“It looks kind of like the Boundary waters”, Chet declared as we both rode up one of many rolling hills.“Yeah, but without the black flies”, I replied.
“I’m not sure if I’d rather have the flies or this heat” Chet replied.
I didn’t have answer at the time and after two days of searing Vietnamese heat I still don’t. But we were both on to something. The rolling foothills, just east of the Trong Son Mountains, sure do have a Minnesota quality about them.
I was peddling, uphill, through a rubber plantation, with high voltage power lines overhead when I first had this realization. There was something about the smell of the trees’ sap, the rubber, which transformed me back to the St. Croix River. I took it in and remembered picnics on the beach.
For most of the last days there hasn’t been too much remarkable. Our path is jammed-packed with rolling hills. We trudge along. We’re in Hue now, resting before the three hardest days of the ride. All three in a row. Though, it’s said that every silver lining has it’s grey cloud, so depending on where you fall on the masochistic scale, we’re going to one of the most beautiful places in Vietnam. Look for pictures in the next couple of days.
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