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Dushanbe to Osh through the Pamir Mountains

Embarking on the next leg of my journey into the Pamir Mountains, I knew it would be the most challenging adventure yet. With treacherous roads, altitudes exceeding 4000m, and freezing nights, this segment had been looming as the ultimate challenge of my trip. Looking back, the last two months from Windsor to Dushanbe seemed like a preparation for this very moment, and I was excited to embrace the impending challenges.

The route from Dushanbe to Osh via the Pamir Highway is often hailed as the bikepacking mecca. Covering around 1400km through one of the world’s highest mountain ranges, it’s typically tackled in the middle of summer to avoid extreme cold at the higher altitudes. Departing Dushanbe on the 9th of September, we were acutely aware that we might have arrived late in the season, with concerns about plummeting temperatures as we ascended beyond 4000m.

Setting out with Joris, we faced a choice: the northern road or the southern route to the Pamir Mountains from Dushanbe. Recommendations at the hostel led us to the northern route, celebrated for its scenic beauty and tranquility, albeit with challenging road conditions. True to word, the route was breathtaking, but the rough road slowed our progress. Meanwhile, I grappled with illness, my diet dwindling to instant noodles, coke, fanta, and ice cream as I struggled to ingest anything else and was just trying to get some sugar in. After two grueling days, the physical strain became unbearable, prompting me to let Joris continue ahead while I took a day’s respite in solitude, hoping to regain my strength.

The following day, reenergised, I embarked on a demanding climb to 3200m through a quite barron landscape. I started to feel the altitude beyond 2500m, characterised by a slight pulsing headache. Eventually, I conquered the pass, greeted by a stunning yet precarious descent into the town of Kalaikhum. Here, I encountered my first military checkpoint—a daily occurrence henceforth—where displaying our passports and GBAO permit was all that was required to proceed however, they were always a nervous affair with unfriendly armed guards.

The quality of available food had rapidly declined since leaving Dushanbe. Bread, a staple, became scarce, while fresh produce was limited to eggs, onions, and garlic. Even tinned goods were often years past their expiration date. Consequently, we adjusted our meals to accommodate these limitations, mostly subsisting on egg fried rice, pasta with tomato paste, and plenty of the local Tajik biscuits which pretty much tasted like malted milks.

Continuing along the road paralleling the Afghanistan border, separated only by a river, was a sobering experience. On the Afghan side, we observed the locals living their lives, and even the Taliban and their flag and any crossing point. The valley was also strongly cloaked in dust, casting an unsettling atmosphere.

The first night, after choosing a camping spot, I was told to move by a Tajik army patrols. They explained I couldn’t camp in view of Afghanistan otherwise I may get shot during the night. I didn’t really see this as a possibility any more likely then being shot whilst stopped anytime during the day. Nevertheless, I relocated to behind an abandoned shepherd’s hut and subsequently, spent several nights in other creative concealed spots.

After the mountain pass, I was expecting better road conditions, however they never came. For 200km between Kalaikhum and the next town, Rushan, gravel and rugged terrain persisted. Roadwork was ongoing, involving controlled cliff face explosions, and often led to frustrating delays whilst the road was impassable, as I waited under the sun’s relentless gaze for often hours before they’d let traffic pass. This often had the added stress of hearing random explosions whilst cycling along, but I very quickly got used to it and felt safe cycling through this amazing landscape.

During one such delay, I was allowed to pass, but I struggled to navigate the rubble and gratefully accepted a construction worker’s assistance in transporting my bike in the diggers bucket.

Eventually, I caught up with Joris, who had been stalled for six hours due to road construction. His companionship was a welcome relief. Then, after three days of passing only sporadic villages, we reached Rushan and then Khorog—two larger towns, yet the food supply mirrored our recent experiences: out of date tinned goods and very little fresh food.

Opting for a hostel for a change of pace in Khorog, we looked forward to a warm shower and access to electricity and strong internet for very cheap as we chose to camp there. Our excitement was tempered when the entire town suffered a power outage around 7 pm but fortunately, power was restored during the night.

The next decision loomed—continue on the main road or explore the Wakhan Valley. Opting for the latter, we extended our journey by 200km but were rewarded with lush greenery and even the occasional apple or tomatoe in the shops. This area had very important significance 150 years ago, being the boundary between the Russia Empire to the north and the British Empire to the south but now it’s an incredibly peaceful place. An excursion involving a 500m climb up to the Bibi Fatima hot springs was a highlight, offering a warm wash under a fantastic waterfall.

After three days in the valley, the route took us back toward the main road. As we climbed, road conditions worsened with stretches of impassable deep sand and washboard roads. The altitude, exceeding 3500m, ushered in freezing nights. The relentless wind and cold temperatures after sunset at 7pm prompted early nights, with me forced to wear all my clothing and even use the emergency foil blankets as a safeguard against the cold.

The accent up to a peak of 4320m was relatively simple due to its low gradient however, we encountered difficulties in the descent, making very slow progress along the terrible roads. Nevertheless, the breathtaking scenery amid the high mountains offered consolation. Once we returned to the main road, thanks to a tailwind we made quick progress to our first town in 3 days—a welcome aid, given I’d run out of food!

With our supplies replenished, we made our camp near a locked-up shepherd’s hut, a clear sign that winter was approaching. Then, it was on to Murghab, the last town before the Kyrgyzstan border. Murghab felt like a place on the edge of the world, almost abandoned, with colossal gusts of sand sweeping through its empty streets. Our respite came in the form of a homestay, a unique arrangement where we stayed in a local’s home, enjoying both dinner and breakfast provided by our hosts. It was a much-needed break, complete with warm showers and a comfortable bed for the night.

Our journey took us deeper into the vast mountains, and we were fortunate to be joined by Jan, a 23-year-old German cyclist also on his way to Almaty. This leg of the trip proved arduous as we battled a relentless headwind. I also began struggling as the altitude increased, having the symptoms of what felt like the worst hangover ever—a constant, throbbing headache.

That evening, we made camp under a bridge at an elevation of 4300m, where the cold was bone-chilling. The following morning was no better; the biting cold persisted. After about 10 minutes of cycling, my gear cable snapped, which I suspected was due to the extreme cold. Although I replaced it, my bike continued to have shifting issues. I opted to choose a single rear gear and pressed on not wanting to be stopped for too long.

After crossing a pass exceeding 4600m, likely the highest point of my journey we descended along another afwul road. Our destination was the final town in Tajikistan, a place with only a tiny shop which we found with the help of the local children. We made camp near an abandoned wall, seeking shelter from the wind. However, the wall appeared unstable, and after we all stoked each other over the fear it may collapse in the night we decided to relocate.

