Culture and Landscape
-Hà Giang Loop-
A bike-packing trip around one of Vietnams most culturally diverse landscapes
In the early Spring of 2024 after an extended period of downtime at work, I took some time off and embarked on a 6 week South-East Asia backpacking trip. Of the 6 weeks, I only allocated 2 weeks to Vietnam, which despite the short length of time, ended up being the most breath-taking and authentic experiences of the trip.
I went into my travels with no expectations other than to challenge myself as a photographer as capture as many photos as I could. Little did I know of the transformative experience that was embracing the slow and letting narratives play out in front of me.
Below are passages taken directly from my photo diary over my 6 day bike-packing adventure around the Hà Giang Loop as it undergoes a transformation from an untouched jewel of traditional Vietnamese culture, to one of tourist infrastructure and organised bike-packing tours.
It is a mix of traditional, development and breath taking natural scenery.
Day 1:
Settling off to low hanging clouds and mist rolling in off the mountains, today I started the Ha Giang Loop.
My journey today started in Ha Giang and worked up to the UNESCO geopark plateau to a small traditional homestay in one of the Vietnamese ethnic villages of Quản Bạ.
I got my first taste of the vastness of the karst landscape with the distinctive cone shaped hills and winding mountain roads as I ticked off some of the more touristic parts of the loop such as the famous “Fairy Bosoms” and Lung Khuy Cave which was only discovered in 2015.
With any new adventure, there is always a period of warming up, where you adjust to this temporary new way of life.
In the area surrounding the cave I had my first experience of seeing the traditional way of living up on the plateau and just how well preserved the Vietnamese culture is, with villagers tending to their land with even children also working to help plant this years crops and cut back weeds.
These children soon became a highlight of the loop, always smiling, waving and occasionally giving me high fives as I slowed down and drove past on my moped.
Day 2:
Today felt like the Ha Giang loop had REALLY begun, and the day prior had been a warmup.
Perhaps it was the sunshine and my raised mood, or the fact that I had some places to check out which were off the beaten track, but everything seemed more impressive and captured my attention that much more.
I started the morning early, driving to a viewpoint through a valley, stopping to watch the workers on the hillsides, planting crops and burning waste, before doubling back on myself and heading up the first - and perhaps most impressive mountain pass of the loop - winding up further onto the plateau gaining a lot of vertical height, with hairpin bends and oncoming coaches to avoid giving me my first taste of some of the craziness the loop can offer.
Departing the main track I headed to Pho Bang, a small ehinic village close to the border of China, with the intention of beating out the heat of the day, where the sun was hot and the light too harsh to capture anything more than a washed out landscape.
Here I tried my first meal of Phở with freshly prepared rice noodles, and explored the streets admiring how the local peoples traditional buildings and lives had been preserved in this remote area of the country.
As evening came, so did the soft evening glow of the sun and I realised just how far I still had to ride to my next homestay. So began the rush of trying to get there on time before sunset whilst also trying to not miss a single opportunity to capture my journey.
Trying to pick up time was seemingly impossible, as with each turn and mountain pass the landscape got even more impressive, turning from the luscious greens at the start, to rocky and barren.
With the evening light came the haze which could come to define my time on the loop, separating all of the layers of hills and mountains from each other.
Day 3:
If any day was the perfect opportunity for a sunrise, this was it. Waking up at 4.30 I showered and made my way to exit the homestay, only to my surprise I was locked in. Perhaps a blessing as once I was able to leave, it turned out I could drive my bike along a narrow mountain pass right to the under the viewpoint, meaning the hour I had allowed myself to get there turned into a 10 minute ride.
Later on when I returned to this road I found out that actually it was blocked off to tourists on account of it being too dangerous and they wouldn't let me past unless I walked. Little did they know about this mornings outing.
Even though I had to double back on myself. The skypath walk was well worth doing as it gave views over the valley below and the famous white cliff, where I watched the waves of people on easyriders go past far below me, wondering if they even knew what they were missing out on.
Little fact about me you probably either know or can gather about me: I love mountains.
For me, hiking alone in the mountains is as close to a spiritual experience I can achieve. Something about the timelessness of them, and the feeling of being to them what a single celled organism is for us, humbles me.
So to be in this landscape with endless vistas of mountains and hills was often extremely overwhelming for me, both physically and emotionally. And today the vastness of the valley with towering mountains either side proved to be too much and I hit a wall of fatigue.
Noticing this, and my change in mood from wonder to annoyance, I skipped the famous river tour and took myself off the main road, slowing down and stumbling across small moments amongst some small villages on the valleys slopes, rather than feeling the weight of the massive scenery around me and pressure to see the main attractions of the loop.
By the afternoon this has helped recentre me and with some renewed enthusiasm I raced my way to my next homestay, doing a slight (1h40 round trip) detour to a lesser known ravine which ended up being the intimate experience that id been looking for.
