Ma River to the Thanh Hoa coast. I explore the hidden gem of Vinh Loc, meeting some of the kindest locals in Vietnam before heading off on the final leg of my misty Ma River route,
Cycling the Ma River to the coast, via Thanh Hoa
Lovely Vinh Loc
The small, riverside town of Vinh Loc was one of those accidental discoveries, full of the warm and friendly people that make travel so delightful. I’m so glad I stayed there, even if it wasn’t part of the plan.
The day started exactly as it should – with coffee.
And not just any coffee, a coffee from Mr Binh, probably the kindest cafe owner in Vietnam.
Before pulling in to Mr Binh’s, I’d bought a fresh roll from a bakery, the baker going out the back to get me one straight from the oven.
The smell of the bread mixed with a pleasant aroma from large slabs of fresh tofu at a market stall.
“Is it ok to eat outside food in the cafe?” I asked, stuffing pieces of crusty roll into my mouth. I had already started dipping it into the jar of peanut butter I’d brought from home.
(Clearly the different sides of my brain were not quite connecting at this point).
Lovely Mr Binh just smiled and brought me some toothpicks. Then moved my bike so it was exactly in my sight line, protecting it against all the (probably) non-existent thieves.
The afternoon before I’d stopped early in Vinh Loc, which gave me the chance to take a stroll on the riverfront.
It was a beautiful area, and – like most of this province – very traditional, quiet and unassuming.
For dinner, I found a wonderful ‘Com Binh Dan’ (rice cafeteria) just near my guesthouse. From a selection of dishes on offer I choose delicious fish and veggies.
A number of elderly people in matching pyjamas were eating there, and the delightful staff constantly fuss over them. I guess they were from a nearby aged care place.
Ma River route – the final stretch
The next morning I started off on the final leg of my Ma River odessy, and what followed was a very pleasant morning of cycling. Gone were the hills, replaced with a flat, smooth concrete path along the riverbank, offering views over the surrounding landscape.
Large parts of the path were taken over by rice grains, spread out by farmers to dry in the sun.
It’s all extremely quiet right up to about 11am when hundreds of school kids suddenly swarm past on their scooters, knocking off for the day.
Just before lunch I stop suddenly, intrigued by the sight of a very unusual looking house. I’m lucky enough to be given a spontaneous tour by the owner and builder, who has spent five years creating all manner of weird and wonderful murals and carvings. Not quite finished, it’s still hugely detailed and obviously a labour of love.
He and his wife are both so proud and excited by my interest, it made my day.
Nearing the provincial capital of Thanh Hoa, the route winds around a hill into a quaint residential area. It’s here that I stop off at a temple, pleased to find a nice view at the top of some stone stairs. Low hanging clouds make the everything atmospheric and misty. I love it.
Cycling Thanh Hoa city, the easy way around
Anyone reading this blog previously will know that I’ve previously had bad experiences trying to get around big cities, so I approached the Thanh Hoa capital with trepidation.
But in the end, the route I chose (up a tree-lined street through the historic Ham Rong district) was so quiet as to make me wonder if I’d missed the apocalypse.
Soon, I’d circled the city outskirts and was whizzing due south down a smooth, straight and easy road.
None of this was of course very scenic.
But it felt great to be moving fast again and it felt like the beginning of a new chapter in the journey.
I’d followed the Ma River on my very own original bike route, travelling almost to the mouth of the river.
And after soaking up a whole lot of goodwill over the past few days I easily smashed out a 100km day.
The afternoon was marred somewhat by a necessary stint on the notorious Highway One.
Even though the highway’s large shoulder made cycling reasonably safe, the sheer noise level from trucks and busses was unbearable.
I stop to refuel on delicious banana fritters and wonder in amazement at the people who sit and conduct their businesses here, day in and day out.
Soon I’m able to turn off onto peaceful back roads, and (again) am astounded that rural serenity can exist so close to traffic hell.
Arriving to the coast
Before too long my route brings me to a cheerful small town main street.
I’d pinpointed a hotel in this town as a good place to stop, but when I arrive at the Google Maps location, the only thing there is a milk tea shop. Luckily the shop isn’t busy so the worker jumps on her bike.
“Follow me,” she says.
Down the street and around the corner we go, and soon a big yellow hotel sign comes into sight.
I wave goodbye to the girl and smile with relief.
Peering through the gate, though, there are zero signs of life. Looks like the hotel is deserted.
“Hey, hey, hey,” comes a voice behind me. I turn around and see a woman.
“Nha nghi” (guesthouse)?” she says, pointing vigorously around another corner.
So off I go again, never more glad to see a real, inhabited guesthouse come into view.
Kids of both the human and goat variety are running around in the front yard, and the owners let me into a simple but clean room.
Across the road is the sea. All that’s left to top off the day is a dinner of beer, bok choy and barbecue prawns, along with some fried rice, and I head to one of many the seaside restaurants just up the road from the hotel.