The next day, our path led us into Kyrgyzstan. Officially, the border between Tajikistan and Kyrgyzstan has been closed since COVID-19. However, since July, tourists had been crossing with permission from the Kyrgyzstan Ministry of Tourism. Obtaining this permission simply required sending a WhatsApp message with a photo of our passports and intended crossing date to the tourism agency. Though many had succeeded using this method, some travelers had spent up to 24 hours camped at the border. Furthermore, we were hoping to cross on a Sunday which we’d been told was not a working day so approaching the border I was slightly apprehensive.

First, we cycled around Lake Karakul, marveling at its beauty, before cycling along the Chinese border marked by a fence that appeared to streach forever. We then conquered two mountain passes over 4200m, the latter marking the Tajik border which we were quickly let through with our passports stamped. Next, we had a 25km cycle down the mountain and through the no man’s land to arrive at the Kyrgyzstan border point. This was probably the most beautiful scenery of the trip cycling between snowy mountain peaks over 7000m.

The process aat the border was straightforward; our passport and WhatsApp message were scrutinized, and our possessions searched, a routine we had grown accustomed to at various border crossings. They always seem to go the same where you open a bag and say what’s inside of it whilst showing them the thing on top, then move onto the next bag. Finally, our passports were stamped, and we crossed into Kyrgyzstan the whole process taking about an hour.

Kyrgyzstan greeted us with a change in landscape: lush green plains with the mountains as a distant backdrop. About 100m from the road, we pitched our tents by a dried-up riverbed enjoying a warm evening and amazing sunset.

In the ensuing days, we cycled toward Osh, mostly descending through valleys with a couple mountain passes to contend with a couple mountain passes to contend with. Arriving in Osh, I opted for a hostel for some much-needed recuperation feeling quite burnt out.

The cycling hasn’t been too challenging with gradual gradients most of the time and the option to just stop for the night if it gets too much, however the experience had proven far more demanding than I anticipated. The challenges included the scarcity of good food, the biting cold from evening to morning, and the mental fatigue from struggling along the bad roads.

After taking a day to reflect on my experience through writing this, it was definitely type two fun and an amazing adventure. The last two and a half weeks have flown by and the feeling now having conquered the Pamir Highway is ecstatic. It will be hard to find the next bigger challenge in the future but I can relax in the knowledge for the rest of my trip nothing will come close to being as difficult.

Sumatra

Getting the ferry to the island of Sumatra from Malaysia turned out to be a bit stressful due to my oversight of arriving at the ferry port with no local currency, just assuming they would accept card. Fortunately, Nathan lent me some cash and I managed to scrape by with my remaining USD, barely enough to cover the ferry fare, baggage, and my Indonesian visa.

The chaos continued at the arrival port, where bags were haphazardly thrown from the ferry, and I had to scramble to retrieve all my baggage and bike. After navigating a straightforward visa process, I had to unpack everything for an x-ray scan.

Dumai, my entry point to Sumatra, was a bustling and intense city. Upon leaving the ferry port, I quickly found a bank and food shop but annoyingly couldn’t set my phone up with an Indonesian sim despite a kind man driving me on the back of his motorbike to 5 different phone shops. The problem being my international phone wasn’t registered in the country, so I’d just have to rely on finding wifi in places.

Indonesia marked the final leg of my journey. I had a 30-day visa and a flight booked from Bali to Sydney in exactly 30 days. It was probably going to be too ambitious to cycle all the way, or at least result in me missing some of the highlights, so I planned to take at least one bus to skip some sections.

The people in Indonesia were the friendliest I’d encountered anywhere, often shouting at me with enthusiastic “hello mister!” greetings. While heartwarming, it often became annoying when occurring every 30 seconds through towns and when I’d find Wi-Fi, then get interrupted with people asking for photos or wanting to talk.

It was also still the rainy season, so I encountered daily downpours, typically starting around 3 pm and lasting into the night. In urban areas like Pikanburu, the streets often turned into rivers creating awful traffic.

One notable difference in Indonesia from other countries was the acceptability of sleeping anywhere, such as truck stops or cafes, which were often open 24 hours a day. However, the downside was occasional disturbances, such as people watching loud videos at 3 am. There were also many abandoned buildings to shelter in each night. I also spent nights at mosques, although the early morning call to prayer disrupted my sleep, but the benefits of clean toilets and showers generally out-weighted this.

The buildings were an interesting style with pointed roofs. Something I didn’t see anywhere else.

Heading towards the west coast, I traversed mountains and encountered the iconic Kelok 9, an impressive stretch of road.

From here, the road descended into the city of Penang, passing some amazing lakes.

The traffic has probably been the worst of anywhere so far. With the roads just being constant streams of motorbikes. In addition at all the junctions, men would be directing traffic taking payment before walking out into the road stopping the traffic for anyone trying to turn right. Every car was pretty much forced to pay them as they wouldn’t be able to turn otherwise.

Along the coast, I sought shelter and food at a waterfront restaurant, where I met Donnie, a woodcarver who generously offered me a place to stay at his home. He spoke good english, having learnt it using TikTok. I shared a very spicy meal with his family, and he showed me around the house they’d built. The next morning, Donnie took me on his motorbike into his town to get breakfast.

Continuing along the coast was challenging, with steep climbs and rainstorms. One afternoon, I accepted an offer to sleep at a restaurant at 2pm deciding not to venture out into the relentless rain at all. This may have been a mistake as despite the place being quite during the day, it became filled in the evening with a lively atmosphere of coffee-drinking patrons playing cards late into the night.

Rejoining the main road, I continued along the coast for three more days sleeping on a beautiful beach one night.

From the city of Bengkulu, I took a 20-hour bus ride to Bandar Lampung. This bus was quite nice and kept interesting with buskers getting on at the start of towns playing a song then hopping off at the other end of the town.

After leaving the bus, I rode for a few hours to the southern point of Sumatra then caught a ferry costing only £2 for the two-hour journey to the island of Java.

While Sumatra didn’t match my wilderness expectations, it offered a rich cultural experience. The food has been great but incredibly spicy, something that took me a week to get used to. I’ve really enjoyed the very sweet black coffee and I’ll remember the generosity of the people who have been wonderful.

Malaysia

The border crossing into Malaysia took a while. This was mostly my fault, rushing the form I needed to fill in, expecting them not to check too closely the details of where I was staying. With the border situated at the top of a hill, I had a nice descent down the flat farmlands of north Malaysia.

