting and working scooters, plus trucks and cars. We are on fully suspended dual-sport bikes and a more powerful 250cc over the typical 125cc scooters with small tires and little suspension travel.
Min led us through street signals and packs of vehicles, utilizing the rougher edges of streets and curb jumping to get us quickly out of the city towards our mountainous areas of planned dirt routes. There was plenty of passing and weaving among the moving and opposing traffic. It can be nerve-wracking for the newcomer, but I have many miles behind a scooter in Vietnam and as a passenger behind my more cautious and sane Vietnamese wife.
We came to our first taste of dirt road to the numerous network of single-track trails traveled by the resident scooters and farm animals—goats, buffalo, and the occasional horse. Larger groups of animals included their herder(s), and some negotiation was required to get through them. We also yielded to scooters packed with vegetation or market animals strapped across the back seat. Then, there are families with members of multiple ages seated and heading to their destinations of the day. Included in this adventure package are the sights and sounds of beautiful scenery, sometimes challenging terrain, rural farm life, and wonderful, friendly people who tend to them.
The first trail of rocks and roots was treacherous at times from past rains and vehicle travel. Wood planks from chopped trees were the bridge structures at water crossings.
The most challenging trails were created by the hoofed animal that a seasoned scooter operator could navigate, albeit at a slower pace. Of course, being dirt bike riders, we mostly conquer the rugged terrain at speeds to impress any local passerby to their amazement, and ourselves.
Kids waved and watched excitedly as Luke and I followed Min into the towns of narrow streets on our Yamaha WR250R dual-sport bikes. The adults stare as Luke, a six-foot-three Italian, and my six-foot frame arrive at a stop for fuel or a meal.
Dogs hunker down or scurry away from the rumble and speed as we pass through. Farm animals are usually slow and cautious as they walk to the sides, and some decide to cross your path at their own risk.
Min provided us with challenging and difficult routes of various degrees with a few death-defying rides. Without asking, Luke and I did what was entailed, surprising ourselves when we completed a task and celebrated our achievements. Of course, that didn’t stop us from criticizing Min for his sadistic choice of routes that we would have never attempted on our own. Luke is 57 years old and I’m 62, and we had plans to return to our homes, wives, and jobs in good working order.
That first view of what could have been our demise was the diverted route around a water dam and damaged bridge to the edges of the one-sided wall of a narrow trail. There was a bone-breaking fall to the right into sitting water if we made one poor move. This included the typical slipshod rough and rickety wood-plank bridges and welded thin-rebar suspended bridges.
Vietnam is a Disneyland of paradise for the off-road enthusiast, offering a new amusement ride at every corner. What would be private property in other countries is what provides the adventure. You ride through the farms and countryside of the locals, enjoying views not available to most Westerners.
One stop was a roadside moonshine distillery, where we sampled a swig of a weaker variety of surprisingly smooth taste. We didn’t choose to transport any home, but I was getting ideas of marketing my own label and making them Patron-brand rich.
Riding right up to the steps of our nightly homestay accommodations and meals was always a treat. Our first homestay was atop a mountainous village above smokey and foggy valleys in a national park-like setting. I woke to roosters and dressed to watch the sunrise with the accompanying sounds of birds and farm animals.
We had our typical cold refreshments as we arrived at our day’s end and revisited our memories of scenes and difficulties experienced. For Min, this was just another day on the job and listening to foreigners’ stories of their day or past adventures. This included sharing our lives and backgrounds of world experience in this thing called Life.
Lunch choices were cheap and homemade, though our options were limited or non-existent. That’s okay, as we wouldn’t know what to order anyhow. We always had the choice of chilled bottled water or soda, or a warm beer. We went with the colder selections.
Fuel stops were often two soda bottles filled with gasoline of unknown octane. Stops were short so as to not get too comfortable; we didn’t know what would be ahead and at what difficulty. What was guaranteed was another photo opportunity and another battle story.
Our first night was at Ta Xua Peak, where we ate a restaurant dinner—hot pot for three of us. The second was the bustling Moc Chau for homestyle cooking and a little taste of apricot moonshine. The third was at the beautiful Mu Waterfall, and our first evening, with our afternoon additions of Charlie and Matthew, brought new blood to the conversation.
Day One had the rutted and steep single-track. Day Two had more dirt roads and concrete single-track trails. The highlights for me were the views of daily life in smaller villages, and one stood out. We came upon a roadside community event where citizens were gathered to watch a football (soccer, to us Americans) match. Women were dressed in traditional ceremonial clothing and headdresses. Stopping for a visit would have been a nice treat. However, we would have been mobbed with stares, comments, and questions we could never accommodate, and Min would have been swamped as the interpreter.
We arrived at our third destination in drizzly thick mountain fog. Visibility was poor. I got to the point that I had to remove my goggles to see. This provided some slippery red clay difficulties on an attempted trail that sent me down twice on my elbow. After it took down Min, we took the longer paved route in.
The thick fog continued through the night; our day in the sun ended for the last day’s ride back into Hanoi. Luke and I had reached the limits of our endurance. The others took advantage of the wet grass conditions in the fog to have a little fun tearing up the terra firma. Regardless, it was a great four days and a workout on aging bodies. I couldn’t imagine doing 12 days.
The last day hurrah was a short loop ride over a steel bridge and dropping down to the water below. This is where, again, I rode too close to Min. I went down in the slippery rocks under the kicked-up mud. My boots were filled with water until we reached a roadside lunch stop.
Once we got back to Hanoi, the urban assault shenanigans returned with jumping curbs and riding sidewalks back to Min’s place. I looked forward to removing my wet gear and getting a hot shower. Over cold beer, we shared our experiences with Luke at the sports bar across the narrow street.
I plan to return in late 2024 or early 2025 for the New Year celebrations. If you’re interested in joining me, check out Dirt Bike Travel, my videos, and let me know. It won’t cost more than $4000 in total expenses from the United States, and it’s well worth the experience and memories.
