The Reality Of The Hà Giang Loop

It was the night before the Hà Giang Loop. A lone sleeper bus hurtled down a rural road in the heart of northern Vietnam.

I jolted awake at one in the morning, clutching my stomach as it violently fizzed and gurgled. Peeling off my sleeping mask, my eyes winced as they met the artificial lights surrounding me, and I suddenly remembered where I was. Shivering slightly due to the intensely air-conditioned atmosphere, I sat up as the bus drove over a dip in the road and bumped my head on the roof of the confined sleeper bus cabin, causing my body to convulse and my stomach to lurch.

Nausea was now permeating every membrane of my body and clouding all lucidity. I reached for the plastic bag holding my hiking shoes, chucked my footwear to the side, and vomited into it. Then vomited again.

Half an hour later, the bus halted and we all trundled off. In a daze, I continued to throw up onto the tarmac road as I collected my luggage, nodding in thanks to the Vietnamese bus driver as he handed me a miniature bottle of water.

I perched on a small plastic chair outside the hostel, taking a few minutes to breathe and compose myself before attempting to check in. Stomach empty and head spinning, I sleepily checked in, packed a small rucksack for the next few days, and fell asleep curled in a small ball.

The first day was hard. The clouds opened early in the morning, and rain hammered down onto the narrow roads all day. We were helped by our Vietnamese drivers into putrid-green, bin-bag-like overalls to protect us from getting wet. We zoomed along the narrow slopes in a careful line, the drivers seemingly in cahoots with one another as they attempted to overtake each other so as not to be left behind.

As thrilling as it was to be here, I felt like the ghost of the Hà Giang Loop — the illness making my skin look almost translucent against the harsh glow of the sky as the motorbike carried my fragile body up and down the verdant mountains. I slept solidly that night, despite there being 23 other bodies in the room.

I woke up at dawn feeling revived. Emerging from the dark-wooded lodge, I let out a gasp as I soaked in the landscape. Hills coated in sacramento-green shrubbery loomed over us. Clouds, bright and still, weaved in and around each summit, isolating us within this epic landscape. After tucking into a hearty breakfast spread of traditional Vietnamese food, such as egg-fried rice, boiled eggs, chopped vegetables, and watermelon, we strapped our little rucksacks onto the back of the mopeds and sped off into the hazy sky.

As the days passed, the sun became brighter and beamed down on us — causing those who didn’t wear suncream to go almost purple in colour due to the strength of the UV. I was, surprisingly, not one of those people.

The feeling of speeding along the undulating turf of this stunning landscape whilst streaming transcendental music through my wired earphones was like no other. Two of my hobbies were combined: listening to music and ruminating about everything that’s ever happened to me. The level of adrenaline was unmatched.

We all became accustomed to the travelling rhythm of every day, developing a routine with our own drivers and forming bonds with them that are unlike any I’ve had before. Putting our lives in the hands of someone estranged is a very vulnerable position to be in, but Google Translate acted as a mediator — allowing my driver and I to connect. We had long, digital conversations — discussing each other’s upbringings, our cultural differences, and our dogs! I’m very grateful to have met him. I have learnt a lot from the selfless generosity that he consistently showed me, and it has largely imprinted on me. I aim to embody his altruistic nature.

Along with the people I met during the loop, the breathtaking scenery has left a significant dent in my memory. Viewpoints with local cafés allowed us to perch and savour the panoramic vistas of the steep terrains and traditional villages. I will never forget the cultural richness of the Hà Giang Loop, and I am incredibly grateful for the opportunity to have experienced it.