31st August

I went to see the doctor at 6.30am before setting off on the big drive northwards, and it was just as well that I did. He gave me some super extra-strength antibiotics and some delightfully luminous wound cleaning fluid (also antibiotic) for my troubles. And some cash. With those in hand, and the sun beginning to heat up the surroundings already, I headed for the rendez-vous with Tris at the incomprehensible tower/office-building/lighthouse landmark to the west of town, and we hummed out northwards along the coastal road at just after 7am.

Despite the early hour it was excessively hot, and I was wearing too many clothes. Necessary layers, given my previous experience, but it felt extremely uneasy being in direct, scorching sunlight and wearing boots, undertrousers, overtrousers, a shirt and an overjacket, my hood up and a helmet clasping the whole kit together. When the wind swept across my face and through the various vents in my inefficient layering system as I drove forwards the temperature felt bearable, but stopping for even a few seconds automatically started my futile 'self-endrenchment' regime, a patriotic effort on the part of most of my glands to envelop me in sweat in the vague hope that, as happens in the UK, it should evaporate and cool me down.

In 100% humidity.

It didn't.

So I tried to keep moving. The coastal road north out of Nha Trang (pronounced 'near cheng' apparently) was incredible. The roads were new, perfectly pothole free, and a delight to drive on. The road snaked around the coast to my right, skirting around the bottom of the foothills that make up the central part of the country to my left. The water was bright blue, glistening and twinkling in the heat, and despite the high temperatures the vegetation was lush and green.

Our aim for the day was to get to Hoi An, a fairly touristy small town some 500km directly north of Nha Trang. 500 was a fairly optimistic number of kilometers to attempt to cover in a day, but there were scatterings of towns on the way and we knew we wouldn't be stranded if we didn't make it in time. If we were at Quy Nhon by 12:15, we could push on through to Hoi An in (very hot) daylight.

For the first time on the entire journey we crossed behind the mountains and into some vast plains - the flatlands. This was different. They must have been extremely fertile, as there was the exotic green, wet expanse for as far as the eye could see in all directions. The horizon to my left was framed by mountains shaded in a blue haze of distance, to my right was an endless flat whispering of crops and grasses. The road, mostly long and straight, was the dividing line between the two hemispheres of vision that took me ever northwards.

It was hot. Very hot. I had had to dispose of my gloves following the earlier accident, and didn't have a spare pair. I kept liberally applying suncream on the only exposed bit of skin on the back of my hands, and felt the rush of air over them as I motored ever onwards, keeping them cool. Sort of.

The previous experience of driving over mountain passes, through cities, and along winding roads doesn't prepare you for the effects of wind. With such a large and flat expanse of land all around you the wind has time to build up, formulate a plan, join forces, sneak up, and hit your bike on one side or the other rather chaotically at any moment. It's not very powerful, more like something that has to be continually compensated for, and involves much more of the use of your arms to help control where your body weight is centered. However, the long straight roads give ample opportunity for the huge buses and trucks and lorries to build up a fair amount of momentum, and when they scream past you at god knows what speed, the trailing vortex that they leave behind them is much more of a destabilising force that hits you not-quite-head-on and requires some hefty compensation. And usually a grimace.

Being on a bike for so long and having to concentrate extremely hard on the task of staying upright is not relaxing. However, it's not stressful (most of the time). You are by yourself, gazing out over some of the most spectacular scenery in the world, the rush of wind past your ears a constant de-tune-out'er of most distractions, and you have a lot of time to think. It is wonderfully therapeutic, if a little toasty.

We made it to Quy Nhon at approximately 12:07, right on schedule. Some nifty map reading and traffic negotiating later we were back on the road north, buoyed by the thought that 500km in a day might actually be doable.

It wasn't.

By the time we had been riding for over 350km, we were getting tired, the sun was slowly sinking in the sky, but still gallingly unrelenting, my bum was complaining a lot, taking on the exact inverse impression of the seat, and I noticed small blisters forming on the back of my hand where the suncream blatantly wasn't working. I got slightly concerned. We stopped for petrol and assessed the situation. We should head for Quang Ngai instead, it wasn't far, and would leave us with a small drive on the next day to get to Hoi An. A wise decision...

Quang Ngai is approximately 380km from Nha Trang, and not in the least bit similar. It is a local town, off the main tourist trail, but desperately wanting to become part of it. We stopped outside the nearest hotel we could find (helpfully called the Central Hotel, approximately 30ft away), but were a bit dismayed to find it still being built. I checked at reception, just in case, and was awarded a cheap room for my efforts. It was after 4pm, we had been on the road for over 9 hours. I was exhausted, blistered, my face covered in sweat, exhaust fumes, mud and grit, and I needed a shower. But a careful one, so as not to get my wound wet.

I pointed at my blistered hands to reception, who pointed me in the direction of the nearest pharmacist - handily located approximately 30ft away! I pointed at my hands in the pharmacist, and they pointed at various pills and creams by way of response. We did some more pointing and made an attempt at communication, but in the end I read the instructions (in English, thank god) for a marvelous little cream manufactured by Daewoo (a car firm? didn't they go bust?), and applied liberally.

After half a loaf of brioche and a hollow roll as food all day, I was passionately hungry. We were recommended a restaurant at the edge of town and headed for it, even though it meant subjecting my bum to another five minutes on the bike, which it did not like at all. We seemed to be segregated into a westerner-only section which was a bit odd, as was the warm beer they served. I was presented with a menu, and spent a minute or two perusing the vast choice on offer. Shark? Wow, I've never had shark. No shark. Hmmm. Crocodile? No crocodile. Tortoise? Ah, yes there is tortoise. You must buy 1kg of tortoise. In hindsight I probably should have chanced it, but at that point I was incredibly tired and all I wanted was something I knew I liked so I ordered... ostrich. Deliciously undercooked and mildly infused with chillis, it was divine.

I parked the bike in the secure hotel car park, gave it one last look of contempt, and passed out not-too-painfully in modest comfort on the 5th floor. I hoped we would not have to attempt another 380km day...