After leaving the colourful chaos of Nimbin, we set our sights on Hanoi, carving a path toward Vietnam’s northern mountains. What started as a straightforward ride quickly turned surreal as we unknowingly pedaled into the heart of a sprawling sulphur mine. The landscape transformed; dust-covered, bleached white, and heavy with the scent of sulphur. Amid this industrial mayhem, we stumbled across a serene, weathered Buddhist temple nestled in the hills, untouched by the mine’s reach. We considered camping there, but the fumes were overpowering, pushing us onward.
Hanoi marked a new chapter. It was our first major city, and our first ride clocking over 100 kilometers in a day. The chaos of Hanoi’s traffic and an endless stream of life which was surprisingly exhilarating to navigate at night. The city gave us a chance to rest and reset. We soaked in some touristy moments, including visiting the famed railway that cuts through a narrow residential alleyway, and even caught up with Fergal, an Irish cyclist who had pedaled his way from Ireland to Vietnam. Swapping stories over a beer, his tales of Iran and Afghanistan were both humbling and inspiring.
From Hanoi, we pushed northward toward Ha Giang, stealth camping our way through the countryside. One particularly memorable night was spent in the home of a local shopkeeper who invited us in for fresh fish from his lake and one of the most delicious Vietnamese dinners we've had yet. Nights like these reminded us of the immense generosity and warmth of the Vietnamese people.
Our campsites ranged from disused roads to quiet plantations, always with one non-negotiable: morning coffee. But after dragging around 3.5kg of coffee gear for our daily brew, we finally surrendered to practicality, sending our beloved coffee setup home and switching to instant. Regretful, yes. But our legs (and backs) thanked us as we climbed deeper into the mountains.
Arriving in Ha Giang felt like a milestone. Known for the iconic Ha Giang Loop; a 350km stretch packed with over 9,000m of elevation, it’s typically tackled by motorbike tourists. But for us, it became a self-set challenge: to ride it under our own power. Guided by a tip from Fergal, we followed the motorbike tour groups, aiming to reach the same hotels by nightfall and beat them out the next morning.
It's a loop so intense that most called us “crazy” with genuine concern in their eyes. One Brit in a hostel even diagnosed us with mental illness, not realizing he was talking to the very cyclists he saw earlier.
But it wasn’t all uphill grinds and skeptical strangers. Hà Giang also gave us a side plot straight out of a romantic comedy. On night one, we met two lovely Danish girls over cards and beers. What followed were three days of all-out, full gas effort to keep pace with their motorbike crowd and, more importantly, to meet the Danes again at each hotel. The intention was pure; the energy levels were not. Despite high hopes and second-night flirtations, exhaustion always won out. Even with a bit of encouragement from them, we could only muster a beeline for bed and an early night.
Post-Hà Giang brought a kebab-related disaster for Luke and a couple of the biggest riding days of the trip, think 130km days, thousands of meters of elevation, and shorts-and-sandals climbs into Sapa in the cold rain at 11pm. It was brutal. It was beautiful. And it was shared with my brother Conor, who left us shortly after for the “real world”.
After a reset in Sapa (lots of food, sleep, and a lingering cough), we crossed into China and the shift was immediate. Clean roads, seriously kind locals, incredible infrastructure, and the start of something new for our minds too. We began each day with quiet reading, gave into mindfulness, and, for a moment, found silence by a river that made the world stand still. It was a rare spiritual pause in a year of madness.
China's been a whole new adventure: framebags full of dumplings, stealth camping in tunnels, weird fashion choices. Ah, we should talk about surfing. Luke, would you like to introduce surfing? At first, when Sam held onto the back of a truck, I thought that was kind of short cutting our way through to Spain and cheating a little bit. But now it's become an addiction. You know, it's safe to say when you see that red color of the front of a truck and the roar of the engine coming behind you up a steep hill, the endorphins and the dopamine skyrocket, and it is a very fun activity. And it's kind of like a nice sort of blessing when you're halfway up a mountain and a truck comes. It's nice to get a little helping hand. And yeah, it's a great analogy to use like surfing, especially when you're searching for a truck.
Despite temptations, we still almost always choose camping over hotels. Even when we’re covered in grime and a $4 room is available, we find ourselves seeking out the simplicity of nature. One night, after bragging to fellow cyclists about how easy it is to camp in China, we nearly found ourselves stranded on a road carved into a cliffside, searching for a flat enough space to lay our heads.
The ground is completely rocky and like people have been dumping broken concrete there and all sorts of trash and there's broken glass. But it's probably about the size of a footy oval in total and we find two mounds of broken concrete and stuff from the construction of the road that's easily big enough to hide our tents and bikes behind. So when the cars pass on the road like, you know, 60 metres away, we're essentially invisible to them and we say okay, fuck it, you know, we'll just call this home for the night and you know, hope that the shit on the ground doesn't pop our tents or you know, put a hole in our mats. But we end up going there, setting up, you know, a bit of a sketchy spot.
Anyway, as we drift off to sleep, a car, two cars actually pull in, probably park 50 meters from us. Four people get out and they've got like the most high-powered spotlight, flashlight, very expensive, very weird and they start shining it at the cliff faces next to us and behind us and on the walls. And you know, I'm up at this point, a little bit concerned and after five minutes they pack up and leave. You know, okay, whatever, back to bed. It's now 1am, I'd say 12.30 I think, and I wake up again and they're back. They've come back, they've parked even closer and now they're all out of their cars walking around with these huge like spotty flashlights and a laser pointer and we can hear them talking and playing music off their phone like they're so close. And they keep examining the cliff faces like right behind us and to the right of us and to the back of us and like looking for something and these huge powerful flashlight beams are like going only a couple meters above us and above our tents.
But because we're not right next to the cliff face, they haven't seen us yet and we don't know, they don't know that we're there and we're really not sure what to do. Like they're clearly not police, they're clearly looking for something whether they're hunters or looking for caves or, you know, like, I don't know, jade miners, no fucking idea. But every time a car comes around the corner, they sort of all turn off their flashlights. Like it's a bit sus, whatever they're doing. And at this point, we've both crawled out of the tents and are sort of like outside, ready to go, trying to figure out what to do, you know, do we introduce ourselves to these guys? What do we do if they come to us? Do we just start packing up the leaves? Like, you know, they're probably going to be just as shocked and confused when they do catch us with their light and go, what the hell has been like two people 50 meters from us this entire time? And then Luke says to me, hey, mate, you know, we could have just got a hotel for four bucks. And we just start like uncontrollably giggling, you know, like really probably almost giving away our position because I really can't control myself and like snorting through my nose and all the while these people are walking around with their flashlights, like probably less than 50 meters from us.
Look, in the end, they left, God knows where that was. We got a pretty crap sleep that night and then pushed on the next day. And yeah, I guess that takes us to where we are now. But in the last, I think seven days of writing, we managed to do 850km, 860kms. And it's taken us to where we are now in which city? Chengdu, a massive city in the south.
We're getting the bikes ready to load up with stuff to head towards the Gohbi Dessert. We're keen to get on the bikepacking.com routes. I feel like we're just taking the long way there, riding between them. Mongolia is going to be amazing. Loving it, so keen. Hope you boys in Melbourne are also loving it. Loving the life and the coffee that we're missing out on. We'll update you on the next one. Much love boys.
Here's how the bikes are packed!
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