Moto madness

Back in the 60s I believe it was Huey Newton that said you are either part of the problem or part of the solution. As a traveler you are often both. Your dollars give a much needed boost to the local economy, especially if you are traveling in the developing world as we are. You are also part of the problem because the usage of resources such as water means less for the local inhabitants. We do our best to conserve resources wherever we are but sometimes we break down and become more a part of the problem than we would otherwise wish. With that caveat I'll take you along with us on our last day on Phu Quoc.

We decided to spend our last day on Phu Quoc exploring a little more of the island. The most efficient way to do this was too rent a small motorcycle for the day. Those of you that have been following this blog know how I have struggled with the constant din of beeping motos and risking life and limb to cross the street in the big cities we have visited. It was with some reluctance that I became part of the problem that day but it was the only choice available to explore some of the remoter parts of the island.

I went out in morning to find a moto to rent. The first machine I was offered had bald tires and looked pretty tired otherwise. Since most of our travel would be on dirt roads and paths, some of them remote, I passed on this machine. About 50 feet further down the road I was offered a near new Suzuki with new tires. Still it was a less than ideal choice because it had street tires and suspension.

The bike owner gave me a ride back to the hotel to pick up Deb and left me the keys and 2 helmets. There was no rental contract, instruction on particular idiosyncracies of the bike or any gas in the tank. I wasn't worried as the bike was an automatic shift with electric starter. What could be simpler? I went and grabbed Deb, put the key in the ignition and nothing happened. I tried everything that usually works like pulling on the brakes and looking for lockout switches. I have owned numerous motorcycles and scooters and had never encountered such a problem. A security guard from our hotel came over and he couldn't figure it out either. At least now I did not feel like a complete idiot. He called the gardener over who confidently flipped up the kickstand and the bike fired up immediately. Undaunted we roared, or I should say putted, out of the parking lot of the hotel.

"Born to be Wild" by Steppenwolf ran through my head and adrenaline coursed through my veins as we zoomed through the town of Duong Dong on our way to the north coast. After a quick stop on the other side of town for gas and directions, we found the right road. Free of the town traffic, I opened her up to 25 mph. It was then the short comings of the street suspension and tires were noticeable. Every loose bit caused the bike to swerve in a nerve wracking manner. Another problem was every bump in the road made Deborah's innards bang against her pelvic bone. As for braking or taking curves each of these actions resulted in sliding or broad sliding. Despite this I pretended to have fun so as not to alarm Deb. Within a mile or so of leaving town a large road construction project funneled me off on a side road which took us through a small village. It was interesting to see how the Vietnamese live. It was not a pretty sight. The detritus of the industrial age was everywhere. It made Appalachia look like the upper east side of Manhattan.
One of the nicer villages we passed through

We came out the other side of the village into the countryside but as we went along the road became smaller and smaller until it became a single track and then appeared to peter out altogether right in front of a house. A seemingly very friendly Vietnamese woman came with a puzzled look on her face as if wondering why we were stopped in her front yard. I showed her our map and she gestured that she would show us the way to go. She hopped on her moto and we followed her a few miles of single track through open jungle. It was probably a beautiful ride, but my full attention was on the track which was an unpredictable mix of leaves, sticks, mud, loose sand, firm dirt and everything in between. It was kind of fun but an extremely challenging ride. When we reached the main road again she smiled and I smiled and we waved and took off as she held out her hand for an expected payment. So much for the friendliness of the Vietnamese.One of the local "roads"

We continued on our journey through a luxuriant green jungle. We visited a few of the small resorts in the area which were a mix of very nice and very funky. A local resort

We then went on through the jungle and finally the road started following the beach which was very nice and deserted. We stopped briefly at what was once a beautiful beach but was marred by lots of trash. We continued on but by then I was starving so we stopped in a fishing village briefly and bought some fruit to stave off the hunger pangs until we found a suitable place for a real lunch. We motored on to another resort but there was a tour busload of Vietnamese who were playing a rowdy game of soccer on the beach adjacent to the tables in the restaurant. Not wishing to have a soccer ball with our lunch we motored on for several more miles still looking for lunch. We started up over a mountain that we thought would take us to our goal which was a lighthouse on the northwest corner of the island and fantasized about a restaurant by the lighthouse. The road was steep and windy and I was being extra cautious which turned out to be a good thing. On a particularly sharp uphill curve we were met by a dump truck full of dirt going way too fast. As soon as I saw it, I pulled over to the side of the road and stopped. He obviously was not paying attention and saw me too late, panicked and slammed on his brakes. The back end of the truck started to slide towards us but I saw that he would clear us but it gave us a moment of pure adrenalin rush. Deb was convinced her heart had stopped. As the truck passed us we turned to watch him over correct and go up on two wheels flinging dirt and rocks out of the truck. He over corrected the other way and went so far up on the other two wheels I was sure he was going to crash. In retrospect I believe he dumped enough dirt out of the truck to lower the center of gravity and enable him to stay upright. It looked like a stunt out of a Hollywood movie. Again we continued on.

As I watched the gas gauge move towards empty, and the sun sinking in the western sky,I became concerned that we were not on the right road. It was difficult to tell where we were as all we had was a tourist map. We stopped again to ask directions. After much sign language and pointing at the map we realized we were not on the right road. Reluctantly we turned around and headed back towards a restaurant we had seen on a beach about 5 miles back.Lunch on the beach

We stopped at a beautiful spot right on a sheltered bay. The table was right on the sand. We ordered a cold beer to wash the red dirt out of our mouths. This was followed by a plate of stir fried noodles with seafood and vegetables. After a few more beers we stripped down to our swimsuits and dove into the crystal clear water. It had the usual trash but was beautiful nonetheless. After a quick swim and conversation with some fellow travelers from Finland we downed an ice coffee and turned the bike toward home.Deborah is nearly eaten by a pod

The return trip was as eventful as the trip out. As we entered a small village looking for gas we slowed to see a man holding electrical wires up just high enough for us to pass under. Deborah was very nervous about this but we had no choice. There was no gas station in town but we spied a man with bottles of gasoline by the road. We bought a liter which was enough to get us home. We putted back out onto the dirt highway to find a huge pile of dirt that had just been dumped which spanned the road. There was just enough room to ease the moto by on one side of the pile but for the last 20 feet. When I was almost through to the other side I opened the throttle as far as it would go and powered through the remainder of the pile. Deb opted to walk for this part of the journey. Next we came upon a dump truck parked in the middle of the road with just enough room to pass. As we passed a huge excavator swung its arm towards the truck tossing dirt and rocks in our direction. Again, I went full throttle and passed as a head sized boulder came crashing out of the truck.

The final adventure on our moto tour was humorous and sad. We noticed two other motos stopped in the road ahead. As we got closer we saw that one fellow was off his moto wrestling with a crate about 4 feet long that that straddled the other moto. As we approached even closer I could see that there was about a 300 pound pig upside down in the crate. It would have been very amusing but as we passed the terrified squeals of the pig rang in our ears long after we could no longer hear it. Finally we arrived at our hotel just in time for our last sunset on Phu Quoc.

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