Underwhelming Cát Bà

We eventually made it to Cát Bà because we hadn’t quite grasped how much of a mission it was to get there. We flew from Đà Nẵng to Hải Phòng (the closest airport to the island), then caught a taxi and a ferry before finally setting foot on solid ground. At this point, I was coming down with a truly awful cold, and Pat was being a saint.

We were only in Cát Bà for three nights, and honestly, we didn’t do much. We hired a scooter to explore parts of the island and hiked up Núi Ngự Lâm Peak, a short but brutal 3 km trail that’s basically 2 km of vertical rock stairs. Whoever said it was “moderate” definitely lied. I’m not even sure the view was worth it. We stayed in Cát Hải, right in the centre of Cát Bà Town around the lake, which unfortunately had a rather distinct sewerage smell. I spent two days in bed trying to recover while Pat explored some nearby beaches. We had booked a boat tour, which didn’t eventuate because I couldn’t physically move. All in all, we wouldn’t really recommend Cát Bà if you’re unwell or if you’ve already been to Hạ Long Bay. It’s the same, but with slightly fewer tourists and a lot harder to get to. Apologies to the Cát Bà fanatics.

Hanoi

One of the best weeks of our lives started in Hanoi. Returning to Vietnam’s former capital reminded us exactly why it had been one of our favourite places last time. We spent two nights there before heading off on a week-long expedition through Hà Giang and Sa Pa. But first, coffee and chaos.

We kicked things off on our first afternoon in Hanoi at The Note Café, a four-storey neon wonder filled top to bottom with colourful sticky notes covering the walls, ceilings, tables, and chairs. Each note reflects a random quote, love letter, inside joke, or doodle from travellers around the world. We left our own messages among millions of others and even spotted a note that some of our besties, Nick and G, had left for us the year before. Our evening was interrupted by the irresistible pull of our bed in our private room at Hanoi Buffalo Hostel. After a romantic detour via the chemist for lozenges and paracetamol, we were out cold.

The next morning: iconic egg coffee at the legendary Café Giảng, the place where the drink was invented back in 1946 when there was a shortage of fresh milk. It’s creamy, rich, and honestly deserves its own Michelin star. Sitting on those tiny stools, surrounded by sepia-toned family photos and traditional art, felt like stepping back in time. For brunch, we tried bánh cuốn for the first time, a northern Vietnamese breakfast dish made from thin steamed rice rolls stuffed with minced pork and mushrooms, topped with crispy shallots and served with a tangy dipping sauce. I loved it. It wasn’t Pat’s favourite. You can’t please ‘em all.

We spent the rest of the day wandering Hanoi’s old streets, particularly Hàng Bạc and Hàng Gai, hunting for a puffer jacket for our upcoming mountain adventure. It needed to be warm, waterproof, and pink, which was apparently an impossible combination.

Dinner was bún chả at Bún Chả Ta, one of Hanoi’s Michelin Guide restaurants. Imagine grilled pork served in a bowl of sweet-savory broth with rice noodles and herbs. It’s messy, smoky, and absolutely delicious, especially when washed down with a cold Bia Hà Nội.

Somewhere in between all the eating, I decided to make a bold life choice: getting my hair done in Hanoi. My ends were fried, and my colour had drifted into copper-orange. I asked for chocolate brown. I walked out with jet black. So, I guess this marks the start of my Gothic Era 2.0.

On our last night, we reunited with some friends from Scotland we’d met back on the Cát Bà hike. A few “quiet” cocktails near Hồ Hoàn Kiếm turned into a few too many, which naturally ended in a late-night karaoke session, because it’s not a real night out in Hanoi until you’ve screamed Khe Sanh into a microphone.

The Ha Giang Loop

The next morning, we woke up with sore heads and sad stomachs, which are not ideal conditions for a seven-hour sleeper bus to Ha Giang. We spent our first night at Buffalo Hostel Homestay in Ha Giang City before setting off on our three-day, two-night motorbiking expedition around the famous Ha Giang Loop (more on that later).

