Beyond Gushi and back

I was starting to get bored so I had the idea of going for a bike ride. I had actually been thinking of this from the beginning of the summer. However, my first plan didn't work because I did other things.

So, with the new plan, I thought an interesting route to take would be the road to Shanghai. This follows National Highway number G312.

I then went and purchased a set of panniers (saddlebags) for the bike and had a cargo cage placed on the front rack. It was at this point that I noticed that one of the brackets for the front rack was broken and I returned to the bike shop and had it repaired. They added a new brace at, again, no charge. At this point, the front rack was probably stronger than it was when I purchased the bike, and the light was no longer bouncing around.

I also got a hammock. I went all over looking for a set of ratchet straps but was not able to find any. Along with the hammock I got an atlas for China.

I then went to the office and told them that I intended to ride to Shanghai. They went ballistic. I was told that it was forbidden to go by myself because it was not safe and I would have to find someone to go with me. Well, I had already checked with the riding club and there was no one that was able to go with me. The office staff then offered to go on a ride "around the lake" with me on some undetermined weekend in the future. I told them that I do that almost every night with the riding club. To them the idea of making a 20km ride as a short evening ride was shocking. They then offered some 100km ride, again, at an undetermined time, that would go, the large loop around the lake. I pointed out to them that I had done that the previous weekend.

The point of telling them that I had been going on long rides was to let them know that I was already an experienced rider. However, they were rather adamant that I could not make a solo multi-day ride through China.

My response was to tell them that I would instead ride to Luoshan; of course, from there I intended to ride to ride to Huangchuan, to Gushi, to Anhui Province, to Luan, to…

I started my ride in mid-afternoon, which was not the best of plans. I skirted the town instead of riding through downtown with a full load on the bike. This took me a while as it is a larger town that it looks. I can easily believe the population estimate of over 2million in this "small" town.

On the first day I rode about 85km and was about 25km from Huangchuan when I decided that it was time to start looking for a place to sleep. That is when I came upon, what turned out to be, a great idea. Instead of going with my plan to sleep outside, I tried something else. I remembered that most of the schools are boarding schools and this was summer. That meant that the dorms were going to be empty. I remembered that the colleges often open the dorms in the summer for travelers and decided to try getting a dorm room.

I rolled into a school and asked for an English teacher, so that I would be able to explain what I wanted. There was no English teacher and I was about to roll out when someone shouted, "Wait!" I turned back and called a student to translate for me.

It turned out that they were hesitant to offer me a room because the conditions were very poor. I told them that my other option was to sleep under a tree.

I was then offered a teachers room and the teacher in charge of the campus, and his wife, prepared me dinner. The dinner was good and, although we had many language difficulties, we managed to talk for a while. I was in Zhai He at the number two middle school. I have to say that I never did see a number one middle school. I was surprised by the number of students that were present. It seems that some of them can, for various reasons, some of them financial, return home in the summer, others were the children of the other teachers that were on campus through the summer.

The best English was spoken by one of the girls. She was in the eighth grade and she did a lot of the translating for us during our dinner. Before dinner I was kept busy working with the students by reading their English study books to them.

I was also asked to sit with them and watch the foreign television channel with them. This is a Chinese station that plays Western news and some old documentaries. The teacher told me that this was part of the problem. He was trying to work on his English and was simply unable to understand a word of what was being spoken. I was asked to tell him what was going on in the news story, which I did. However, I saw his problem right off. The upper caption in the picture was E&F. Yes, you can guess, the reason he was unable to understand was that the news program was in French and there was nothing, that he was able to read, to indicate that it was not English. Even the subtitles were French (and without them I would not have been able to have told him what was going on in the story).

The bed was a cot made of bamboo slats, the toilets were about 100m away. I was advised to use the assembly field during the night instead of walking the distance. In the room, there was a small fan for ventilation and a coal fire (keep in mind that it was already quite warm) to keep the water hot. I was also provided with two plastic pans for personal washing. After washing, I also used these to wash my jersey and riding shorts so that they would be clean at the start of the day. Of course, the next morning the teachers wife took these and washed them, I do not think that she realized that I had washed them during the previous night.

The next morning I left after being taken to a breakfast in the small village and getting my riding clothing off the line. It is hard to leave because the people had been very nice and they want the company. However, I had planned a full day of traveling.

