An emotional goodbye to Indie!

Yesterday I shared my last day riding with Indie after an entire month 👯‍

There are few people that I know that are as brave, resilient, hard-working, genuine and kind-hearted as her. As soon as I met her ten months ago I knew she was special, but by living in each others’ pockets, I’ve been blessed with the opportunity to get to know her on a far deeper level. Let me tell you a few things about this special young lady who has become like a little sister to me…

At just 18 years old, she decided she was going to spend a year abroad and this is how she spent it:

She travelled through Vietnam, Cambodia and Thailand, worked a ski season in France, took a cookery course, raced sailboats in Wales, worked in a care home to save money to travel more, has just cycled through Thailand with me and is now off to climb Kilimanjaro ⛰

This young woman is a superhero in the making and I am honoured to know her 🙏🏼

We have laughed and cried together and shared some of the most phenomenal and memorable experiences. 

She is ridiculously clumsy, frustratingly inquisitive and beyond all, undeniably loveable 🥰

Indie, I miss you already and you haven’t even landed home yet. 

I will miss waking up to you passed out cold every morning no matter how loud I am. 

My days won’t be complete without watching you fall over, drop whatever you’re holding and of course, break absolutely everything!!! 

How will I cope with travelling without you; someone who’s as passionate about food as I am and will eat two meals alongside me with no judgement then confidently split 3kg of mangosteens?! 😋 

Who’s going to fill the water bottles, lock the bikes and most of all, carry the bag?! 😂

How can I possibly manage without my own personal photographer that also transforms into the world’s most entertaining and awkward and goofy model?! 📸

And who is going to literally drive me crazy asking me the most ridiculous questions ALL DAY LONG like “what’s your favourite vegetable?” 🍆🥦🍅

I’ll miss teaching you Thai and laughing when you tell someone “goodnight” with so much enthusiasm when you actually meant “it’s tasty” 🤦🏽‍♀️🤣

I’ll miss laughing at us drowning instead of surfing, painting Sian’s bar, couples massages on the beach, you (reluctantly) rubbing tiger balm on my legs, our 24 hour unintentional Cambodia excursion, meeting countless weirdos, eating our body weight in mango sticky rice and even all the disasters including our crash, your three flat tyres and when I got to cycle for the both of us pulling you home from the waterfall in Khao Yai! 🚴🏽‍♀️🚴🏽‍♀️

I’ll never forget how much you’ve made me smile and there’s now an Indie shaped stamp on my heart forever ♥️

To top it all off, to know that travelling with me has made some kind of impression on your daily habits including living pretty much zero waste AND eating way less meat means more than you could ever imagine 🌱

I am so proud of you; all that you are and all that you have already achieved. I know you will continue on to become even more successful and please make sure you don’t forget to share it with me! 

So yeah, I’ll miss you, little sis! Spread your infectious giggle on your own journey, because it’s going to be a special one! 😘

Me and you are proof of how travelling, engaging with and seeking out new cultures and experiences make you more well-rounded people…

Who knew that a vegan and a pig farmer’s daughter could become like family 💚🐷🌱

Loas-y luck on Kasi Mountain

Let me start this story by reminding you of the ‘muddy mare‘ I had just endured the day before to give part two of my Luang Prabang to Vang Vieng journey some context. Walking through 30km of muddy hills in 40 degree heat is hard enough, but when you’re hauling a bike (on road tyres) and 30kg of luggage with you, it begins to feel like there are little angry gnomes inside your muscles that have united in strike causing your body to shut down and refuse to move or function.

Even though I knew I had a seriously challenging mountain ahead of me, getting out of bed at 4:30am to get a good start on the day was not physically possible. 7am was the best I could do and I still had to pry my gammy eyes open whilst giving myself a pathetic excuse of a pep talk just to bring myself to a standing position – the day was going to be a literal uphill battle. On the bright side, the roads were good quality, the Laotian nature made for some insanely stunning scenery and the weather could’ve been a lot worse but it was still one of the most challenging climbs I’ve ever taken on…

By the time I’d reloaded my bike and got myself something to eat at a nearby restaurant, I didn’t leave until 9am which any cyclist would tell you, during Summer in SE Asia, is mistake number one of the day. When you’re travelling in a country with an exceptionally hot climate, getting up for sunrise and tackling some serious kilometres before the peak of the day is your best form of defence. And on this occasion, I had failed miserably!

