An unexpected detour to Kon Tum: Anyone seen any churches?

January 29, 2015

ZZZZZZZOOOOMMMMM!!!

You might have thought that at seven in the morning there wouldn't be so many motorcycles around, but there were more than ever, swarming past me like bees as I trundled sleepily along first thing in the morning. Plenty of places in Asia have a lot of motorcycles, but in terms of their domination of the roads I had never known anything like this. In the first twenty minutes I must have seen a hundred motorcycles. In the same time I saw two trucks and zero cars. Yes I'd finally found that dream country where absolutely nobody used cars! It wasn't exactly like I dreamt it would be, although I was grateful for all the motorcycles, in the sense that at least all these people weren't trying to squeeze past me in big pick-ups on the narrow road.

I was still a bit put-out that there were so many motorcycles as I'd hoped that this road, the #14C, would be a quiet one through a National Park and on to the Cambodian border. But then my simple hopes were suddenly realised when all of the other traffic took a turn-off into another town, and I was magically left alone on a much quieter road. Well, I wasn't entirely alone, as I passed three teenagers loitering suspiciously that seemed to laugh at me as I cycled by. A few minutes later a motorcycle overtook me with the young hoodlums on it and pulled up just ahead of me. The three dastardly creatures climbed off and looked at me menacingly. I was worried. There was nobody else around to help me and the teenage boys appeared threatening. I made an effort to memorise their number plate as I drew close to them. One of them approached confidently to block my path. He appeared drunk. I prepared for the worst, and it soon arrived. "Photo?" he asked, "can we have photo with you?" Oh bloody hell, not another photoshoot.

Having posed for photos with all three of the alcohol-infused adolescents they u-turned back with contented smiles and waves, and I pressed on. The road was so perfect and so peaceful that I wondered why more traffic didn't come this way, but then suddenly the tarmac ended and the road became a complete mess of rocks and sand. It was tough cycling and it was made more tough as the road began to rise and fall steeply, twisting and turning like a roller-coaster. On some of the steeper climbs it became difficult to cycle and my bicycle couldn't always handle it, with the quite-worn-chain skipping down off the cassette when I applied too much pressure. The rocky road was difficult, but it was also an adventure, getting back to the mountains and away from populated Vietnam. I was happy enough to battle this road all the way to Cambodia.

Tough going, but the kind of adventurous road to be savoured

But after a couple of hours I came to a junction where there was a roadblock guarded by some officials. They asked for my passport, in a friendly way, and wrote down my details in a big book of names. Then I went to continue cycling on the rocky road.

"No! No!" said one of the officials, waving his hand at me frantically and then indicating that I should take the other road.

"But I want to go this way" I protested.

"No, no. Cambodia."

"Yes, I want to go to Cambodia."

"No. You tourist. No."

I would later find out from a man named Markus that this road goes through regions occupied by ethnic groups and is off-limits to foreigners without a special permit. I didn't know that at the time, but I was inclined to do what the heavily-armed men told me, and so I gave up on the 14C and headed for the other road. It did at least have the advantage of being paved, at least in a few specially selected places, and I knew I could still get to Cambodia, I would just have to go the long way around on the busy main roads. It looked like I was going to have to get properly reacquainted with populated Vietnam. So much for country-bagging.

On my map this area was shown as part of a National Park. I guess something went wrong

For a while the road remained quite remote, but after a while I came to a village. After stopping to buy water a man invited me to sit next to the shop with him and his friends, and, although they seemed very welcoming, the conversation was hindered by a complete lack of any common language. I eventually managed to make him understand my country of origin by writing down 'Manchester United, David Beckham.' But the friendliness of the people of Vietnam was quickly becoming a theme, and soon afterwards another man invited me into his house for a drink. What the drink was going to be was not easily guessed from his drinking motions, but he had a wife and two young boys, and I was interested to see inside his house. Relieved to be brought a glass of water I sat and tried to talk to the man without success and settled for looking around his living room. Like most homes here it was concrete, painted blue walls covered with posters and family photos. There was a television set, a comfortable sofa. Looking up I noticed a lot of cobwebs, but with the number of flies and mosquitoes I thought having a few spiders around must be quite advantageous. I finished my water and was ushered out as hastily as I'd been invited in.

"Daddy who is this strange man drinking water in our living room and inspecting our cobwebs?"

Next on the list of Vietnamese to convey a small act of kindness upon me was an old woman shop owner. I'd just passed through a bigger town and was very much back in populated Vietnam, plus I'd cycled up yet another steep hill under a hot midday sun, and I enjoyed sitting in the shade to eat some cheap things that I'd bought at the shop, things that looked like poppadoms but weren't. The woman saw me eating these and called me back over, and found me a chair, and then placed a tray of rice burgers in front of me, and indicated that I should eat those with the things that looked like poppadoms but weren't. As I sat there enjoying the apparent gift I remembered something that Jin and Lee, the Korean cyclists I'd recently met, told me about Vietnam - that people were nice until it came to money, and that I shouldn't eat anything without asking if I was going to have to pay for it first. But I shouldn't have had any doubts, the woman didn't want any money, she was just being thoroughly nice.

