I wrote about my new bicycle in my last post. For the last three weeks, I've taken it on a major ride every weekend. The first two were 200+ km rides based in Kunming.
But this past weekend I did something grander. Pretty damn grand considering that I just started long-distance cycling.
The main impetus for the trip was that I need to make another visa run. Instead of just entering Vietnam and then re-entering China, I thought I'd take my new bike for its first international adventure.
I had a grand plan. If you look at the Vietnamese-Chinese border you'll see that the main border crossing is at Hekou (河口)/Lao Cai. This is the most logical border crossing topographically. It's where the Red River runs into Vietnam from China. It's where the 100 year old French colonial railway linking Kunming to Hanoi runs. But, if you pan west on the map, over some mountains, a couple valleys over, you'll see another, much smaller border crossing, between the Vietnamese town of Lu Thang and the Chinese town of Jinshuihe (金水河). I thought it would be cool to ride my bike from one border crossing to another. I had my doubts that the border crossing would be open to foreigners, though, so I inquired with both Vietnamese officials at the consulate in Kunming, and with Chinese officials at the border at Hekou. Both told me that foreigners could, indeed, cross at Jinshuihe. So off I went.
Morning in Lao Cai. Started with an avocado smoothie and Vietnamese coffee on the banks of the Red River, overlooking China. Lao Cai is at elevation 100 meters (328 feet). Hot and tropical. From Lao Cai to Sapa, it is 1,500 meters (4,921 feet) straight up the side of a mountain. I knew what I was getting myself into. I'd never before ridden up such a steep hill, but I felt I was up for it. I figured it might take me all day. I surprised myself when it ended up taking only four hours. The first 10 km are in the valley. Up the mountain the road is only 26 km long. but with that climb, it's a steep road. I pedaled up most of the mountain with the middle crank in middle gear and the rear crank in low gear, stopping only for periodic water and shade breaks. I watched the vegetation change from tropical to temperate. The whole way there were people along the road, local minority tribes in traditional clothes, selling fruit and vegetables along the roadside. Terraced rice fields spilled down the slopes all the way up the mountain. I didn't see any other cyclists on my way up. Lots of buses and minivans carrying tourists to Sapa passed me. Lots of Vietnamese on motorcycles. I received hundreds of "hello's" from children, and adults, all the way up the mountain.
3:00 pm arrived in Sapa. Found a guesthouse and showered. Then plenty of time to hit the town and join the throngs of tourists. Knowing that they'd all come by bus and I'd come by the power of my own two legs was a good feeling. When the motorcycle-for-hire guys pestered me to pay for a 1 km ride around town, I just laughed. Sapa was a hill station and military sanitorium where French colonials escaped from the heat of Hanoi. Today it's a hub of hill tribe tourism. The same ethnic minorities that live on the Chinese side of the border live on the Vietnamese side, only they have different names. The main group is the Hmong, who in China are called Miaozu (苗族). In China, you often find old ladies still wearing traditional clothing, but men, children, and young women all wear modern clothing. In Sapa all the women, young and old, and even some men, still wear traditional clothing. But it's hard to tell how much of that is honest cultural tradition, and how much is out of recognition of the tourist dollars that minority tourism brings in to the Sapa economy. You can't walk down the street without being pestered by packs of Hmong women and children hawking trinkets, postcards, and shawls, spouting "Where you from?", "Buy from me!". The tourism scene in Sapa is very developed. There are dozens of cafes and restaurants with English menus serving Western backpacker favorites. Dozens of tour agencies take tourists out on treks to minority villages. That night in Sapa, I ate Vietnamese food and chatted with a French couple. It was Bastille Day and they treated me to a glass of Vietnamese Dalat wine. One plus of Sapa being so developed was the preponderance of wifi. I'd never used my new smartphone outside of China, and hadn't really stopped to realize that I would be able to use it to go online anywhere in the world that had wifi. This will fundamentally change my future travel communication patterns.
Day 2 morning breakfast and coffee in Sapa, then headed back out on the road. Sapa's already quite high, but it's another 500 meters (1,640 feet) to Tram Ton summit at 2,000 meters (6,561 feet), the highest summit in Vietnam, in the shadow of the highest mountain, Fansipan. Just before the summit was a big tourist trap called "Silver Waterfall" with a parking lot full of tourist minivans and souvenir stands. Up until the summit the road had been excellent, 100% paved. But the summit marks the boundary between Lao Cai province and Lai Chau province. For the rest of the journey I'd be at the mercy of Lai Chau's road conditions, which leave something to be desired, a combination of paved and unpaved, with the latter somewhat more predominant. Given that Lai Chau is Vietnam's poorest, most remote province, this is not entirely surprising.