In short order I passed through Hunagchuan and continued on. I decided that I wanted to be in Gushi before lunch and made it by about 12:30. The road actually skirted Gushi so I never saw the town on this side of the trip. I strung my hammock and took a short nap until I was interrupted by some children who started shouting, "Hello," at me. When I did not respond they tried shouting louder and from a closer distance. When I finally did respond, they began shouting even louder and closer. At that point, I rolled up my hammock and rode off; there was no way I would have been able to nap. I was not trying to be rude; however, I wanted some rest. As I pedaled away I heard one of them shout, "sorry."

I stopped at a truck stop, with a church just down the road, and had my lunch. The truck drivers were very amazed at the distance I had come from.

From Gushi, I continued to ride until I entered Anhui Province. Shortly after this the road went to hell (became dirt). I stayed on that until the road I was on, G312, turned onto the expressway. This was a problem, first, bicycles are not permitted on the expressway, along with everything except trucks with four or more wheels (four wheels is not a given), autos, and busses. All the same, I saw pushcarts, trikes, motorcycles, and, of course, bicycles. My bicycle on the expressway did not even garner a passing glance from the police as they drove by.

This section of expressway was not on my map and it looked to be new. However, I also saw no alternate route. I rode about 20km on this but ran into two problems. The first was water. Generally, when riding I empty one 600ml and start looking for a place to purchase another. By the time I find a place I am about done with the second 600ml bottle; so, I buy two. I also keep one in reserve on a general basis. However, along the expressway there are not the little shops and stands along the road and so I was concerned with finding water when I needed it.

The second issue was simply that riding along the expressway was boring. I saw a sign saying that it was another 40km to the next stop and 150 to the end of the stretch of expressway and I turned back.

Now, what I should have done, but I did not think of at the time, was to wave down a passing long-distance bus and put the bicycle in the hold while riding the same bus to the end of the expressway section. Like I said, I just did not think of it.

Instead, I turned back and made it, almost, back to Gushi. I was about 20km short of it when I went looking for another school to stay at. This school did not provide as warm of a reception. They were under the impression that I was a spy, after all, why else would a foreigner be riding around China. Again, my student spoke to them and assured them that I was her teacher, not a spy, and they allowed me to stay in a room for the night. They did not provide dinner, which was fine, I washed and went to bed early and rode out early.

There were no real attempts conversation with these hosts and I heard a phone conversation between them and the PSB that was about me, I ended up under the impression that the PSB were fully aware of my ride. This impression was, in a large part supported by the reactions by the people at the toll stations I rode by. At the first toll station there was genuine surprise to see me go by; but, from then on there was no surprise. However, as I came in to view, there were phone calls being placed.

I must have entered Gushi from a different angle because the first time, as I said, I bypassed it; however, this morning I rode through it. This was convenient because I was ready for breakfast. I was concerned though because, for over an hour, I was on roads that I did not remember from the previous day.

As I returned to G312 I decided that there was no reason to not take a bus, as I had planed to return by bus at the beginning of the trip. The first medium-distance bus I caught up with, while it was stopped, did not take me because I told them that I wanted to go to Xinyang. They did not want to take me because they were not going that far.

It is a good thing that I missed the first bus; as, while I was riding those additional hours I came across a funeral procession. I, simply, had seen none in the villages in China (sorry, no pictures, that is considered very poor form). The previous day I had also seen a new funeral mound that still had the fans leaning against it.

About an hour or two later I chanced upon another medium-distance bus. This time I did things a little different. I first looked at the destination sign in the window. Then, when they asked where I wanted to go, I told them Huangchuan. After I was on the bus I told the attendant that my final destination was Xinyang. As a result, when we got to Huangchuan they stopped across the street from the long-distance bus station and shouted to a driver; by doing this, they made sure that there would be room for my bike in the hold.

This bus took me all the way back to Xinyang in air-conditioned comfort. As I passed places I had slowly pedaled by just short days before, I thought that what advantage the bus had in speed, it lacked in the ability to add wisdom and experience. In about two days, and nights, in the Chinese countryside, I had pedaled 315km; of course, that did not count the time and distance on the busses.

A short story from Kunming

I wrote this in another forum and decided to include it here.

One thing that is weird is the wrong way rule. All traffic is to stay to the right, including pedestrians; however, much of the traffic, by choice of the driver, rider, or walker, travels on the left side. When on the right (operating normally) and facing a wrong way driver or rider, both vehicles avoid to the left instead of the right, as is done by vehicles that are normally coming at you.

