A ride in the rain--Hue to Hoi An--then a nice day or two!

Written from Hoi An, November 23, 2018
Weather today has been overcast with a few breaks of sunshine, but yesterday, riding from Hure south to Da Nang and Hoi An was pretty wet.  The day dawned in Hue fair and pretty at five thirty and I scoffed at the weather forecast that called for solid rain all day.  Do Not Scoff too early in the day!  While I wrote in the diary over my favorite glass of iced coffee here, with my table just barely under the edge of the overhead cover, a solid mass of water. . .I'm sure it really wasn't individual rain drops. . .fell out of the sky and drowned everyone who wasn't under cover.  Amazing.  The survivors quickly found shelter and the little coffee shop filled up.  I decided I wasn't in all that much of a rush to get on the road, and settled in to write up the day past.  It did improve (there's no way it could have continued long without washing away the city), but still, when I couldn't put it off any longer, it was clearly a rainy day and I started out with just the plastic boots and the rain cape.  I need to get you a photo of the rain cape. . .everybody has one or can buy one for half a dollar (a very poor one, very thin plastic at that price) whenever the rain starts. They appear for sale in every store front soon after the first drop.  I knew I wanted a new one as soon as I got in country, so I was equipped with one of the best, nylon, lined with flexible plastic, nice blue color. . ."for one head".  Yup, they make them for two people as well. . .two head holes, two hoods and a little more overall length.  Walking in one of those would be a trick, but for a couple (and a kid or two) on the bike, they're sweet! If you're getting one of that quality, spend just a little more and get a front window in it.  That's not to see through, it's for your headlight to shine through and give you a view of your speedometer. . .it's a low front window.  And usually, if you hunt around you can even get one with hand holes for your mirrors to stick through.  That doesn't help your rear vision much, the cape blocks all the view astern. . .no, it's just to prevent the cape flying up over the handlebars and covering your head at speed.  You haven't lived until you've had your helmet wrapped in flapping nylon taffeta at sixty km per hour. . .or perhaps I should say you haven't died until. . .but there are other ways to manage that.
Anyway, it goes about as you'd imagine.  You unfold the thing, it blows around.  You take off your helmet and pull the head hole over your head.  It binds up, then finally the head pops out and you have a face hole in front and the visor down over your eyes.  (If you don't have a face hole in front it's easier to take the thing clear off and sort that out, then try it again).  The visor is soft, fold it up over your forehead out of the way.  If you leave it down your helmet will lock it in front of your glasses, which doesn't work at all well.  Pull the back side down (it will bind on your shirt and trousers, but you want actually to sit on the back shirt tail if you can manage it.  Otherwise jam it between your rump and your luggage and it will behave.  No harm if it flies out behind really, but it's a little less effective that way and quite noisy.  Then you have to unscrew one mirror half a turn (bump it with the palm of your hand, you shouldn't have to get out a wrench. . .but if you do, then do).  Feed the mirrors through their holes, swing that mirror back into position and bump it to tighten it up, flip the front window down over the headlight and you're set to go.  It may blow around if there's a side wind, but don't worry, as soon as you get moving it will settle down and behave.  A good one is really waterproof and that means you'll be carrying quite a puddle in front of your tummy during even a modest rain, but just take a free hand (left hand generally) and push up from below and all the water will fly harmlessly away off to the sides.  There you have it, the Vietnamese rain cape.  If it's warm out the best combination is probably a pair of plastic shoes (self draining), a pair of shorts, and a shirt that will dry quickly when it gets a chance.  If you're stuck with blue jeans, then it's rain pants over blue jeans, over the top of the plastic boots.  Unless it's both cool-cold and really raining hard, don't bother with the rain coat, it'll be too hot.  Just because it's wet out doesn't mean it's cold.  (I wish I could convince Seattle to act that way).
For this ride I ended up (after two stops to upgrade the outfit) with everything on. . .the bluejeans, the plastic boots, the rain pants, the rain coat (partially covering my day pack) and the rain cape.  It came off by degrees.  Approaching Hai Van Pass, where you are exposed to the full force of the wind off the sea on the mountainside, I decided the wind was too much, be darned to the rain, I put away the cape and carried on with just the coat and pants.  The wind was still quite pesky, shoving the bike around now and then on the side of the mountain and I was pleased with that decision.

Hai Van Pass. . .climbing up from the north--A good view point with enough room to get a bike off the road.  That's somebody else's bike, with their luggage wrapped in a rain cape. . .quick and only a little wet.

Actually, most of the ride up the pass is long fairly straight grades, but there are some steep switch backs as well.  This one is really quite moderate. . .some the inside lane is almost a drop off and you want to show a little respect as you approach.

The cloud base just barely touched the roadway at the summit. . .a murky day, but pretty anyway.  The sea was a mass of white caps and the wind on the mountain side gusted enough to be pesky.