My legs struggled on the initial couple of kilometres of flat land intentionally ignoring the mammoth task that was yet to come. The problem was, I didn’t get enough ‘warm up’ kilometres before I was slapped in the face with my first giant incline. Within just ten minutes I was at the foot of a road so steep that I felt like I was cycling vertically, especially with a rear-heavy load. Once I’d tackled the first corner to see that there was so much more, I referred to my cycling app, Komoot, to check the elevation profile. It was then that I realised that this mountain had looked small because of the grandiosity of the bigger one – brilliant! I’d been warned about the dramatic declivity of Laotian mountains but none so far had been this painful (I’m literally reliving the self-pity!).

The previous day’s mud marathon had battered both my body and spirit and it took me more than three hours to move just 6km. I stopped what must’ve been every twenty metres nursing my pains with mango breaks until I finally reached the decline and I could feel the physical rush as I relaxed and let myself fly.

The sun was just about breaking through the dense clouds as I coasted through more than 10km of scenic flat ground before stopping for some food preparing me to tackle the giant mountain that was now directly ahead of me. I savoured each bite and swallowed my dread along with my last mouthful of veggie noodles, mounted my bike and made headway at 4pm. I knew there was no way I would make it to the peak today, but I decided to worry about where I was going to sleep later and just get on with making progress.

Straight in with a 15% incline, the first slope gave me an insight into what else I’d have to conquer. It took all the energy I could muster to get up just the first few kilometres passing what ended up being the only guesthouse I would see. As the sky darkened, I needed some more motivating – yep, another mango break. This time, I scoffed two whole mangoes in a desperate attempt to lift my energy levels which to be fair, it did. Luckily, the gorgeous mountain scenery helped to keep me motivated!

The sky darkened and began to growl at me so I got my arse into gear and made some (slow) progress. I passed a house with people outside and asked how much further until I could find somewhere to sleep. A Thai man spoke good English and offered to give me a lift to the top which I refused politely. The local who was with him said that I’d have another 5km of steep climbing until I reached somewhere to stay so I continued positively with haste as sunset was approaching fast.

Even during these tough times, there’s something especially beautiful about being caught at dusk in the mountains when the sky turns orange and pink and the final glimmers of light get your muscles energised and drive you forward.

It was already dark when I came to a couple of shacks where I could hear the sounds of voices coming from inside. Three men and two women sat eating and drinking. As I gestured about having somewhere to sleep, I pondered what their relationships were and that it was a little strange that they had no children. They made a space for me in one of the huts on a hard wooden surface with some blankets over the top which I showed my gratitude for.

Once I’d unloaded my bags, I showered using a barrel of water they had outside. There was no toilet, just the great outdoors. The people were friendly, one of the men a little overly friendly once he’d been drinking. I didn’t feel threatened, but he did try to make me eat meat and did try to force me to drink alcohol which made me feel uncomfortable.

This was a common feeling that I’d had whilst travelling in Laos. I had consistently seen just how much drinking was a part of their culture – especially for the men. I think it also reflects the level of poverty and huge economic divide between the ‘haves’ and the ‘have nots’ leaving people with not much else to do other than drink. Education (if you’re even able to access one) is poor at best in remote areas and these people are basically guaranteed to have no hope of ever getting more out of their lives. Cultural divides between ethnic minorities are also prevalent which are very clear to see; from village to village the atmosphere and your reception can change from being the warmest, friendliest and most welcoming to adults glaring next to their snarling kids throwing stones at you. A bit bizarre.

I woke up early to get moving fuelled by a handful of sticky rice. One of the men held out his hand so I paid 20,000 Kip (about £2) for them for taking me in.

I couldn’t lie, I was dreading continuing on this mountain – it was just SO HARD. So hard but spectacularly scenic. The first 7km of 13-20% inclines were brutal but I actually managed to ride most of it out instead of my previous hopeless pushing. The first ‘viewpoint’ that was marked at the peak of this 7km was disappointing and definitely disheartened me a little, especially as I knew I still had a long way to go to the real mountain pass. But 5km of downhill brought it back and put a big grin on my face as the wind cooled the layer of sweat all over me and I arrived at a large plateau that was home to a small village.

The plateau was such an unexpected surprise – beauty in every direction and endless streams of green. I couldn’t believe this vast, natural space was at the top of the torture road I’d just struggled up – it made it all worth it.