An application to the rule would be this, you are riding on the right side of the road in the fenced bike lane (a fence exists to keep the bike lane from becoming another traffic lane), or the sidewalk (and the side walks are practicality motorways), and a motor scooter is coming at you; you both are to avoid by veering left. This is the opposite of what you would do in the motorway.

Short riding on the sidewalk story (an example of poor etiquette on both my part, I was walking, and the riders). I was walking down a sidewalk in Kunming, PR China, about a month ago with my daughter. This woman was motoring down the sidewalk while talking on her cell phone and was very absorbed in her conversation. She was so absorbed that she was bump steering. By this I mean that whenever she hit a pedestrian, it forced her into a wobbling correction and she continued down the sidewalk this way; riding her scooter as if it were a pinball and never breaking her attention from the conversation.

I was already in a foul mood, due to having hurt myself in a bike crash the day before, and as I saw I was on the course of her collisions I repositioned my leftover curry-tomato soup from dinner for "the accidental flying drop" and told my daughter, "if she hits me she's going down." This she saw. I do not know if she locked in on the soup (she had a white and pastel dress on, it wouldn't have looked good with soup) or the stance; whatever she saw, she came to a complete stop, right there, and waited for me to pass.

The fact that she did see me indicated that she was just rude and lazy, not inattentive. Several of the people she had bumped off of also saw this too, they seemed to approve. I use this as an example of what not to do, within the constraints of good etiquette, probably on both of our parts.

Coming and going

As stated, Gao Jing had assisted us by securing tickets before we arrived in Xinyang. There was some concern because she had no gotten a ticket to Qingdao. The reason for this was that the Qingdao train station was being remodeled for the 2008 Olympics. However, the Hostel that she planed to stay in had also posted directions fro the alternate station.

Her reason for wanting to go to Qingdao was to take a boat to South Korea in order to visit her sister, Victoria, who is there in the US Army. I needed to go to Xian to meet Zeneta, who was flying in from the States.

This was basically a relax and do some laundry stop. In addition to that it made it synchronize schedules and to insure that all was on schedule. We borrowed one of Collins bicycles and went on a ride. She removed a lot of stuff from her pack in order to lighten her load as she went to Korea and the next day we set off for our respective trains.

The trip to Xian was entirely uneventful and I sat around the lounge until it was time to check in and got a double (160Y) instead of staying in the dorms (40Y). Later that night I walked over to the Melody Hotel and got the airport shuttle bus (25Y).

It was a bit of an irritation, at the airport, in the receiving area, there was only one bench that would hold about four people for all of the people that were waiting for arrivals. This is something I have noticed about China and even Debra has commented on, the lack of public seating. In this case the majority of the seating, sufficient for about 100, was on the inside of the exit area. As a result they were generally unused. The only people I saw using them were airport employees, to sleep on.

In addition to that, Zeneta's plane was extremely late. She was scheduled to arrive at 9:30pm and her plane did not arrive until 2:30am. We then took a bus back to the Melody and, from there, walked to our hostel.

I had already purchased return tickets (soft sleeper) to Xinyang for the next day. So, after a bit of shopping, we hopped on the train and spent most of the return journey sleeping.

That next Saturday I went on another 100k ride, that I had scheduled to go on, with the activity group. The result was that Zeneta and Gao needed to go to the train station to pick up Debra on her return.

The ride went pretty well, except that it was hot. We stopped a few times to rest and the like, and then in the middle of the ride we stopped for lunch. It was shortly before this that the mechanic caught up with us. He was not able to leave when we did so the mechanic riding with us on this trip was on a scooter and stayed with us until the lunch stop. Then he went back to the shop.

Before lunch we went swimming. This is the first time I have been swimming in China. In fact, this is the first time I have been immersed in China. The water in this river was about chest deep and I could easily see the bottom. It was a great opportunity to cool off.

Lunch was a collection of soups. I later discovered that there was a lot of concern that I was not eating much. I did eat a lot of the vegetables in the spicy soup and several bowls of rice.

After lunch, the doctor came out to where we were and talked to all of us for a while. Then we waited for a van to come and take two of the riders back. At that point a third rider chose to also ride back in the van, which left eleven of us.

