The Road to Chiêu Lầu Thi

I never need much excuse to head for the Hoàng Su Phì / Xín Mần area and I have pondered for years doing this route:

but have always bottled out.  There is a definite track on the satellite image, but it's 48km in the mountains, depending on locals for shelter, and I'm a little hesitant in doing it alone and a little reluctant to go with a Vietnamese friend where the consequences of lingering and loitering so close to the border might be more serious for them than for me.  I'd be /involved/, they'd be /committed/.

So yet again, I bottled out.  Online advice offered Chiêu Lầu Thi as a possible alternative.  Stunning sunsets from the top of Chiêu Lầu Thi at 2402 m.  And a reason to head back to Hoàng Su Phì.  This will do for now.

I find the nearest homestay and get friend Diep to ring up and check they are open.  Didn't work out so well last time we tried this, but I'm not great at learning from experience.  She books me in.  They won't have tofu, but they'll have peanuts, I'm told.  Grand.

So, take the Hà Giang bus - the view isn't the best, but I know it will get better -

View from Hanoi to Tân Quang

and hop off at Tân Quang, where I could pick up a vomit comet to Hoàng Su Phì.

Vomit Comet

Inside the Vomit Comet

Faultlessly executed transfer.  Beautiful scenery as we wended? wound? our way up to Hoàng Su Phì.

Various passengers emptying their stomachs into (supplied - the bus folks know what to expect) plastic bags.  Life's rich tapestry.  Along the way a Hmong lady, older than me, boards.  She is carrying what looks like a home made ice lolly.  Told she can't eat on the bus (and with the vomiting why would anyone want to?), she offers the rest of it to me.  Perhaps my white privilege would allow me to eat.  I smile and decline politely and she smiles back as she tosses the ice lolly out.  I imagine it sizzling as it hits the hot road.

As we approach Hoàng Su Phì, I book accommodation online.  Never been a fan of walking around looking for a place to lay my bones when I can book it ahead of time and know where I am going.  A homestay a mile out of town.  Fine.  I can walk that.  Disgorged from the vomit comet, I look for my accommodation.  Google maps knows where it is.  But I walk to the homestay with nary a sign of it.  I carry on a ways.  It's back the way Google tells me. 

Looking for my homestay

I walk back a ways.  No, back that a ways.  I ask a local.  No help forth comes.  I dig out the number for the homestay and get him to ring and ask for directions.  Back towards town.  How far?  Vaguety vague metres.  I head back into town.  My phone call has triggered action and I am soon accosted by a young man on a motorbike.  You are looking for the homestay?  Affirmative.  He offers me a lift.  We drive to a fine hotel.  I explain that I have booked a 'homestay'.  He bids me bring up the website.  He scrolls down down down down the colourful pictures until the last one which shows a pretty standard hotel bed.  That's the bed upstairs.  I can show you.  I am sceptical, but I have walked enough and he looks honest enough.  I check in.  Which floor would you like?  As high as possible.  4 floors up.  Ah.  A new hotel with no lift.  How retro.  I climb to my room and compare the bed to the photo.  I am not entirely sure what the 'homestay' charade profits anyone, but it is undoubtedly an identical bed.

Showered, I head out for eats.  Tofu is forthcoming.  They send out for beer.  Always good to be back in Hoàng Su Phì.

Next morning, I am up with the larks and head out for coffee.  There is a coffee place right next door to the hotel, but where's the fun in that?  I decide to see what else is on offer.  I am up too early for some places and I manage to persuade myself that the others aren't suitable since they don't look as inviting as places already passed by.  Lack of coffee makes me indecisive.  I come to the edge of town.  It's a beautiful morning and the sun isn't too hot yet.  I strike out.  A 'Frontier Zone' sign tells me that we are near the frontier. 

I already knew that.

This I know.  I stride on.  The countryside becomes lovelier and lovelier.

It's hard to turn for home.  Eventually, I set myself a limit:  If there's nothing more spectacular than what I've already seen in the next half an hour, I'll turn for home.  I turn for home.  Striding along the path, I day dream of coffee.  A nice young man on a motorbike pulls up and offers me a lift.  Why not?  It's getting hot and I've already seen the scenery on the way in.  He stops at the "Frontier Zone" sign where the road forks.  Ah, you're not going all the way back to town?  No problem.  I can walk from here.  But no.  The young man waves his official badge at me and points at the sign.  This, I now understand, is to be read as "You shall not pass".  His telling off was very mild and polite, probably due to the age difference.  I do my best to look contrite.  I have practised this look before.  We part amicably.

Back in town, I organize a xe ôm to pick me up from the hotel later and take me to the Chiêu Lầu Thi homestay.  I get coffee at the place next to the hotel.

Right on schedule, my xe ôm turns up and I check out and we are off.  Easy ride climbing up into the hills.  He seems to know the way.  He doesn't.  We stop at a house by the road to check where to turn.  Time for some tea and the xe ôm has a few puffs on the ubiquitous bamboo water pipe.  The lady of the house wears a "Jesse Jackson 88" T shirt.  So this is where dreams come to die.  Refreshed, we are soon on our way.

We turn off the road and are no longer in Kansas.  Heaps of sand and gravel block the way. 

Anything is a road if you want it to be

But beyond!  Lo a beautiful road surface as far as the eye can see.  Which is only as far as the first corner.

This is a road

We manoeuvre the bike past the heaps and are off.  Round the corner, the road takes a turn for the worse.  As we climb, the road goes downhill.

