Visiting The Hoi Van Pass: Serene Skyway

“Admittedly, motorcycles terrify me, despite years of owning one. I’ve seen mangled crashes and I know firsthand how easy it is to slip. But concrete curves through mountains still call, and I barely need the excuse to mount up.” – Old Sean

Mountain Hopes

Since I’ve come to Hoi An, I’ve puttered around towns on rental scooters, pedaled away on narrow bikes or trudged along while my over-worn boots grimly losing another layer of rubber on yet another patch of foreign soil.

But what I’ve really been angling for is a decent motorcycle trip.

North of Da Nang is the legendary Deo Hai Van Pass, a short but powerfully scenic pass (Ocean Cloud Pass).  The small stretch of winding road has existed as a political divide between ancient kingdoms, the climate checkpoint for Vietnam and a strategic stronghold for old legendary and modern military action.

But currently, it’s a gorgeous mountain drive.

Now, I likely could have made it up to and through the pass on a scooter at a cheap price.  But one doesn’t attempt to create personal milestones on the back of a Vespa.  No, he should damn well grab something with an excess of horsepower, fill it to the brim with explosive liquids and thunder off into the clouds.

Motorbike Rentals

As such, I contacted Hoi An Bike Rental via Whatsapp.  Immediately, I was signed up and informed a Yamaha FZ150i would be dropped off in front of my villa early the following morning.  Now, the FZ150i is not a powerful bike.  It’s a lightweight upgrade from scooter with a bit of extra kick. They’re most commonly found in SE Asia.  But for my needs, namely circumventing small towns and scaling gradual inclines, it served perfectly.

I signed my waivers scrounged up a few documents and traded in my driver’s license (it was that or a 100 dollar security deposit) and took stock of my gear.  The company provided maps, ponchos, riding gloves, a backpack and water. However, most interesting was the doom-bringing tinted helmet I was passed.

Apparently, white tourists especially are prime targets for local cops, since so many of them drive without a license.  And they’re just so luxurious to ticket, that tourist-speed-traps are a staple of Da Nang.  To somewhat mitigate this, I was given a helmet where my pale skin was virtually invisible.

Secretly, I thought this was a dead giveaway.  Vietnamese people, in my experience, drive with face masks, sunglasses and a cap helmet.  I’ve only seen a couple full-helms in my entire time here, but without a better option, I shrugged and put it on.

On the Road

First and foremost, I got a cheap breakfast of Bahn Mi at a coffee shop, which was greatly appreciated.  Afterwards, I made my way to Da Nang.  I knew from experience that this drive was a little slow and while coasting through Hai Van is a relaxing enterprise, navigating Da Nang never is.  Driving in Vietnam cities isn’t generally a stress relief.

However, after skedaddling across the famed Dragon Bridge and jerking my way across town, I finally arrived exactly where intended: The entry to Hai Van Pass.

The beauty was instantaneous.  Hills rolled out from the coastline and a vivid line of ocean knifed across the entire horizon, slurping up the curves of sub-tropical hills as I climbed higher and higher.

Unfortunately, Hoi Van isn’t terribly photogenic.  Not due to a lack of magnificent views, but because this route didn’t evolve as a scenic tourist panorama.  It was, in days yonder, a functional highway and places to veer off, stop and snap a few photos were few and far between.  I caught glimpses of brawny mountain goats, perfectly green flits of birds, the sleek forms of SE Asia’s cattle and many Chinese tourists clustered in huge groups, risking life and limb for selfies.

This is the kind of route a Go-Pro already attached would really shine.  But even without this, there are plenty of other sights to catch.  Most notably, Hai Van Quan is a ruin of standing forts harkening back to Vietnam’s atrocious history with the French.  These buildings either exist as brick arches springing over great cliffs or semi-shattered bunkers nestled into the foliage.  Foraging cows apparently visit the tourist spot a lot, leaving their trademark pies to remember them by.

Slope Ride

T eventually breached the high point of the pass.  The rest of my journey was a steady downhill set of gentle curves.  I cut my engine for these portions, and the wind against my helmet sang as I coasted. 

Something nobody tells you of Hai Van Pass is the smell.  When alone on that road, with my faceplate up and mask down, it smelled fantastic.  Like ocean breeze and jungle flowers at once.  I felt myself getting drunk on deep breaths as I continued to weave down the mountain pass.

