For expats living in the sleepy beach town of Hoi An, lockdown was a blessing in disguise. Those that were stranded against their will, formed the most amazing and tight-knit community with those already living there. There were no tourists, places were still open, and they had one, big, fat, JOL! I got directed to a venue called The Hip to meet some of them, while South Africa was due to thump Romania during their second game of the 2023 Rugby World Cup. Very lekker people.
I celebrated having proper vision again the next morning, nearly forgetting that nasty bacteria had been having a disco party on my eyeballs, but when I faced myself in the mirror, it was going to be another day of permanently wearing sunglasses to hide the truth. This did not stop me from renting a bike though, to go on a little adventure!
One of my good friends had suggested doing a bike ride around a peninsula in Da Nang, also known as Monkey Mountain. The endangered Red-Shanked Douc lives there – a stunning primate that is only found in a very few regions of Asia.
Entrance into the protected area was free, but no automatic bikes were allowed in, as they would not manage the steep climbs. The hotel lady kindly helped me organize the rental of a semi-automatic bike. After a hearty breakfast and a big multivitamin, the guy with the bike arrived and I gave it a test run.
I had a dirt-bike as a teenager, and there were some memories in my muscles, but there was no clutch! So when I did change to a lower gear, he looked a bit concerned… “No IENNN IENNN IENN! Maybe automatic better for you.” I asked if I could give him one more demonstration, after which he entrusted me with the keys.
It was a one-hour-long ride down a main road to get to the foot of the peninsula. I just had to keep reminding myself to drive on the right-hand side of the road, but my clever technique is to simply tail a local going in the same direction and do as they do!
I hooked a right at a big important-looking gate, thinking that it might be the entrance. I was halted my two military men with guns that weren’t toys. They didn’t speak English, so I pointed at my digital map to show them what I was trying to accomplish. They gestured that I head back.
I took the next turn towards a big entrance labelled “Sơn Trà”, which was exactly what I was aiming for. A topless local man with eyes more bloodshot than my own, along with his two barky dogs, approached. This, too, was not the correct entrance. He has one helluvah fancy driveway, I thought, as I scooted out of there!
The proper turn was very unassuming and fantastically rural. All sorts of fermented smells entered my nose until I got to the actual entrance. After writing my name and cell number, and having my bike checked for gears, I entered. Only two bikers passed by on the way up. The rest of the visitors were walking downhill, looking very pooped and wearing makeshift head-umbrellas to escape from the sun. I received a few glares, unsure if they were looks of envy for having an engine do my legwork, or because my machine made a loud noise in such a peaceful place.
I made it to a viewpoint and took it all in. It gave a fantastic view of the city from 670m above sea level. I wanted to make it to the top, so took the next route uphill, towards what looked like an observatory. I was met with more guys with guns. The majority of the signs did not have English subtitles, but this was clearly a restricted area. They were very forgiving about my ignorance.
The rest of the adventure was a two-hour ride up and down narrow roads while weaving and ducking through some foliage. At one point I maneuverer around a fallen tree blocking the path. I must have been totally remote for a good hour during that stretch, stopping every few minutes to take in the sounds and views. Simply awesome. The only thing that showed any sign of human life, were two abandoned-looking bikes. Perhaps a couple had decided to have a discreet pomp in the bushes.
I eventually did spot some Red-Shanked Doucs! A couple of them crossed the road with two babies in tow. Later, I saw another two enter the thicket. I switched off the engine and quietly free-wheeled towards them. Unfortunately, I didn’t get the best sighting, but it felt very special just knowing that they were there. There were moments when I thought I heard all kinds of animal sounds, until realising that said sounds were coming from the brakes of my bike!
That little adventure was an absolute highlight of my past two weeks in Vietnam, even while recovering from a double whammy of Pink Eye.
Next: Vietnam #12 – Pop Goes the Tyre, My Son!
Previously: Vietnam #10 – Something in My Eye
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