[50kB 640x480] Plain of Jars, Laos.

Good morning Vietnam Sat, 03 Feb 2001 06:32:37 -0000 From: simon @ millennium-ride.com To: sponsors @ millennium-ride.com		01/01/23 Friendship Bridge to Laos 01/01/11 Guns, gambling, girls & ganja 2k/12/21 Singapore Greetings 2k/11/29 Perth to Bali 2k/11/11 Blues in the Bush 2k/10/26 Alice headed West 2k/10/19 SE Oz, going north 2k/10/11 Flores Report & Proposal 2k/09/25 Sydney update 25.9.00 2k/09/17 Olympic mania, Sydney . . . + more
Summary 3 February 2001 Milward enters Vietnam after jungle madness in Laos Simon Milward has just entered Vietnam with his 600cc handbuilt motorcycle. According to national law his bike would be banned because the police only have 175s. This follows a five day exhaustive ride through the jungle and rice paddies of Laos. In this time he, accompanied by his companion Mika Kuhn encountered a civil war, rode off the side of a bridge, twice encountered the 'end of the road', accidentally incinerated his Hein Gericke jacket, crossed numerous rivers, took a relaxing pirogue ride downriver and finally had his bike confiscated by the police. Simon Milward is on a two and a half year charity motorcycle trek around the world. The latest charity donation comes from Bobcam Industries with another 500 Irish pounds bringing the total to about nearly US$19,000. The money is destined for Medecins Sans Frontieres and Riders for Health. His target is US$100,000. A US$ account has been opened by Marcia Wills in Illinois in order that generous US contributors can be sure that nothing is wasted in bank charges. Email Marcia on Wills420@aol.com for details. Milward also expresses deep thanks to Presseteam Kaemper where Martin has been developing photographic films and scanning good ones to email to various publications. Individuals or businesses who are interested in continuing this worthwhile task for the second year are invited to get in touch by email. Good morning Vietnam! We made it! It's nearly impossible to get into Vietnam by big motorcycle but a Belgian biker had told my temporary companion Mika Kuhn the right border crossing to use from Laos (the one nearest to Vinh in Vietnam for the benefit of Singaporean adventure bikers). We arrived in the country two days ago, over a fogged and rainy pass. The people here are absolutely magic. Their genuine friendliness reminds me of Pakistan and Syria, the difference being great smiles. You can't help laughing right along with them! Mika went north to the capitol Hanoi whilst I'm going south to Saigon. In answer to my comment that I had not the time to go north he said "we all have the same time, a lifetime", how true. The country is so different to Laos, the most noticeable aspect being the noise: horns are used all the time even in the smallest villages. It's just as well because everything is on and all over the roads: herds of cattle wandering as they wish, hundreds of bicycles and mopeds everywhere going all ways, hardly any cars but plenty of buses and trucks spewing out black smoke. Earlier today I was confronted by 30 ducks waddling down Vietnam's biggest trunk road taking up all the space! It's also the worst condition road I've had the pleasure of riding on. Most of the shops outside the bigger towns sell the same: biscuit assortments. The girls have a distinctive Vietnamese look and are I think the prettiest in Asia. I've been here only one full day and already three men offered me a prostitute. Of course our big bikes caused alot of interest, even the customs people were playing with Mika's - they are as bad as everyone else at that. I was not expecting to find an internet cafe, but I did, so I shall also try my Psion and Motorola later. But I thought it was high time I told you about one of the most memorable episodes of my trip so far which culminated in my bike being confiscated by the police.

Jungle madness and the Pakxan trail...

Last time I left you in peaceful Vientiane the capitol of Laos. Mika and I then visited the Plain of Jars near Ponsawan, where we arrived after a few days of worsening roads. The jars are like pots from the kitchen of a giant! On our maps a road was shown going south from them to Pakxan on the Mekon from where we would head East to Vietnam. We took it. The track steadily deteriorated and a man told us in French "don't go there, the road stops after 80km and the bandits will rob you at gunpoint. Turn around now." Mika said he was going on anyway and I wasn't about to whimp out.

On the second day we spent the morning cleaning out my carb, adjusting the timing (the belt had slipped round a notch) and doing the tappets. Thankfully it ran again (you know breaking down in the middle of the jungle is one of my worst fears and it sure felt good to conquer it). Later that day I rode my bike off the side of a bridge made of big logs, all Mika could see was the bottom of my bash plate (the underside of the bike)! Another hour of hauling the bike up in the swealtering heat. Those jungle bridges are best taken at a very slow pace. We camped on the track that night. The next day was my 36th birthday (sounds awful I know) and I got for it seven river crossings, one leech and a burnt jacket!

The latter happened as I was drying the Hein Gericke item out in the morning by the fire, I saw flames from the corner of my eyes and there it was, finished. In fact during our five day jungle trek we were constantly wet. Thankfully my money package and spare passport were unscathed. The idea of leeches sucking out your blood always repulsed me, but when it happens it's not so bad, although mine was quite small and very elasticky. Crossing rivers with your bike though is quite nerve-racking. Mika had had some experience here. Most crossings were rideable since the water didn't come up to our air intakes, but the rocks are very slippery and the current threatens to push you over. It's such a relief to ride up the bank the other side successfully, we had no mishaps in the water. On one crossing we had to push the bike for fear of getting water into the combustion chamber which would have destroyed the crank (water doesn't compress), and on several we had to get a ride on pirogues (very small boats).