Day 4:
If today had a theme, it would have been construction.
It seemed I had reached the portion of the loop which was undergoing a majour infrastructure improvement, with heavy machinery, white exposed mountainsides and stoney rough roads. If anything reinforced the idea of mans fight against nature, this was it.
Still feeling the effects from yesterdays burnout and feeling this oppressive force, I took a detour off the main road and followed a single track path to its end where it forked into two stoney paths. I followed one of these up and over a hill where it soon became a trail, winding up along the hillside over the jungle and to a point at the top overlooking the next valley.
Here in this secluded piece of wilderness with no roads or electricity or any of our conveniences we've come to expect, nestled amongst the trees and the birds was a small homestead. And there in the valley were fields of crops and one person tending to their errands as birds flew ahead and sang in the trees and a gentle breeze took the edge off of the heat of the day.
This view offered me the chance to sit and be. And to reflect on my feelings and what this connection means to me between nature and myself.
Yes checking off views is important. But yes so is maintaining that feeling of wonder to everything around me because this feeling transcends dramatic landscapes, it can come from something as humble as the way light bounces off a fern or the buzzing of a bee or a drop of colour amongst the green.
And so I slowly recharged and realigned my mind.
After my moment of recalibration I continued onwards realising that the 1 1/2 hours of riding, and 3 hours of time to do it, actually weren't enough when I took into consideration how pretty the light was and just how jaw dropping the views would be.
And so when the clock hit 1 hour remaining and I still had 1 hour left of riding remaining, suddenly the evening turned from one of driving slowly and soaking everything in to riding as fast as the road would allow.
Strangely (as someone who loves driving, and especially loves driving fast) I hadnt done this so much so far on the loop, as for once I had been enjoying driving slowly with no pressure to be anywhere in particular. But now I HAD to drive fast, and oh how Id forgotten how fun this was.
For those who dont experience this thrill all I can describe it as is becoming one with the vehicle and the road. Your senses are heightened and you become a road processing sensory machine, taking in the visual input of potholes and oncoming traffic and how to subtly manoeuvre the road with its many bends and turns.
Even driving with such intent, I still couldnt help myself but stop whenever there was a view, and wow were there some views, so I didnt arrive to my final homestay of the loop until it was already dark.
Day 5:
As yesterday had been such a rush I didnt feel like Id really had time to explore this section of the loop, so I extended my bike contract by one more day. Luckily also according to the forecast I had room within the weather window to do this, and of course, I had to maximize my time spent with the sun!
I also got the most ambitious on the bike that I had so far, taking a direct path across the mountains, which turned into a single track concrete path with extremely tight and steep hairpin bends, where I had to put my feet on the ground and slowly ease off the brakes to inch my way around them. Once I joined the main road I was met with loose gravel and potholes the entire way to where I was heading, which was a small river where you could take a raft to a cave.
The destination was however, far less exciting than the road, and after being told there was nowhere to eat (despite there being a kitchen with people cooking) I felt annoyed so out of spite refused myself going on the rafts and headed back up along the loose road to redo part of my journey from the day before - only this time with enough time to soak in the views.
With the haze filled mornings and intense mid day sun, realistically I only had two hours of ideal sunlight in the evening every day between three and five pm. When I say ideal, I mean, ideal light for capturing the landscape around me in its best form, as besides composition light is perhaps the most important next factor in landscape photography.
And this coincidentally (which I mean in the ironic sense) was the time I would choose to drive.
So even after spending an extra day in this location, I still managed to not have enough time when driving back to capture it all, and, by the time Id reached the ruins of the old French military post, the sun had disappeared behind the mountains and todays chance was lost with the sun.
Not to worry, I’d have another chance tomorrow morning.
Day 6:
The last day on the loop felt right. It was time to leave on a high, having ridden a weather window to perfection I thought it better to always have this week cemented in my mind as perfect, than to push the moment and have the chance of staining it.
Feelings of melancholy and the pressure to create something meaningful on my final day were soon distant thoughts left somewhere along the roadside with my lost hat.
The loop has this funny effect of one-upping itself and this final stretch did the same. I left the conical karst hills and the landscape gave way to the water filled valleys of the mountains, as I weaved my way along impossible roads. Even the Vietnamese had thought it was best to leave the mountain’s sides wild and jungle had consumed their slopes.
And as my final moments came to an end I stopped by the side of the road to watch the final setting sun. A symbolic moment. One which captured my feelings, the end of a chapter, and with it the promise of something new.
I reflected on my time on the loop and how lucky I was to have been witness to not only the rugged beauty of the landscape but how man has intertwined their life with her in a way most unfamiliar to my western disposition.
A relationship with the earth and a reliance which we’ve forgotten in our disconnected way of being. A simple life. The one we left behind and is left preserved in these hills.