After riding for only 40 minutes, a car pulled up alongside me at some traffic lights, and after speaking for 30 seconds, the man handed me some money and told me to buy myself a drink. He said he wanted to help a traveller and had ambitions of his own of cycling around Malaysia. This money proved very useful as it was still 50 km until I found an ATM in the city of Alor Setar.

I’m always a bit anxious the first night camping in a new country, and in Malaysia, it was hard to find somewhere as everywhere was farmland. I headed for the coast, stopping at Bunting Island Bridge where I was hoping for a great sunset but arrived too late and the bridge was closed. Whilst there, I met some Bangladeshi men who were on holiday in Malaysia and very interested in what I was doing. It was eye-opening also hearing from them that Malaysia is one of the few countries they can easily get a visa for and go on holiday to.

The following day I made it to Georgetown, taking the ferry across to the island. Along the way, I passed a huge snake on the side of the road. I’m pretty sure it was dead as it wasn’t moving, but it really shocked me, and I couldn’t stop thinking about it whenever I was camping the following week.

Georgetown was a pretty place, and the buildings definitely had a colonial feel to them. The previous day, the Bangladeshi men informed me I’d feel like I was back in London, which I’m not sure I’d really agree with. There was also a large Chinatown where I enjoyed a huge plate of egg fried rice for dinner. Whilst at the hostel, I met Nathan, another Brit cycling around the world. He’d been travelling for 22 months already.

I just stayed for one night in Georgetown, deciding to detour towards the east coast and explore more of Malaysia. A very rainy day followed, and searching for somewhere dry to sleep led me to an old railway line where I found a small wooden shelter to sleep under. This was a very welcome relief from the elements.

My route took me into the Cameron Highlands, a collection of resort towns in the mountains built by the British to get away from the heat on the coast. It is a similar idea to Dalat in Vietnam; however, the Highlands still kept their heritage of looking like a European ski town. It also featured large tea plantations and strawberry farms in the hills which has made the towns iconic for serving afternoon tea with scones and jam.

I spent a night in a strange hostel which was originally a colonial bungalow built on a hill above the town but had been converted into a few rooms and a dorm. It had very strange outbuildings decorated up as a wooden hunting lodge and bar. Along with all this, there were many log cabins which were all getting demolished, and so each night there would be a large fire trying to burn through all this junk wood.

I also had my first burger of the trip in the Highlands. The Western food is similarly priced in Malaysia unlike the other Southeast Asian countries where it would cost 4x as much. I’ve also been able to find reasonably priced oats and chocolate for the first time in SEA which has been nice to have these home comforts.

Leaving the Highlands, I descended down into the centre of the country and became quite sick with a stomach bug. I took the next few days pretty easy, crossing over to the east coast, seeing lots of wild monkeys and passing through many palm oil plantations. These at first looked quite beautiful, almost a forest of palm trees, but once I noticed the straight lines of trees all planted the same distance apart, they lost their charm. It’s Malaysia’s largest export and used in lots of food and cosmetic products which has resulted in much of the jungle having been cut down.

As I was cycling along a quiet road, a van coming the other way told me to slow down as there was an elephant ahead. Not wanting to miss seeing a wild elephant, I picked up the speed and came face to face with the creature on the side of the road. It looked very old and frail with a hole in its ear, and every step it took made it seem like it would fall over. I stopped for probably 10 minutes just watching it cool itself down, blowing water over its back, and tried to get close but was always frightened when it would turn towards me.

I reached the east coast and had my appetite back after being ill, so I started trying to catch up on all the great Malaysian food. The ethnic population of Malaysia is Malay, Indian, and Chinese, so the food reflects this with lots of really great Indian food reflecting these cultures. I’ve particularly enjoyed the Indian roti, Dosha, and all the curries. The restaurants are often self-service, letting you just pile the rice and curry onto a plate, with most meals costing about £1. The coffee or “kophi” has been great too, costing 40p at restaurants and being black coffee with condensed milk stirred in. The national dish “nasi lemak”, translating as “fat rice”, is rice cooked in coconut milk with sauce, fish, peanuts, egg, and often deep-fried meat. This has all been great fuel for cycling but has led to Malaysia having a very high rate of type two diabetes, something I was told by many people.

The east coast was industrial with a huge Petronas oil refinery. I did manage to find a beach, but it was a protected area for turtle nesting so I wasn’t able to sleep there. Fortunately, the man in charge guided me round the corner to the turtle hatchery centre where he let me stay before just driving off.

Before leaving the east coast, I spotted one more bit of wildlife, a huge lizard wandering around a rubbish dump. This was mesmerising to watch, and again I didn’t want to get too close.

It took two more days to reach Kuala Lumpur where I found some hot springs open to the public, meeting a group of local uni students there who were very interested in what I was doing. Then, after a night in an abandoned building in the hills above KL, I descended down towards the Batu Caves. I should’ve arrived earlier as this tourist attraction was already very busy with people climbing the stairs up to the caves.

Kuala Lumpur felt very much like a western city with parks, skyscrapers, and all the generic shops you’d expect to find in the city centre. There were some interesting buildings with the Petronas Towers being the tallest in the world from their construction in 1999 until 2004, the old square consisting of a cricket pitch where in 1957 Malaysian independence was declared, and the national mosque where they were very strict on the dress code, giving us robes to wear inside. The food in the city was great too and surprisingly no more expensive than the rest of the country.

Coming into the city was easy, however exiting was quite a challenge, navigating the busy roads to the south heading for Port Dickson where I’d leave Malaysia by Ferry.

I was reunited with Nathan on the road, and we spent my final night at a Hindu temple before I headed to the ferry port and he continued south.

Malaysia has been one of my favourite countries to travel. The food has been the best of anywhere in Asia. The people have been incredibly generous and friendly too, as in the 16 days I’ve been in the country, I had 5 different people buy me a meal or refuse to accept payment at restaurants. The number of people that spoke English has been noticeably higher than almost anywhere else I’ve been, with lots of people in the non-touristy areas speaking very good English. This has been really nice, as I could talk to far more of the locals. The wildlife has been amazing too, seeing so many monkeys which I’ve struggled to take photos of. Finding places to camp has been quite easy too, and the locals have not been surprised when I’d say I’m just sleeping on the side of the road. Also there have been lots of abandoned huts or buildings I could sleep in to find some shelter. I’ll definitely be back to Malaysia and would love to have more time in the city of KL.

*** 26/3/24 Update ***

I’m now quite far behind on the blog having left Malaysia on 15th February so thought I should give a current update. My two excuses for not getting any posts out are: running out of website storage space for any more photos and breaking my phone. Now I have access to a laptop, I’ve upgraded the website (hence the new look) and hoping to get the phone fixed to recover some Indonesia photos. So expect the last few trip updates soon along with some final thoughts, cost breakdown and gear reviews.