Okay, now I've taken this photo can I say I've really been to Vietnam?

Things got busier and busier on the road as I neared the city of Kon Tum, and I began to wonder if it wouldn't have actually been better if there weren't so many motorcycles. Sure, if all these people had been in cars it would've probably been worse, but on the other hand at least in cars they wouldn't try and do things like zoom through the small gap between me and a slow-moving truck that was overtaking me slowly on a hill.

Then I saw Markus, an Austrian man standing at the roadside beside a mechanic's workshop. I stopped to say hello, and found out that poor Markus had rented a motorcycle in Kon Tum to ride around in the mountains a bit, but he'd encountered some mechanical difficulties that meant he'd had to push it five kilometres to get here. He was a really nice guy, and we talked for some time. He told me about a relatively cheap hotel that he was staying at in Kon Tum and gave me directions to find it. I said I'd have to consult with my accountant first, but that I might see him there later. Finally the mechanic that had been tinkering away on Markus's rented motorcycle declared that it was all fixed. After collecting his money the mechanic added "oh and you'll need to put some gas in it too." The skeptic in me couldn't help but wonder if perhaps that was all that ever really needed to be done.

At least you got it well serviced now Markus

Kon Tum was madness. If I thought I'd seen a lot of motorcycles before, Kon Tum was a reminder that things can always get more crazy. Absolute chaos it was. On a bicycle the instinct in this situation is just to keep as far right as possible and out of the way, but when the right side of the road is used as a 'going-the-wrong-way' lane, and bikes are apt to appear from any side road or entrance and ride straight into the traffic without looking, even that simple strategy becomes dangerous. I just did what I could to look everywhere at once, covered my brakes, remained constantly ready to swerve, and hoped for the best.

At roundabouts the question of who had priority appeared to be negotiable

I decided to go and look for the hotel Markus told me about. Although Alan and I had been arguing about the merits of doing this for a good half an hour, at the end of the day Alan is made of paper and I've got the edge on him physically, so I can always win our fights. The only trouble was in finding this hotel, and I got quite lost looking for it, what with it being difficult to see anything other than motorcycles. Markus had said to turn left at the roundabout, go straight past the new church and then turn left at the old wooden church. These seemed like pretty legitimate directions, but now I was thoroughly trapped in the chaos of South East Asian city streets I began to wonder if he wasn't having me on. Churches? In South East Asia? Did he mean temples? No, he definitely said churches.

"Excuse me, has anyone seen any churches?"

Eventually I figured out where I was and found the churches, and then the hotel. But the cheap rooms were all taken and I really couldn't afford one of the more expensive rooms, so I took this as a sign that I was never really meant to stay here anyway, and after all that I left. I decided just to get through Kon Tum and camp. Inevitably the city streets were just as mad on the way out of town as they had been on the way into it and I was merely doing my best to get through it when I looked ahead and saw something that made my blood run cold.

A figure lay in the middle of the road, his motorcycle wrapped around his legs. He looked like he'd been knocked down. He was completely motionless. He looked like he might be dead. All of the memories of the terrible accident that I witnessed in Mongolia came flooding back to me in a split second. Just like then, here was a body, here was someone seriously hurt. I couldn't believe it was happening again, but this time I had no second thoughts about rushing to help. Well, someone had to, the rest of the city seemed to be continuing on as if nothing was amiss. As other motorcycles swerved around him and continued on their way I leaned my bike down and ran over, hoping that somebody, anybody, would also come to help.

But before I even got to him I watched with great relief as the man appeared to suddenly come around. He was alive. He tried to climb to his feet and I arrived and helped him up, then aided him in lifting the heavy bike. He turned to thank me. The smell of alcohol was so strong that it was almost enough to knock me to the floor. This guy was completely wasted. I wondered what I should do. "Ok, leave it" he said to me. I was still holding the motorcycle up. "Leave it!" he said, turning more aggresive. If I let go the motorcycle would fall to the floor again. This was really a crappy situation. I wanted to stop this idiot from trying to ride the bike again, but really, how could I do it? He finally took a proper hold of the machine and I walked away, left him to it. I didn't know what else I could do so I cycled away. I kept looking back, and seeing the man standing in the middle of the road, swaying, drunkenly trying to work out how to get onto the motorcycle. Sometimes the world can seem such a sad and stupid place.

I left Kon Tum over a big bridge at sunset. I was now following the main highway south and the rush hour traffic was terrifying me. After being completely right-hooked by one of the few cars on the road, forcing me to swerve and brake and feel like crying, I decided it was definitely time to call it a night. Luckily all the madness was left behind as I turned onto a side road and I found a peaceful camping spot on a patch of grass between two industrial units. Reflecting on the day a great many things had happened, good and bad, but one thing was for sure - Vietnam was proving to be anything but boring.

Today's ride: 85 km (53 miles)
Total: 36,582 km (22,717 miles)

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