The FINAL leg....

The last 10km of road in Cambodia to the border with Vietnam was terrible. It was unsealed, bumpy, potholey, hot and dusty, a taste of what all Cambodian roads were probably like 5-10 years ago. It was hard going on the bikes and our heads. At the end, in a dirty, dusty, non descript Cambodian border town, we had a meal that came out of the kitchen with a halo of deliciousness steaming from atop of a pile of stir fried vegetables. The best meal I had had in Cambodia served with steamed rice and a smile. A half an hour later we were through immigration and in Vietnam.

It got a whole lot worse than this

Our ride from theborder into Ho Chi Minh was not quite the Mekong Delta dreaming I had hoped for. The roads from town to town, whilst following the mighty river, were very busy and a far cry from the much quieter countryside roads of Cambodia. The towns were not quaint villages, they were more like small cities with concrete for miles and miles, noisy traffic and many people. And as Kit was really unwell with food poisoning, it became very important to get to our destination before the afternoon heat descended, so we were riding fast.

As we were making good time, we decided to go across to Phu Quoc Island for a few days of lazing about on beaches touted as a 'tropical island paradise'. Unfortunately for us, it literally rained from the minute we cycled the 15km from the ferry into the main town until the minute we strapped our two bicycles to the back of a scooter and made a mad dash to get the ferry back to the mainland. And when I say rain.....I mean rain like it was the wet season in Vietnam and we were on an island 2 hours off the mainland.

Sometimes you gotta have a little faith

From here we went to Can Tho. A great little riverside city where Travel Rule #1 was broken : Be wary of those that speak good English. Needless to say my error of judgement (I blame the long ride and the heat) resulted in another dismal attempt at an island experience, Vin Long Island. Whilst there was no rain this time, there was a pre-paid homestay that comprised of a wall less bamboo hut on stilts above a mosquito infested pond, with beds of canvas stretched over a bamboo frame. Hardly ideal sleeping conditions for someone still trying to regain energy after being ill. So we stayed for lunch. Jumped back on the bikes and made yet another mad dash to catch the last ferry in an attempt to reach My Tho by nightfall.

Our last photo on the road

Once over the river we began riding quickly as we were still quite a way off from our preferred destination. As we crossed the bridge leading into a town, before us was a beautiful rainbow. The rainbow was perfectly timed and we could see it from end to end. It felt symbolic, like a finishing line. And it was here as the late afternoon sun was beginning its descent that we got off the bikes and hitched a bus the remaining 20 or so kms into My Tho. This was to be our last day riding and whilst we were happy to have completed the journey we were also a little sad that it was ending.

Our finishing line

In Ho Chi Minh we lived it up like any other backpacker. We shopped in the markets, wrote postcards, ate Western food (we felt entitled to it after so many days only eating steamed rice and soya sauce), bought metres of fabric with dreams of sewing summer skirts and dresses, mingled with other foreigners, drank happy hour cocktails and felt sorry for all the poor mugs who were lugging around giant, over stuffed backpacks whilst thumbing through their Lonely Planet guidebooks looking for cheap hotels.

I know, I know....but I was so hungry for
something other than noodles

But amongst all that tourist normalcy, we still could not resist taking the bikes out to cruise the manic streets of Ho Chi Minh. More crush than cruise, it was totally insane and completely exhilarating. Whatever crazy roads we had been on throughout the rest of the trip were nothing compared to Ho Chi Minh. All the same rules (or lack thereof) apply, yet the intensity and number of vehicles multiplied by at least 10x. Crossing the roads on foot in that city gets the heart pumping so you can imagine how much the adrenaline kicked in trying to bicycle around a four lane round-about ...no such thing as slowing down and giving way to your right in this city. Still Kit believes that she felt safer on those roads than she does at times in Melbourne, as even though it seems like complete chaos it does all somehow work and there exists much greater bicycle awareness and far less aggression. Go figure.

This power pole not disimiliar to the chaos
on the streets of Ho Chi Minh

So after our venture out and survival on the mad streets of Ho Chi Minh we packed the bikes up ready for our journey back to Melbourne. Kit flew home four days before me and I headed further up north to see some countryside and the beach.

Boxes for our bikes cut to size