From the summit I got to enjoy my first section of downhill riding since leaving Lao Cai. 1370 meters (4,494 feet) of downhill, from the cool, pine forested, mist-enshrouded slopes of Fansipan to the semi-tropical valley of Ban Ko Lam at 630 meters (2,066 feet). Not a lot going on in Ban Ko Lam. Hot, and hazy, and dusty. Found some pho at a roadside restaurant. Heading out of town, I ran into what would be the first (and only) other foreign bicyclist on my trip. A German decked out in spandex, and coming from the opposite direction, we exchanged notes about the road(s) ahead.
From Ban Ko Lam valley I had to climb another 670 meters (2,198 feet) to the next pass. Some gorgeous scenery over the pass. Chartreuse-colored rice terraces, emerald green mountains, silver waterfalls, and great limestone rock formations. And a million friendly "hello's" from everyone I passed. From the pass, a short descent of 400 meters (1,312 feet) to the provincial capital of Lai Chau. My initial impression of Lai Chau was of a ghost city. Big empty streets, big government buildings, and absolutely no people to be seen anywhere. I was out of water and hungry and rode through the main street looking for somewhere, anywhere selling water and food. Nothing! Could this be? But aha, then I crested a small hill and rode down into what turned out to be the real Lai Chau. The first Lai Chau was merely the (seemingly yet unfinished) government "new town". Water and donuts at the "French Cafe" were waiting on the other side.
Based on my pre-trip preview of the route on Google Earth I was under the impression that it would be all downhill from Lai Chau. I must have misread the map. From Lai Chau there was another climb to another pass, my third in a single day. While it wasn't the most strenuous climb at 220 meters (721 feet), I was already pretty tired from the previous two passes and was relieved when I hit the top and began my second long downhill stretch of the day, 860 meters (2,821 feet) down to Phong Tho. By this time I was back in steamy, tropical country. In fact, the tropical rainforest here was much more primeval and untouched than in the far more developed, industrialized Lao Cai. From Phong Tho it was just another 20 km along a river to the Chinese border. After a day of rough, potholed roads, this final stretch of road was surprisingly beautifully paved and I sped along to the Chinese border, taking off my sunglasses as the sun was low in the sky, and enjoying the breeze of the river and the rainforest jungle all around me. The road was nearly empty. Barely any traffic. I imagined that it might have been built with Chinese funding, in anticipation of cross-border trade. But that evening there wasn't much trade going on.
I hit Lu Thang, the border town (if you can call it a "town") at about 6 pm. It had been a long day. I found the border without much trouble. A short bridge over the river, China clearly within sight about 50 meters away. A single Vietnamese official guarding the border. I spoke with him in Chinese.
"Can I cross?"
"No, not okay."
"Oh, because it's too late, right? Can I come back in the morning?"
"No, that's also not okay."
"Why?"
"This is a national border, not an international border."
"But I checked with officials from both countries before I came. They told me this border is open to foreigners."
"No, according to Vietnamese law and Chinese law only Vietnamese and Chinese citizens can cross here. You can cross at Lao Cai."
"But I just came from Lao Cai. I just rode my bicycle 130 km over three mountain passes to get here, so I could cross at this border."
"Sorry, no dice."
At this point, I convinced him to let me leave my bicycle behind in Vietnam and walk halfway across the bridge to where a Chinese official was standing and talk to him. I asked the Chinese official what the Chinese policy was on foreigners crossing here, and could I cross if I came back tomorrow morning. The Chinese official was young. He stammered for a minute and then answered "yes I don't see why not".
Back to the Vietnamese official.
"That Chinese official just said I could cross tomorrow morning!"
"No"
"But he just said so"
"According to Vietnamese law you cannot cross here".
To this day I don't know whether the Chinese official replied accurately or not. He was a young guy, and for all I know, he didn't know what he was talking about. If I'd somehow been able to get past the Vietnamese official with my bike the next morning, I made have run into his superior, who might have corrected the junior official and turned me back. But the fact remains that if I couldn't get past the Vietnamese side, it doesn't matter what the policy on the Chinese side was. I was tempted to spend the night in Lu Thang and try again in the morning, just in case the Vietnamese side was manned by a different guard with a different understanding of the rules. But Lu Thang had no hotels or guesthouses to speak of, just a few ramshackle village huts. After a long day's riding I really wanted a shower. So I hightailed it 20 km back to Phong Tho. But not before I took advantage of my proximity to China to use China Mobile's signal to make some text messages and phone calls to my friends in China. The sun was already set, but the road back to Phong Tho was excellent, so I sped along in the moonlight. I was kind of freaked out when I was chased by several angry barking dogs. Up until now, I hadn't had any problems with dogs on this ride. Why do dogs only chase bikes at night? The mosquitoes also came out at this time, and I got quite a few in my face. But I covered the 20 km quickly and made it back to Phong Tho safely where I found a hotel and shower and a hot meal waiting for me.
