The Roof of Indochina: Atop Mount Fansipan (Phan Xi Păng) in Vietnam

Mt. Fansipan, Vietnam

I always enjoy a good climb so the prospect of summiting the highest mountain in Vietnam (and indeed all of Indochina) more than piqued my interest.  Mount Fansipan, or Phan Xi Păng in Vietnamese (we referred to it as “Fancy Pants”), is part of the Hoang Lien Son mountain range and the easternmost end of the Himalayas.

When I learned this I was sold — to stand at over 10,000 feet atop the last major Himalayan peak before the ocean proved too hard to resist.  And the weather was improving in the region so Mt. Fansipan, which was hidden in clouds earlier in the week, was now starting to show its face.

Objective: The top of Mt. Fansipan in Vietnam

I learned from local agents in Sapa that the climb is not extremely technical but is strenuous and steep so most trekkers opt for a 2- or 3-day ascent.  I was feeling strong from our rigorous valley walks so shopped around for a guide that would do the climb in a day which I was assured is reasonable if starting early.

Unfortunately there were no group 1-day trips leaving (which would have lowered the price) so I engaged a private guide for $65 which I thought was fine, especially given that the National Park entrance fee costs $20.  So $45 for a private guide, transport to/from the trail head, and all food/water I figured this was quite a deal.

I ate a hearty pasta dinner in preparation for the trek.  Just before bed, I glanced at Mt. Fansipan from my hotel terrace.  Its cloudless silhouette under a starry sky filled me with anticipation for tomorrow’s lofty challenge.

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Getting High on the Villages, Valleys and Views of Sapa, Vietnam

Sapa, Vietnam

After a long, restless night on a cramped “sleeper” bus from Hanoi, at 5 AM we pulled into Sapa, Vietnam as the rain poured down on us.  We drowsily slipped into a cafe to warm and caffeinate our bodies.  When the sky brightened for a moment we were off to find a hotel in the mist-ensconced mountain town tucked high in the northern highlands, not far from the Chinese border.

This was not the most ideal introduction to Sapa, but after a shower and quick nap we soon experienced the many wonders of this town.  It attracts tourists mostly for its rugged alpine landscapes with soaring mountains and for the many hill-tribe villages of H’Mong, Dzao and Tay ethnic minorities not far from town.

With less than a week remaining of Paul’s vacation we had wanted to get partway into Laos but the realities of time sank in and instead we opted for Sapa as our final destination together.  He would be just an overnight train ride away from Hanoi and could easily fly to Hong Kong for his return home.  Getting to and from Laos would be a much trickier (and rushed) matter.

And we were more than pleased with this choice: within a day the rain stopped and sunshine lit up the valley.  Our remaining days were filled with excellent and interesting walks, fine meals and relaxation in the friendly and outdoorsy town.  Restaurants offer delicious local specialties, such as H’Mong sticky rice (roasted in bamboo stalks), roasted vegetables from nearby farms, grilled fresh-water fish, and delicate soups and hearty stir fries brimming with indigenous mushrooms from the hills just outside of town.

And the climate is especially agreeable: days in the 70’s and low 80’s with dry air and afternoon valley breezes, and chilly nights (often requiring electric blankets).   Occasionally dark clouds would roll in and produce a gentle rain or downpour, usually not lasting an hour and soon sunshine would return.

This constant cycle of washing rain and dry mountain sunshine lends Sapa a cleansed, refreshing feel dissimilar to the hot, dusty feel of the lowlands.  I would soon journey to Laos and Cambodia where temperatures are hottest in April reaching 100°F with high humidity.  So I enjoyed the ideal Sapa weather of mild days and cool nights while I could.

The vibe of Sapa town is great – a healthy mix of travelers (lots of backpackers and outdoor enthusiasts) and good-natured locals.  And the plucky hill-tribe vendors from the valley villages ply the streets with their textiles, beautifully hand woven and embroidered in the style of their particular tribe.  For example, the H’Mong wear darker clothing with subtle yet colorful patterns that identify their specific tribal group: Black H’Mong, Red H’Mong, White H’Mong, etc.  Dzao women shave their heads above the forehead and the sinuous lower locks are tied around bright red hats.  Most younger hill-tribe men wear western clothing, while the older men still dress in the traditional long vestiments of their ethnic group.

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The Great Outdoors of Cat Ba Island, Vietnam

Open-air excitement in Cat Ba Island, Vietnam

A bit weary of the cramped chaos of Hanoi, a bustling yet very absorbing city, we were eager to strike again for the coast, this time towards Ha Long Bay.  Famed for its remarkable limestone karsts generously dotting the aquamarine waters of the Gulf of Tonkin, this area of exceptional beauty was recently named one of the new “Natural Wonders of the World” and deservedly so.  95% of tourists opt for one of the 2- or 3-day cruises in the many wooden junk boats that ply the bay, but from the descriptions from our guidebook and after the advice of fellow travelers who had lukewarm experiences, we decided to skip the all-in-one tour and instead choose to DIY.  This would give us maximum flexibility while avoiding the groups, regimented schedules and quasi-“cultural” trappings of a package tour.

