dane hardinge travels

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Icey slippy snow has gone so its off for a spin to Great Longstone, Thornbridge Hall, Ashford-in-Water thence Aldi and home Jeeves.

https://www.strava.com/activities/13362365996

Lovely blue sky, sun shining, very brasen monkies but no wind. Monsall Trail was closed as they are felling thousands of the Ash Trees affected by Ash Die-back in Derbyshire.

GL site of the old village cross 1400 AD made of gritstone. Phone boxes are now mini-libraries or defib stations. The war memorial put up around 1923 after the kaiser’s war, often with a village memorial hall. Later additions for Adolph’s war. The excellent Primary school seen behind. When I lived in GL my liver was partially saved by us being surrounded by Robinsons Brewery pubs. Kak.

Down to the GL station. Unusual because there are two of them, one for the plebs (now a private house) and a posh one for the knobs who came to stay at Thornbridge Hall (now an outward bound centre).

Along Station Road you will see a mixed bag of building materials used in house construction. Often using the creamy coloured, smooth textured Ashford limestone. Some houses have dressed stone blocks on the front (expensive) of the house and random stone or brick side and rear walls.

Davey blocks look like random stone blocks but then you see they are blocks of concrete with limestone embedded. This limestone was a by-product of lead-mining – the oddly sized and shaped pieces of ‘deads’ could be incorporated into building blocks rather than just be discarded. If you go to Holme Bank, Bakewell you can still see the cranes and little railways used in the manufacture of Davey blocks. Now banned for new builds.

Cheaper than gates, squeeze stones allow people to pass into fields holding live-stock BUT if they are the chest-level height stones, then stout can mean a tricky passage! Often they or rather the encompassing walls fall and the squeezers are stepped around. A pen drawing I bought from the dear late local artist Brian Edwards shows stones and walls intact.

Fin Cop, an Iron Age Hillfort high in the distance, the low winter sun highlighting the preliferation of historic dry stone walls, the darker field has been muck-spread. The far side is an excellent source of small peach colored Filbert nuts. The River Wye follows the valleys as it wends its way south from Buxton (next to Morrisons) to Bakewell until it & the River Lath are subsumed into the Derwent at Rowsley alongside the A6; they in turn are absorbed into the mighty River Trent.

Down past Thornbridge Hall into the village of Ashford-in-Water (no preposition). The name indicates the origins of this village. This is a favourite destination for richer retirees, its quaint picturesque demeanor is trashed in summer by the thousands of motorbikes, often – too often, with small-penis syndrome straight through exhaust pipes, playing on the delightfully bendy A6. BTW I always had street legal pipes = !!! Church of England vicars lived a vicariously grand life in days of yore. The village green has two magnificant trees, seen here in their leafless Winter state next to the cemetery overspill and the childrens play area. Life, death, old and young together.

Where the ford was there is now an unused bridge with ducks, a Penfold for lost sheep and where the sheeps were held before their annual bath in the river. British sheep still resent the frequency.

Just up the road is the worked out Black Ashford Marble Mine. Famed for it’s black bits. It’s so black even the white bits are black. Queen Elizabeth I used it as a funery stone and prices per cubic tombstone rocketed. Famed for its fine texture for pietra dura inlay, a craft championed by the Italians, and seen in its finest state at the Taj Mahal.

Queen Vickie-toria came several times to Ashford to buy black marble objects. She even carved her initials into a window pane at The New Bath Hotel at Matlock Bath. No Netflix then. Funery stone columns can be found in Chatsworth House chapel and in Edensor Church where the Dukes get laid out. It’s Limestone not marble.

Leaving the ducks who would be praying for the summer tourists with their crusts of bread. Past the Bull, Cafe and corner shop to the Memorial Hall with it’s carved war memorial and the Old Post Office with it’s ancient King George 5th GR post box.

Bakewell, like most towns had several water-mills. Building up a head of reliable water means there is less water for the next downstream mill. When Arkwright moved in with his factory the amazing waterworks he consturucted that are still there meant that the much older flour mill at Millfield was deprived of water. This led to litigation and Arkwright moved his water collection system upriver to where we see them today. Given a lot of these water supplies are in good condition, I dont know wht we dont have more river hydro schemes. Rowsley mill was generating a lot of electricity, using its old turbine engines until the recent floods destroyed half the village.

