“He can’t go anywhere without that bloody footy jumper!”

Earlier that day, I wore the sleeveless jumper because the winds from the sea had become cool.  A little further on it began raining and when I saw a shop in the middle of nowhere, I decided to stop for lunch.  The lady in the shop kindly allowed me to change in her kitchen, so I pulled off my wet jumper and shirt and put on the raincoat.  Unfortunately, I left the jumper behind.

But it wasn’t until the next morning, when I was packing to leave Dong Ha, that I came to the heart stopping conclusion I had lost it.  Frantically I went out into the town, trying to find a motorbike for hire - you could hire the damn things everywhere, but not here in Dong Ha.  I think I condemned this town to purgatory on many occasions.  What could I do?  Somewhere, about 50 km back, I hoped my jumper would be safe, but there was no way I would cycle back to get it. I decided to charge ahead for the next 70km into Hue and hire a motorbike, hoping like hell I could ride back 120km before daylight finished.

I’ll transcribe the events straight from my diary:

“At 15:30 I hired a motorbike in Hue to take me to my beloved football jumper…I had no idea if I could find the place (made more difficult by the fact I would probably get there in the dark), if it (the jumper) would be there, if they would have given it away or sold it, if I would have to bribe them, if the bike would get there (100cc, well used, bad roads, no oil when hired) or even if I could get back.  All I knew was I’d have to try.  As it turned out everything augured well for a great experience.  240km, eight and a half hours, four stops (two for fuel, one for tea and my jumper, and one for a quiet time…and I was a happy man).

“Of course I found the place OK, with about 10 minutes of any light left at all, and my jumper was not only there, it was washed and waiting for me.”

When I saw that old lady come out to greet me, as if she had known me forever, I knew I would always remember that moment.  I am only sorry I didn’t accept the kind offer to stay with her, her husband and three beautiful daughters.   I had to get back to my booked hotel room.  I bade my farewells.  My nail biting night was about to begin.

Whoever wants a pure adrenaline rush for about three hours should hire a small, crappy motorbike and ride it 120km at night with a practically non-existent headlight (one shining straight up to the sky), on unlit, country roads in South East Asia.  The combination of fear, exhilaration and expectation was almost lethal.  I knew the road was bad, that I had tyres which could fit neatly into the common potholes, and that a huge “BANG” was imminent.  I could only see things at the last moment with my pathetic, ill-directed light, and with about 30kms to go to Hue, my light blew out!  Luckily, when I switched to low beam I had another filament.

These conditions made the road a good trigger for myocardial infarction.  Dogs that barked at my heels the instant I saw them, bike riders with no lights (definitely the “norm”), walkers, insects and potholes all came upon me with virtually no notice, often while I was travelling at 40km/h!  Add this to the impossibly inadequate milestones and things became just a little too crazy.  Of the forty or so milestones I passed on the way, most had distances to some irrelevant places 600km away, 1200km away, 732km away, 1896km away (I kid you not!).  Rarely was there a milepost for the next major or minor town.  When they were of a sane distance, the sequences were often wrong.  One sequence to Dong Ha went something like 50, 48, 57, 46, 45, 54, 40…. Go figure!!  And I went to all this difficulty just for a footy jumper!