The centre of the village was based around large, square courtyard that had an entry gate accompanied by an unmanned security box. I rolled past the dog, who put up a little resilience, and opted for left, towards some school-like single level buildings. Some unfriendly men emerged who were unhelpful when I asked for where I could find food (I was starving!) told me I’d have to wait until I got to the top but reluctantly refilled my empty water bottles. It turned out it was a military base camp and they weren’t very welcoming to visitors. With low energy levels, I left and continued on to the final 8km drastic climb.

I did bump into two motorcyclists on the way, an Austrian and a Vietnamese guy who told me it was even hard for them to get up there! The self pity grew…! We took a moment to appreciate where we were together before getting back on my way…

The weather began to reflect how I felt – grey, stormy and growling just like my belly! Thunder and lightening cracked loudly directly above me and I knew I was in the eye of the storm; there was no cover, no safety – I had to move. I pushed with everything I had left to continue but the road was so steep, I was falling backwards trying to ride.

I saw a ledge and had to take a minute to rest from hauling my baby up the mountain. As I approached the ledge, I saw a heard of cows just near the edge. Before I knew it, they were running at me and I sprinted back to my bike to get out their way. They literally chased me up the mountain until I couldn’t continue anymore and I had to threaten them with my flagpole. I could just see the headline: ‘Vegan gets pushed off cliff by cows whilst cycling for happiness’, I chuckled through the fear and breathlessness that just propelled me forward 2kms.

By this stage, I was also wearing a bin bag as a windbreaker that I’d discovered at the edge of the road because I was freezing and the winds were picking up – yep, a great look! Somehow, the weather held out and I didn’t get drowned which was an absolute miracle. I was disappointed to then stumble across a giant rubbish mound which broke my heart being in such a remote and wonderfully natural surrounding but as I conquered the final kilometre, I didn’t have time to dwell on that as I felt water quickly expel from my eyes as I cried with joy that the ordeal was finally over.

Ready to catch this pure, genuine and emotional moment of exceptional joy and relief on camera, I grabbed my GoPro that was attached to my chest harness to capture the special moment. Then, in typical Hannah fashion and most epic way to conclude this never-ending journey, it slipped from my grip and within a split second, my moment of elation turned into a clumsy disaster as both me and the GoPro smashed into the floor. A car even drove slowly past to watch the show which helped in feeling ultimately pathetic!

Once I’d recovered from the emotional trauma, I felt the elation as I summited this never-ending peak. The view was incredible. Three tough days, scarce food and water, a lot of rain, Laos-y luck and a couple of injuries but I’d made it nonetheless and I was as proud as could be.

A muddy mare!

My journey from Luang Prabang to Vang Vieng was far more eventful than I’d originally anticipated and I could never have imagined what the next days had in store for me so be prepared for a long and detailed story…

It took me five days to get to Vang Vieng and this post covers the first two. So much happened that I just have to share it all with you…

*****

As the Chinese have taken over the majority of Laos and were digging the life out of the main road, I opted to take the longer and more scenic gravel route following the Mekong River. It was remote and passed through fewer smaller villages which would give a more local experience. The weather forecast was clear and I should have been able to cover the 85-90km in a day…theoretically. 

I started out early with a noodle soup from the morning markets around 6am. The first half of the road was one I’d already travelled by motorbike to Kuang Si Waterfalls, but this time I travelled slowly enough to truly appreciate it. I decided to go unplugged; no music, no distractions, just me, Queenie and the earth around us. 

I stopped at a river view restaurant for a coconut and was lucky because after speaking to the owner, I was invited to see the kittens that had been born moments before out the back. Still moist from their mother’s womb, five babies stretched erratically round each other in search for milk. It was beautiful and heart-warming to watch. 

Further down the road, I’d spotted a water cooler – an ideal opportunity to do a refill stop. There I met Theresa and Joa who asked about where I was going with my bike. Just as I was explaining my project, a local man appeared on a small pink child’s bicycle. He seemed to either be drunk or perhaps mentally disabled. He wore shabby clothes with no shoes and fumbled around causing people to stare at him. I asked his name and shook his hand. He welcomed my interaction and tried to converse with me a little. He didn’t make much sense but that didn’t matter; my heart showed him love and he felt it. Being present for the rest of our conversation meant something to him. I explained to Theresa and Joa that this was a key example of what I want to show people; when we apply love, compassion and kindness to all that we do, it’s what we become open to receive. That man may have come across to some as someone to avoid, but that’s exactly how preconceptions can become so damaging. He was just looking for someone to embrace him. 

Shortly after the shop was the sign to turn left for Kuang Si but I turned right and the road changed from tarmac to gravel.

