In 2008 I was invited to participate in RacingthePlanet's 4 Deserts Beyond: Vietnam race as a volunteer. It was one of many "adventures of a lifetime" that I have experienced as a result of Mary Gadams' incredible vision and hard work in creating and sustaining Racing the Planet.
I arrived in Hanoi a few days before the race to be of whatever assistance I could with pre-race logistics. One of those activities involved going to the airport with Mary and Eric Marxmiller to claim the cargo that had been air-freighted in for the race. It was a classic case of hurry-up and wait, over and over again. Our local "expediter", who did all the translating and negotiating (and, perhaps, bribing) was finally able to obtain the proper permits, etc. All the gear was loaded on our trucks and off we went.
I arrived in Hanoi a few days before the race to be of whatever assistance I could with pre-race logistics. One of those activities involved going to the airport with Mary and Eric Marxmiller to claim the cargo that had been air-freighted in for the race. It was a classic case of hurry-up and wait, over and over again. Our local "expediter", who did all the translating and negotiating (and, perhaps, bribing) was finally able to obtain the proper permits, etc. All the gear was loaded on our trucks and off we went.
I found out that night that I would be part of an "advance team" that would be leaving Hanoi a day early (Friday) to take all the camp equipment on the overnight train to Lao Cai so that Camp One could be set up well in advance. Everyone else would be leaving on the overnight train Saturday. Eric, Don Kelliher (one of most interesting people I have ever met) and I were the advance team. We would meet our local guides in Lao Cai.
I loved the train trip to Lao Cai. We had plenty of snacks, more than plent of malt-based adult beverages and all night to tell stories. And so we did.
We arrived in Lao Cai very eary, before sunrise. It was dark, cold and wet. We had all of our stuff onloaded and stacked as we waited for our local guide and crew to arrive. Fortunately, one small coffee shop just across the square was open. We got a table, ordered coffee (Vietnamese coffee will spoil you rotten) and some pastries. After a bit, our local guide arrived. He advised that the local crew and trucks would not arrive for an hour or so. That gave us time to do a bit of sight-seeing. Our guide took us up the road just a few miles to the Vietnam/China border (defined by a river at that point). There was a huge bridge across the river, with a huge border security building on the Chinese side.When we arrived back at the train station the local crew and trucks had arrived. They got to work loading everything on the trucks. It was at that point that I learned that was going to be the lone "advance team" that would accompany the locals to our the site of Camp One at a small village in even farther north Vietnam called Si Ma Cai. So, off we went. Two large trucks, two jeeps, about a dozen local crew member, one bi-lingual guide and me. It rained or drizzled on us the entire four-hour trip.
Si Ma Cai may have some redeeming qualities, but none of them were apparent to me. The designated site for Camp One was a soccer field. It would have been perfect if not for the fact that about 90 percent of it was under water. Not much water, but any amount of "under water" is too much in a camp site. So, rather than have a nice, spread-out camp, we had to cram everything onto the small island of land that was not under water. Notice that I did not say "dry land". There was no such thing. Our island wasn't under water, but it was water-logged.
I could write pages about the experience of setting up Camp One. But I won't. It was both a hellish and hugely rewarding experience. Hellish in that it took three time longer (at least) than it would have if I had been working with people with whom I could communicate. Oh, did I forget to mention that soon after our arrival in Si Ma Cai the local guide took off? Rewarding in that the local crew were fun to work with despite our communications problems. The little bit of Vietnamese I had learned for the adventure was worthless because the local crew all spoke a Hmong dialect and not one word of Vietnamese. e
Across the street from our camp site was a regional prison. I think the Vietnamese called it a re-education camp (or something like that) but it was a prison. All day long there was a non-stop lecture being blasted from huge loudspeakers on the walls of the prison. I couldn't understand any of it, but it was like listening to "All Things Considered" on NPR all day. Pure torture. Surely, I thought, they will turn that crap off at night.