Then we encountered a bit of a civil war. We're still not sure what it was all about, no-one knew or would tell us. I was leading and on rounding a corner on the track came face to face with an army unit, kalashnikovs pointed and mortar ready to fire. I pulled up "oh hello there, yes we're just out for a ride" I told the officer. Some were soldiers others were obviously men from the village a km further on. Mika rolled up behind. We shared a cigarette (I had given up upto this point). They asked if we had seen anyone on the track, we answered just a family. Supposedly we had driven between the two front lines but in fact only found one.

Food in the jungle villages was without exception sticky rice which you roll into a ball and dip into mashed fish or our staple canned sardines. Pigs hurtled around everywhere and hoards of shy children peered at us from a distance.

We reached the first end of the track and were faced with a $40 boat ride, far too expensive for us, especially since we were sure Pakxan lay not too far ahead. There was no way we were going back. We got out the Millennium Ride papers (yes I took my whole mobile office through the jungle) and said we needed a better price. They said "cross the suspension bridge and the track continues", so the 'end of the road' wasn't after all, it was just a scam to get boat passengers. Crossing that 30m bridge was also a heart-in-the-mouth experience - keeping the front wheel on the center plank of wood as the whole thing swayed left to right.

We spent a day riding along pig-runs in thick jungle and hunting for exits to rice paddies. Hmm, they were right, you couldn't call this a track. This was absolutely crazy. We kept good sprits though, even when it came to Mika's turn to throw his Yamaha off another log bridge. The next day we found we'd gone 25km east instead of south, backtracked and deliberated on crossing some mountains on what looked like vertical tracks. We decided to see what price a boat trip would now be. $20 each. So we saved $25 for three days of merciless exhaustion and extreme wear and tear on the bikes - but I wouldn't have missed it for the world. Then they refused to take us on their boats, the bikes were too heavy (fully loaded as it was mine weighs over a quarter of a tonne). We camped at the unused village school, something would turn up. It did, some entrepreneurial boatmen said they were willing to give it a go. It took an hour to load our bikes onto two pirogues in the morning. After the first few rapids the nerves settled and I got used to the leaks, even not bothering to plug them with my fingers since the helmsman periodically bailed out water. After the last few days this seemed like the most peaceful and relaxing two hours of my entire life.
The river wound it's way round the mountains and eventually we landed near to the dirt track leading to Pakxan. This track was like a five lane motorway to us. Just 50km to go. As usual cyclists were all over the place. Overtaking on the right (where there was most room) one suddenly veered back to the correct (right) side forcing me onto the verge (thankfully there was one). I managed to stay upright. She broke her leg on my panniers, and in Pakxan the police confiscated the bike until I had come to an agreement with her father. I maintain it was at least half her fault but realistically I was the foreigner, also going a bit too fast, so of course it was all my fault. I was extremely worried that compensation would clear my remaining trip money (you hear these stories...), or that waiting for a court decision would take weeks and wreck my schedule and possibly result in jail. Her father's eyes lit up when I offered $100 which was half a year's wages and $25 more than he claimed.
Was I relieved or was I relieved. I must say the Lao police were really good about the whole thing, except when I caught one of them riding my bike around their compound the cheeky sods.

What a week it had been. Laos had been the most peaceful yet most exciting country so far! We spent a day fettling the bikes, both of us very proud of our mounts which had both suffered extreme abuse.

This is being scribed in Hue in Vietnam on the coast of the South China Sea.
It's neat the demilitarized zone of the two Vietnams prior to the Vietnam war. The north was Communist then, and since American people forced the USA to withdraw, the whole country united under Communism. However it now appears to embrace capitalism wholeheartedly though you still see the hammer and sickle on billboards. There are lots of war tourist 'attractions'. How sick, I don't know if I'll bother. Besides the jungle trek took much longer than expected and I've got to get my Cambodia visa yet which will take four days in Saigon. But who knows what is going to happen in the coming few hours?

Lastly below is a note from George at Bobcam Industries in Dublin. (I know him through the fight in favour of parallel imports in the EU, through which we are trying to stop European Union law sanctioning rip-offs of EU consumers.) What a star. Thanks for the extra donation George and your prayers. This one was the hairiest so far. Now don't be shy with your donations everyone...

Love from Vietnam

Simon
Hue, East Coast Vietnam

Hello Simon,
I have finally got the time and a computer that works to send you a brief message of encouragement. I have been following your progress with interest and at certain times with envy and at other times with admiration. What a great adventure. I hope you are drawing in decent funding to make it all worthwhile.

My Company , Bobcam Agencies would like to contribute another IEPŁ500. Perhaps someone can contact me to instruct how this should be done. In the meantime the best of British and Irish luck on your escapades, some of which appear to have been hairy enough to keep you awake at night, and I will pray for your protection.
Best regards,
George Campbell.