Using the pavement as a cycle route along to the site of Arkwright’s Mill. It’s now mostly Thornbridge Brewery, it used to be derelict. The old mill’s frontage is peing preserved for re-use when a hotel is built. The Pinelodge hut manufacturing business has moved to Chesterfield from their enormous semi-cicular corrugated iron roofed bomb shelters to Chesterfield. There are also bakeries and a sourdough place, a tap-room and a cafe.

Much to the annoyance of the hospitable and friendly English speaking hotel proprieter, I had miraculously found the lie down coach to Saigon Bus Station. If he books you in he gets a small commission but I’d been the night before where I had to firmly insist that they sell me the two tickets required, one for me one for the Bike. They wanted to sell me only the seat and the freight / bike ticket the next day. It ended amicably. I had two tickets all duly stamped.

I felt a rumbling deep down as I cycled anxiously to the bus station. They put me on the correct bus, bike stowed away safe enough in the baggage hold below. Then they wanted me to travel on a different bus and not to worry – I’d find my bike at the other end in Saigon. Haha. No thank you – we travel together. They told me ETA Saigon was about 6 hours after departure. It was only 4 thankfully but of course I was not aware, dozing in my mini-me bunk. Then, on the crowded and bustling West Bus Station, followed the drama and time wasting from the conductor and his mates – you need a ticket. Idiots you can see that I just arrived. 30 minutes later after much gesticulating and, eventually, a kind porter on a motorbike showed me to where I had to buy a bus station exit bloody ticket. Makes Derbyshire Dales look generous. Thanks to Ridewithgps I had a quiet and enjoyable cycle trip across Saigon to my apartment where I’d booked 3 nights (fortunately) to explore the city.

Hotel checkin was a complete fuster-cluck. The guards would not let me unpack the bike near the reception. In the end I politely simply ignored them – the body’s bowel-clock was ticking faster than desired. The youth who was supposed to check us in finally appeared, there were three sets of guests chomping at the check-in bit by now. I told the guards to be patient, made sure there was no after-you to one of the all women groups waitung anxiously (FIFO is fairer) and I legged it for the bathroom faster than a choir-boy running from a confessional. Timed to perfection. But the problem was not a one-off.

Randy and Anita had met their son and had a few days left. They popped round with some sysmpathy. yoghourt & travellers penecillin stuff. I took one tablet but decided it was the second fish Bun Ca in Chau Doc and must pass (no pun). Since I lost my sense of smell (pre wuhan-US flu), I try fish mostly to be polite. Invariably I feel ill or throw up when eating any fish or crabs etc. (Dec 2024 – I have stopped being polite as I keep being sick when I have eaten fish).

I recovered sufficiently to have a marvellous night out at Heart of Darkness Brew-restaurant with them on their last night before they flew home to Canada! haha USA’s 51st state. FYI Randy and I were quaffing expensive (by VN standards) porters, DIPA & stouts etc like veritable afishionados! Anita less extravagent on bottled mineral waters. We had three main courses. My friend Loubie from Birchover UK pinged me a beer menu from where she’d been the night before. One litre of her porter cost more than our heart of darkness trip for 3!!

My feet took a pasting. Itching badly, athletes foot and I am sure what might have been ring-worm? I could not find a thick enough pair of open airy shoes that either protected my soles or did not make my foot blister – slip ons, or big toes get sand-papered off – flip flops so I had worn Millets walking boots and Aldi workmans socks.

In Saigon I took the bike for packing and had it posted to and I flew out back to Vinh Yen in the North.

Long Distance Adventure in Aisia on two wheels Phase I completed. Well done legs. No major bum-sore either.

I met a young traveller in the Chau Doc hotel, she said I looked awful (a great start to any relationship) and offered me some rehydration powders. Derrr I had overlooked these. This did seem to help me perk up. So much so that I went exploring.

