After an overnight bus ride in which the driver, and perhaps everyone else (?) watched a Vietnamese stand-up comedy duo the whole 7 hours, we pulled up to the ferry which was to wisk us off to our final beach chapter of our travels on Phu Quoc island.
We stayed at a little resort right on a quiet beach. It was serene and amazing. The water - clear and calm and perfect for lazy swimming. Hammocks and yes . . . long walks on the beach were in order for the first day. Then it was time for adventure.
We rented motorbikes for our second day to make the long trip around the island. The road into our little beach area was under construction and exsisted only as a incomplete dirt road but the one into town, though busy, was paved. We made our way through the busy streets of town quite compitently (even with the school children all bicycling home at noon) and then hit a dirt, though still smoothish, road. There was a little hesitation, but we ventured on, not caring that our clothes would be caked in dust. We were having a day of island adventure! The further we got from town, the fewer other motorbikes we saw and the worse the road conditions became. Soon the "road" dissolved into what were essentially a series of steep, sandy, dried out riverbed gullies with makeshift stick bridges at the bottom. The water had created all sorts of "thrilling" obsticles to weave around and basically gun-it over in the hopes that you make it successfully to the other side. The first one was sort of funny/rediculous, the second more of a personal challenge, by the third we were pretty exhausted by the focus it takes to get through these damn things and by the forth, Kyle tipped and began to have technical difficulties. The next series of dips took us in a detour around what was a totally insane and washed out former "road." The detour was only slightly more passable. Our mouths hung open as we looked at what could have been, and then at what was.
To be honest, things began looking a little bleak at this point. We were 30km from anywhere, Kyle's bike wouldn't start, Kate had tipped over when she looked back and saw Kyle tipped over and both were a little shaken. Oh, and it was HOT. And storm clouds had been threatening for the better part of an hour. After giving the bikes (and ourselves) some time to cool down, and watching a couple of seasoned motorbike veterans with old ladies on the bike tackle the next arroyo, Kyle's bike miraculously started again. We were back on our way.
The road began to improve (no more dry riverbeds from hell) and we made it to a town. Actually, it was three buildings and a beach, but we drank a warm 7 up and were poked by the local children long enough to decide we could finish our loop. 15 kilometers down the road, in what looked to be the absolute middle of no where, a man on crutches with one leg emerged from the dense jungle and waved us down. Kate thoughtfully offered for Kyle to give him a ride to the next town, where he apparently had an appointment for coffee. After depositing him at his destination and declining his kind invitation for a drink, we continued on our way, smiling a little more.
We made it back to the main town, Duong Don, and Kate's bike began stalling at intersections. This is a terrifying prospect in a land which follows NO road rules. We expertly navigated past a market, over a bridge, through the town, and we almost home, when Kate's bike comletely died about 50 meters from the hotel. She pushed it home and the hotel propreitor looked up from his hammock, apparently unsurprised by this turn of events. "No working? Yeah."
With broken bike returned, we went for a victory swim to rinse off the day's dust and grime before beginning cocktail hour. We toasted, from our hammocks, our survival and the end of our motorbike riding for a good long time.
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