Cat Ba Island seemed the logical place to start.  Long the domain of backpackers, this largely unpopulated island is just south of Ha Long Bay and boasts its own La Ha Bay, equally majestic but far less visited than its well-known sister.  Additionally the sleepy seaside town of Cat Ba was an ideal place to kick back between the many outdoor offerings in the area.

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South West Coastal Path, Cornwall — England, 2004

South West Coastal Path in Cornwall, England (2004)

For our first visit to Cornwall, we decided on a gentleman’s ramble (Paul, Mark and myself) on the South West Coast Path, which stretches an impressive 630 miles (1014 km) through Devon, Cornwall and Dorset.  We decided on a 69 mile (110 km) westbound section starting at The Lizard peninsula and ending in the charming town of St Ives.

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Dales Way — England, 2003

In September the Five Musketeers (Paul, Mark and Amy, teenage Bart and myself) hoofed the 84-mile (135 km) Long Distance Footpath in Northern England from Ilkley in West Yorkshire to Bowness-on-Windermere at the edge of the Lake District.

Not a strenuous walk but gorgeous vistas and perfect weather — a great time for family bonding.  At pub stops, underage Bart managed to progress from Half Shandies (half pint beer/lemonade mix) to multiple pints of ale in a mere five days!  No doubt he’s one of the family.


Cumbria Way — England &
Snowdonia — Wales, 2002

Cumbria Way — England, Snowdonia — Wales, 2002

Our third long-distance ramble in the United Kingdom, the Cumbria Way drew Paul and I forth from the southern Lakes District north to Carlisle on the Scottish border.  Our journey began with uncharacteristically fine weather during our overnight stay in the friendly seaside community of Ulverston on Morecomb Bay.

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Snowdonia — Wales, 2002″

England and Spain, 2001

2001 England and Spain

In the surreal and tense wake of the 9/11 al-Qaeda terrorist attacks in the United States, we headed off to England on the first flights out after a week of quiet skies due to the air travel ban.  We needed to get away, stretch our lungs and legs in the English countryside.

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England and Ireland, 2000

To celebrate Dad’s retirement from a long and distinguished career as a British Literature teacher, the family (Erik, Paul, Kelly and Dad) flew from the Midwest to Glasgow where I met them.  After a quick tour of the School of Arts and other Charles Rennie Mackintosh architectural gems, we departed urban, proletariat Glasgow and drove south to the English Lake District.  We rented the pleasing self-catering Fairfield Cottage on the outskirts of Grasmere village.  We enjoyed great views of the surrounding fells and fields, full of green splendor and pastures of bleating sheep.

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England, The Coast to Coast Walk, 1999

The Coast to Coast Walk

Our first long distance footpath in the United Kingdom, Paul and I succeeded in walking all 192 miles from St Bees in the Lake District on the Irish Sea to Robin Hood’s Bay on the North Sea.

It was an amazing accomplishment, hard days pounding the trail but passing stunning landscapes through three spectacular National Parks: the Lake District, the Yorkshire Dales and the North York Moors. Each dramatic and unique in character, offering new challenges each day.

Despite the physical effort, it was largely a meditative experience for me. We quickly fell into a simple routine of eat–walksleep, with satisfying conversation with Paul and other ramblers, and ample time for quiet thought. Each day my mind grew calmer, my body strengthening, and my senses consumed with sunlight and clouds, the colors of farms and fells, smells and sounds of everything we passed.

We quickly developed a community with other walkers: a group of strapping Belgian soldiers on holiday leave equipped with massive packs and GPS gear; the two chatty retired schoolteachers who somehow always managed to beat us to every tea shop and over-night village but barely seemed to exert themselves; the group of old pals, one of whom always exclaimed “crackers!” (as in the English Christmas crackers which make a firecracker sound when pulled); the young vegan university gals from Essex (which they jokingly referred to as “Es-SEX” due to its unfavorable reputation in Britain) who ate only rice and chips (refusing even pub ale which purportedly contains fish-based emulsifiers). The other walkers were an assortment of all types, itinerants with different motivations and stories; we found ourselves among fast friends. The evening conversations in the pubs were always a highlight of our day.

Exhausted yet exhilarated, we arrived with blistered feet and sore legs at the North Sea 11 days after leaving the Irish Sea, faster than the suggested 14 days. Next time we will take more time, the fine market towns of Richmond and Reeth deserve more attention, and a couple days of padding to recover our strength and break up the daily rigors of foot travel. It was an incredible learning experience and an achievement we were eager to repeat. Fortunately the United Kingdom is rife with footpaths, we have endless choices in front of us.

I still remember the disorienting feeling of riding a bus leaving Robin Hood’s Bay, how quick and easy powered transport is! After 12 days riding my own two feet, I was ready to sit back and let the countryside slip by effortlessly as we made our way to London.