Ho Chi Minh Road
Ho Chi Minh Trail and Western Ho Chi Minh Road, Central Highlands
The Ho Chi Minh Trail (HCMT) was a network of military supply routes from North Vietnam to South Vietnam. Most of HCMT was in the country of Laos, just west of Vietnam, with sections in and branches into Vietnam’s central highlands. It was alive with logistical activity and repair work during the night in the war. The U.S. military dropped more ordinance on the HCMT than was dropped on Europe in WWII. Some estimates say 800,000 tons of ordinance remains unexploded today. Note to self, stay on the well-used paths.
The Western Ho Chi Minh Road (not highway – that is different) runs along the Western spine of Vietnam, in the central highlands and along the border with Laos where the HCMT fed back into Vietnam. The road paved part of the HCMT (I think). The 150 mile or so stretch from Khe Sahn north to Phong Nha is a serpentine trace along the border, weaving through the highlands, and is covered with rainforest and jungle.
The road itself
The road surface consists of concrete slabs poured by hand in segments maybe every 20 feet or so. I understand the concrete surfaces were created in the 1970s with forced labor – being the Vietnamese who fought for the losing side. The highway is only wide enough for a single car – total, not each way. My impression is that the roadway is not banked, or has very little bank, for the hundreds of curves.
The road is empty. No. One. Is. There. At least most of the time. Spectacular but remote. motorcycle perfection. This is where I wanted to experience riding in Vietnam. I am blessed to experience this wonder before the rest of the world discovers it.
In one section, we rode 2.5 hours without seeing another human, save one gentleman with whom we exchanged peace signs as we passed going opposite directions
Life on the Road
No traffic and no humans doesn’t mean no life. Peaceful water buffalo are plentiful and many seem to enjoy lounging on the road surface – especially around blind corners. Road hazards also include lots of buffalo dung and pea gravel which seem to be concentrated on those unbanked curves. Riding the Western Ho Chi Minh Road by motorcycle demands constant attention.
Remote and empty have implications to take seriously: gas, daylight, obstacles, water, food, cell service, breakdowns, bathrooms, help if needed.
Gas
I rode a Honda XR150 (manual), 150 cc with a 10.6 liter tank and a range of perhaps 300 miles or 480 km. Lauren rode a Honda Blade (semi automatic), 110 cc with a 3.7 liter tank and range of 115 milles or 185 km which is not enough to be out on the remote sections of the Ho Chi Minh Road. There is one gas station, or at least one that we could find, between Khe Sanh and Phong Nha. Uninformed (because we did not have the advance warning from a blog post like this) we got lucky when northbound and were able to fill up. We took note as the locals were filling empty plastic water bottles with gas. On our southbound return, the gas station was closed because … well … they don’t need a reason. Having learned from the locals, we had a 1.5 L plastic bottle filled with gas, enough to get Lauren’s bike through the remote section. No lectures please. This is not safe but running out of gas in the middle of nowhere in Western Vietnam near Laos does not strike me as particularly safe either.
I am told, and I believe, that gas can be negotiated from locals who keep a supply in their homes for see above, no open gas stations. But you have to find a local village first. Locating, negotiating where English is not spoken, and trekking back to an out-of-gas motorcycle hopefully still with your belongings intact takes time – precious daylight.
Don’t leave a town with an operating gas station without filling up first.
Daylight
Breathtaking beauty, endless curves, no-bank corners, water buffalo obstacles, and rest breaks take a long time. Daylight is not endless. Riding the Western Ho Chi Minh Road in the dark is more adventure than desired.
Constant attention to the road and obstacles takes focus. Hours and hours is hard on at least my bottom. I found breaks where necessary to relieve the discomfort and maintain good attention. Standing on the pegs offers some relief on the scarce straight segments. As the day goes on, stretch breaks off the motorcycle become as frequent as every 20 minutes.
Obstacles
Water buffalo are generally docile and tend not to stir when lounging on the road, making most passes unremarkable. They also generally plod along in a consistent direction making their trajectory predictable for a no-big-deal pass. BUT, occasionally there is a knucklehead water buffalo who wants to try out some rodeo moves, making a pass entirely too sporting. This is a particular challenge when riding as a pair of motorcycles. Lead motorcycle would typically spook the beast which would then uncharacteristically reverse direction, making the trail motorcycle perform snap fighter pilot maneuvers to avoid hitting it. This phenomenon is especially prevalent with chickens in Vietnam villages. I am amazed we did not have to buy our way out of the crime of murdering chickens by motorcycle everyday.
Suddenly the road ends in jungle. Then begins again.
The Western Ho Chi Minh Road had several fallen trees on the road, including a giant banana tree. We travelled the road northbound and again southbound a few days later, encountering the same fallen trees … which tells me traffic is almost nonexistent and probably only motorcycles who could go around.