The first 5km or so were flat and really easy to bike then the road became rockier across small rolling hills. Gaps between civilisation increased and when I saw the next ‘shop’ (I use that term loosely) around 1pm, I decided to stop for a cold drink. 

A man sat inside the wooden shack hiding from the sun. I say man, but maybe he would have preferred me to call him a woman. His clothes were plain but he wore make up and earrings. Together with his sass, I’d say he was as female as I was. We sat together for 15 minutes or so in the comfort of the shade. He gave me 3 bananas to eat and a few glasses of water with ice. I ended up with handfuls of sticky rice and taking away four more bananas for the road – what a gem!

From there was where everything changed. The road became significantly more uneven and hillier with little civilisation around. Most of the buildings, shops and houses I saw seemed deserted. But that didn’t phase me and I was enjoying the challenge and the peace of being alone in nature. 

The path divided and I had to make choices. Opting left, I cycled down a big bumpy hill to a shady spot under a tree. As I got closer I saw the big pool of stagnant, green water and the million bugs that stood between me and the other side of the path. Before wading through the dirty water, I thought it best to check out the other route. A motorbike conveniently passed as I reached the intersection.

‘Muang Nan?’ I asked.

They pointed back the way they’d come from and I breathed a sigh of relief as I didn’t have to wade through the mouldy pool. 

Even though it was past the hottest part of the day, the sun still bore through my skin as though I was cycling on Mercury, not Earth. I could feel every single ray. My water, what was left of it, was now the temperature of a fresh brew and it was almost painful to drink when I already felt like I was inside a microwave.

I savoured my last 500ml as much as I could but it wasn’t enough to quench my thirst and I hadn’t seen anything for miles. It started to feel like I had been teleported to the Sahara since I’d waved goodbye to that motorbike. I guess I was learning the hard way that Laos had more limited supplies than Vietnam and I needed to be better prepared carrying more food and water on my journeys. 

A cloud of smoke behind a wooden hut with a collection of 25 litre water tanks indicated there was life close by. Choking as I got closer, I called, “Sabaidee!” And a man appeared. He had been burning his rubbish as they do all over Asia. I asked for some water in Lao and he gave me not just water, but also a cooler with ice – what a dream! I drank half my body weight, refilled my bottles, thanked the man and made a a move. I still had a fair journey to Muang Nan and the day was getting on. 

From this point, I finally had a clear view of the Mekong. Lush greenery surrounded the wide, powerful river and you could see the strong current gush through the centre of the deep brown water. I paused for a moment to appreciate the view. 

A small cover I found to take shelter under from the heat right next to the Mekong River

Then the weather took a sudden turn. Heavy grey clouds swallowed the clear sky ahead of me just as I came to a divide in the road. Uphill and left was towards Muang Nan and right was to a local village. Thunder bellowed from above me and I decided on right. It was around 4pm and I was still over 30km from my destination. Without knowledge of the road ahead, getting caught in a storm would have been a terrible idea. 

The first dirt track took me to a temple. Other cyclists had recommended camping in temples so I thought I’d gotten lucky. Wearing only shorts, I wrapped my waterproofing sheet around my waist to cover my knees to show respect.

A monk was outside looking confused at me. I gave the universal sign for sleeping (palms together on one side of your face with a head tilt) but he just gave me an angry expression. He went inside and got a cigarette and his phone. He spoke to the other monk, who was much older, and his angry expression worsened. A few minutes went by and he said nothing. I asked again but pointed in every direction as if to say, I don’t have to stay here but where can I stay? I also signalled at the darkening sky as an explanation as to why I was invading his space. I was shocked to receive such hostility from a man that was supposed to dedicate his life to self purification. (I guess he didn’t want a solo female in a place that they are supposed to be free of temptation.)

He reluctantly pointed at a half-open sheltered building across the grounds from where he stayed. I thanked him and wheeled my bike across the courtyard of the temple. 

Whilst unloading my bags about twelve local children crowded round to see what the crazy white lady was doing. I unpacked fast. The rain was coming any second and the moment I got my things under cover, thunder and lightening cracked across the sky. Trees were swaying dramatically, leaves were flying everywhere, the metal roof creaked and there were loud crashes from falling twigs – it was insane!

Right, finally time to use my tent. It went up so easily which was great, within 20 minutes I’d unloaded and set up. And it was now absolutely pouring it down; literally as though God was pouring buckets from the sky.