Day 3. At this point I had no choice but to head back to Lao Cai. Having already ridden the entire route between here and Lao Cai, I didn't really feel like repeating it, especially the long incline to Tram Ton pass. I decided I would cheat and put my bike on a bus back to Sapa, then ride downhill from there. But Phong Tho was a small town with no bus station. I figured I'd have a better time of finding a bus in Lai Chau, so I set out on my third day in a row of riding. The previous day, the descent from the pass to Phong Tho had been so quick that I didn't anticipate how long it would be going up in the other direction. 860 meters (2,821 feet), that's how much. And this being my third day of uphill riding, it tired me out. Further frustrating my plans were the fact that my Vietnamese money was nearly out. When I rolled into Lai Chau I went looking for the bus station. I remembered the previous day passing lots of Lai Chau-to-Lai Cai buses so I knew there must be a bus station somewhere. But I don't speak Vietnamese. And no one in Lai Chau spoke English (or Chinese, for that matter, which surprised me, given how close they are to China). No one understood what I was talking about when I asked "bus? bus? bus?". So I just kept on riding. I started riding up the next pass, to Ban Ko Lam. I figured that at some point a bus would have to come, and I would flag it down.
Finally, the bus came. The vivacious ticket lady threw my bike on top of the bus and tied it down. There were no seats, so I sat on a sack of rice in the aisle. And we were off. I only had enough Vietnamese money left to pay for my own bus fare. For the bike fee, I gave her a $5 bill I was carrying. I didn't have any $1's. The bus was more efficient uphill than a bike. We made it over the pass, to Ban Ko Lam, then over Tram Ton pass to Sapa, in just 2 hours. In Sapa, I thanked the bus driver, and set out on what I knew would be an enjoyable ride 1,400 meters (4,593 feet) down the mountain, all downhill. I passed the scene of a car accident minutes after it had occurred. This would be a pretty dangerous road, especially with vehicles passing each other. I took that to heart and rode down as carefull as I could. Before I knew it I was back in Lao Cai. I rode through a section of town that I'd previously never seen. A shady street lined with old French colonial houses and an old church. Then back to China, and the next morning, back to Kunming on a bus.
I didn't calculate the total elevation climb until I got back to Kunming yesterday. The results floored me. In those three days, I rode a total of 12,073 feet uphill (not including the part where I cheated on the bus). Total elevation difference (uphill and downhill) was 26,692 feet, practically one Mount Everest! Probably, without a doubt, the most impressive physical feat of my life so far. Yet, I handled it pretty well. I think I could (and will) do it again. Certainly, having a good bike helps. Weighing it down with panniers slows things down, but apparently not by too much. I prefer a ride with more variation in uphill and downhill, and not single uphill stretches such as the section from Lao Cai to Sapa, but it's nice to know that, in the future, I can handle it if I need to. When I compare what I did on these three days to my previous mountain biking experience, mostly at home in Marin County, California, the difference is extraordinary. Mount Tamalpais in Marin is 2,570 feet high. I used to consider a ride to the top of Mt. Tam to be an all-day, energy-exhausting feat. But I climbed the equivalent of nearly five Mt. Tam's in just three days (two Mt. Tam's each on the first two days, and one on the third day). Plus, I did it in tropical weather. Below is a detailed summary of elevation information, all the high points and low points and vertical gain/drop:
vertical gain/drop
Day 1
Lao Cai 100 m 328 ft
Sapa 1500 m 4,921 ft + 1,400m + 4,593 ft
Total climb + 1,400m + 4,593 ft
Total elevation change 1,400m 4,593 ft
Day 2
Sapa 1500 m 4,921 ft
Pass 2000 m 6,561 ft + 500 m + 1,640 ft
Valley 630 m 2,066 ft - 1,370 m - 4,494 ft
Pass 1300 m 4,265 ft + 670 m + 2,198 ft
Lai Chao 900 m 2,952 ft - 400 m - 1,312 ft
Pass 1120 m 3,674 ft + 220 m + 721 ft
Phong Tho 260 m 853 ft - 860 m - 2,821 ft
Border 300 m 984 ft + 30 m + 98 ft
Phong Tho 260 m 853 ft - 30 m - 98 ft
Total climb + 1,420 m +4,658
Total elevation change 4,080 m 13,385
Day 3
Phong Tho 260 m 853 ft
Pass 1120 m 3,674 ft + 860 m + 2,821 ft
Lai Chao 900 m 2,952 ft - 220 m - 721 ft
bus to Sapa
Sapa 1500 m 4,921 ft
Lao Cai 100 m 328 ft - 1400m - 4,593 ft
Total climb + 860 m + 2,821 ft
Total elevation change 2,480 m 8,136 ft
3 Day Total climb + 3,680 m + 12,073 ft
3 Day Total elevation change 7,960 m 26,692 ft
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