At a certain point, the paved road just stops. No signs, no visible continuing road, just a sketchy dirt path through jungle with ruts that looked deeper than Lauren’s Honda Blade might handle. Nothing to do but give it a try. What could go wrong? After a few hundred meters, the paved road appeared again, albeit with downed trees. I have no explanation. Just wonder.
Food & Water
There is one restaurant. A roadhouse really that specialized in Com Ga, or chicken rice. We had it to ourselves save for a table of highway workers festively enjoying beers with the proprietor. Ordering food in the outback without speaking Vietnamese usually makes for a surprise. Having the right perspective makes all the difference in the world. Being off the vibrating and noisy motorcycle, being free of hot protective gear including helmets, and being able to communicate with your beloved travel companion with other than hand signals makes for a blissful respite no matter what is served. The chicken and rice that arrived with a cool Fanta orange drink were perhaps the best-tasting meal of the trip. I joke that the chicken was probably walking around the yard that morning because it didn’t look like a place with a freezer.
As we were leaving to continue northbound, a southbound father and son pair of Americans on motorcycles with a local guide came in. (I only met 3 Americans in total in over 3 weeks in Vietnam) This was beautiful symmetry to our father and daughter motorcycle team. The guide warned us of the long remote section ahead with no gas. He gave the location of a single gas station that might be open. And it was, that day.
Beyond the roadhouse, the only food and water is what you carry.
Mobile Phone Service … maybe not on this road.
Arriving in country, we bought sim cards for our mobile phones from Viettel, a state-owned company. In general, mobile data performance and limits in Vietnam exceed what we experience in the U.S., for far less money. I chose Viettel because I believe coverage to be better in remote areas like the border with Laos to support the border patrol outposts.
That said, count on segments without cell service which means online maps fail and maps have to be downloaded ahead of time. It also means that cell phone batteries drain fast as the handset searches for signals. A fully charged battery and separate power pack are essential for the Ho Chi Minh Road.
Then again, who are you going to call and what are you going to say?
Breakdowns
I carried spare innertubes because the size required for my motorcycle are hard to find in Vietnam. Later, this proved prescient.
Breakdowns happen. In urban areas, no big deal because the country runs on motorcycles and mechanics are abundant. On the remote Ho Chi Minh Road, not at all.
We mitigated the risk by riding two motorcycles. If one broke down, we would double up on the other to hopefully return to civilization.
Bathrooms
Hey, it is a jungle out there. Even in town, you better be packing TP.
Enough about the mechanics. Let me share the feeling.
Serenity
Riding the Western Ho Chi Minh Road, I never felf more alive and more at peace. I was exactly where I wanted to be, relieving the decades-long itch to ride a motorcycle on the Ho Chi Minh Trail.
The serenity of the place is hard to describe. Carving a road from the beautiful mountainous border region is an epic human feat. The fact that it was the nexus in a geopolitical conflict, an asset to one side and a nemasis to the other, made it surreal. We were riding effortlessly through a landscape that would be hell to walk through even if no one was trying to kill you. Yet thousands walked through it, mostly at night.
The surgery of cutting the road through the limestone and forests was seemingly delicate, leaving on a thin concrete scar. Nature is aggressive and opportunistic, reclaiming everything for her forests, jungle, and streams right up to the roadway concrete. If the war left scars on the landscape, nature has covered them. Green in every direction.
Forest and jungle sounds are abundant. Birds. No traffic, motor or human sounds except when our motorcycles are running, I saw no aircraft. Tranquility.
The remoteness, the risks, the challenges, the sense that I and we had to do everything right or face the consequences, and the fact that we were nevermore on our own, cranked up my nervous and sensory systems. I felt alive. Now I realize how much our creature comforts, conveniences, and community regularly suppress that feeling.
On the Ho Chi Minh Road, on a motorcycle, I was exactly where I was meant to be.
I met aliens and they are us.
Yet the blank, unbreaking stares from the water buffalo served to remind me that I was the alien there.
The sun marching across the sky, the falling gas gauge, and the dwindling powerpack for the cell phone prodded me to keep moving. Contentment, for this human anyway, has temporal limits.
Lauren and I exchanged hand signals as we had learned wearing helmets, rolled on our throttles, and followed our front wheels around countless mountain curves to the city of Phong Nha, arriving just before dusk.
Phong Nha is a small haystack and our homestay was an elusive needle hiding within it. Riding my bike through an alleyway, then a small passageway to an inner courtyard took the last measure of my energy. It had been an 11 or 12 hour day with 8 hours of imposing my will on a motorcycle on my dream road. Dinner then sleep. I was exhausted beyond description.