As has happened to me before, after lunch I bonked. First, this was a group of strong riders. The weaker riders simply chose not to make this ride. On the way out I was running in the middle of the pack. Then I was near the back. Then, after about ten or fifteen kilometers, I was in back. The mechanic fell back to ride with me (he always rides in back) and gave me some foul concoction. It is a brown drink, about two tablespoons, in a sealed single use bottle. I have seen several using these as energy drinks and he had a box of them in his pack. I drank two of them, one at one stop and one at the next. Then, I was back in the middle (actually, toward the front).

In all, it was a good ride. As many of you have determined, I enjoy these rides. I see places that a regular tourist would not, I get to work on my Chinese, and it is an opportunity to get out and be social. Often the westerners in these small town tend to get very insular and unadventurous. This is the opposite of that.

When I returned Zeneta and Gao had already picked up Debra. It was now time to begin preparing for her trip to Xian.

I had already obtained the tickets to Xian for both of us. They were middle bunk sleeper tickets. However, that was all that was available.

The plan was that I would travel to Xian with Debra and see her off. Then, I would do a bit of shopping in Xian and return.

The problems started when we were waiting and the train was late. Then the attendant came and took our tickets and gave us our money back. That was a real bad sign.

At that point I called Gao and asked her to talk to the attendant at the train station (I am glad that we wait in soft seating, at least there are attendants). It turns out that due to flooding near Xian there would be no trains running from this station to Xian.

Seeing as Debra had a flight to catch, this was not a simple case of waiting until the trains would be running again. So, I purchased three tickets to Zhengzhou on a D train. The D train is the new high speed train service that is running on limited routes in China. It runs about 250kph.

The reason for three tickets was simple; one of the tickets was for Gao. That way when we got to Zhengzhou she would be able to help us.

The reason for hurrying to Zhengzhou was that I felt that we would have more options when we got there. It is a major rail hub and approaches Xian from a different direction. Thus, even though the tracks from Xinyang were closed, I expected the tracks from Zhengzhou to still be open.

We got to Zhengzhou and Gao purchased two tickets to Xain for us and a ticket back to Xinyang for herself. This was the beginning of the failure of this plan; her train left first.

Unaware of the impending problems, she and Debra went and watched some street performers. They were performing in the middle of the night because it was too hot in the day time.

Finally it came time for her to leave and off she went as we continued to wait for our 3:30am train. At 3:30am the train switched from being listed as arriving to "delayed indefinitely."

At about six am we discovered that all of the Xian trains, from this station, were also being stopped. These tracks were also washed out. We then went looking for a flight to Xian and were informed that there were no flights from Zhengzhou to Xian. The next thing we tried was to see if she could catch her flight in Beijing. The flight had a transfer there and it would be possible to put her on another D train and get her there in time.

It turned out that doing that was not an option either. We then went and got her a bus ticket to Xian. Once she had the bus ticket I then went and got a D ticket back to Xinyang (ooh… first class). I had planned to accompany her all of the way to the airport in Xian. However, I just did not want to go through all of this again in getting back.

I waited until I saw her get on the bus, then I went to lunch (yes, it was already approaching lunch time) then I went back and waited for my train.

As far as the ride back, I hesitate to recommend the first class of the D train. The only reason that I would recommend it is you have a long stop and want to wait in the first class waiting room.

The first class cars did have wider and more comfortable seats. There was definitely more leg room. However, the reason I hesitate to recommend it is because of the carpet. The first class cars are carpeted. You must understand that the Chinese do not, generally, diaper their infants. The result is that the car smelt of urine.

I am now back in Xinyang, Debra is in the States Gao Jing has returned to her home town of Niawan and Zeneta is here watching a Harry Potter movie.

Looking for bandages

Having gotten hurt a small bit while in Viet Nam (a burn on my leg, nothing more) I went looking to replace bandages that I had purchased, in Hanoi, before leaving to Xian in order to meet Zeneta. It seemed that this would be a simple task, run into a drug store and buy some. Nothing is as simple as it should be.

The first place did not have any. So, obviously, I tried a second place.

Simply, as they see it, anything bigger than a small Band-Aid requires a trip to a doctor. Being a westerner, it is not my habit to go to a doctor for every bump and scrape. However, I needed some bandages.

I tried to try a doctor that I knew; the one that I ride with. His office was close. As I entered the response was positive, he certainly recognized me. Even through the language barrier, it was easy to understand, "Hey! Riding buddy! What brings you here?"