I’m now in Sydney, having arrived in Australia on 15th March from Bali and having a few weeks of holiday with my family whilst I try and figure out what to do next…

South Thailand

I was excited to cross back into Thailand, where I made good progress along the well-built roads. I took a brief stop at the narrowest point in the country, although it seemed more symbolic than an actual tourist attraction and the only thing of interest was the sign. My dream was to sleep on a wild beach that night, and after spotting a small track that lead to the coast I found the perfect spot offering an amazing sunset.

It took me two more days to reach Bangkok, where I spent nights at temples in the kind hospitality of the monks. Navigating through the intense traffic in the city was quite a challenge, but I eventually made it to my hostel.

I took a day to explore the city, having a very quiet morning as nothing opened until midday. Walking the infamous Koah San Road, it was a completely different place during the day and night with the day comprising of stalls selling touristy items and at night it was another road of bars extending into the street selling buckets of alcohol.

Deciding on my next destination, I had the choice of riding along the east or west coast. I opted for the more touristy east coast over the quieter west coast, aiming for Chumphon, where I planned to catch a ferry to Koh Tao. Just outside Bangkok, I met Daniel, a fellow cyclist with no set destination, and we spent most of the day riding together. I wanted to make it 130km to a beach for the night, but I think this might’ve broken Daniel in the process, as with 20km to go he stopped.

The next day, I encountered my second puncture of the trip but quickly fixed it and continued along some excellent cycle paths. Clearly all the other cycle tourists had also found this route as I encountered nine different bikepackers that day, including a family of 4. I spent the night camping on another amazing secluded beach, having fun riding along the wet sand.

The following day, I attempted a 200km ride to Chumphon, to take the night ferry to Koh Tao. However, my plan was disrupted by heavy rain, which I didn’t want to ride through and I had to settle for sleeping at a police station, something I’d wanted to try in Thailand. The police were very hospitable providing me with an evening meal despite me insisting I had food and then packed me off the next morning with a huge bag of coffee sachets and some Nam Thom, a local energy drink.

The following day in Chumphon after booking the night ferry, I had to occupy myself for an afternoon in which I spent a few hours sheltered in a 7 eleven from the rain before heading down to a very quiet beach.

The night ferry was a great atmosphere with a few of the other Backpackers on board having the same idea as me, stocking up on some beers for the journey. Sitting on the top of the ferry enjoying beers was a great way to spend the evening, watching as the boat steered out of the harbour into the sea.

Arriving in Koh Tao just before sunrise was fantastic as we could watch the sun come up over the island as the ferry docked. I spent my first day on a snorkeling tour, visiting different bays around the island by boat seeing some beautiful fish and a huge turtle. That even was spent visiting some of the beach bars which had a great atmosphere.

The next day was a relaxing one, spent mostly at the hostel trying to get some admin done sheltering from some torrential rain.

Then for my final day on the island, I explored the other side, encountering steep roads and beautiful beaches, including Tanote Bay Beach, a busy but nice beach with a huge cliff jump which I felt I must do.

After three days on the island, I looked forward to being back on my bike. The island was beautiful and I can see why people learn to scuber dive there, but it didn’t have much character to it. It was also full of Brits most of who were there on a drinking holiday. This was fun to join in with but after a few nights I was ready to leave.

Leaving the island, I took another night ferry to the south and crossed to the west. At the west coast beaches, I noticed tsunami warning signs saying to head inland at the feel of a earthquake, a reminder of the devastating impact of the 2004 Boxing Day tsunami killing 5000 people in Thailand alone.

In Southern Thailand, I’ve been asked more than ever where I’m going and I’m never really sure how to answer. I don’t know if they want the next town, the next big city or my final destination, so I normally just say Australia and get a bit of a confused look back.

For my final two nights, I stayed at temples. Nearing the Malaysian border, there were fewer temples with the majority of people being Muslim. It felt like the few temples often got cyclists visiting and quickly gave me a place to camp. For my final night, I was greeted by some Thai military at the temple who kindly shared their meal with me and enjoyed watching as I tried to eat their spicy food.

Travelling through Thailand has been very easy. The foods been great with my favorite being the noodle soups, everyone’s been friendly and finding places to sleep was easy. I think though it’s lacking the chaos and excitement of Laos or Vietnam but I’ve definitely enjoyed my time in the country.

Cambodia

Crossing into Cambodia, I was uncertain about what to expect, given the mixed reviews I had heard. Some described it as a beautiful paradise falling quickly in love with the country, while others saw it merely as a necessary transit from Vietnam to Thailand via Angkor.

The border guards were notably friendly. Acquiring the visa was very fast as after I’d filled in my name, nationality and passport number they declared that was good enough ignoring the other questions, stamping my passport. After a few photos with the guards, I was officially in Cambodia.

Immediately, I felt the country was less developed than Vietnam. I’m not too sure why as nothing really stuck out as being clearly behind, but I think it might’ve just been the amount of empty dusty land of that appeared everywhere. It then came as a surprise discovering the prices of everything were noticeably higher than anywhere else in south east Asia.

I first aimed for the capital city of Phnom Penh, where after checking into a hostel went for a walk around. The city was easy to walk and had lots to offer with markets, temples and a great embankment. As the sun set it became lit beautifully by night, with perhaps a touch of tackiness from a huge Carlsburg sign and Christmas decorations in mid-January.

Departing the next morning, I visited the somber site of Choeung Ek Genocidal Center better known as the Killing Fields. This was one of many places where the Cambodian Genocide took place in which approximately 2 million people (a quarter of the whole countries population) were killed by the Khemer Rouge. It was tough to grasp the enormity of the tragedy with almost 9,000 people were killed at the location, as there is little that remains. The memorial built on the site, filled with human skulls and bones was a shocking reminder.

To reach my next stop of Siem Reap, I would need to cross the Tonle Sap river which I decided to do by a small ferry taking me off the main road. Heading north, after a day and a half, I made it to Kampong Chhnang somewhere which felt untouched by tourism. The town had a chaotic market and after spending a while trying to find the ferry port I managed to get a ticket and board with lots of strange looks from the locals. The boat ride was enjoyable, navigating round the islands of this huge river and witnessing people living in the middle in houses on stilts.

The other side of the river led to a dirt track, this made progress tough in the heat with no shade alongside the road. Joining the main road between Siem Reap and Phnom Penh was quite the relief and I was surprised by its quietness, expecting heavy traffic between the two cities.

