Letters From The Road--Viet Nam, Cambodia and Laos: The first 1000 km, Part 2--Cua Lo, Ron, Dong Hoi on the road to Hue

Written from Hue, still the 20th of November, 2018, weather continuing fair and warm to hot (though not terribly hot)
There were two overnight stops between Sam Son and Hue. . .Cua Lo one night and Dong Hoi the next, making less than 200 km each day, but still moving along.
Cua Lo and I have a long and interesting history. . .I spent the night here one year when a typhoon came ashore quite close by and flooded the whole world. . .I ended up pushing the bike through the swamped town and finally got above flood water high enough to fire her up maybe a km out of town though all the countryside around was under water. The little boat yards here (there have been three over the years, two still operational, though my favorite looks very sleepy at the moment) the boatyards, as I was saying, have given me a series of wonderful insights into the local designs, building methods and contractual relations between builders and boatyard owners...none perfect of course, but still. . .stuff I wouldn't have or at least didn't learn elsewhere. The big church in town was not much more than a pile of bricks the first time I saw it, then later I was pressed to buy at least a column to put my name on (I didn't. . .) and I've since been shown through the completed sanctuary. . .lovely. But in recent years it's been the family at what has become one of my very favorite hotels all along my routes, Xuan Lan Hotel (you can find them on Google Maps!!). Some years ago now, I rolled into town late in the evening in the winter off season and there was nowhere to eat at all (not an uncommon problem in beach resorts in winter when there's nobody there to sell a dinner to!). They gave me a room and then the family, Grandpa, two brothers, their wives and at least three children (they didn't sit still) all sat down to eat. Riding in I'd seen there was nowhere within blocks to eat and it was getting later by the minute. I invited myself to dinner. There was a moment's delay then they shuffled everyone a little tighter around the table and set me a place (rice bowl and chopsticks and a glass of water). I couldn't empty my bowl, it kept filling up, and there were questions in plenty to answer, a little in English, and more in my poor Vietnamese.
There have been a lot of visits since, and it's always the same, or better. Usually though, it's been in the dead winter season when I've turned up and it seemed reasonable to intrude. This year it's still a busy time and I felt I'd best not intrude, so I walked down the street and carried home a sack of sandwiches for my supper and the young son--manager of the hotel--met me with obvious unhappiness. . .pointed at my bag of greasy bread and said "no. . .not eat that. . .eat with my family! So of course I did. After all, when I'd ridden up they'd spotted me and shooed me back through the lobby into the family motorbike parking behind the kitchen. I'd shaken hands with almost everyone, and the young man's lovely wife saw me and came running through the crowd to squeeze my hands and then give me a long hard hug. . .good heavens. How could I have thought to eat sandwiches in my room?? When first I stopped here, the oldest daughter was just a year or so and very shy. Now she's nine and not shy at all (hotel kids are like that almost always, precocious and very friendly). This year she lead the team of herself (Anna, also called Phuong in Vietnamese), a 7 year old young lady and a six year old fellow. . .determined to entertain (themselves and) me regardless of the protocols. Dad, the hotel manager, was a thoroughly affectionate father, feeding the smaller kids by hand and laughing at the antics. It was a wonderful meal. . .unusually good food to start with (including a huge plate of perfect mussels). When everyone else was finished they cleared away the dishes (other guests in the rest of the dining room had already finished up and clearing up that mess was an ongoing project) and finally Mom got to come out of wherever she'd been working and kept me at the table to smile at I guess. . .we have almost no language in common, but somehow our quarter hour together was very sweet. Oh, and Grandpa had seen me on TV and thought that was splendid. Goodness. Life can be pretty nice at times!
So, in the early morning I got out and looked through the fishing harbor, which was swamped with a huge landing of tiny shrimp like the ones at Sam Son further north, but tons and tons of them, filling stacks of plastic boxes and getting shuffled into icy trucks and onto the backs of Hondas and lady's carrying poles. It was pandemonium through which I could hardly walk and certainly couldn't ride the bike. From a distance I could see my favorite little boatyard was either asleep or dead entirely, no work building or repairing, and the little yard across the harbor had two repairs hauled out but nothing new building. In the fleet, most of the boats were in nice shape, obviously paying their bills and some were covered with new fiberglass and a few, half a dozen perhaps, were all fiberglass boats a lot like the new ones in Sam Son, The wood supply dries up and things have to change. I was barely in time, or a little late!

two of the local style boats, rigged with their "push ahead" gear, for scooping up schools of fish from the top few feet of the sea. They can also fish with a beam trawl for flounders and other bottom fish, or with crab and shrimp pots, as the season offers. The push ahead gear often results in huge landings though!

Boxes and boxes and truckloads of tiny pink shrimp

Push ahead gear pretty much in fishing position. . .now put it in gear and go ahead at a good walking pace and see what you scoop up. The net is long enough the toe can come aboard off one side or the other to be emptied on deck.

Brand new fiberglass boat, with full wooden framing and deck. . .pretty much the same soluition as at Sam Son, but with the local style.

It's a lot of net in front of the boat!

I really like roof-top views, this one from my fourth floor room (yes, we have an elevator!)

I met it when it was not much more than a pile of bricks.

A very unusual stretch of QL-1 these days, only 2 lanes and 2 wide shoulders, but almost no traffic from Cua Lo on a few km. Then back to four lanes and a complete barrier between them.

pretty country and good riding weather, dry and not too hot!

Gee, where'd this come from, wasn't here two years ago. . .

A quick stop at Cua Ron, another place I've seen fascinating boat building. Today it was just routine maintenance, with a lot of the fleet in harbor, but looking good.

The fiberglass tubs are still gaining ground everywhere I've been. This gentleman has installed a little diesel engine instead of the more usual small gasser. It runs remarkably quietly, I think I'd like it, though I don't like the tubs.

boatyards everywhere now a are laying up glass over wooden hulls. One fellow runs ahead with a mix of microspheres and resin, filling cracks and seams and fairing humps and hollows, and the others follow on quickly with sheets of mat and more resin. . .they cover a lot of boat like this, working on the sides, but the bottom is more work!

Now that's a first! Jack up the whole truck and walk the iron on board. Who'd have thought??

A tiny, but nice room in Dong Hoi

With a view from the balcony

Even better at night!

H'mm, where'd all the boats go??

Nice little inshore fishing boats in the river at Dong Hoi

The Quang Binh boats (from Dong Hoi in this case) of ten have a particularly lively sheer line, perhaps in honor of the offshore shoals and breakers at the river mouth.