On arrival at the homestay, we met the beautiful Caroline from Denmark, and the legendary Adam and Harry from Northern Ireland. Our newly formed gang tucked into a team dinner at the homestay, a delicious spread of steamed rice, sautéed veggies, stir-fry, scrambled eggs, and of course, “happy water.” We played cards as the night withered away and crashed in our shared dorm for one last solid sleep before the chaos began.

The Ha Giang Loop, in a nutshell, is a multi-day tour around the countryside of Northern Vietnam on the back of a motorbike, driven by your left-hand man and your saintly protector: your easy rider. Easy riders are local Vietnamese (usually men) who spend days navigating hairpin bends, mountain passes, and sheer cliff edges with tourists clinging on behind them, and somehow do it all with a smile.

Day One 

The next morning, the homestay was filled with newcomers who had just stumbled off the overnight bus to join the tour. Safe to say, Caroline, Harry, Adam, Pat and I were smugly satisfied with our decision to travel by day and actually get some sleep. The morning was spent swapping names and “where are you froms” before being split into smaller biking groups. Sadly, we had to say goodbye to Caroline, who joined the four-day tour (though we bumped into her at every homestay anyway). The silver lining was that we were stuck with Adam and Harry for the next three days, and we wouldn’t have had it any other way.

Then came the moment of truth: meeting our easy riders, the people we would quite literally be straddling for three days straight. I was nervous. Pat was introduced to a very kind, enthusiastic, super tall Vietnamese local named Huy, who Pat describes as “a great guy”. I was introduced to Pó, a quiet, kindhearted 18-year-old local who immediately won me over. Pó helped me on and off the bike every time, fastened and unfastened my helmet, made sure I had water, and checked I was okay at every single stop (of which there were many). My nerves didn’t last long; Pó is one the most gentle souls I have ever met. Naturally, we grew closer to our easy riders as the days went on, though our conversations were limited to the essentials: the few Vietnamese and English phrases we both knew, and Google Translate. Eventually, the most common phrase between us all became “đi thôi,” meaning “let’s go.”

We kicked off from Ha Giang City and wound our way up into the Đồng Văn Karst Plateau, basically nature’s way of saying “hope you’re not scared of heights.” After a coffee break at Heaven’s Gate (where the views truly live up to the name), we stopped to admire the Twin Mountains of Quản Bạ before heading to Tam Sơn for a well-earned team lunch.

The afternoon was all about caves, crafts, and cardio. We hiked up a steep hill to Lùng Khúy Cave, which offered breathtaking views of rice fields and mountains, watched the local Hmong people weave linen at Lùng Tám village, and huffed up yet another hill for sweeping views at Bát Đại Sơn. By the time we reached our Cán Tỷ homestay, we’d earned our dinner, karaoke session (featuring Down Under, of course), and several rounds of “happy water.”

For the uninitiated, happy water is Vietnamese corn or rice wine, made from locally grown ingredients and distilled using traditional methods. It sits at about 45% alcohol and is served with a smile, accompanied by the chant “một, hai, ba, dzô!” which translates to “one, two, three, cheers!” Although it tastes a bit like watered-down vodka, happy water is the epitome of Vietnamese hospitality, connection, and celebration.

Day Two

Fueled by rice and caffeine, we hit the road early to tackle Thẩm Mã Pass, one of Vietnam’s most scenic (and nerve-wracking) roads. We stopped by the Hmong King’s Palace to soak in a bit of history, namely, how the Hmong minority learned to cultivate poppies for opium production and trade in exchange for silver. For context, the Hmong are an indigenous ethnic group from southern China, with significant populations in Southeast Asia, including Vietnam, after being forced to migrate due to various reasons, including persecution and war. It was interesting exploring their way of life, which is distinct to that of the Vietnamese, having different language, culture, and history.

Post-history lesson, we were totally spoiled by our easy riders, who gifted us matching bracelets to commemorate our time together and even a bouquet of flowers they had bought on Pat’s behalf for me. How romantic! On our way to lunch, we paused at the northernmost point of Vietnam for views stretching all the way to China. Pretty cool!

