A Motorbike Adventure into the Heart of Mountainous Northern Vietnam.

Vietnam, somewhere north of Nghïa Lô. I had been rising up into the mountains for hours. The air gradually became thinner, clearer, colder. I didn’t really know what lay before me — only that, according to Google Maps, it would eventually lead me to the mountain town of Sapa.

A few hours in, however, the road began to gently weave through sleeping stilt villages dozing at the riverside, and through beautiful green valleys of geometrically layered rice terraces.

I knew I was off the beaten track.

Locals stared at me with a vividly passionate intrigue as and the kids shouted and waved excitedly as I rode past.

Far away from the hustle and buzz of Hanoi, here there was just the meandering crystal clear river, the fresh cool air, the cascading natural beauty, and the warm smiles of generations of peaceful little hamlet farmers.

The next day, as I was calmly bumbling through a small hamlet in the late afternoon sun, my bike began to spit aggressively. By now I knew what that sound meant, so I scanned down the road and to my luck I saw a young mechanic — spanner in hand — smiling at me.

Over the next hour or so, as the mechanic went to work, I sat on a wooden bench next to this old Hmong woman — in silence. I spotted a large, old machete, and picked it up — signalling my amazement at its size to her. She responded with a warm chuckle and a little smile.

Just as the mechanic fired up the engine and revved it very loudly, (just to make sure it’s working), his brother returned home and greeted me with genuine excitement.

He ushered me to sit back down and brought an ancient looking clay jug filled with tea.

Needless to say I didn’t leave so soon.

But I did summon the courage to kneel down infront of this silent elder and ask permission to take her photograph.

As usual I tipped the mechanic a little extra, waved goodbye, and set off into the sunset with a smile of my face.

Axle.