I had decided by this time I had had enough and need to be sensible for once and stop. I’d achieved my main objective at 2800 km travelled with two punctures One a leaking Schwalbe valve stem on Day 2 and a failed equator on the rear tyre but goodness knows where en route (this might have been on the second ride of Days 1 to Day 3 inclusive; Vinh Yen to Thanh Hoa via the Primate Rescue Centre). DANE Put a larger rear tyre on for the next trip.

I pottered about Chau Doc for two days. At long last I had found the missing (in my memory) hotel from when Mark, Mei, Sarah & I took the kids around Thailand/Singapore and Cambodia. The hotel was where the Luxury boat from Phom Penh moored up – The Victoria Hotel.

What a find. Within a 150m triangle there was a cool supermarket, a street stall for Bun Ca (warning signs and klaxon noises ) and a posh poolside river-view hotel selling cooled (pricey mind) strong IPAs, served by two amiable waitresses; a deserved change from Bia Saigon et al. I hate to nitpick but the peanuts were sugared not salted. The Bun Ca fish stew with yellow flowers I think was my downfall when I ate it the following day. There were half a dozen delightful little dogs to torment too.

The Hotel where I stayed had a little crane device on the very top floor

I repeated the above on the 30th March but included a scooter ride out to the waterside temple and festival.

I arrived dehydrated and suffering bouts of light headedness/dizziness especially when going over a river bridge at end of ride. Nice quiet route except first 10 and last 10 km due to traffic. I took a detour along the river, to avoid the road, I knew it would bump up the distances but anything to get away from the hightway and the fucking awful horn, klaxons and scooter hooters. On the right/eastern side were proper houses. The ones to the left looked normal but were in fact stilt houses built along the river bank, some looked more secure than others. I passed a large Temple with what appeared to be a festival (I returned a few days later on a Scooter) . Many roads seen but not on maps.

See the map extract below to see just how many little bridges have to be crossed. Each bridge had 4 distinct bumps and the scale they were on it was very wearing on me crown jewels, hands and the poor phone. Each bridge was made of three slabs and each change of direction created a jarring bump. The VN can build roads and bridges faster than the eye can follow BUT the buggers cannot join each section without a bump. Even large road highway bridges had this and more as each road section had a comb device that merged with the teeth on the next section. Bicycle tyres were not part of the planning process as the gaps between teeth could snag the tyres so best taken at an angle (ignoring the traffic as they drive like crabs and use the horn anyway).

The large jars I thought were water but might with hindsight be spirits seeping with fruits, crows, snakes and other less macarbre flavours.

As I approached Chau Doc, the last town in Vietnam before heading northwards to Phnom Penh but Chau Doc would be the completion of my Primary Objective. The temperature was hitting 45/46C and the tarmac roads retained and radiated extreme heat from below me until after sundow (cement and mud were cooler).

I stopped for a coffee at about 4pm on the outskirts of Chau Doc and a cooling indoors cup of cafe den da – iced black coffe with the usual free Tra/tea, the manageress was such a nice lady. Feeling a bit less knackered I went back up to the raised highway and continued into Chau Doc.

By the time I was getting into Chau Doc I was suffering from the heat more and more, dehydration no doubt affecting me. I could not physically drink any more bloody water. I did not need to pee very often either.

I checked into the small Bao Thy Hotel, the owner spoke excellent English but was a bit put out when I said I could organise trips and outings myself! I really thought I would passout on the final bridge to the hotel and had to stop until it passed.

The hotel had cold beers and aircon. No Karaoke! Brill. I stayed in Chau Doc for three nights, I thought I deserved a bit of a rest.

Bridges, bridges and yet more bridges over the mighty Mekong and it’s canal works. Dane does a runner. Chased by a sumo gargoyle on a scooter. Van Trang Garden 2 Hotel to Golden Hotel

After the distress of politely drinking warm lager with the friendly wedding party guys until very late, In the morning it was hide in my room till they’ve all gone to the wedding party. Lest I get dragged there in my cycling finery.

Lovely lotus beds and green fields behind the hotel, a nice change from plastic bags and building works. Nobody on reception so I threw the room card onto reception and set off on the ring road under the gigantic trunkroad bridge structures and stopped at the first banh my stall, ordered two of the very fatty pork belly subs when a total lunatic polled up gabbling on.

