Tropic Drizzle

To avoid turning into dim sum we decided to embark on an adventure of the physical variety. Being in Vietnam – the home of dense jungle, forests crawling with tigers, spiders and previously trigger happy invading forces, we decided to go trekking, just outside of Da Lat. According to the guide book Da Lat ‘combines the French Alps with plenty of bohemian cool’, not exactly a line from Apocalypse Now, but we remained positive about our first dose of jungle action Nam style.

Armed to the hilt with 6 litres of water, sun screen and straw hats we were ready for anything. We met our guide, Tin, who looked like he should be at school revising for his GCSE’s, yet turned out to be studying for a tourism degree at the local University. It was tough getting much information out of Tin except that he wanted to become a dive instructor once he graduated. Being deep beneath the waves with a mask and regulator strapped to his face seemed the ideal job for a man of such few words. Unfortunately we weren’t on a dive trip so talking was unavoidable.

Day one of the trek was tough, Tin’s pace was fast and tree canopy failed to shade us from the glare of the sun. At first we rambled through pine forests, making me feel that we could have been in the Forest of Dean, but the pines opened up as we got into the bottom of the valley where there was a sea of dark green coffee plantations and a muddy brown river snaking through the landscape.. Narrow wire bridges with rotting wooden planks were the only means of crossing the river. High up above the water we crossed one at a time so as not to overload the fragile construction. Wires suspended over the river were tied to a tree at either side, and the weight of the bridge cut into the trunks like a constricting snake around its prey.

The second bridge we had to cross was in a terrible state, listing to one side with half the wooden planks missing. Laura went across first, skipping over the battered planks and posing for the camera. I put down the camera and turned to speak to Tin but just as Tin began to open his mouth there was a crash and the sound of Laura squealing ‘I’m ok, just don’t step here!’ Still holding on to the hand railings Laura’s right leg was dangling though a large gap in the bridge where one of the planks had fallen away. With a scraped and bruised shin Laura soldiered on like it was nothing, but I couldn’t help feeling it was just like the chase scene from Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom minus the snapping crocodiles.

After successfully dodging imaginary crocodiles we headed up a hill generously called a mountain by Tin where we had a traditional Vietnamese picnic consisting of small baguettes, laughing cow cheese, cucumber, tomato, pork pate and some juicy pineapple. Army rations consumed, we were energised and ready to continue our patrol into the unknown. We approached a terraced field being tended by farmers watering coffee plants and digging the soil. The people living in the forests are known as ‘minority people’ and this particular group are known as the ‘Chew People’. Past the field we came to their village, a small circle of wooden shacks built on the dusty red earth. The village was completely abandoned as all the adults were in the fields working and the children were all at school in Da Lat, where they stay all week and only return home to their families for the weekends. There was no electricity, running water, satellite dishes, internet, nothing it was truly like walking into a time warp.

The first day of trekking came to an end after 20km of hauling ass whilst fighting the agony of crippling blisters. We arrived at a lakeside encampment, dotted with dwellings with high pitched thatched roofs and hammocks suspended from the beams and enough animals to fill a medium size zoo. We dumped our kit and immediately fell into a deep sleep. The next thing we knew, Tin was yanking our cabin door open and rushing us off to dinner. Wearily we staggered to the dining area to find a banquet of food laid on just for the three of us. There was enough food to feed at least 8 people, yet we didn’t want to be rude so gave it our best shot. Tin manned a small charcoal barbeque in the middle of the table cooking fragrant slithers of venison whilst we tucked into soup, rice, ‘minority pork curry’, chips and salad. All this food had the instant affect of making me want to pass out so shortly after the last piece of venison was devoured we headed back to bed.

Day two of the trek was planned to be easier than the first, but the skin on my feet had already decided to give up on me so I wasn’t looking forward to putting the boots back on. We headed up a track and into a small area of rainforest and were immediately lost. Tin managed to get stung by an insect so headed off to find a magical leaf to sooth the pain and left me and Laura to the mercy of the jungle. By the time Tin returned, he reckoned he knew where he was going so we duly followed him to a clearing. Tin suggested we check for leeches and then immediately found one sucking on his foot. He flicked it off and began patching up the hole that had started to bleed. We were both fine, not an insect bite or a leech in site. Perhaps Tin was trying extra hard to get bitten to illustrate how dangerous the rain forest can be?

After another very similar Vietnamese packed lunch to the day before (although with the addition of tasty mangoes) we came out of the forest and on to a road. I wasn’t expecting to be trekking on tarmac, but in Nam anything goes. Tin was looking distinctly bored as he led the expedition kicking stones across the road and successfully avoiding conversation. After another hours walk we arrived at the meeting point to find the driver hanging out with his son both in a far friendlier mood than talkative Tin. A brief tour round a Pagoda and we were finished. No more hiking until this trip has faded into rose tinted memories.