I pointed to my bandage and told him that I wanted ten more just like the one I was wearing. He insisted on seeing what was under the bandage; that was pretty much where I lost Gao Jing.

It was not infected but it was still in the seeping stage and he insisted on dressing it. I noted that he did pretty much the exact same things I had done. First the Hydrogen Peroxide, then the Betadine/Iodine concoction, then he added something I did not add and am not to aware of. If anyone has an idea what it was, I would be interested. I suspect that it is similar to the WWI sulfa powder.

It was a white powder that was covered over the entire wound. I was given some for redressing and it seems to have the consistency of flour (I have not tasted it yet). There was no pain associated with it.

At that point a new bandage was applied. One thing that Debra noticed, through the procedure, was the "no hands" technique. Instead of putting on gloves, he touched nothing. Everything he did was done with forceps (I first laughed when he brought out the surgical tray). Even the cleaning was done by grasping a clean gauze pad with the forceps and dipping it in the solution them cleaning. Debra took a couple of pictures in his office; it really was a visit to a time machine.

The care was excellent and quick, the attention was from the doctor and I was given materials for redressing (He has been told, by the people in the riding club, that I am a doctor; but not a MD). Oh, and there was no charge. Gao told me that a normal charge for what he did would have been about 10RMB plus about 2 or 3 for materials. Of course, he still wants me to return for "Chinese belly shrinking treatment."

Back to China

We caught another bus back to Hanoi. While waiting we were watching the other buses and commenting on the use of the roof racks to transport the motorbikes over long distances. No lift is used to get them to the top, a couple of guys on the ground lift and a guy on the roof pulls.

The bus was late; however, it was a relatively uneventful ride. We did note that we were the only foreigners on this particular bus. Like the bus to Hué, this bus ran through the night with periodic W.C. stops.

We arrived at the bus station in Hanoi in the morning at the regular long distance bus station. We then took a cab to St. Josephs. We used St. Josephs as a location because it is a place that the cabbies can find and is only a couple of blocks from the Hanoi Backpackers Hostel.

The cabbie did run the meter; all the same, it surprised us that the cab fare was almost as much as the bus from Dong Ha. Cabs in Hanoi are surprisingly expensive. At one point Debra and I had wanted to rent a motorbike in Hanoi and discovered that we would be responsible for $1,000 USD if something were to happen to it. Neither of us wanted to risk that much; so, most personal transportation in Hanoi was on foot.

After getting to our room we went and read for a while. I then met another person, a Chinese national, who was also in our room. He wanted to know where he could get a "Lonely Planet" for Viet Nam. After trying to give him directions for the places that I had seen them selling cheaply (copies) I then offered to show him.

We then went out and he discovered his next problem. He had been told that his Chinese ATM card would work in any country by his Chinese bank. Well, on the back it says, "Valid only in China." We then went looking for a bank that would take it. After about an hour of walking, mostly in the French quarter, we found a Citi-Bank. It seems that the will take nearly any card.

While walking we had also been negotiating with street vendors for his guide book. The first person wanted 25 USD (about 400,000 VND) and I took him to someone who wanted 90,000 VND and he then continued negotiating with street vendors and eventually got it for about 70,000 VND. At that time I went to the Hostel and had dinner on the upstairs patio.

That evening Debra and I went on another walk and that was pretty much the end of another day in Hanoi.

The next morning we were put on another minibus to the Chinese border at Huu Nghi Quan (Friendship Gate). The bus was a small twelve passenger Mercedes, similar to the new Mercedes van that has recently begun to be sold in the US.

The bus took us to the border station and at that point we began the usual process of filling out various forms and then walking several hundred meters from the Vietnamese station to the Chinese Station. Again, the Chinese never checked our bags as we entered the country.

As we entered China the first thing we noticed was that, at this border station, there is nothing. There is no town or shops at all. There are just van and cab drivers all bidding to take those newly arriving to Ping Xiang. After some negotiation we arranged to have a three wheel motorcycle take us. The negotiation took the form of the first person asking for 500. When I asked, "500 what?" (remember, there are three common currencies uses at this point, RMB, USD, and VND) I was told RMB and we just kept walking. Then some cabbies came and asked for 20 RMB each and the three wheel motorcycle driver made an offer of ten RMB each. He was a good choice and even helped us with our bags and in locating the ticket window at the bus station, which he took us directly to.