I walked over to the children that were hiding under the edge of the building I was camping in and asked them their names in Lao. I tried teaching them how to ask and answer the same questions in English but they were all laughing at me following two leader kids making what were obviously mocking comments. I tried to speak to them again but they continued so I told them to go away; I had to get sorted and didn’t have time for rudeness. 

Now onto washing and cooking. The monk refused when I asked for a place to get food and water, so I used some of what I had left in my bottle and my emergency stash of noodles to cook myself some dinner. 

By now it had stopped raining. I looked across the temple courtyard to see not one, but two giant rainbows spanning the sky, right behind the temple. I couldn’t help but smile. 

As I was making my noodles, a farmer woman holding her baby appeared. I explained through my limited Lao and sign language about the horrible monk and she invited me to sleep at her house that was right next door. I wanted to go with her but I’d just set up everything and it was inconvenient to move after unpacking and cooking! Despite that, there was no way I was going to refuse her kindness. 

It took me seven trips but boy, was it worth it. Their home was roomy, with two floors and made from dark wood. They had a table and chairs (which is more than a lot of Laos homes), as well as dark wooden shelves and drawers in the corner. In the house there was another lady that must’ve been her mother. Her eyes smiled and I instantly felt welcomed. I guess when I had seen the two rainbows it was a sign that the universe was sending me not one, but two wonderfully magnanimous mothers. 

A young boy walked in. It was one of the two leaders of the group of kids from earlier. His face spoke a thousand words as the stranger he had been taunting was now in his home. I said, “Sabaidee, Joan,” as I’d remembered his name and he said hello back whilst bowing his head and sitting at the table quietly. 

They pointed to where I could get washed and I explained in Lao that I was vegan as they asked me if I wanted to eat with them. After a hard day, I was still hungry after my noodle rations so I was grateful. The grandmother set me up the best bed I could have asked for… A queen-sized cushioned layer base, duvet, pillows and mosquito net on the floor in he living room. I felt like I’d stumbled into a hotel, not a farmer’s house! 

My luxury temporary bed

After washing, I got out my art utensils and poi for Joan and the baby to play with. Joan’s eyes lit up and it soon became apparent that he was a talented artist. We drew and painted together for a while and I made some cue cards and gave him a lesson to help with his English. He seemed so happy. I think he’d learnt to be a little bit more open minded from our interactions together that day which was a really nice thing. 

Dinner consisted of rice, young bamboo and chilli. I really hate young bamboo but didn’t want to be ungrateful so I smothered it in chilli and forced it down with water pouring from my eyes. I thought to my family, my Dad and my little brothers, who would have been laughing hysterically at the sight of me torturing myself with chilli in that moment.

I went to bed grateful for my temporary surrogate family. Full, clean, comfortable, happy and absolutely exhausted.

*****

Waking up to early morning rain worried me because I knew the road was not going to be in a good state. During the time I’d taken to get ready, eat more chilli and bamboo for breakfast, say my thankful goodbyes to the farmer, her baby and Joan as they went to work in the fields and help the grandmother pack away the bed she’d made for me, the rain had stopped and the sun had emerged. Usually I’d hope for the sun to be forgiving but this time I prayed for the heat to dry out the road. 

As I packed my final things, the grandmother was massaging her knee on the floor. She looked in pain so I got out my tiger balm and gave her a leg massage for about half an hour. I gave her a knee-tube-grip and put some tiger balm into a pot for her to use. It was nice to give her something small back for the loving welcome I’d received. She was really appreciative. 

A local little girl had to help me get my bike out of the village because there was a big slippery hill to climb out of. It kind of set the precedent for the day – pushing my bike through mud and up hills. In the morning I barely saw anyone on the road other than a couple of tractors that must’ve been transporting people from one village to another. When I realised that tractors were the primary form of transport on a day like today, I started to realise just what was in store for me. 

When I tell you that this was probably one of the most challenging things I’ve ever done, I am not exaggerating. When I’d find a patch of drier ground, I’d be back on the bike for a maximum of 50 metres and then pushing again through sludge and puddles and poking the mud out from blocking my tyres with a stick. 

The problem was that my wheels were closer to road bike tyres than mountain ones and not cut out for that kind of terrain, plus, I was travelling so heavily with over 25kg of luggage all on my back wheels (which I was unable to change whilst in Laos) so pushing my bike uphill was an actual nightmare, especially through mud. 

