Vietnam - Mai Chau to Ninh Binh

It would take us three days to cycle the 100 miles from the quiet rural valley of Mai Chau to the dramatic limestone karst landscapes of Ninh Binh. On route we’d visit Cuc Phuong, Vietnam’s oldest national park.

Overall our route took us on some lovely backroads and it was interesting to witness everyday life as we cycled through small hamlets.

Our first day took us up over a slow and steady 2,600ft (792m) pass to leave the valley behind. At the summit we were slowed by crazy dusty roadworks. I watched a solo man high high up on a hill with pneumatic drill hammering the rock beneath his feet away. Nearby a digger at a frightening angle wrestled to tear down the hill. We stood for half an hour baked by the sun in a growing crowd of scooters. The barrier opened and we all surged forward, vying for space through the construction zone, everyone fighting to regain time on the descent. Soon left behind, we enjoyed the long freewheel. The air was hot: a midday furnace, and we were grateful for the downhill. We passed strange long dark shacks that hung off the side of the hill, a mass of activity taking place outside the mouth of each one. I didn’t peer too closely for fear of seeing animals in tiny wire cages or catching a vendor’s desperate eye, instead zipping past on fast wheels.

After the hill it was a day of two halves. The first took us along rural backroads, a joy cycling through bright green paddies with hens scattering into flowery verges. The second was a return to the horror of the Ho Chi Minh (HCM) highway, which we endured for the last ten miles until turning down an alley to reach our guesthouse. In the alley a man, guessing our destination for the night, made a lewd gesture and gave a smutty snigger. It took me a while to realise we’d booked a night at a Love Hotel.

Very few towns, no matter how remote, are lacking at least one ‘nhà nghỉ’ (guesthouse in Vietnamese). A key resource for off-the-beaten-path travel in Vietnam they offer simple cheap accommodation. Their ubiquitousness is useful for us… but to locals nhà nghỉ often operate as ‘love hotels’ providing affordable privacy in a society where multi-generational living is the norm and traditional culture heavily discourages premarital intimacy. Both young Vietnamese and married couples, who don’t have their own rooms at home, appreciate the low prices and seclusion provided.

Relieved to leave both the guesthouse and HCM highway behind, the next morning we climbed into beautiful countryside. We passed bee hives in plantations, schoolboys on bikes full of cheeky bravado, water buffalo wallowing, and slow swaying cows being led to pastures new. A peaceful off-road track up alongside the edge of a large reservoir fringed by the national park’s green mountains calmed us. In high humidity we pedalled up into those mountains to the national park’s campsite. At the end of the day it felt good to climb into our tent, safe from the mosquitoes, and look up through the mesh at the dark silhouette of the canopy above. Lying still imagining being cool we went to sleep listening to the insects, the fish continually plop in the lake, and loud Vietnamese voices from the NP HQ buildings.

Stupidly early the next morning a lady noisily swept up leaves next to our tent, then used a petrol leaf blower (!), rudely awakening us. However early our alarm is set there is always someone up and about before us. As we came to, a stream of Vietnamese ladies staying in NP accommodation, filed past us on their way to breakfast. They were all elegant in brightly coloured Áo Dài (pronounced ow-zy), the national dress. They were all very loud 😆.

Cuc Phuong is home to 400+ butterfly species. We had arrived at the start of the breeding season when large numbers gather together. The high humidity this year has helped caterpillars grow faster and turn into butterflies earlier than expected, and the season had started earlier than usual. Word was out.

Couples and small groups of friends caught up with us, their scooter engines disrupting nature’s peace, as we cycled up the road that plunged deep into the Park’s jungle. Every woman sported internet fashion movements like ‘coquette’ styling (ruffles, lace, and bows) and ‘fairycore’ clothing (flowing, ethereal) - I’ve never seen so many long white skirts! The aesthetic roleplay continued through curated poses for the camera - twirling, looking off into the distance, mysteriously walking away - each transforming the NP backdrop into their own personal movie scene. The butterflies were secondary to the digital asset they were creating, as one after another they prioritised almost identical photographs of each other, instead of interacting with their surroundings. The social media algorithms driving hundreds of visitors to congregate at highly photogenic locations is seen by some as a good thing for conservation. “The only way we’re going to get people to care about these places is if we get them there” said Chris Burkard, a photographer with over 2 million Instagram followers. “That’s the first step to being a conservationist - caring about it. It’s never been more cool to be in nature.”

Instagram has certainly transformed Cuc Phuong NP visitor numbers - it receives a visitor spike of over 300% during the peak spring butterfly season. More than 12,300 visitors had come to the park in March alone, nearly 9,000 of whom were domestic tourists. We personally couldn’t cope with the noise and busy-ness of the swarming humans, so abandoned seeing beautiful swarming butterflies.

Since leaving Australia it has been difficult for us on this Trip to find immersion in nature that allows us to truly switch off and switch into its restorative world. This has been a surprise, as we find this so easy to do at home.

Almost all back roads today, hurray. As we leave the NP behind, the landscape that Ninh Binh is famous for started to erupt around us. Described as ‘Halong Bay on land’ instead of ocean waters limestone karsts rise dramatically out of bright green rice paddies.

We joined a large flock of cycling children on their way home for lunch. The road was raised above the paddies and we looked down at one point on two conical hats bobbing above the water, to realise they belonged to two submerged ladies collecting snails.

Nearing the centre of the Ninh Binh region, we stopped briefly at the entrance gate to the Hoa Lu Ancient Capital. Thronged with people, very hot, and with our laden bikes to look after we couldn’t muster the energy to go inside. So we appreciated the weighty history of it being the political, economic, and cultural center of the country way back in the 10th and early 11th centuries. Dodging the fans being thrust in my face as insistent ladies tried to make a sale, we got back on the bikes. Cycling through the now more touristy area of Trang An, we were glad to take advantage of the tourist food on offer.

To reach Ninh Binh’s main Tam Coc neighbourhood where our accommodation was we took a short cut across the rice paddies on a narrow dirt path. My wheel hit a rut at a strange angle and before I knew it my bike had slid sideways and I was deep in the grey mud of the rice paddy! Lilz came to my rescue, pulling first heavy Maybe Thom off me and then pulling me out with a loud sucking squelch. Only my pride hurt, and with shoes full of mud, I clambered back onto my steed. I was quite the sight as I introduced myself to our impeccable hotel host - he rapidly directed me towards the hose.Baca lagi