And then suddenly, it was done.  I found myself coasting past a strange, pretty beach front being stormed along the base by a crystal blue incoming tide.  Hoi Van, for all its significance, is a very short stretch of road.

I pulled off for a time, next to a strange series of fountains that looked more like a series of high-pressure busted-sprinklers than anything else.  Great gouts of slightly smelly water shot up in arcs.  I couldn’t figure out what they were for until a number of heavy trucks rolled in, showering their vehicles off in the rusty springs.

Bay Rides

Butt admittedly getting a little sore, I forged on, first passing through the fairly beautiful Vinh Lang Co Bay, which was gradually rising with more water as I soared past. 

I stopped somewhere along here for lunch.  There were five locals playing a rather high-stakes game of cards in the center of the otherwise empty restaurant.  A small dog padded over for me, demanding to be pet for as long as I remained, and a woman passed me a steaming bowl of beef noodle stew without my asking.  It was the best stew I’ve had in memory, and I didn’t even order it.

Once I paid, I was on my way. 

I stopped to walk on a couple random beaches, my pants being ill-suited for long rides.  I smeared sunscreen religiously, and finally pushed on.  There were several small towns along the way, very few of note.  The hills above them were gouged bare, great brown gashes cutting through otherwise pristine green. 

Even more odd were the numerous reused water bottles filled with yellow liquid in front of nearly every shop.  It looked a bit like vegetable oil in a bottle, but there were entire racks along every roadside.

Once out of the small towns, the scenery was just as gorgeous as Hai Van itself.  Great fields of rice paddies stretched to the bases of mountains.  Egrets, so thin and fine they looked like rearing snakes with delicate beaks, dipped through the shallows.  Occasionally, a flock would rise and settle back down near water.  Trucks thundered past and scooters and bikes alike hugged the shoulders, dreading the narrow tunnels where room was scarce and vehicular rumbling was supreme.

Pocket Lakes

Eventually, I managed to ride my bike to Dam Cau Hai.

At first glance, this is a lake of sorts, but it’s actually a very shallow, carefully regulated bay stretching an enormous distance.  The shoreline itself is rather unsavory, with piles of tires, shattered boats and other junk edging the waterfront.  But the lake itself is something to behold.

Guarded by a ring of mountains, Dam Cau Hai is perfectly shallow throughout.  Thousands of posts stand straight in the water, like the pegs of some bizarre game.  Further out, most of the people tending the lake don’t even bother with boats, preferring to wade through the thigh-high water.

I pushed a little further, finally entering Hue, but by now I was tired and I had gone plenty far on this journey.  I figured fully exploring Hue could wait until another time.

Waddling, I turned my bike around and started heading home.  I took a small detour to a waterfall and some mountain villas, but mostly I was ready to get back to the cool, peaceful rim of Hoi Van.

Rest and Reflections

It was a splendid journey, but actually happened a full week ago.

I have been up to very little for the past week.  Some online work, some writing but mostly, I’ve been crippled with indecision.

Coronavirus has again surged and three more countries face dire circumstance and shutdowns.  Again, I’m isolated and safe, but the last thing I want to do is end up stranded in my vacation country.

So I’ve been at my villa, plotting away and trying to figure out how to return to the US in a favorable manner.  It doesn’t help that my trip to Cambodia has long since been planned and I’ve already obtained my visa.

So should I stay or go?  Is it time to flee or rest easy knowing I’m in the quieter places of the world, currently?  Disease doesn’t frighten me, but being marooned irks me more than anything.

So my days are somewhat calm.  I ride my bike through fields in the mornings and sit out next to the rivers when there’s no rain. I visited Hoi An’s Old Town for a margarita with some friends and I’ve spent a lot of time sample thing food around Vietnam.  I’ve found a shrimp dish I’m partial to and a very cool little café absolutely coated in flowers, next to the riverside.  It’s called Kha My Café, and it’s more for scents and photos than coffee.

Otherwise, things have been peaceful.  I’ve helped some ladies lay out large baskets of stripped fibers that will be dried in the sun and cooked in food later. I’ve nearly transferred the last bits of cash out of China and into my American bank account.

But mostly, I’m just waiting for clarity.  I’m on my final week in Hoi An, so a decision will need to be made soon.

Here’s hoping it’s a good one,

Best regards and excellent trails,

Old Sean

Written February 29th 2020

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