The road goes downhill

Soon, I am getting off to push the bike up and over hills and rocks.  My xe ôm suggests that I might like to walk the rest of the way.  But we have a deal.  And so we continue.  Finally, we arrive at the homestay. 

Nobody home

My man is delighted.  The place is deserted.  I arrange that he should come back in two days time at 12:00.  We swap numbers and he heads off back the way we came.  I am all alone.  I see a dog and some chickens.  Somebody is sure to be along at some point.  I check my situation:  Shelter is available if need be.  I have a mango.  Some water and water purification tablets.  And a xe ôm coming back in two days time.  Perfect.  I dump my bag and set off to explore.
There a few chickens and gangs of water buffalo wandering around.  The water buffalo sport Swiss style cow bells.  The occasional standoff with solitary goats as I wander further along narrow paths pass peacefully.  Not a soul to be seen.  Finally, there is a gate across the path.  Keeping goats out?  Or in?  Born in the year of the goat myself, I take the hint and retrace my steps.

As I arrive back at the homestay, I hear motorbikes struggling up the hill.  Dad, son and toddler have arrived to take care of me.

And they do have tofu.  And beer.  They cook over an open fire in the kitchen and we then sit by firelight on 4 inch high stools to eat.

Home cooking

After dinner, dad and toddler head off downhill in the dark by motorbike leaving son to clear up and look after me.  It's a beautiful clear night and the stars are out in force.  Sao băng, I learn.  Shooting star.  There is no mobile signal, no wifi and only limited electricity.  I leave my phone charging and am given candles to light me to bed.  The phone doesn't charge.

And so, to Chiêu Lầu Thi.  We set off on foot, in plenty of time to be there for one of those stunning sunsets I've seen.  White horses run wild.

Run horse, run

I'd seen the sign advertising something to do with horses.  This would be great country for pony trekking, I think naïvely.  We arrive at the path to Chiêu Lầu Thi.

Stronger than me

Workers hump bags of sand and cement up the steep slope to where they are building steps and a path to the top.  The water is pumped up in stages to where they are working.  It's hot and I take regular breaks watching guys in flip flops go on past.  We arrive at the top.  Through occasional gaps in the cloud, we see glimpses of the land below.  Of the sun, nothing.  Finally, I admit defeat.  There will be no sunset today.

View from the top

My host and friend

Well, there will be, but not to be seen from here.  We head back to the homestay.  As we arrive, the heavens open, the thunder and lightning starts, and it pours all evening and most of the night.  Entertainment is limited, so I crash early after another fine meal.  We both have beer.  I, at least, am old enough to drink beer.

I ask the son to ring my xe ôm and check he's still coming back for me.  No.  His wife says he has hurt his back.  Maybe he has.  Maybe he can't face the road again.  Maybe he hurt his back on the road.  Son says he will run me back to town.  He's more expensive than my xe ôm, but he's got a captive market and my options are limited.  And we both know it.  We pass some children on the way up on the way down.

A better way to travel

Back in town, I head back to my hotel to book in for one more night.  The desk is deserted.  I wander upstairs looking for someone.  Anyone.  Rooms are open. The house maid's set of master keys is in an open door.  Not a soul to be seen.  I give up, dump my bag by the desk and head out to lunch.  My phone has given up the ghost and won't charge any more.  It's like being back in 2002.  No google maps.  No booking.com.  No google translate.  No whatsapp.  No camera.  No gmail.  Travel is so easy nowadays.  I head up to the phone shop.  They try 6 different chargers before concluding that it's the phone.  The boss takes a look.  50k. half an hour.  Fine by me.  I would happily have bought a new phone if I'd had to.  I sit out the back and watch while he fixes my phone.  His son brings in a battered Nokia dumbphone with a broken screen.  Dad takes a look.  50k.  Son gets customer approval and fixes phone.  They have dozens of boxes of screens and parts for all sorts of phones.  Smartphone with a broken screen comes in.  180k.  A rat walks casually across the floor.  Doesn't have a phone, but maybe he's heard of the good value to be had here.  Soon my phone is fixed.  I whatsapp my wife.  She hasn't heard from me for days.  I wondered where you'd got to, she says.

I watch some guys cleaning up the river - it's an endless task.

Back at the hotel, I collect my bag and check back in.  In the morning, I ask about buses back to Hanoi.  I am assured that there will be the bus from Xín Mần to Hà Giang at 10:00 or maybe 11:00.  Or 12:00.  I am given a free ride to where the bus would stop a couple of times and returned to the hotel when it fails to appear.  Finally, I am there.   And there is a bus.  I board and wait for the driver to appear.  I see a western tourist standing in the shade.  I am solitary but not unsociable.  I get out and get us both a nước mía.  Turns out I know Mike from the internet.  Not the first time I've met an internet acquaintance in the Hà Giang region.  We are soon off.  Back to Tân Quang.  Mike goes off to find a hotel for the night before he heads on to Lao Cai.  I settle down for coffee.  My bus comes before Mike comes back.  And I am whisked away and back to Hanoi.

So,  stunning sunset, saw I none.  But it was fun.  Give the road construction and path-up-Chiêu-Lầu-Thi guys a couple of years and it will be an easy day trip from Hoàng Su Phì.

And the white horses?.  Apparently their bones are used in traditional medicine.  $15 a tael for white horse bone gel.  I don't know what it cures, but I won't be trying that.