Siem Reap served as a base to explore Angkor, the ancient capital of the Khmer Empire home to many temples, the largest being the iconic Angkor Wat. The temples, built between the 9th and 14th centuries, stood in various states of disrepair, with some being restored and others quite dilapidated.

I arrived to Angkor Wat for sunrise and throughout the day went to about 10 different temples cycling between them. The lack of restrictions on exploring was notable, as you could climb everything or walk on the small ledges around the outside of each one, facing 3m drops. I was also impressed with how quiet it felt. Although it’s a huge tourist attraction, due to the huge size of the site with so many temples I almost felt I had the place to myself. I took lots of photos andv here are some of the highlights from a few of the temples…

Angkor Wat:

Tonle On:

Prasat Preah Khan:

Eastern Mebon:

Ta Prohm:

Phnom Bakheng:

That evening, I ventured onto Siem Reap’s pub street offering pretty much the same night life as the other cities I’ve visited, with one street pumping out loud music although it was the first place where I felt a noticible precence of locals along with all the tourists.

The following day after leaving Siem Reap, I encountered a group of guys offering me a cold beer in the middle of the day, accompanied by a tractor towing a large speaker system with a dj on top. I accepted their offer, and tried to get an answer as to why they were partying on a Sunday afternoon but never did. Soon, the police showed up but after they accepted a beer, they weren’t too bothered by what was going on. After about 30 minutes, the guys suddenly seemed quite keen to get rid of me and I got my answer as the what they were doing when a wedding party showed up.

Before leaving Cambodia, I took a detour through the Cardamon mountains. I was hoping for a few days riding small roads through the jungle however, this never came and instead I ended up on a dusty quarry road full of trucks. There were a few great views but not the feeling of being deep in the jungle I was hoping for.

After almost a week on intense heat, I finally decided to get a hair cut and shave at on of the many Cambodian barber shops. The barber was very amused when I showed him a photo of what I wanted.

Cambodia, while easy to travel with friendly people, hasn’t been on of my favorite countries. The dual-currency system using both local riel and USD added a layer of complexity, with large businesses accepting both, small places only accepting riels, and ATMs only dispensing dollars. Whenever paying in USD the change would be in riel, so it was quite challenging to not be left with any riel when I left the country and also check they had given the correct amount. I avoided the Cambodian coastline, as it would’ve been a large detour and was told the once paradise has become heavily developed over the past decade. Although Cambodia had its charm with amazing sunrises and sunsets every day, I found myself yearning for the unexplored allure of Laos, the natural beauty of Thailand, and the exquisite food of Vietnam. In the last few days riding through the country, I was longing for some wild beaches and began looking forward to being back in the familiar territory of Thailand.

South Vietnam

Leaving Hoi An on Boxing Day, I embarked on a southbound journey through two rainy days along the coast. On waking up on my birthday, a welcomed change in weather lifted my spirits. I was anxious about having no plans for my birthday as I wanted to celebrate it in some way, so found a homestay in Tuy Hoa for the night hoping to meet some people.

The town was touristy but only with Vietnamese people and surprisingly the beach was empty. I treated myself to a slap up meal of hot pot (costing £4), something I had wanted to try in south east Asia. Returning to the homestay to my delight I met Christian, and convinced him to join me for a birthday celebration in the town. I had a great evening enjoying some beers at a local bar and we got along great chatting into the night.

Continuing south on the 29th, I spent the night on a stony beach, watching the tide roll in. The peaceful night turned eventful as the tide came very close and waves splashed up over my tent intermittently. I knew it would be alright as high tide had passed but I still didn’t get much sleep. The next morning, the beach was full of locals foraging at low tide so I swiftly packed up and left for Nhà Trang.

Nhà Trang, a popular beach town, felt somewhat sterile, dominated by hotels and palm-fringed beaches like it could be anywhere in the world. After a brief stop, I headed west into the hills heading for city of Da Lat. There was one big climb from sea level to 1500m with the sun was beating down on the black asphalt road. The road was beautiful and as I climbed I was rewarded with great views and cooler temperatures. I found a great camp spot for the night right on the side of the mountain.

Heading into Da Lat for New Year’s Eve, I checked into a budget hostel offering a NYE BBQ. The hostel was packed full and had a great atmosphere. The night unfolded with a local concert and fireworks at a stage in the town center followed by visiting a few bars.

Da Lat was constructed as a French resort town in the mountains to get away from the heat but felt like any other Vietnamese city, impossible to walk around. The roads were full of motorbikes with no pavement anywhere and there was very little to see in the city.

I left Da Lat the following morning descending towards Ho Chi Minh City. Finding a camp spot seemed challenging amidst the roads lined with houses and tea plantations everywhere. Fortunately, an unfinished petrol station provided a suitable spot for my tent and I could finally tick off my goal of sleeping in an abandoned building.

The next day, I was feeling quite unmotivated so found a proper campsite costing £2 a night. Arriving early afternoon, I set my tent up next to the river and had a dip. Later, I met Lee and Dan, two British men on a motorbike adventure around south Vietnam. It was a very welcome surprise as I wasn’t expecting to meet anyone at this remote campsite. I help drink their beers and joined them for the evening around a fire.

I took a detour off the road to Ho Chi Minh to cycle around Hoi Tri An Lake. This route unexpectedly became single track used by the locals on motorbikes, but was fantastic fun to cycle. Navigating along these tiny tracks, I startled some cows being walked by a man, causing them to bolt over a fence into some woods. Unsure what to do, I froze which lead to him shouting at me and gesturing for me to go. Slowly moving away the final cow bolted. I felt bad but wasn’t really sure what I could’ve done.

Approaching Ho Chi Minh city wasn’t a joyous ride, with busy main roads dominating from 50km out. In the city, chaos and skyscrapers mirrored Hanoi, but with more intensity. I spent a day going round the city visiting the sights and the war museum. This was a display of vivid, graphic images along with American tanks and aircraft.

Once the sun set, the city became beautifully lit and had a vibrant night. The hostel was full of other solo travellers and I had a great time out with them. Bars were competing with incredibly loud music and people out front trying to lure us into each one. Also, the staff would also perform land grabs, extending their seating into the road before swiftly rearranging it when the police intervened.

Before leaving Vietnam, I visited the Cu Chi Tunnels. These are old Viet Cong tunnels from the war and formed their base about 60km outside of the city. Crawling through the narrow passageways was an experience in the 40 degree heat. The tunnels had been widened for the tourists but were still a squeeze to fit through and I couldn’t imagine spending a long time underground or even worse fighting in them.

This blog post has taken me a while to write partly because I’ve been grappling with my impressions of Vietnam and partly because everytime I’ve sat down to edit it, I’ve been distracted chatting with people.