After much pantomiming I got the impression that something was amiss at the hotel. Sumo kept so close on the way there I kicked her front wheel several times and told her to back off. I paid the hotel bill and set off again, jettisoning the banh mys en route knowing that a dog or two would relish the same. I’d been to the reception several times as their photograph of my passport had failed and thought I’d paid already. Easy mistake to make.

Thus, every person who stays at a hotel must show id and no doubt the local plods examine all this detail in great depth. A good training ground for the mind police in notsobonny iliberal Scotland with its nasty new Online Hate Crime Law about to lock up every citizen and presumably the plods themselves too up for disagreeing with their neighbour or with the leftwing twaddle being pedalled in the west.

VN might be a commie state but they know what men and women are and perhaps, more importantly, what they are not.

After escaping the city, the traffic was still not pleasant so I upset Ridewithgps once more and went off piste into the lanes. This would slow me down and add to the mileage but the lure of quiet green countryside vs airhorns won me over. OSMAnd once more providing the detailed mapping.

More bridges today than I have probably crossed in my life thus far. Big ones and smaller steeper ones but in all cases, where the road changes direction the road sections’ joints each has a bone jarring junction. My enormous Blackview phone with its 62 days standby coped admirably as did it’s 7 quid phone holder.

I think the water reeds drying by the road are used to make lengths of plaited ropes which in turn are joined to make baskets. Everywhere the folk are making useful objects of the materials to hand and which grow so abundantly on the flood plains.

More grass-mat making using Spinning Jennies was present once again. Dried, split grass/reeds are immensely strong but when green they break easily.

A typical village by a tributary / canal of the Mekong, absolutely buzzing with insects.

The paddy fields here are vast compared to the patchworks of tiny fields in the north. Fruit grows everywhere and there were small mountains of Jackfruits piled up waiting to be collected.

The maps dont indicate the size of the canals, they are navigable by quite large boats, mostly ferrying sand and rice one heading for the huge road building constructions everywhere and the other to the mills to remove the rice husks (used for fuel) to leave the rice white and polished. No bran is bad for you.

A Japanese diving colleague explained that the very finest Rice wine uses only the inside of the rice grains, sometimes as much as 50% of the rice is polished away, the more polishing the more expensive the resultant wine.

The locals live on the river on what appear to be very precarious stilt houses – handy for plumbing and access to the river that employs so many directly and indirectly (irrigation for farming)

As I’ve filmed before there are many Swallows flying about and it was lovely to see how useful solar street lighting has become home to so many.

Vietnam traffic signs have almost no meaning at all as they are simply ignored. God help you if you think a zebra crossing is anything other than an ambush zone. There is almost no provision for pedestrians anywhere.

A busy ferry at the end of another extremely hot day saw me into Long Xuyen for the night.

Leaving the unfortunate traffic-locked and rather dreary town of Long An behind was not for the timid. The township’s main roads were split down the middle for kilomteres by four foot central barriers which is for once a valid reason for them driving on the wrong side of the busy highway. Normally it’s just laziness instead of waiting for a suitable gap. I warned the admirable receptionist, that I’d left my room door open all night as it was unlikely the windowless room would quickly recover a fresh bouquet after me and my cycling shoes had spent the night there.

The shopkeepers I’d encountered were all surly, grumpy and lacking in the good humour you’d normally expect in shovelfulls. You dont have to sell me your effing beer you miserable tosser did not work too well in Goggle Translate! When you’re thirsty cold lager is a life saver.

Before leaving town I bagged two Banh My (Bang Me!) from a shapely seller who’d run out of bread rolls. I later gave them away as they were so gristly being made of pigs ears and noses. She was very shapely though. I also managed to drop off the mostly hand carved/painted wooden souvenirs I’d bought in Hoi An at the efficient postage office. I’d managed, with Giang’s phone help, to buy a newspaper and sellotape the night before from two miserable gits in a corner shop, so different and frankly a bit off-putting for the upcoming estuary trip. Is the Mekong going to be entirely inhabited by sullen miserable gits?