Rain continued, though quickly lightening on into the outskirts of Da Nang. . .but by the time we got into the downtown zone (almost 20 km from where you first start to "be in Da Nang", it's a very big city) the rain was finished (well, almost) for the day and everybody else was riding cool and comfortable, without rain gear.  I stopped next to a big flower planter with Astro-turf covering the concrete and the trees poking through. . .which made a good place to sort things out while a security guard next door did a good sphinx imitation. . .never cracked a smile until I was ready to ride away, then he said goodbye.
One of my main visits over the years has become a stop wherever Pham Van Quan is working. I met him first on the road to Halong City from Hanoi, where he was managing the huge and wonderful tourist bus stop souvenir shop and restaurant halfway there.  He's a brilliant, handsome young man, fluent in a number of languages and able to charm tourists from anywhere.  It's absolutely great fun to stop and visit for a while, and he's always made time for me no matter what.  I guess I should say that originally we met because I was asking about the cost of buying and shipping a life sized white marble statue of my favorite Buddhist personality, the lady Buddha Quan Am, whose statues and portraits are very common around temples all over Viet Nam. (note:  they sell marble statues of everything or everybody, Jesus, Mary, Buddha, the Victory of Samothrace or Venus rising from the sea. . .just for starters.)  Quan Am is in the same business as the Virgin Mary, interceding for people in trouble, pouring out the water of compassion for mankind, and is known to be particularly helpful to sailors in distress.  I pay my respects frequently, very hopeful she'll help a sailor in distress on his motorbike, if that's where she finds him.  And everybody needs a bit of compassion from time to time. Anyway, the front line salesman apparently felt a little over his head and called in Mr. Quan who was comfortable with all the ramifications of the matter.  After a lengthy discussion I didn't send the statue home, though it was surprisingly do-able, and every year since (a long time now) I've stopped whenever I pass by and spent a while with him.  Last year I knew he'd been transferred to Da Nang to manage the new store there (which has to be a challenge, there is a lot of competition nearby), so I did a Google search, located the place and walked in on him without warning, which did a world of good for my reputation as a savvy traveler.  This year I dropped in again and found he'd been transferred back to Hanoi.  Darn.  So instead of a good long visit I was soon back on the road south to Hoi An, just a short run along the coast road.  Coast road or not though, you rarely see the sea, almost the entire way is either magnificent hotels and golf courses, or magnificent hotels under construction.  But it's really easy navigation, you just keep going with the sand on your left until you get there, then turn inland (right) to go to the old town.  Really.

Hoi An.  Such a place.  When I first knew it I thought it the ultimate Vietnamese tourist trap. . .er. . .venue. . .well whatever. . .but I was wrong.  It's a city with a long history, hundreds of years of traders coming and going to the river mouth harbor from all over the world. . .China, Japan, Europe, even the USA before it was the USA.  Since the monsoon seasons govern the sailing traffic up and down this coasst, those traders often set up local headquarters and homes, many of which remain in the old town.  The French built administrative buildings and many of them remain.  The place is picturesque, what with the river harbor, the winding streets and the ancient architecture from all over. . .and during the American war, both sides apparently felt it was worth leaving alone instead of bombing or shelling to pieces, as happened elsewhere.  So the old buildings survived to become quaint retail shops and restaurants.  The river mouth is apparently shallower now and all the heavy freight goes just north to Da Nang and no more tall ships stop here for silk and ceramics.  No problem, the whole world comes here for custom tailored couture (and funny T-shirts) and lovely noodles (My Quang. . .you have to try them on the street here).  One way or another though, the development I thought was extreme ten or twelve years ago is now remembered fondly as the good old days before the tourist development.  Oh my.  But I didn't come for the shopping, I've a couple of old friends here, and a few boat yards still to look into.

After my afternoon arrival I wandered around the neighborhood, had a lovely back rub, too vigorous to call "relaxing", but it surely loosened up my bike-stiff joints.  A strolling supper (noodles, steamed bun, chocolate croissant. . .) just absorbing the atmosphere. 

Oh my goodness--well, it got me into a dress shop!  If I'd had m'Lady along they could have had her measurements and an order by the time i quit staring at this.  It's an utterly gorgeous thing, looks brand new, or better, but the saleslady tells me it's been converted to "electricity".  H'mm.  Well, the fact that the spark plug wire runs from the GAS TANK is very suggestive I guess.  That must house the battery, though you could also hide a battery in the lovely leather bag.  A work of Art!

Everything looks right, until you trace the spark plug wire up to the gas tank, then you start to wonder about the throttle cable and other details.

But who cares?? It's exquisite, one of the nicest motorbikes I've ever seen.  I wonder if I'll be able to find out  any history?? That definitely looks like an acetylene lamp for a headlight. . .I mean, it was certainly and er well, I didn't look to see if it has an electric bulb now.  Again, who cares.  Oh dear.  Oh my.  Unrequited love. . .

Nothing extraordinary. . .just some very nice quiet homes off one of the busy tourist streets.

Hoi An waterfront, a typical modern 6 meter long tourist boat. . .wood topsides and riveted aluminum (or sometimes galvanized tin) bottom.  if you want to paddle you'll be welcome to try it, though the boat will go faster with the lady in charge.

So many tour boats these days. . .dozens, and constantly coming and going. 

