Around in Circles

Today was a comedy of errors from beginning to end. We began the day with a short jaunt out from Hoi An to see the Cham temples at My Son. But upon arrival, and bearing in mind the 2.5km hike from the carpark to the ruins (in all of of our riding gear, in a rainstorm) as well as the sorry state of the temples after the bombing during the war, we decided to move along post haste without seeing the temple complex. Sometimes I have to remind Adam that I am architect, and these things are interesting and relevant to me, but this time I was happy to avoid the coach loads of sightseers and a sweaty march in 30 degree temperatures, in a rainstorm.

We had not backtracked more than a hundred metres down the road before Adam found a squirrelly dirt track that he liked the look of, veering off in roughly the direction of our travel. So off we proceeded. The last time we attempted this on foreign soil, we ended up unknowingly driving across the French Military exclusion zone surrounding the Ouvrage Hackenberg on the former Maginot Line. With mild trepidation therefore I followed Adam into the wilderness but warned that I would partake in no bush crashing as we are in a part of the world littered with as yet undiscovered unexploded ordinance. He readily agreed to this compromise and then we met this sign:

Google Translate informs me that its meaning is:

"Orange area

Many people, animals, and animals fall in love.

Chat vibration, airborne, vibration, vibration, vibration.

."

Which was no help in understanding what we were getting ourselves into. A ways along we encountered a flooded river crossing that better explained our predicament. We hemmed and hawed about proceeding, considering the steepness of the bank and the deepness of the crossing and ultimately decided not to continue. We knew that we had at least two more river crossings ahead that were also possibly washed out, the river was steadily swelling with the rain, and there was no sure indication that the road would lead us out to pavement at the other end. (Adam blamed our lack of serious knobby tires as his reason for not proceeding and I readily assented.)

So back we bumped and slid, through the deep clay ruts out to pavement. Once we'd circled around and reached the lane that Adam thought might have connected at the other end, we went exploring down another track that dissolved from concrete path between rice paddies to deeply rutted farm track. It was at this point that the farmer, pursuing us slowly through the wet clay on a scooter, gently but firmly ordered us back to the main road and on our way. I suspect he didn't understand Adam's love of adversity motorcycling and simply didn't want us to get stuck (nearly getting stuck being Adam's idea of a heavenly day of riding)

Sometime after one o'clock, we stopped at a roadside stall for a banh my sandwich, and while crouched there, I checked that my phone was staying safely dry in my breast pocket (it was). It occurred to Adam to do likewise (it wasn't). Two inches of rainwater had pooled in Adam's breast pocket so we may again be shopping for a new travel phone. The iPhones are not having a good time of it on this trip.

We passed through some lovely country this afternoon, and had it not been raining so hard, we would doubtless have enjoyed the view. But as the day wore on, the rain grew steadily heavier. Mid-afternoon we stopped alongside the twisty road on a soggy grass verge to attend to nature's call. There were no better options along the narrow road, and this gave us good visibility to oncoming traffic. And here I performed the most graceless dismount I have yet managed from a motorcycle (and I've managed a few in my time). As I stepped off my bike it began to tip, and being concerned that it is not equipped with handguards, I was worried about snapping the brake lever. So I attempted to set the bike down gently when the grassy bank gave way and I flipped ass over teakettle down the steep slope toward the river below. Adam gave a yelp of horror as I disappeared but not having a working camera at hand, couldn't document my predicament as I quite thankfully wedged myself into a brushy heap about ten feet below the road surface. I managed to clamber up to the road again, we got the bike righted and then continued off down the road, chastened by the day.

[The river into which I nearly rolled]

Sometime after three o'clock we determined it might be time for a coffee pick-us-up and began to study our options for lodging for the night. When hotels in Hoi An began popping up, we realized we had travelled 115 circuitous kilometres to cover 20kms as the crow flies. So we bailed on the twisty roads, took our lives in our hands, and made for the highway, gratefully arriving in Quang Ngai and achieving a more respectable southward distance of travel of 110kms by day's end.

Our hotel suite tonight is monstrous and we are happy to have room to spread out our drenched clothing. But it isn't without anachronisms - a corner of the ceiling of the equally massive bathroom opens to above and may be overlooked by suites on upper floors. I'm glad I didn't notice that feature before hopping naked into the shower.

Our food situation improves as well. We are getting better at spotting the signs of an open restaurant (other patrons crouched on the ubiquitous plastic stools) and better at ordering (managing to order a single chicken instead of the two we had begun with tonight). The meal was delicious - organ meats fried up with onions and pineapple slices; the diced chicken stir fried with chillis, garlic and ginger; and rice and veggies on the side. And beer, the fourth local brew we've tried on the trip to date. All quite respectable lager style beers.