After lunch, we began a steep and rocky descent to the river, where our easy riders faced the delicate task of navigating terrain that looked more like a landslide than a road. I don’t think my quads have ever worked so hard from clenching in pure anticipation of falling off the bike. Once we finally reached the bottom, we hopped on a boat and cruised down the Nho Quế River through the very impressive Tu Sản Canyon, surrounded by towering limestone cliffs and emerald-green water. We pulled into Mèo Vạc for the night, ready for another homestay feast and, of course, a few more rounds of happy water.

Day Three

Our final stretch took us past local Hmong villages, steep mountain passes, and those signature “M-shaped” bends you’ve probably seen on postcards. Between the misty peaks, stone houses, and smiling local kids carrying baskets twice their size, it felt like driving through a painting. I will admit, though, we saw some things on the Ha Giang Loop that made me seriously consider going vegetarian. I know, I know, it’s the circle of life, but my ignorance was bliss. Either way, exploring the local villages was an eye-opener as much as it was a reality check, and we left having a newfound appreciation for the way the Hmong people live, while equally feeling so grateful for where we come from.

After a last lunch in the mountains, we bade farewell to the four-dayers and cruised back through the province with our asses aching beyond explanation. We arrived safely back in Ha Giang City, muddy, windswept, slightly bruised, and very, very content. Saying goodbye to Pó was super emotional, and so was parting from Harry and Adam, though we’re planning a reunion in Edinburgh later this year!

I have always said that the Ha Giang Loop is something I wish I could experience again for the first time. Pat agrees with me. It was the mix of culture, seeing new things, meeting friends, and feeling so completely alive and present in the moment. Every twist of the road, every misty mountain view, and every smile from the local villagers added to an experience that was as thrilling as it was humbling. The Ha Giang Loop doesn’t just show you Northern Vietnam, it definitely makes you feel it. We would recommend this experience a million times to anyone. It’s hard to beat.

Slippery Sa Pa

As if the Ha Giang Loop hadn’t already pushed us enough, it was time for a three-day, two-night trek through Sa Pa. Northern Vietnam isn’t exactly a hop, skip, and jump away, so it made sense to “hit two targets with one arrow.” That said, between sore muscles, torrential rain, and temperatures barely hitting 10°C, we cut the trek short to two days, one night. After a marathon journey from Ha Giang (bus, bus, bus, then sleeper bus), we finally rolled into a hostel at midnight, crammed into a shared dorm with 12 already-sleeping strangers, knowing we had an early wake-up to start trekking. Oh, and we hadn’t washed clothes for three days, our big luggage was back in Hanoi, and I was in sneakers rather than proper hiking shoes. Pat is always so much better at dealing with these types of things! lol

We kicked off trekking from Sa Pa into Mường Hoa Valley, where terraced rice paddies stretched like slippery green staircases down the mountains. We wandered through minority villages, met Black Hmong tribes, and crossed a suspension bridge to Zay Village where we had a hearty lunch served by the locals. When I say “we wandered”, I mean we clutched the arms of locals offering to help us through the terrain, because if it were up to us, we would have slid on our asses for 13km. I have never felt so out of my depth and so humbled in my life. We continued trekking through the damp and muddy terrain, and after many, many hours, we were so thankful for our private room in the homestay. We were cold and wet, soaked to the bone, and the last thing we felt like doing was socialising with the group. But sometimes you don’t get the luxury to choose when on an adventure… Dinner that evening was fresh and delicious with a side of happy water served by our generous Zay hosts.

Our last day started with sunrise coffee and a hearty breakfast, before trekking through bamboo forests to Giàng Tà Chải waterfall. Again, trekking meant holding on to two small local girls, six and eight respectively, because we simply couldn’t walk without slipping. While the girls were half Pat’s size, they were a true gift of strength. Luckily, we had enough cash on us to keep tipping the locals for their help. I don’t even want to imagine what would’ve happened if we hadn’t stocked up on our Vietnamese Dong. By the afternoon, we hopped on the bus back to Sa Pa town, freshened up with a much-needed shower, and caught our evening bus back to Hanoi, arriving just before midnight. We were sore, exhausted, hungry, and very relieved to be back in Hanoi. So, we snuggled into bed with take-away Maccas, and slept in very late the next morning (noting that our clothes may need to be run through the washing machine more than once the next day). 

Next stop: Laos.