Hiking. Always in the rain...

Determined to get off the tourist trail, we had booked a 5 day guided hike through the North Vietnam mountains in the Pu Luong Nature Reserve. The tour company had not given us much information and so we were somewhat winging it – not really sure if we were joining a group tour or having a private tour, and not really sure where exactly we were going.

Much like our arrival in Hanoi, this too did not get off to the greatest start.  Our tour guide was late, had no idea we were vegetarian (though we had stressed this multiple times when booking) and told us we would have to carry all of our luggage with us (again, something we had confirmed multiple times we wouldn’t have to do) as our stopovers were too remote for cars. 

And then it started pouring, while the thermometer dipped from the week prior’s low-20s to high single-digits.

After a stop for wifi and to have some instant noodles since the breakfast we had been told we would be having on the first morning did not materialize, we drank some tea and girded ourselves for the trip.

We arrived at our starting point in Pu Luong region determined to find the bright side.  A woman in traditional H’mong clothing served us a hearty local lunch which seemed far too large to reconcile with the Vietnamese's slender frames, and made our first introduction to rice wine, which apparently is customary for guests and hosts to drink together.

Afterward, we met our local guide to head off through the village and into the hills. He was a nice-seeming young man wearing a safari hat and a pith helmet, and carrying a very large knife. We hoped it would not be needed.

The clay trail was muddy, wet and very slick. The two guides both wore running shoes and seemed to manage the trail like mountain goats, while our multi-hundred-dollar, high-tech hiking boots offered very little traction. It was only a matter of time before Beth took the first tumble of the trip. Other than a bruise and a small cut on her hand, luckily she was okay.  Tim, our guide, cut a walking stick which made things surprisingly more enjoyable and manageable for the remaining trek.

When we weren’t totally focused on watching our footing, the views were spectacular.  The scenery was lush and untouched and the thatched roof houses, although simple, were perfectly nestled in their green surround.

As we arrived at our surprisingly nice “homestay”, the rain finally stopped.  A rejuvenating dinner of vegetables, rice and salted peanuts, paired with some very strong “bee wine” left us satiated.  And as we retired to our “room” – a floor mattress hidden behind some sheets in the owners’ rice pantry – and snuggled into our recently purchased silk sheets, we drifted off to sleep hopeful of what was to come.

We awoke early the next morning to the sound of a cacophony of roosters crowing and rain pouring.  The roosters crow four times a night – at 1, 3, 4 and 5am – and with the seemingly thousands of them in the village, there was definitely no need for an alarm clock. 

Still dark outside, even the delicious banana pancakes that would become our staple breakfast could not lift our spirits as we thought about the hardest day of our hike being intensified by the miserable weather.  And the forecast now predicted no end in sight.  As we quizzed Tim about our hiking options and learned that our next stop had no way out but hiking as the road had been washed out by the rain, we seriously wondered what we had gotten ourselves into. 

Deciding to push ahead for now, we passed a factory making chopsticks and encountered a bus that had gotten stuck while running over some newly laid road.  Half an hour later, and with the whole village now involved, the bus driver ignored Geoff’s suggestions and eventually managed to get to the other side with the help of the local excavator and a piece of very thin wood.

If the bus could make it out of that messy situation, we thought, we could get through our hike too and so we loaded the unusual packed lunches into our packs, grabbed the trusty walking stick and headed into the hills.

Towards the end of the hike, we were feeling good about our decision.  The weather, although very foggy, did manage to clear offering some jaw-dropping scenic views.  Questionably as exciting, we learned that the Vietnamese use condensed milk as a dipping sauce for bread - this may become Geoff’s new condiment of choice!

Though at late afternoon we did end up taking a slight wrong turn down a particularly muddy road which forced us to begrudgingly hike our way back up the hill, all frustration slid away as we heard the glorious sound of karaoke from a local celebration.  As the out of tune voices grew louder, we knew we had made it to our final village for the night.  

By the end of hike and just one small fall later, we were absolutely caked in mud.  Our fancy hiking shoes were no match for our local guide’s designer “Gucci” sneakers which seemed in almost perfect shape, with only its white soles showing any evidence of the reddish clay.  On the contrary, our soles seemed to suck in the mud, making the whole walk feel like we were at a skating rink. 

Feeling particularly ambitious, we had a quick celebratory beer and then headed to visit a nearby local cave.  This proved a highlight as we got to meet all of the local town animals – cows, water buffalo, roosters, ducks and lots of dogs -  who either tried to accompany us or run quickly away as we headed to the cave. 

The cave itself had been used by local tribes hundreds of years ago as refuge from the elements.  And it currently sat totally untouched by locals or tourists alike.  Pictures don’t do it justice - it was magnificent. 

In retrospect, we may have wanted to sleep in the protected cave as our next accommodation - which was slightly more basic than the first - proved absolutely Arctic.  With three heavy blankets, we almost skipped dinner for fear or getting hypothermia – we could not only see our breath, but it turned into ice pellets before hitting the floor (or so we imagined).  No glass on the windows paired with drafty doors and floor boards make floor mattress sleeping a questionable choice for us desert-living softies.

Awoken again the next morning by the choir of roosters, the rain continued to pour.  Today, though, we had no choice – hiking out was our only option from this remote village.  Instead, we were given the choice to take either the shorter mountain trail or the longer road trail. 

Beth’s spidey senses in full force, we opted for the longer and safer trail, much to our guide’s chagrin.  The hike was long but not unreasonable and with the beautiful views and muddy but manageable trails (just two more small falls for good measure) we all felt that this was the right strategy.  And as we ate our packed lunch at a local dive, seated next to a massive termite mound, even the guide admitted after that the other trail would likely have been quite unsafe. 

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The next evening and day went by in a bit of a blur as we were overwhelmed by hours of lush landscapes and rice fields and found ourselves nearing the finish line.  We couldn’t think of a better way to spend New Year’s Eve than in an actual lodge with a private bed and bathroom and a mattressed bed with duvet.  Heaven.

 In cheeky form, we devised during our multiple homestays a checklist to ask future accommodations:

• ·       Do your rooms have windows with glass in them and a functioning door?
• ·       How many people will we have to share the room with?
• ·       Do you have a shower that runs water overhead or rather from the sink?
• ·       Will you have toilet paper and soap in the washrooms and will we be given a towel?
• ·       Do you have any ways to keep the cats out of our room and bed?
• ·       How many blankets do we get in our living space and how often are they washed?
• ·       How cold does the temperature go at night and is there any chance you have a space heater (we recognize that central heating is unlikely)?

Although we were happy to get back to city life, it was a wonder being out in the mountains.  The simple beauty of the surround and the people who live there made us appreciative of the luxuries we have and the wonderful life we get to live.  It was an incredibly meaningful way to reflect before the start of 2019.