Crossing the river out of town was a steep bridge spanning three vast waterways split by industrious islands. The climb was as nerve wracking as any section of highway yet as my relative speed was so low compared to the air-horn truck brigade, angered no doubt by being physically prevented from driving on both sides of the bridge and the inumerable motor bikes that are driven by lunatics.

Once across the river a right turn to the west yielded a quiet, reasonably recent tarmac, some cafes (too early) and a shop selling plastic objects. My heart leapt and I turned round to explore the shop. In my haste to leave Hoi An following several quarts of strong heart-warming ales with Ali, I’d left my red drinking cup (it held half-eaten Banh My) behind with the foot-relieving gift of a foreigner’s left-behind sandals, kindly donated in Hotel Hoa Hiep in a place to return to – Binh Chau. They’d lasted less than 25km before generating sores so twas back on with the Aldi working mens’ socks & Millets walking boots. These have good enough grips to pull up on the pedals without clip-ins that my right knee cannot tolerate.

The deep red cup was also useful at street side Nuoc Mia, sugar cane drink machines. Replacing several single use plastic cups. Here in the south there were many NM dispensers along the roadside, far more than in the North, well used too based on the volume of squeezed cane (farm animal’s love them). I realised that I’d not noticed any tobacco Bong pipes in the southern cafes either nor heard their distinctive whistle.

The road was very enjoyable, and an easy 24 kph. The area was one large nursery for seedlings and fruits. Bananas, jack fruits literally by the ton, lychees etc etc. Empty waharehouses were waiting to be filled with the medieval weapon-fruits Durian.

The people were becoming more friendly as we left the traffic swamped city. Indeed cheery waves returned and Xin Chao was heard once again.

There were some ferries on the way, it’s always exciting having your venerable plastic Ortlieb panniers pressed tightly against a moped’s exhaust pipe. Take no prisoners, yield not an inch is the motto for ferry crossings.

In Vinh Long the last few km was an enormous 10 lane road and square/pavements/trees passing newly constructed grandiose white concrete buildings (government?) and heading to the Trunkroad CT01 with double double-lane bridges I would avoid at all costs. The approach to tonights hotel revealed it to be in a light industral area on a kind of South Circular ring road. Booking.Com : location good – but for what?.

Thankfully, just outside the hotel I spotted an old man haha like me at a shop with a well stocked fridge. He pulled me up a chair and I tossed back three cold tinnies and took many more with me. This saved the normal hunt a cold beer expedition that seems so weird in such a hot country.

In the room opposite mine (no pun) dwelt a retired oil-field geologist from Nottingham, hence the cold beer in the nearby shop. He kindly took me out on his uninsured, no licence ancient motorbike to have a meal at a pleasant waterside cafe to meet his wife and child, detracted only by the gnat’s piss lager at room temp (36C) with an ice-cube, instant beer cure. We eventually found an open cocktail bar; no olives so I forwent the Martini and had a recommended margharitta. Cocktails are lost on me as I have no sense of taste but got the lime and the salt.

Back to the hotel on a now shaken but not stirred motorbike for a couple of cold beers, where we encountered the wedding party. Hospitable and amazingly friendly professional business owners all. The groom looked 14. Warm beer all round then. 1-2-3-cheers. Repeat. Repeat & the beer is then not even mildly refrigerated. A fine reason to run away from any party.

I left SGN on time but later than normal hoping that after 10am the traffic would reduce somewhat and it did although I was south of the city heading west. The night before I had been thoroughly led astray by Randy & Anita on the beer drinking front at a wonderful brewery resto called Heart of Darkness so the the first hour was not easy cycling!

It’s always sad when you have to say goodbye to people you meet on your tours – theyre heading back to Northumberland Canada after a few days with their son in SGN who is currently in Da Nang. Like my son, how weird is that?

Many fruit sellers on the route out of the city plus so many motorbikes on the wrong side of the road so it was not always easy to keep my line. But, after 8km it became more and more rural. I stopped early for the green oranges !! not long afterwards I stopped at a truckers roadside food place for lunch. As usual it was excellent with hubby doing the marinaded BBQ pork with cabbage soup, rice, heaps of fresh salad leaves and many contented lunchers.

