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The cycling was tough, particularly at first because the roads were very rough, the traffic thick, the mileage hefty, and the weather hot. It took a few days to adapt to such an environment, although there were some things we never really adapted to - we just learned to live with them. Most of us toughened up eventually. Daily rides varied from 60 to 110 miles. But of the 55 cyclists, less than ten of us cycled every day. The others, realizing there was a bus, found reasons to be in it from time to time instead of on the road. I rode the bus one day because I hung out an extra day at a particularly beautiful sea-side town (Nha Trang). I looked forward to getting back on my wheels, because the bike was the place to be.
Consistent in the 1,200 miles, covered in fourteen days, were the people and the scenery. Each time I stopped, I was immediately swamped by a group of locals who were extremely curious about every aspect I represented - my size, my color, the hair on my arms, my language, my bright cycling clothes, and my state-of-the-art cycle with its many gears, bar end shifters, break levers, aero-bar, and high-pressure tires. Constantly under examination, even when riding, I found the people easily won over with a direct look and a smile. There was no feeling of distrust, only, at times, uncertainty. And those that could help in any way were immediately willing to do so. They were generally puzzled at our travel plans, and often suggested better means of transportation in order to reach Ho Chi Minh.
It became apparent early on that we would be in the spotlight on this trip. We were accompanied and supported by VietnamTourism, an element of the government focusing on bringing tourism to Vietnam. The finest vehicle in the country was our new tour bus, which served as sag wagon to pick up riders wanting or needing to ride. Two women with VietnamTourism were with us around the clock, working with advance hotel arrangements, meals, and catering to the whims of 55 spoiled Westerners. Others were in attendance, too. Bus drivers (in addition to the luxury tour bus were two Vietnam-standard buses used to transport food, water, luggage, and bikes) and the Blues Brothers, so named because of the old black sedan they drove. The Blues Brothers were never positively identified, but the indications and rumors were that these guys were secret service / police, running interference. This very well could be, as we were never hassled or confronted by the police at any time; the hotels were mysteriously void of the prostitutes we had heard would be in many hotels (one rider had a conversation with one of the local girls who told him they had been warned away from our hotel for the night). The Blues Brothers were cleaning up the road right in front of us. Another bit of evidence, circumstantial as it may be, was the night we couldn't camp at Ba Don and had to travel down the road to accommodations made that day; the girls were there in full force, knocking on doors and walking into rooms. It seems that the last minute re-arrangements didn't give our boys in black the opportunity to sweep the porch.