Along  the waterfront in Hoi An. . .East meets West. I would burn to a crisp myself. . .always roll down my shirt sleeves after ten in the morning.  

This is one skinny old boat.  Can't imagine using her. . .unless maybe she carried some sand or rock ballast??  Nonsense.  Something I just don't understand here.  She's finished now though I think.

Then there was a visiting and tourist day, I did ride a few miles over to Kim Bong island where the boat yards are, but really, very little riding, and my saddle sore seems to have appreciated the break. I worked around the hotel room and ate a leisurely and lovely breakfast (included in my extremely expensive room rent at $20/night) and then met one of my old time translators that you've met before. She was a 22 year old student when I used her the first time, now a 26 year old English Teacher with a good salary and a day off!  We had coffee and she gave me a mountain of manure over my coming back again after having claimed last trip was my last, as in final. She's still really bright and charming. She is jealous of our garden, wants one of her own but doesn't want to go back to work full time on her parents' farm. Apparently last year the winter melon market was fabulous, prices out of sight and tremendous demand. So they planted all winter melon this year, hardly anything else. And so did everybody else. They couldn't even ship the stuff to market for for what it was worth. Fed it to the chickens. We had cucumbers like that this year. 

Most of the day though was spent visiting Mr. Dai, an interesting character.   He's one of a group of men centered around sailing and traditional boats that have taken me in over the past few years, Mr. Binh, Mr. Ai, Mr. Hai and others up and down the country.  They're currently planning a traditional sailing raft voyage down the coast this winter and are deep in the repairing and re-launching of an old Ghe Nang (sailing bamboo hulled boat from Da Nang).  Mr. Ai bought it as a tired old "converted from sail, motor-fishing boat", drove it from Da Nang to Hoi An with the motor, hauled it, jerked the motor out and began rebuilding plans. Ai doesn't live here though, he's a Saigon person and only comes to visit, check on the boat and sail, so Dai (and others) keep the work on the old boat moving along, however slowly.  

But I digress. Mr. Dai and I met at his houseboat (the only houseboat in Hoi An!) and he cooked a lovely shrimp and morning glory lunch in his tiny kitchen.  He speaks a lot of English and my Vietnamese can fill in sometimes. . .for years he had a restaurant and bar here and a lot of foreigners passed through, hence the vocabulary. . .so between shrimp we talked a lot.  

Dai's houseboat. . .once a tour boat, but ten years ago began a metamorphosis. Now it's a very compact but delightful home.  The vines in the window boxes are edible morning glory, one of the most popular greens here, eaten in soups or stir fried, they have a lovely texture and flavor, not unlike spinach, but firmer.  In restaurants they'll be served with their chewy stems, but here we ate only the leaves and left the vines to carry on!

Dai in the tiny kitchen. . .a compact home, with a full sized piano (no kidding, I'm leaning on it here!)

The door posts are from Dai's ancestral home, dating back a century or more.  Wishes for health and prosperity.  

The houseboat's tomcat soon colonized my hat and bag but woke up for shrimp.

It was a pleasant but not overly productive day, ending over on Kim Bong Island checking out the old sailing boat's progress and other (minimal) ongoing work in the boatyards there. Probably the high point of the day was successfully combining aerial photography in Google Earth (on my tiny laptop in the hotel) and the capacity for Google Maps to plot gps progress out on the ground, even where it doesn't know the road network. . .to get where I was going. It used to be easy, you got on a ferry and rode over to the island and got off right next to the yard. . .then they built a little bridge to the island from an obscure corner of Hoi An, known only to certain local persons. . .and landing on the island a long ways from the old ferry landing. Gee. That was one of those "ugly, but we did it" sorts of victories, I got there and back, but I wouldn't want to retrace my route.

Hauled out, cleaned off, but no work going on. . .I wonder.

The old original stem (bow) of the sailing boat, with the keyhole shaped groove to accept the bow centerboard that was such  defining characteristic of Vietnamese sailing vessels from the central coast on south.

fitting the new gunnels to the old hull.  The hardwood clamps are remarkably effective, the wedge driven in with a hammer makes a very tight grip.

The work goes ahead just  above the river in a grassy field beside the railway

Spreading mastic in the seam to be caulked before the oakum is driven in. . .well, it isn't really oakum, more like waste fiber from a weaving mill perhaps.  Anyway, the gentleman has a marvelous touch with the mallet and caulking iron, gathering and tapping in the caulking with very quick and perfectly regular hammer blows and little flicks of the wrist to gather the fiber and center it on the seam. . .he makes it look really easy. . .

Planing off the new gunnels above the new stern post.  This is probably how she looked as a young thing, with the slot for the sailing rudder to slide up and down in.  When Mr. Ai bought her she'd been converted to diesel power and had a welded-up steel rudder that would have been useless for sailing.  It's gone now, along with its solid sternpost and the new rudder is almost complete up in the saw shed.  This keyhole groove is straight so that the rudder can rotate to steer the boat.  The slot on the bow though is curved, specifically so that the curved centerboard CANNOT rotate (that would be a real problem!)

Evening prettiness on my balcony.  These lanterns are a Hoi An hallmark.