An extended triangle appeared on the route so I decided to ignore it and go for what was hopefully a ferry. No matter how large you increase the scale the writing stays the same size.

Its was no time saver as the small ferry road did not have the smoothest complexion. Arriving in the strong heat to see the ferry setting sail and no ramp to get me airbourne & on board with a 2m leap I had a sugar cane drink at the quayside establishment. A few polite coughs got the sales lady out of her hammock to provide me with the heap of land fill plastic required for such a drink. Large thick plastic pint pot, lid, plastic straw, plastic bag to carry it in. I’d left my lovely red plastic travel and Banh My holder in Hoi An as I was rushing to pack and leaving well after the taxi was booked, so had to accept the plastic. The quayside was full of water plants that prevented the fisherman from rowing.

It’s rice harvest time. Those wet fields get drained to allow the rice to ripen; the full grain rice is left on the roadside to dry and get bagged. Here the round straw bails are machine made and stored in barns.

Suddenly there were hectares of Dragon fruit plantations, with the bases banked up and covered in mulching rice straw for retaining water. Unlike further east, there were no lights within the rows of bushes to aid overnight picking. Young DFruits are cactii trained so that 6 are tied around a pole and they grow upwards. The adults have pronounced afro cactii fronds which bear buds that turn into fruit.

I can say that I’ve neither seen nor heard any bees or other large fertiliser insects.

The many kilometres of road being dug up and resurfaced today actually wasnt as bad as I thought it looked from under my sweat soaked cycle hat BUT twas very dusty. The map did not have many alternatives unless you get on the two major highways = no thanks. Lots of sapling trees were being pushed into the canal banks to strengthen the edges as the road was being widened and improved.

The countryside in the afternoon is definately more watery than previously visited areas. Roads follow canals, over the canals are little bridges to the houses; some have large gates that overhang the sides of the bridges but would be easy tyo climb around.

Tonight’s hotel is on an intersection of two large highways. It’s noisey. It must be awful to live here in Lo An because you cannot even cross the roads due to the barriers that run between each side of the highway.

It is the least friendly town I have stayed in to date, ne’er a smile from them.

What a wonderful piece of luck, my plans were delayed by Giang dropping in for a week meant I was near Saigon Airport when Alastair and his lovely girlfriend Candice were going to be in Hoi An as part of their SE Asia break.

I parked the bike and most of my stuff in South SGN city for 7 quid a night. The hotel wobbled alarmingly when a large truck went past, not great in a cement building. Local food was nearby and a huge market just behind BUT the VN never get off their motorbikes and you cant really enjoy any market here in VN outdoor or indoor as you are constantly being beeped and forced to step aside by the bloody motor bikes.

Hoi An HA is full of touts but occasionally some smile especially when you buy something like 3d pop up cards. Lashings of cold strong beers was the order of the day.

I was in for a fullon few days with the kiddies. So we went on a well organised short bike ride tour around Hoi An to experience the country-side, making rice-milk pancakes and noodles, carve sandal wood, watch hand-made grass-mat making and see some lovely beef cattle.

Hoi An floods and occasionally the floods are quite deep but most times its a few inches according to my nail lady. In the wet season, the livestock are taken to higher ground, hay and straw is kept more than a metre above ground. Many older wooden properties were up on stilts.

On the way to the wood carving we passed many active dockyard boat repairs. The carving men had many souvenirs for sale so while the tour group and teh kiddies were chiseling away I went to admire the larger carvings and to buy some of the smaller carved souvenir items.

It was then off to cook rice pancakes & pasta!

Onwards to the mat making and then Banh My Sum a subway with class. Then to the tailors as Ali decided to have some shorts made by a tailor.

Then its beer oclock and sightseeing time. The lights of all the lanterns at night on the boats and in the shops is beyond my samsung phone.

Last day was to be spent in a hand made wicker coracle. Sadly only 2 passengers allowed. There were hundreds of them which is good for jobs and causing little or no harm to the coconut islands.

More beers followed until I legged it for the plane back to Saigon