It also doesn’t help that I’m a massive klutz, and by the time I’d built up the confidence to try and ride through a puddle instead of pushing, I slipped and toppled over. I had to laugh at myself because beaming positivity and humour was definitely the best way to tackle a situation that wasn’t going to end any time soon. To make matters worse, the piercingly hot sun was scalding my skin and I was sweating uncontrollably. There was no shade and nowhere to rest as the ground was basically a mud bath. Keeping my chin up, I persevered whilst trying to keep pace as it had taken me nearly two hours to move just 6km. 

It was nearing lunchtime when I found myself in a small village. Seeing a man walking through, I pointed towards the river and he nodded for me to pass through what seemed like his garden.

Finally! I’d found an opening to have a swim in the Mekong. I jumped in fully clothed and some adorable kids joined me that honestly made my day! Three boys who were more than happy to perform for the camera, jumped and flipped into the river and played in the mud puddles giggling hysterically. A couple of other kids and a child monk joined us when a mud fight broke out which was fun to watch. I couldn’t help but feel all the challenges I’d faced so far were worth it; it was the perfect lift to my day. 

When playtime was over, an older child monk carrying a machete approached the kids as they walked up to the house. I could tell he was being mean and actually threatened one of the three boys by holding the machete to his throat. I shouted and he gave me a dirty look and left. I was so shocked! Why had my recent interactions with monks been so awful? Maybe their families had forced them into such path because they were poor and couldn’t afford to live otherwise? I wasn’t sure, but it upset me. 

I reached a bamboo bridge that crossed over a small river. Sounds pleasant, I know, but the reality was that this bridge was full of giant holes and made of round pieces of bamboo – not the ideal flat surface to roll a heavy bike along. I thought about crossing the water but it was deep enough to reach halfway up my water resistant (not waterproof) bags containing my laptop, fire equipment, art books and other valuable items that would have inevitably gotten ruined – the bridge it was. 

Moving as slowly and as controlled as possible, I tried to guide my bike across the bamboo beams to pass the flowing water. CRACK! I hadn’t even reached the water part and my back wheel was halfway through the bridge all the way down to the cassette. My drivetrain was jammed in the wood and I was still trying to keep the bike balanced so that I didn’t break or damage anything. 

The moment my bike got stuck in the bridge 😂

How was I going to do this?… I used all the strength I had to lift the back of the bike (and trust me, it’s seriously heavy) whilst keeping the front straight so that it didn’t fall off the bridge. 

Now that I’d solved problem one, the next issue was actually crossing the bridge. 

I was saved by three young girls (god knows where they came from!) who appeared by magic about a minute after I’d been standing there thinking logically what would be best to do. They helped me to carry the bike across the bridge to dry land. 

Not all héroes wear capes!

I continued on until I was running out of water again when I passed the next village. Leaving my bike on the path, I went in pursuit of water. A lady refilled my bottles with liquid out of a giant plant pot. There were definitely things floating in it but there wasn’t much I could do. I double checked by acting out drinking and she nodded so I gulped the dirty-looking water and hoped for the best. 

Typically, bottled water was just ten minutes down the road where there was a shop with people outside. I sat with them and they gave me some bananas. One guy spoke good English and when he relayed my story to the rest of the people there, they were all crying with laughter. As delighted as I was that my crazy tale had amused them, I had to get going as time was not on my side. 

Leaving armed with plenty of water and lots of enthusiasm, I powered on through more mud and puddles before I finally reached hard, flat ground. I could have cried in that moment, but there was no time for that. It was 6pm and I still had to get to Muang Nan before sundown. 

I spurred on my jelly legs as locals looked on at me in disbelief, understanding what I must’ve just travelled through. The road felt never-ending but cycling through beautiful banana plantations at sunset helped to soothe the cramps in my legs.

I made it to Muang Nan just after 7pm. Sitting on my bed, I took a few moments to process all that had happened in the last two days. What a phenomenal experience. 

I’d had a wild time and knew all the struggles were worth it. My wonderful stay with my temporary family, playing with the kids in the river and the beautiful views along the way… I was grateful – for the experience and that it was over.

Tomorrow I was to face my next challenge… A seriously massive mountain…

10 Things I’ve Learnt as a Brand New Cycle Tourist

So it’s been a little while now in since I put my life on a bike and started cycle touring and wow, I’ve learnt a lot! 

Firstly, the Vietnamese were NOT expecting to see me! Whether it’s because I’m Western in extremely remote areas, female, a solo cyclist or all of the above, they looked at me as though I was riding a bear, not a bike!