We then took a bus to Nanning. It was a nice clean bus (that, oddly enough, required us to wear our seatbelts). That bus took us to the long distance bus station and then we had to cross the street to get a bus to the train station. I had a bit of trouble, at first, finding the right bus because while I can read, "Train station," on the bus schedule it was listed as, "Nanning Train Station," it may seem like a small thing, and it was, but it caused a moment of panic.

The bus was supposed to end its line at the train station. However, when the final stop was made there was no station in sight. So, I asked where the station was (hoe cher jan zai nale) the driver assumed I spoke Chinese and answered in some long, fast string. I then shrugged and pointed in all directions and he then understood and pointed me in the right direction (the direction that I had sort of gleaned from what he had said but I was not confident enough to go with).

It was here that we made a small error. Because Guiyang is a larger train hub I decided to take the train from Nanning to Guiyang. So, I got the tickets and we went and had dinner.

At this point, I will add that, dinner was its own experience. In simple, all of the food, at the small restaurant at the train station, looked disgusting. Debra and I both decided to have box noodles and some of the bread that we had brought with us from Hanoi instead. This interested the manager of the restaurant and he came over to our table, with a person to interpret, and asked what was wrong with the food. He was polite and interested in what the issues were that made the food unpalatable to us, as westerners. We discussed it for a while and got some free beer out of the conversation.

As we told him, the dishes all contained parts of the chicken that we do not eat and bones, that we do not eat, or pork. He then asked what we would rather have (adding that they do not know how to cook hamburgers [which they see as the quintessential American food]). We then told him that a simple vegetable dish, on rice, would have been very good. He then pointed out that there was a vegetable dish. We told him that it clearly had pork in it. He agreed that it had pork in it. We explained to him that the presence of pork makes it a pork dish, not a vegetable dish. He then understood our point and we chatted about a few other things for another moment or so.

The mistake we had made was in thinking that there would be more trains to Xin Yang at Gui Yang. At least we got a seat on the train from Nanning to Gui Yang. However, when we got to Gui Yang we found out that there was only one train to Xin Yang, and it originated in Nanning. Thus, we would have done as well to have stayed where we were.

It got worse; there were no bunks or seats on the train. This meant that we would have to make the fourteen hour trip in the standing room cars.

There were only two cars open to standing room and the only tickets being sold were standing room. As I am sure you can guess; it was crowded. The first thing we did was to ask the conductor for a ticket upgrade to a bunk. However, there were no bunks. One good thing about asking for an upgrade was that it made it clear that we were in standing room because it was the ticket that we could get, not because we were cheap. Based on this he insured that we had room to set our packs on the floor of the connecting area between the cars and sit on them as we made an attempt to sleep.

We arrived in Xin Yang and were pleasantly surprised to discover Gao Jing was at the train station waiting for us to arrive. While we were in route Gao Jing had also secured tickets to Qingdao, for Debra, and Xian, for me.

The DMZ

The next morning we headed over to the "DMZ Café," as we had previously agreed, to meet our guide. The plan was simple. I would ride one motorcycle and Debra would ride behind the guide. The reason for this was that I felt that she would be safer with someone who regularly carried passengers. This also gave her a better tour as she was able to ask questions while riding.

There were also two others on the tour. They were also riding one motorcycle each. The bikes on this tour were small Yamahas', similar to the Honda utility bikes seen all around the world. We also wore helmets as there is a helmet law on the highways, but not in town, in Viet Nam.

The first place we went to was a rubber plantation. This plantation is in area that was entirely deforested during the war. While most of the ground had been smoothed, there was a single crater that was left intact to give visitors an idea of what the landscape looked like.

From there we went to the Marine Firebase Charley. This was one of a long string of bases that ran the width of the country. As in most of the old war sites, there was very little left, in this case there was a single bunker and at a different place, a large, thick concrete wall. It was about a 30m square and about 1m thick placed on one edge with some triangular concrete supports. It looked like it was intended as a blast wall to protect something.

The trip to the firebase had us riding down several narrow roads and finally stopping in another small plantation. From there we walked along a narrow foot path to the base. As this was intended to be both a defensible location and an observation point, the view was excellent.

