“It’s me, Lisa!”
Big smile, very high voice. Matthieu looks at her without understanding.
“But it’s me, Lisa!” We talked together!”
We look at each other. Still nothing.
“But yes! On WhatsApp! You discussed the reservation with me. Lisa!”
And there, Matthieu finally understands the situation. Lisa has no idea that before arriving in Ha Giang, Matthieu contacted an improbable number of agencies to compare itineraries, prices and packages. By talking with so many people on WhatsApp, he was unable to tell who he had actually talked with. Messages, yes. First names, much less so. We finally chose the Mr Hung Loop Tour because the agency was very well rated and especially renowned for its small groups, generally around seven to ten people, twelve at most. Exactly what we were looking for. We just didn't realize how small ours was going to be.
It's a little after 7 o'clock. We finish our breakfast in the homestay where we slept after our late arrival in Ha Giang. The principle of the Ha Giang Loop is quite simple: for several days, we travel by motorbike through the mountains of the far north of Vietnam, very close to the Chinese border. You can drive yourself or, like us, choose the Easy Rider formula and spend four days behind an experienced driver. Meals and accommodation are provided along the way.
Before leaving, Lisa hands us two white t-shirts from the agency, with a motorcycle and clearly AI-generated graphics. Fortunately they are free. We're always keen on t-shirts for sports while traveling, but these, frankly, hurt the eyes so much that we almost hesitate to wear them. The marketer in Sébastien already suffers enough from the visual to seriously consider giving them another one for free. They could have so much cooler t-shirts.
Then we look at the table. Besides our two place settings, there are only two others. Two American travelers. That's all.
We look at each other:
“But… did we take a private tour?”
No.
And that was definitely not what we wanted. After more than 100 days traveling as a couple, we obviously come for the landscapes, but also to meet people. Just to sometimes talk to someone other than ourselves and not end up killing each other before the end of the trip.
Helmets attached, knee and elbow protection, bags wrapped in plastic, we each climb in behind our driver. One speaks English and also acts as a guide. The other, that of Sébastien, almost not at all. We still manage to learn that he is a father and that he is a year younger than Sébastien. From there it will be “Daddy”.
We leave Ha Giang in light rain. At first, it's pretty. Then the road climbs, the limestone mountains tighten and the turns begin to pile up. Bac Sum, Quan Ba, Tham Ma: a few hours later, we understand why we came.
The first evening looks exactly like the Ha Giang Loop we imagined. A lovely homestay, an excellent meal, our two Americans, the drivers, our guide and the first glasses of happy water.
“Một, hai, ba, dô!””
We toast. Then again. The karaoke starts. They are fans of Taylor Swift, we bring out our usual classics and the drinks continue until an hour which we have somewhat forgotten.
The next morning, however, our two traveling companions continued their three-day itinerary. We're doing four. A new guide takes over and the contact is, at first, much less warm. And here we are almost alone.
The road continues towards Lo Lo Chai, very close to the Chinese border, then Lung Cu and its tower rising above the mountains. The border, let's be frank, remains a border. The climb to Lung Cu is already much more interesting. Under a gray sky, we gain height and the mountains extend as far as China.
Then we join Dong Van. Our accommodation is huge, capable of accommodating a crowd of travelers. We enter. Almost no one.
“But… are we sure we didn’t take a private tour?””
Fortunately, as the kilometers pass, our guide reveals himself. His real name is Tuan, although everyone calls him Tony with foreign travelers. Before riding his motorcycle around Ha Giang, he worked in a factory where he repaired faulty Apple headphones before they were rebatched. After a year, he had enough and changed his life.
And on the third day, you especially discover how much you have to trust your driver.
The motorbikes leave the main road to take a small, completely rutted path which climbs towards a café on top. A few meters before the climb, Dad stops his motorcycle. With his very broken English, he explains to Sébastien what awaits him: for the rest, he will have to hold on very tightly to his waist and stay completely glued to him.
Sébastien does so.
The motorcycle leaves.
A few meters later, Dad stops again, this time right next to Matthieu and Tuan. Matthieu turns his head and discovers Sébastien, both arms firmly closed around his driver's waist.
“I am very attached to my Dad!”
Matthieu looks at him, slightly surprised.
Tuan then explains to him that he will have to do exactly the same thing.
A few seconds later, the two motorcycles set off again, each firmly attached to their driver, to attack this small path which, seen from below, no longer really looked like a road.
This third day is also the one where the landscapes take all the space. The trek of approximately one and a half hours planned around Ma Pi Leng ultimately cannot be done as announced due to a question of logistics. We insist and an alternative is found. Our guide, who happily embraces his “lazy” side, prefers to stay near the motorcycles.
So we continue alone.
The drone takes off. Below, the karst mountains form a succession of green and gray peaks, the valleys plunge between them and the roads become tiny lines clinging to their sides.
We leave, we stop, we take out the drone, then we leave again to Du Gia.
In the evening, our last homestay is magnificent, set in the middle of the rice fields. And this time, miracle: another couple is there. Two very nice Dutch people with whom you get along immediately.
Finally !
Except that their guide does not want our two groups to eat together. For what ? No idea. Everyone dines on their own. Once their guide left, we still ended up meeting up for a few drinks.
The next morning, the rain finally arrived. Since the beginning of the Loop, we have carried our rain protection without ever having to take them out. This time, there's no escaping it. A few minutes later, we are wrapped from head to toe in large waterproof suits that make us look like trash bags on legs. Looking at the locals riding around on their scooters dressed in exactly the same way, we quickly understand that this is a bit like the official rainy day outfit of northern Vietnam.
We take the road towards Ha Giang. Despite the water, the small roads and the bends, you never feel in danger. After four days behind them, the confidence in our drivers is total. The mountains sometimes disappear behind the clouds, then Ha Giang eventually reappears.
Four days earlier, we wanted landscapes, meetings and a small group adventure. We had the landscapes. Meetings, much less than expected.
So, did we take a private tour?
No.
But it sometimes looked a lot like it.
We would have liked large tables and more travelers. This is probably our only real disappointment.
However, when we return, that’s not what we remember first.
We think of Lisa and her high-pitched voice, of the t-shirt that the marketer in Sébastien still dreams of redesigning, of a karaoke evening that was much too drunk, of Tuan who went from a headphone factory to mountain roads, and of Papa with whom Sébastien was almost never able to speak but to whom he entrusted his safety for four days.
And above all, we think of these tiny roads lost between mountains which seem to never end.
The Ha Giang Loop was not exactly the adventure we had imagined.
The landscapes far exceeded what we had come to look for.