And besides the obvious like how to diagnose and fix things on my bike, I’ve also found out a number of things, some of which have completely reshaped my style of travel. 

Check out my list below; if you’re thinking about getting on your bike for a long trip, it could help you with what to expect when making that first step! If biking isn’t for you, feel free to chuckle at my expense! 

1. Cycling in Asia is not for those with road rage

It’s no secret that driving in Vietnam is (slightly) less regulated than it is in the western world and every driver’s best friend is their horn. Beeping (or ringing your bell) can save your life on these roads and drivers here take pride in their (ridiculously) loud and customised horns – expect a giant truck type of sounding horn on a tiny hatchback and a sunny-sounding 3 second melody on a huge petrol lorry – weird. Plus, they love to honk right next to you (most of the time when it’s entirely unnecessary) just to shock your heart back into beating just in case it had stopped – thoughtful! 🤦🏽‍♀️😂 And don’t forget that you can’t get annoyed for anything on the road here, because the only rule in Vietnam is: if you don’t hit anyone, it’s okay.

2. My bum doesn’t hurt anywhere as much as I thought it would! EDIT – YES IT BLOODY DOES!

(Lol I had to put this one in – it started as a note I’d jotted down in week 1, I’d edited it in week 3 when my bum chafing was so bad I felt like I was sitting on sandpaper, not on a double padded saddle through padded cycle shorts!) – invest well in padded gear…it makes a huge difference!

Me, crying over bum chafing…

3. I thought I hated warm water until I was actually thirsty.

When your mouth is as dry as Ghandi’s flip flop, even the sweat from your top lip starts to taste good 😂

4. Want to eat as much as you want and never get fat? Become a cycle tourist!

And trust me when I say that biking is not just about your legs! I have muscles in my lower back that apparently, I’ve never used. (24 or 84 I started to ask myself!) Your core controls your balance, your back – your posture, your hands and arms – the distribution of your weight on the bike and your legs pedal…not forgetting the mental training keeping yourself motivated when you’re all alone on a 20% incline. Plus, being vegan, I’ve been advised to try and put on weight whilst I’m in places that I can access food more easily (as there will be times that it will become extremely difficult for me to eat) and it really is an actual chore to eat so much! If food is your god and you like being in shape, get on your bike and you can eat what you like! 

Vegan Mi Quang – one of the best dishes I’ve eaten in Vietnam (genuinely tasted exactly like chicken soup and it cost £0.50!) – this was my second meal in the same sitting! Sorry not sorry…

5. The position of your seat will change your whole riding experience

It took me 5 weeks of pretty consistent cycling and countless adjustments to find a seat position that was actually comfortable for my knees, my back and my bum and allowed me to pedal efficiently. Getting professionally fitted for your bike will help massively towards preventing injury. Something like having your knees too straight or too bent can cause long term damage to your joints, ligaments and muscles so listen to your body and make as many changes as necessary! Sometimes the smallest alteration can make the biggest difference. 

6. The cycle community is amazing and bigger than you think! (And the world is super small!)

It’s proof that you attract the energies you’re putting out – you might think it would be so unlikely to see other individuals cycling across the world, but I’ve crossed paths with 4 in just over 2 months and waved to others on the road. There’s even an international WhatsApp group that’s a lovely support network for all cyclists – experienced or new. It’s always full so if you’re trying to join, you have to click the link just as someone leaves. It’s the place to be for support and advice! Thank you Akmaral (who I met in Mai Chau) for sending me the link! If you’re a cycle tourist and want in, get in touch and I can forward it on for you ☺️ (plus of course, I’d always love to chat to another cycle tourist!).

Together with Akmaral and Claire, two other super inspiring, female cyclists that I met in Mai Chau, Vietnam

7. Hard and fast is not what’s best (despite what some might think! 😉)

In the beginning I was so focused on what I ‘should’ be achieving that it took away from what I was doing. Now that I have all my camping equipment, I couldn’t be more free and I’ve learnt that the experience really is in the journey. Time and statistics are things we’ve created to compare and compete, but when you’re cycle touring you become more interested in measuring your experience, not your miles.

8. The higher the mountain, the faster you get to fly

There is literally no better feeling than speeding far too fast down a mountain you’ve just conquered. Elevation gain was something that didn’t mean anything to me at the beginning except ‘that’s gonna hurt tomorrow’ and now it excites and terrifies me at the same time. Every bit of pain is totally worth it. 

