From Passes to Plateaus – Riding South Through Vietnam
- Reese Highbloom
- Oct 24
- 5 min read
When we left off, I was on the night bus from Phong Nha to Huế — still caked in cave mud, but looking forward to something new. We rolled into the city around 10 p.m., got dropped off at a gas station, and piled into a shuttle for the final stretch. After saying goodbye to a few friends from the cave expedition, Chris and I checked into our hostel and were upgraded to a private room — a small luxury that felt like a five-star suite. I slipped into the complimentary slides, admired the pool sitting square in the middle of the lobby, and we set off in search of food.
A short walk later, we found a family-run spot offering free spring rolls with dinner and tucked into clay pot chicken. Huế felt different immediately — calmer, cooler, more lived-in than Hanoi or Da Nang. The next morning, I woke early to finish writing last week’s blog before we checked out of our private room. Our host greeted us warmly and handed over a moped. We zipped off through the city to explore its layers of history, color, and chaos.
Our first stop: a market stall serving bún bò Huế, the spicy beef noodle soup made famous by Bourdain’s episode here. We slurped noodles beside locals and an American traveler, then got lost weaving through tight aisles where stalls spilled into the streets. From there, we rode to the abandoned water park — a surreal relic with a dragon-shaped tower and rusted slides now claimed by nature. Later, a thunderstorm forced us back indoors, and we watched rain lash the lobby for hours before heading out for burgers and a casual night of pool.
The Hải Vân Pass
The next morning, we walked across the city to a rental shop where we picked up two brand-new 190cc motorbikes — my first time on a manual. It was a rocky start, but after a few stalls and laughs, I got the hang of it. We left our bags to be shipped south and hit the coastal road under bright blue skies.
The ride south was unforgettable. We sped through fishing villages, mangroves, and rice fields, with the smell of salt and diesel mixing in the air. Locals stared and waved as we passed. We swam in a freshwater stream hidden in the hills, climbed waterfalls, and sat quietly in the shade with no sound but the wind.
Then came the highlight: the Hải Vân Pass. Hairpin turns, ocean on one side, jungle on the other, and enough power in the bike to feel the road under every gear shift. It was easily one of the best rides of my life. At the top, we stopped for views and ice cream before deciding to push further — climbing Monkey Mountain just in time for sunset. Watching Da Nang glow beneath the orange sky was surreal.
Descending in the dark, we dodged potholes and a few real monkeys before the rain came. We rolled into the city soaked but smiling, dropped the bikes off, and found sushi for dinner. Over tired laughter, Chris and I agreed — this was the best day of the trip.
Days by the Sea
We decided to stay another night in Da Nang. I started my day with a walk on the beach, waves soft against the sand, and treated myself to a long massage and head scrub — a world apart from the bone-cracking Thai ones. Later, I read by the beach club with a cold beer until Chris picked me up to meet Val and Lee. That night we entered a pool tournament (which Lee and I somehow won) and ended up at an open mic bar, where I sang a few songs with the house band. The crowd was kind, the moment electric.
The next few days blurred into a rhythm of beach swims, pool games, and late-night sushi runs. We visited the Dragon Bridge, wandered along the river, and watched it breathe fire into the night sky. Da Nang was easy to love, not as intense as Hanoi, but balanced somewhere in between.
Tailored in Hội An
After one last beach morning, we shared a taxi with Lee down the coast to Hội An, checking into Fuze Beachside Hostel. The plan: suits. Chris and I wanted to get tailor-made suits to send home, and after a few overpriced shops, we found a local tailor who worked with us to pick the fabrics, liners, and fits. I could almost hear my mom saying, “Make sure the shoulders fit right.”
Hội An’s old town was glowing that night — paper lanterns reflecting off the river, music from every café, and the smell of grilled pork skewers in the air. We tried one street vendor’s specialty: thin rice paper rolls with pork, lettuce, cucumber, noodles, and peanut sauce. It instantly became one of my favorite meals in Asia.
Back at the hostel, the night rolled on with free beers, pool, and bus rides into town. I caught up with Hadas, an Israeli friend from the cave trip, and spent the evening exploring the lantern-lit streets and sharing stories about travel, faith, and the strange comfort of faraway places.
The next day was quieter — suit fittings, beach walks, and coffee shops. As Hadas prepared to fly home, I reflected on how quickly people come and go on the road. In one city, you’re strangers; in the next, old friends.
Highlands and Happiness – Đà Lạt
After a long night bus ride, we arrived in Đà Lạt — the mountain city of flowers and fog. Our hostel host, Noc, welcomed us at 8 a.m. After breakfast and coffee, we set off on a full-day road trip.
We visited a coffee plantation famous for its civet (weasel) poop coffee, a cricket farm and rice wine distillery, and a giant Lady Buddha overlooking a waterfall. We stopped for lunch, toured a silk factory, visited a petting zoo, and finally reached Đà Lạt Mario Kart — gravity carts racing downhill through pine trees. It was chaos, pure joy, and somehow no one crashed.
That evening, we joined a family-style dinner, met two Canadian travelers, and all headed to Maze Bar, a five-story labyrinth of tunnels, stairs, and hidden bars. It was wild, confusing, and wonderful.
The next day brought more adventures — the Crazy House, boba tea, bowling, billiards, and rain-soaked scooter rides. By nightfall, we were back at Maze Bar’s beer garden and later wandered through the night market for snacks and laughter.
Winding Down
By Friday, it was time to move again. We spent the morning with Val, who had caught up to us, visiting a café where you could drive RC construction vehicles while sipping coffee — the kind of bizarre creativity Vietnam does best. The day slowed after that: some fried rice, a nap, and quiet time before our night bus south.
Now, as I write this from the road to Ho Chi Minh City, the hum of the highway and the rhythm of travel feel familiar again. From mountains to markets, caves to coastlines, Vietnam continues to surprise me — not just with its beauty, but with its balance of chaos and calm, noise and stillness.