Travelling through the country, there were notable challenges, particularly with navigating the chaotic roads and finding suitable camping spots. Fortunately, I managed to avoid having any incidents on the roads and eventually always found somewhere to camp. Vietnam stands out as the cheapest country for food, although prices tend to escalate noticeably in touristy areas. The people, while generally friendly, displayed an assertiveness in shops, often pushing for sales, and I often encountered groups of teenagers on scooters following me and filming—a slightly uncomfortable experience.

The northern and southern regions presented distinct atmospheres. The north, reminiscent of Laos, felt more rural, while the south showcased a more developed and tourist-oriented environment, complete with supermarkets, bakeries, and great coffee shops offering Espressos for 50p.

Vietnam wasn’t a particularly relaxing country to cycle through and feel that maybe bicycle isn’t the best way to travel it with long streaches on main roads. I didn’t realised before quite how big the country really is and towards the end I was just wanting to move onto the next country. Now since leaving, I look back fondly on my time there. I spent 40 days in the country, which is by far the longest I’ve spent in one country on this trip and feel it is the first country I have visited which I have truly completed.

Hanoi to Hoi An in 8 days

The plan was to reach Hoi An by Christmas Eve, covering a challenging 1000km in just 8 days. Before leaving Hanoi, I fueled up on the hostel’s buffet breakfast and enjoyed many cups of coffee helping me to focus through the chaos of leaving Hanoi.

The initial three days were spent on the flat riding with a favorable tailwind where I’d hoped to cover substantial ground before venturing into the hills. Ninh Binh welcomed me with its incredible terrain, a captivating landscape of paddies and limestone formations. The area is also littered with huge churches, built by the French in the 19th and 20th Century which are still well maintained. Exiting the World Heritage site, I rejoined the main road and found a peaceful spot in nearby woods to camp for the night.

Day two saw me spending most of my time on a main dual carriageway, an efficient but somewhat monotonous route. The journey took an unexpected turn when I met Marc, a Swiss cyclist heading in the same direction. We rode together for most of the day before parting ways in the afternoon. I headed for the coast to find a quiet beach to spend the night, discovering a deserted haven all to myself.

The tranquility of the beach was disrupted by nightfall rain, leaving all my stuff covered in wet sand. The rain persisted through the day, prompting a kind lady on a motorbike to gift me a poncho. She looked like she instantly regretted it, when riding off without anything to protect herself from the rain. Covered in a layer of dirt from all the spray off the road, I opted for a hotel that night, relishing the luxury of a shower and somewhere to dry all my gear.

The rain started around 9am the next morning, continuing through the whole day. I found shelter in Paradise Cave, the world’s longest cave adorned with impressive stalagmites and stalactites. The cave had the feel of a cathedral with its echoes, lighting and whispering visitors.

Venturing into the hills along the Ho Chi Minh trail, I discovered untouched landscapes and a fantastic mountain road. That night I found relief under a bridge, a lucky find of a great camp spot next to a stream.

I awoke with a cold the next morning which slowly became worse over the next few days and coupled with more rain, I wasn’t feeling at my best. The jungle and thick clouds provided a stunning backdrop to ride through and the road was almost empty as the route wasn’t the direct way to get anywhere. This resulted in a scarcity of shops, most containing very little stock. One such shop was run by a very young vendor who seemed quite surprised I was buying eggs. I understood why this was later when I cracked into the fetal duck eggs I’d purchased.

One benefit to the rain was the obundance of impressive waterfalls just on the side of the road. I also finally justified carrying a big coat, hat and gloves needing to put them all on at one point as I became very cold after descending one of the hills. I soon warmed up again on the next hill. Once I’d reached the top and descended down out of the cloud, the weather dramatically changed to warm sunshine. This was a welcome surprise as I rode back toward the coast.

Arriving in the Ancient capital city of Hue, the drizzly weather didn’t deter me from seeing the old walled city briefly. As I left, I visited an abandoned water park which I had been told excitedly about by a motorbiker. I had a great time exploring this strange place trying to imagine what it was like before it closed.

The final day saw me conquering the Hai Van Pass, a breathtaking stretch of coastal road and mountain pass, before a few hours of riding through Da Nang led me to Hoi An.

Christmas Eve was spent enjoying the beauty of the town lit up by lanterns everywhere possible.

Christmas Day did not unfold as planned. The envisioned day in the sun on a beach never happened. Partly due to the weather and party due to the nearest beach being 5km away. I definitely didn’t feel very Christmasy and did miss a good Christmas feast but still had a good day relaxing at the hostel in great company.

Cao Bang to Hanoi

Leaving the small town of Cao Bang, my journey towards the coast would take me through winding roads and hidden gems. The hostel, more of a motorbike rental shop with attached rooms, was quiet with me getting an entire dorm to myself, reminiscent of my stay in Ha Giang.

The road to Thac Bang Gioc waterfalls took me past Angel Eye Mountain, offering a mesmerising viewpoint of a mountain with a hole in it. I wasn’t expecting much from it, just a quick detour off the route but it was inspiring and the photos taken in the drizzle don’t quite do it justice.

The route to the waterfall was a picturesque journey along quiet roads, leading to the impressive falls on the Chinese border. These are the 4th largest waterfalls on a international border and apparently even better in the rainy season.

Staying close to the China border, I encountered more serene roads winding around the hills that even traversed through a cave at one point.

With the coastal allure beckoning, I embarked on two big days riding mostly on the flat helped by a good draft behind one motorbike. On the 2nd day, it was a bit of a race to catch the final ferry to Cat Ba Island but I still managed to find time to share some beers with the locals.

At the ferry port, a chance encounter added charm to the journey as I met a cycling couple exploring Vietnam on folding bikes. The ferry ride itself proved to be a spectacle, weaving through the mesmerising islands of Ha Long Bay. The sheer number of islands was staggering, with almost all of them having no trace of humans ever stepping foot on them. This left me yearning for a kayak to explore this wilderness in.

Cat Ba Island, the largest of the islands in Ha Long Bay was mostly covered in lush forests, providing a perfect camping spot for that evening. The following day I took very easy, exploring the island and relaxing at the beach. I delved into a cave with a wartime hospital built into it, enjoyed a coffee while planning the next leg of my journey, and cycled it’s amazing costal road before spending another night camped on the island.

Despite its beauty, the island had its quirks, with many unfinished holiday resort building skeletons, reminiscent of those I sighted on Albania’s coast. It was also quite an expensive place, I think just because some shop keepers knew they could charge tourists more. This was confirmed to me when I was able to haggle down the cost of a packet of crisps. I took the direct ferry off the island, then a 130km ride led me to a hostel in Hanoi. This wasn’t a very scenic ride, mostly on duel carriageways but the bustling traffic made the time pass quickly as it forced me to stay attentive.

