January 12, 2007
Our first bike ride in Vietnam yesterday was a
fun ride. We literally left from the Dalat Airport on our new
steeds. Dalat is in the Central Highlands of the country and very scenic
with multiple shades of green. The altitude hovers in the Denver mile
high range and the weather is fair and clear. We have been joined by a
new group of people who did not go on the Cambodian portion of the trip.
Lots of new names and faces to learn. The original group of 10
really has bonded so we’ll see how the new group jells. On a B & R trip
while the crowd age might be slightly elevated, the groups are defiantly fitter
and more adventurous than the usual tourist bunch. I look like a lineman
in this group and my biking skills (mostly balance), which were never great,
keep eroding with age. Oh well, it is better to take an active roll than
ride on a boat or bus.
When you look around, the green rolling hills and deep
narrow valleys bring back memories of hundreds of TV news openings showing
Vietnam during the war. You can imagine the light fog covering the higher
elevations and the chill of the evening air. Dalat was itself untouched
by the war as both sides, Viet Cong and American, used the lakes and hotels as
a place to rest from the war. Over 1200 villas are said to line the
ridges around this small but beautiful lake area.
Our bike ride from the
airport rolls over numerous hills. We stop for lunch at a small roadside
café where we have a complete vegetarian meal with the best spring rolls I have
ever tasted. They make a beer here called 333. I remember it from
my earlier visit. Funny about stuff like that; when I came home from my
1992 trip I bought 333 as my house beer for a while and then forgot about
it. Still good. After lunch the ride picked up steam with higher
hills and stiffer climbs. We stopped after about 20 miles and I was happy
to get off the bike. A hardier group of campers rode on another 15 miles
up a steep climb that is considered an “optional” part of the program. I opted
out. This part of Vietnam grows lots of hothouse roses, marigolds, and
vegetables. The narrow valleys are green with rice paddies and coffee is
a big crop with families drying beans in front of their houses.
After a steep decent into the town of Dalat, we
arrived at the Dalat Palace hotel. It looks like an old French chateau and the
furnishings including an ancient wooden telephone are reminiscent of the
1920’s. Wooden floors with oriental rugs, big armoires, and high ceilings
are the rule. Our bathroom has a claw foot bathtub. But and it is a
big one, they have wireless Internet. After spending part of most
everyday in Rome in the Internet Café, it is a luxury to have it in our
room. It seems that we are deep in the country now, far from the bustle
of Saigon.
We have been advised that today is the hardest
ride of the entire 10 days. Kim has not trained for this week and I am
not far behind. We leave the hotel on bikes and head up into the ridges
surrounding Dalat. We wind through small villages and farms gently up
through heavy morning traffic. The guides and crew on this trip are
outstanding and helpful about every detail. They stand at every
intersection and guide the traffic away from our group. We reach the halfway
mark and the big hill. It is about 3 miles at a difficult grade
level. I get about halfway up and call for the van. Kim continues
by me and up the hill she goes. She is not fast but paces herself
beautifully and summits right at the restaurant we will lunch in. I am
disappointed but feel great for Kim who is obviously pleased to have made the
climb. My legs were just not good today. In fact, the ride back to
the hotel was also filled with climbs that our guides made sure we did not know
about until we saw them as we rounded curve after curve. My legs felt
like noodles when we finally get back to our room. It was a great day for Kimbo
and she’s mighty pleased.
They say the ride will get easier now, but I am
not buying it based on the description of yesterday’s ride. The ride back
was supposed to be a simple glide but I found it bumpy and requiring lots of
concentration. In addition, we keep eating and thus defeat our own exercise.
We regroup and tour the very exotic local city market. It is alive with
fresh food and the variety of spices, dried fish and unknown fruit is
staggering. I buy some roasted cashews (just what I need after my great
riding day) for about $5.00 US for a kilo. So our half-kilo is 2.50; it
seems cheap to me. Tomorrow we transit to our next destination. I am not
paying much attention to our progress up the coast but know that I wouldn’t
mind an easier ride tomorrow and am glad to be missing the wet colder January
of the Northern California. It might be easier not to be riding a bike.
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