Muong Bi Valley scenic ride. A jagged mountain range forms a dramatic backdrop to this there-and-back ride, where the limestone studded landscape has a story-book, even unrealistic quality.
While many travellers will want to push on to Mai Chau, for cycle tourists it is well worth a stop-over in Xom Ai village (just behind the town of Phong Phu) to appreciate some really excellent back roads cycling. Uncle Lon’s Muon Bi homestay, run by an elderly couple and various family members, is also a treasure and very different from what you’ll find in touristy Mai Chau.
It’s a place to linger over pots of tea and kick back on a sweet wooden deck overlooking a river.
Arriving safely at the small town of Phong Phu is a good excuse to celebrate by slurping down an insanely delicious steaming bowl of noodle soup with fish and lemongrass.
Muong Bi valley homestay
From the hectic main road, the ride to Xom Ai (‘Xom’ means ‘village’) took all of ten minutes but felt like a million miles away as I found myself in the tidy picturesque ethnic minority hamlet.
Water wheels straight out of a story book turned serenely, greeting visitors to the village.
Also welcoming me was my homestay host Uncle Lon and his wife, who must be one of the most kindly people I’ve ever met. Both in their seventies, they exuded happiness and calmness.
I’d been expecting to stay in the family stilt house but instead was led up the hill to a brand new structure featuring a deck and bamboo deck chair looking out onto a brown river.
My shorter-than-expected journey that morning now gave me the opportunity to instead explore some quiet back roads, and I decided to head towards a nearby waterfall, part of a scenic ride through the long, thin valley.
Heading off on the loop ride, it wasn’t long at all before bright green rice fields and spectacular limestone karsts began to emerge, a prelude to what would be a truly spectacular ride.
Whizzing along without the burden of luggage, I drank in the surroundings. And while I’d been expecting to struggle along a goat track, instead there was a perfectly smooth road, almost the best so far in Vietnam.
Red flags fluttered along the sides of the road made the vibrant blues and greens look almost hyper real, like a children’s book illustration brought to life.
An unexpected encounter
Riding through a crossroads I paused to re-check my map and saw two motorcyclists coming towards me. They definitely weren’t Vietnamese and I yelled out a quick hello.
“Sonia?” one of the guys said.
“Um… yeah… wait, who is this?!” I replied. “Danny?”
I would have last met Danny Pearce around 20 years ago when we were both English teachers in Hanoi, but thanks to Facebook knew that he was still living in Vietnam and running a company called Rentabike Vietnam.
So here we were out in the middle of bloody nowhere and I’d just bumped into someone I knew. What a day.
Ride to the waterfall
The closer I got to the waterfall, the better scenery just got better and better. In fact I started to feel very smug indeed. If I’d spent the day struggling along noisy Highway 6 I would surely not have the energy for this excursion (assuming I wasn’t dead).
A jagged mountain range loomed in the distance marking the border with the Pu Luong region, famous for it’s natural beauty and the next destination.
Heading back towards the village, I stopped off at the Thac Trang waterfall. In early October the falls were gushing with end-of-rainy-season power, the currents too strong to swim.
Disaster strikes – I am bitten by a dog
Basking in the beauty of the waterfall, the easy ride and the beautiful scenery, I jumped lazily on the bike and meandered on up the road before making a U-Turn back towards home.
A second too late, I noticed two dogs skittering around on the road. One ran off but the other one spun around. Suddenly, to my very great surprise, I felt a set of sharp teeth sink into my calf.
Blood started trickling down my leg, and instantly I knew it was serious. A kind mechanic let me sit in his shop while he dabbed the wounds with antiseptic. I recognised the word ‘doctor’ in Vietnamese and asked if there was one nearby. He waved vaguely into the distance.
“This was meant to be a relaxing afternoonnnnnnn!” I wailed.
I’d just wanted to have some time where everything went right. Now I was facing a long and unknown quest to find a doctor in a strange place.
I slowly (but not too slowly) cycled back to Highway 6 and the ‘centre’ of town.
Thanking the road gods again for the smooth surface, I finished off with a little curse as the more heavily-used section near the main road turned into a flooded ditch. Sighing, I trudged through the flood water, still wondering how I was going to find medical attention.
Just then, I spotted a pharmacy and went in.
The pharmacist took one look at my leg and gestured for me to follow him. Taking me out of his shop he led me to another building two doors down. Set back from the road was a medical clinic, and I never would have seen it without his help.
From there, a (now) bad day got better as people again went out of their way to help.
My wound was seen to and cleaned right away, and I was told that I needed the rabies vaccine immediately. To my horror, the doctor informed me that the nearest clinic was 40km away. But after a few more minutes of keyboard tapping he delivered the much happier news that a clinic was in fact open just around the corner.
I was even driven there by the nurse, who only rolled her eyes a little bit as the charismatic vaccination guy made small talk. But once again, I was seen to straight away.
The whole experience made me want to do one thing, and one thing only – eat an icecream.
Finding one at a little shop, I cycled haltingly back towards the village, finding a spot to sit away from the main road to eat my cold, sugary snack in peace.
The day’s weirdness hadn’t quite finished though.
A local tourist from Hoa Binh, all dressed up in a traditional costume (I’m guessing for the benefit of photos) saw me and was keen to pose for photos in front of the water wheels, directing me this way and that with the bike.
I wearily obliged, pointing out that I had a dog bite, as evidenced by the blood now running again down my leg.
This seemed to faze her not one bit; in any case I extracted myself as quickly and politely as possible.
By the end of the day, the bite, which I now understood had sunk in to my calf muscle, meant I was hobbling and in no small amount of pain. Needing some time to hide from the world I took a rest day at the Muong Bi homestay, making the most of their delicious home cooking – mostly sourced from their own garden.
In all the drama I neglected to snap a photo of the kindly Muong Bi couple, but coming across their homestay will always remain a highlight of my trip.
Earlier that day…. or why I recommend taking the bus
By 7.30am I was already drowning in sweat. I’d just started climbing the first big hill out of Hoa Binh and it was tough going.
To make things worse, after a few kilometres of steep climbing the road narrowed, and it quickly became clear that this was not a safe situation for cycling.
There were too many buses, too many trucks, and not enough road.
I pulled myself off the road at a roadside café and took a minute to admire the views which reflected the elevation I’d already gained. I then spent a few minutes trying to flag down a passing bus. It was fruitless – there just wasn’t anyway to stop here.
With absolutely no other option I got back on the bike and, trying not to think about the trucks whistling past, cycled cautiously around the next steep bend. Suddenly the road flattened out, allowing me to pull over to gather my shaking nerves.
Just as I turned to grasp my handlebars, a small green bus appeared. Almost automatically I put my hand out to wave it down, and – lo and behold – it pulled to a stop.
“This bus will never pick up a bike,” I thought, but only for about a split second because the bus conductor was already pulling it up through the door. I quickly took off the panniers and climbed into the bus. Not bad at all!
The bus whizzed safely along the remaining section of Highway Six in air-conditioned comfort, and more importantly, safety. As much as I would like to cycle the whole length of my trip, I could see that this road definitely exceeded my threshold for what was just too dangerous.
Taking a bike on a bus always involves paying double, but here that was absolutely worth it.