Taking a stroll through Hanoi, it took around three hours to see the sights. There wasn’t much to do in the city except enjoy the food and nightlife, with it being more of a hub from which travellers explore the north of the country from. The hostel I stayed at was over 7 floors with a nice rooftop terrace and an excellent free breakfast. I also treated myself to a few early Christmas presents, indulging in a new helmet, bike saddle, and headphones.

I had planned earlier this month to spend Christmas in Hanoi, but after making good progress through the north, now the goal is to reach Hoi An for Christmas. This may be too ambitious however, as I’ll need to average 130km a day for the next 8 days to make it. The challenge ahead excites me, as I’m not sure if it’ll be possible but the thought of spending Christmas on the beach will help spur me on.

Ha Giang Loop

Crossing the Laos-Vietnam border proved surprisingly smooth, and I was soon peddling towards Dien Bien Phu, a city etched with the scars of the First Indochina War. The A1 hill and its battlegrounds, alongside the monumental relics, offered a poignant glimpse into the historic conflict that led to France relinquishing its hold on Indochina. It was fascinating to be able to explore the scene of the battle, walking through the tunnels and trenches that cut into the hill.

I enjoyed a large lunch at an all you can eat restaurant, which I’d later go on to regret waking up that night with bad stomach cramps.

The following day became quite a struggle, as persistent stomach pain resulted in me not eating enough. After cycling through some beautiful landscapes, but not taking much of it in that afternoon I crashed in a hotel room allowed me a much-needed reprieve.

The following morning I was feeling better and continued north enjoying my first bowl of pho, despite some uncertainty about its contents.

Venturing over the O Qui Ho pass, famed as one of Southeast Asia’s most spectacular roads, I found myself enveloped in clouds, missing out on the promised scenic rewards. I passed through the town of Sa Pa not stopping as I just wanted to get out of the fog. The town has a cable car which takes you up to the highest peak in South East Asia something I’d considered doing however, dismissed the idea, reluctant to pay for a trip through the mist. The descent on the other side of the pass was a nerve-wracking ordeal. I had to remove my glasses as they would get covered in water droplets through the cloud and with the thick fog I had very little vision.

Emerging from the clouds was quite a relief, a perfectly paved toll road (which I dodged the barriers of) offered chance to enjoy the downhill stretch. Lao Cai greeted me and after a lunch stop, I searched for some much needed new brake pads. I managed to find a proper bike shop, not just somewhere selling kids bikes for the first time since Chiang Mai and secured two pairs remarkably costing less than £2.

The next couple days we’re spent cycling through farmland and small towns towards Ha Giang. This made finding somewhere to sleep quite a challenge, and each time I asked if I could camp on farmland I was refused. I think this may have been due to me communicating poorly as camping isn’t common in Vietnam. Each night I’d eventually find a spot, often in cutouts in the rock from which the roads had been built or one time on a football pitch. Furthermore, now I’m into December the days are noticeably shorter with it becoming dark at 17:30 reducing the amount of time I have to find somewhere.

I found a hostel in Ha Giang for £2 a night including breakfast and ended up having the entire dorm room to myself. There wasn’t much to explore in the town as it’s on the backpacking map for being the starting point for the infamous motorbike loop around the most northern part of Vietnam.

Embarking on the Ha Giang loop, I faced more mountain passes in the clouds on the first day however, I still could enjoy some spectacular views once out of the fog. Now into the mountains there were far more options for camping, and I spent the night in a quite forest clearing.

Finally, the cloud cover disappeared the next day revealing amazing landscapes of the valleys full of rice fields and tea plantations. After 6 grey days, I was beginning to really struggle and wonder how I ever made it through 22 British winters. The roads was incredible too, weaving up the valleys and cutting along the mountain sides. Despite the challenging cycling, I was loving it.

I found another good camp spot amidst the jungle and had a big climb the next morning up an inspiring mountain pass. The shape of the mountains rising up from the valley were so different to anything I’ve seen before.

At the top I was greeted to one of the best views I’ve ever seen. It was a huge panorama and looking down at how the river cut through the rock was mesmerizing. It was also one of the few places I’ve been where I could truly feel how high up I was, maybe because of the huge drop off the edge or the sight of the tiny boats on the river.

What followed was a fantastic descent navigating a thrilling road with a huge drop off the edge. I stopped on the way down to chat to Mark, an American cyclist going the other way. We chatted about how we felt we truly earnt the view and shared a laugh about the swarms of tourists on motorbikes being driven around the loop by locals. I then continued down the road leaving the loop and heading east following a river past some impressive dams.

The next two days were spent heading for Cao Bang on more mountain roads enjoying the sights of untouched landscapes and captivating sunsets.

I’ve had a great start to my journey through Vietnam. The roads have taken some getting used to and have felt the most unsafe of anywhere so far. The city traffic is chaeos with motorbike drivers always pulling out and turning in front of me, making me swerve or brake. Then the vans in the mountains will be driving far too quick round the winding roads sounding their horn into the bends, taking up the entire road and expecting me to get out their way.

I’ve really enjoyed the food and the great Vietnamese snack offerings. From very cheap packets of crisps usually prawn flavour to deep-fried bread and Mung bean pastrys: a scone like snack full of a marzipan textured filling.

Now, my journey continues east through the northern landscapes, as I pedal toward the enticing coastline. Then, after 2 months of traveling north east, I’ll actually be heading towards Australia again.

East Laos

Leaving Vang Vieng, I decided to chart the direct course towards Phonsavan, opting for small roads. The journey, however, became an unexpected dance with trucks thundering up and down this unpaved track. The night unfolded with a fantastic camping spot overlooking the valley, but the trucks continued through the night waking me up a few times.

In the morning, a picturesque mist veiled the valley, a sight that would become a recurring view in Laos. Despite the breathtaking spectacle, cycling through the mist proved tricky with limited visibility and poorly maintained roads.

Persisting along the same road, I encountered deep mud roads for the first time on my trip. I was able to walk through it, but some of the trucks were stuck, their drivers seemingly nonchalant as they awaited rescue. In one instance, a generous driver shared food and water with me, finding me cycling this road quite entertaining (or at least more interesting that just waiting) .

Next, the road turned from mud to dust, throwing up a cloud of dust anytime a vehicle would pass. A local on a motorbike stopped to give me a face mask to wear however, both me and my bike still became caked in a layer of dust.