From there we rode to a section of the Ho Chi Min trail. I was very surprised by what I saw. I had a mental picture of a trail, as I think of a trail; instead, it was a paved road. It had been built by the Cubans. The bridges, such as the one we visited, the Ben Tat Bridge, were destroyed by American bombers; but, it was clearly a narrow, paved, road.

As I understand, after leaving Viet Nam, it does revert to being a dirt road and there are sections of trail. There are also sections of trail as it bypasses bombed sections. But overall, it is a road.

From there we visited one of many war memorials that are along the DMZ, the Truong Son National Cemetery. Most of the graves at this memorial were for the "Heroes" and "Masters;" or, those who took part in the, unwinnable, battles and operations against the Americans and French.

After seeing these memorials Debra and I were left with a question, where are the South Vietnamese soldiers buried?

We were told that the families were notified of the locations of their bodies and were given the opportunities take the bodies and place them in their gardens. The cemeteries were then used for used as sites for public works, such as schools and hospitals.

Then a last comment was made that set me to thinking. The comment was, "After all, they lost war." The thoughts went along the line of, how is it possible that they lost the war. If they were members of nation X and nation X was restored then all members of the armies of nation X were, be definition, soldiers for nation X. There can be no, "they." If it is possible for there to be a, "they," then it is incumbent that there truly were two different nations and people. At that point I started paying attention to other things and realized that there is still a lot of North-South "issues" and resentment that remains to be resolved. They are not loudly stated, but it still seems to be a sore spot.

From there we took several back roads in our trip to the beach. I was shocked to realize what a narrow country Viet Nam was. We traveled over half the width of the country in a short ride.

Our next stop, in route to lunch, was the Hien Luong Bridge that spanned the Ben Hai River. This river formed the temporary border, along the 17^th parallel between the North and the South, based on the Geneva Agreement of 20 July 1954. Along with buildings devoted to allowing meeting between representatives of The North and The South, and a French bunker, there was also a grand sculpture depicting a woman and her children waiting for their father to return to the south. This reflected the number of men who lived in the south and traveled to the north for training and weapons before returning to the south, and their homes, to wage war against the French and the Americans, at night, while going about their normal business during the day.

Lunch was eaten outside, under a cover, with hammocks to lie in after our meal at the Cua Tung Beach. This is the first beach that I had seen in my trip to Asia and it was a beautiful beach. The water was clean and there was no trash or litter to be seen.

As is the practice in Asia, we remained there for several hours avoiding any activity in the middle of the day. I have to say, I did not order as much as I would have because, simply, the prices were not written on the menu; but instead, were to be negotiated while ordering. Having been cheated with similar situations, in China, I was very shy of the entire approach. As it was, the prices were a bit high, but considering the environment, reasonable, not too high. But, as I said, before I ordered, I had no way of knowing. They would have gotten more of my money if they had just told the price up front.

From the Cua Tung Beach we rode to the Vin Moc Tunnels. This was a large tunnel complex that became the home of over 5,000 soldiers and their families during the war.

It was here that we did something that we were not quite supposed to do. We went on a self guided tour.

We were told to duck into one of the entrances and have a quick look and come back out. Well, we ducked in, and kept going. By doing this we were able to visit nearly the entire tunnel, including many sections that most tourists never see. We saw many of the exits that gave us access to, yet another, beautiful beach.

After close to an hour of exploring we returned to the entrance, by a surface trail. Our guide was a bit frantic. He was sure that he had just lost his tourists. He was very concerned that the sections that we went into were narrow and had no overhead lights; that we were limited to our torches for light and safety.

I do understand his point, I am also glad that we did it. After we all reassembled we followed the normal tour that started with a visit to the museum on the site and then went to a small section of the tunnels that were wide and well lit. This "tourist" section forms less than a quarter of what is really there. The tourist section is interesting (even though we had already seen it on our "self guided" venture) but there is a lot more. Remember to bring your own torch.

From there we headed toward the remains of an American tank, there was really very little there, anything salvageable was already stripped. We then walked to yet another US and French base. It also provided a good view from the top of the bunker. However, the bunker itself, the one we were standing on, was not clearly visible and I asked if the one we were on was similar to another that was near by. The guide misunderstood my question and said that we could not walk to that one because the German landmine clearing company was not finished and it was not safe to walk to it, yet another reminder that when walking in SE Asia, STAY ON THE PATH!

From there we rode back to Dong Ha, returned our motorcycles and took an evening bus back to Hanoi.