9. Vanity is not a trait you can possess if you are a female cyclist in Asia

(I mean, I was hardly an active hair washer anyway, but there really is no point when you’re guaranteed to be a sweaty mess the next day…). Saying that…Even when you’re sweating from every pore in your body, you’ve got the most unflattering padded cycling shorts imaginable on (making you look like you have a swollen cameltoe) and are bright red whilst panting frantically like an overweight middle aged man that’s just walked up 8 flights of stairs, there really are still some guys that will STILL fancy you, ask for your number, want photos with you and even be inappropriate.

(Potential trigger warning: sexual harassment) Read here about a recent experience I had whilst cycling the Ho Chi Minh Trail in Vietnam. This was my first experience of seriously inappropriate sexual harassment whilst on my bike.

Note: it’s important to remember that stories like this are generally isolated and this one does not in any way reflect the manner of Vietnamese men in general, but instead the actions of one pervert that unfortunately crossed my path. It doesn’t matter if you’re 20,000km away from home or at the end of your road, psychos are dotted around and it’s important to raise awareness about how to deal with unexpected situations in order to improve confidence in solo female travel and also travel safety tips in general. 

10. Biking is the best medicine for self-care

Not only are you getting fitter every day anyway, but maintaining your 2 most valuable items become your top priority: yourself and your bike. Everything else is disposable and replaceable. When your body is the engine of your vehicle, not only do you learn how to thoroughly look after it, but you want to. Cycling all day also becomes my meditation – it’s so healthy to really have time alone to process your thoughts. So by cycling so far you inevitably improve both your mental AND physical health. Win, win! If you’re feeling like you’re not ready, don’t hesitate, just get up and go. With a decent enough level of fitness, you’ll be in perfect shape for most terrain within a few weeks👌🏼

Basically, life on a bike is tough, testing and bloody amazing! I could never have expected that I would be doing this so you can, too. The only person stopping you is YOU! 

For now, onwards and upwards! (Literally!) 🙃

I’d be interested to see what other cyclists have felt/experienced when they first started touring – I’d love to hear from you! And also if you’re thinking about cycle touring yourself and have some questions, get in touch! Send me a message or drop it in the comments!👇🏼

Peace and love ✌🏼♥️

My first serious experience of sexual harassment as a solo female cycle tourist

Life on the road may be full of beautiful views and many wonderful people, but it’s important to be aware of what can sometimes become challenging factors as well.

As a female, I have experienced varying degrees of sexual harassment my whole life, and despite being an extremely patient person that is pretty tolerant and understanding, (particularly when it comes to understanding that things can sometimes be miscommunicated between nationalities,) I am NEVER afraid to express when someone crosses the line and I encourage other women to do so, too. 

We have to speak up to be heard! 

Never be uncomfortable to say that you’re uncomfortable. 

This account was from my time cycling along the Ho Chi Minh Trail along a pretty remote sector in the mountains. There was no one around except for a man I saw urinating at the side of the road (which is quite normal to see due to the long distances between service stations/towns in this area). 

As I approached him, he noticed me and began touching himself inappropriately. I was so shocked at the time, plus I was travelling at a pretty decent speed on a downhill, that I didn’t have time to say anything but just continued on and cycled off as quickly as possible, disgusted. 

I then noticed the man drive slowly past me on his motorbike and if looks could kill, he would have dropped down dead because my eyes told him exactly what I thought of his behaviour. Seeing as he was on a motorbike, I didn’t have much time to respond, but another kilometre or so down the road, he had parked and hidden along the bushes with his trousers down waiting for me to cycle past again. 

I went mental! 

I was shouting and screaming every curse under the sun at the top of my lungs so that he could feel every bit of fury I had in response to his despicable behaviour. This was all whilst I was in motion and flashed past me very quickly. 

He definitely didn’t have a clue what words I said, but he knew exactly what I was communicating with him and that I was NOT okay with what he had done. 

It may be the case that he does the same thing again to another woman, it may not, but I can only hope that my response made him reconsider his actions because it was one of the most disgusting things I’ve ever experienced. 

I am certain that this will not be the last incident of sexual harassment that I will experience on my journey, but I also know that I will NOT feel intimidated and I WILL stand up for myself. Always. 

If any other women would like to share their stories or are looking for support or advice on with dealing with sexual harassment cases, whether that’s in relation to an isolated incident or an ongoing relationship, please get in touch, I’d love to support you. 

Never feel alone. We, as females, are one; let’s stand together to fight sexual harassment.