As evening fell, I was called over by some guys at a roadside bar and offered a BeerLao. This led to a shared meal of sticky rice and BBQ beef. One of them spoke enough English for us to communicate and explained they were miners, the trucks were coming from the mine and I could stay in their accommodation. After a short walk back to the accommodation we were stopped by security at the gate who said I couldn’t stay. Fortunately, the security guards offered for me to camp with them and I shared another meal then set my tent up in their shelter complete with electricity!

With improved roads, the next day marked smoother progress. Cycling through Long Chien, a village with a history as a former secret CIA airbase, added a layer of intrigue to the journey. What was at one point the second largest city in Laos, was now just another town but with a runway through the middle of it.

Reaching Phonsavan, I visited the enigmatic Plain of Jars, a UNESCO World Heritage site shrouded in mystery and wartime scars. It was a fascinating place featuring thousands of stone jars dating back to the Megalithic period and has stumped archaeologists as to why they were made. The site was heavily bombed during the Laos civil war as it was an area of strategic importance due to it being the highest hill around. This added to the sight as the bomb creators remain as a reminder to this event.

The journey continued on busier roads through towns adorned with communist flags something I hadn’t seen so far in Laos dispite it being a communist country. I quickly realised why they were so prominent here when I arrived at the Tham Piew cave. On 24th November 1968, 374 civilians were sheltering in the cave when the US launched a rocket at the cave killing everyone. It is a tragic story and was interesting how at the associated museum all the exhibits very explicitly blamed the US. I was there just 2 days before the anniversary, so there was a festival in action making me feel very out of place.

The final stretch in Laos unfolded along the C1 road, offering captivating campsites on hilltops, abandoned roads and by rivers. Each tiny village brought its unique charm, often with friendly children waving enthusiastically. In one, I was offered beer at 11am and still having the student mindset didn’t want to turn down a free drink!

Nong Khiaw, a town nestled by the river amid mountains, marked the final town I’d spend a night of the Laotian leg. A bed at a riverside hostel, complete with a breakfast buffet, offered a serene pause in my journey. I made sure to take advantage of the breakfast, eating as much egg fried rice as could before the road beckoned.

The last few days in Laos were spent on a main but quiet road heading for Vietnam. Just before the border, I met a Dutch couple who had just crossed from Vietnam. We exchanged advice and phone sim cards before parting ways.

Reflecting on Laos, I found it to be one of the most affordable and welcoming places on my journey. The food had been good in Laos too. It was very similar to Thailand, but with a few things remaining from when it was a French colony. These consisted of bread, doughnuts or other sweet baked goods, and cafes. Despite some poor roads and very assertive trucks especially on the mountain road hairpins, the warmth of the people and the richness of the landscape made every pedal stroke enjoyable.

West Laos

Crossing into Laos proved more challenging than expected. After leaving Thailand, I couldn’t cycle over the Thai-Lao Friendship Bridge No.4 and had to pay for a bus, a short 5-minute journey that involved a 30-minute wait for enough people to fill the bus up. At Laos passport control, despite completing the online forms for the eVisa and paying the fee, I had to fill in a similar form again. The official didn’t bother reading it, and it was pretty illegible anyway due to my poor handwriting from not touching a pen in 4 months. After stamping my passport and adding the visa, he then attempted to charge $1 for the stamp. I’d heard reports that the border officials often try to get extra money from tourists and it’s almost become a game for all the cyclists to kick up a fuss and dodge paying despite it being such a small amount. Therefore, I pretended I didn’t understand and upon reaching for my passport, he handed it over. Then after it got checked again, I entered Laos.

In the first town, I withdrew money from the bank and tried to get a SIM card. For £4, I could get 30GB of data, but the process was very prolonged. The shop assistent had to record all my passport details and was understandably struggling to use the QWERTY keyboard as he wasn’t used to the Latin alphabet. He also seemed very confused that my country was United Kingdom dispite me having a British passport.

Finally, I got moving again and my first destination in Laos was Luang Prabang. I decided to take the mountainous route over the longer main road to get there. Passing through farmland on the first night, I asked some farmers if I could camp in their shelter. They agreed, but it felt like they just wanted to get rid of me and resume their dinner. That night, I witnessed a stunning sunset and was grateful for the shelter during a huge lightning storm.

The next day took me deeper into the mountains, where the road started to deteriorate. In each village a crowd would gather whenever I stopped, with both children and adults staring curiously at me. This felt very strange as they wouldn’t say anything or acknowledge me but just stare. Laos has felt less developed than Thailand, marked by many houses in the villages not having electricity or water. Chickens, pigs and occasionally even Turkeys are often roaming freely in villages getting fattened up on scraps of food.

After crossing the Mekong River, I joined the new 4B road to Luang Prabang, a challenging but rewarding route through the mountains. This was one of the best roads of the trip so far being almost empty, fantastic tarmac and weaving through some amazing mountains.

I crossed into Luang Prabang by ferry and treated myself to a hostel with a pool spending two nights there relaxing. The town had a fantastic night market where you could get almost any meal all for around £1.50 and one evening I went bowling, a tradition among backpackers due to it being the only place in town open late.

After managing to snap my pannier rack the previous day, I also ventured out to find somewhere to get it repaired. It was currently held together with some string, but I hoped to find somewhere to get it welded back together. This was surprising easy as there were plenty of motorbike repair shops and I quickly got it done for £2.

Leaving Luang Prabang, I visited the Kuang Si waterfalls after meeting people from the hostel on the way there. This was a spectacular sight, and great that it was possible to swim in all the pools.

Continuing on a dirt road alongside the Mekong, I encountered a deep ford across a stream. Fortunately, there was a man with a bamboo raft who’s job was to help ferry bikes across. This was a very funny experience, but I’m sure he overcharged me for the crossing!

I was now heading toward Vang Vieng and had a beautiful cool night camped atop a huge hill. This has been quite the contrast from Pamir, where I’d sought lower altitudes for warmth. All that remained was descending down the mountain to arrive at the town.

Vang Vieng is a notorious party town on the south east Asia backpacker loop, however has calmed down considerably in the last 10 years after at least 27 tourists died there in 2011. Once there, I stayed in a £2-a-night hostel that had barely finished being built. Despite this, it had a great atmosphere and suited my needs. I enjoyed a rest day and spent my time with me exploring caves, swimming in lagoons, and trying the local beer: BeerLao. This beer is a nice larger and made from local rice grain.

Laos has been great fun to travel so far and I’ve really enjoyed the contrast in south east Asia of the cycling alone through the countryside for a week followed by a stay in a busy hostel. The next step of my trip will take me north east towards the Vietnam border, and I look forward what more this country has to offer.