I was wrong. Not only did the monologue go on all night, but just when it started to get dark, the huge lighting system came on. It was like camping inside an NFL stadium. But, in spite of all the distractions, I did sleep some that night in one of the big Marmot dome tents we set up.
It rained or drizzled on us all night. Consequently, our island of non-underwater land was cut in half. After having breakfast with the local crew in their tent (that experience alone is worth a few pages), we compacted the camp onto our even smaller island. It was a horrible campsite but we had made the best of a bad situation.
By about noon we had everything done except the starting line banner and putting up some of the flags and other decorations. The competitors and staff were not due to arrive for several more hours, so there was plenty of time to get things finished. That was a good thing, because I was soon to find out that I was going to be part of another "advance team".
Sometime before noon on Saturday there arrived in camp another jeep carrying David Annadale (Course Director), Dr. Emma Dawber (Medical Staff) and Larry Gartner (fellow volunteer and very experienced trekker). I learned from David that my next assignment was to accompany him, Emma and Larry to the location of checkpoint two, which was about twenty miles away and located on a very remote mountainside trail. We could get part way there by jeep, but most of it would be on foot on very muddy, very slick mountain trails. We would leave ASAP, spend the night at the site of the checkpoint, staff the checkpoint and then sweep from that checkpoint to the next one near a school in the small village of Pha Long.
I packed my kit, jumped in the jeep and headed off to parts unknown. It was to be more of an adventure than I could have imagined, as you will read in Part Two: Camp Squalor
Si Ma Cai may have some redeeming qualities, but none of them were apparent to me. The designated site for Camp One was a soccer field. It would have been perfect if not for the fact that about 90 percent of it was under water. Not much water, but any amount of "under water" is too much in a camp site. So, rather than have a nice, spread-out camp, we had to cram everything onto the small island of land that was not under water. Notice that I did not say "dry land". There was no such thing. Our island wasn't under water, but it was water-logged.
I could write pages about the experience of setting up Camp One. But I won't. It was both a hellish and hugely rewarding experience. Hellish in that it took three time longer (at least) than it would have if I had been working with people with whom I could communicate. Oh, did I forget to mention that soon after our arrival in Si Ma Cai the local guide took off? Rewarding in that the local crew were fun to work with despite our communications problems. The little bit of Vietnamese I had learned for the adventure was worthless because the local crew all spoke a Hmong dialect and not one word of Vietnamese. e
Across the street from our camp site was a regional prison. I think the Vietnamese called it a re-education camp (or something like that) but it was a prison. All day long there was a non-stop lecture being blasted from huge loudspeakers on the walls of the prison. I couldn't understand any of it, but it was like listening to "All Things Considered" on NPR all day. Pure torture. Surely, I thought, they will turn that crap off at night.
I was wrong. Not only did the monologue go on all night, but just when it started to get dark, the huge lighting system came on. It was like camping inside an NFL stadium. But, in spite of all the distractions, I did sleep some that night in one of the big Marmot dome tents we set up.
It rained or drizzled on us all night. Consequently, our island of non-underwater land was cut in half. After having breakfast with the local crew in their tent (that experience alone is worth a few pages), we compacted the camp onto our even smaller island. It was a horrible campsite but we had made the best of a bad situation.
By about noon we had everything done except the starting line banner and putting up some of the flags and other decorations. The competitors and staff were not due to arrive for several more hours, so there was plenty of time to get things finished. That was a good thing, because I was soon to find out that I was going to be part of another "advance team".
Sometime before noon on Saturday there arrived in camp another jeep carrying David Annadale (Course Director), Dr. Emma Dawber (Medical Staff) and Larry Gartner (fellow volunteer and very experienced trekker). I learned from David that my next assignment was to accompany him, Emma and Larry to the location of checkpoint two, which was about twenty miles away and located on a very remote mountainside trail. We could get part way there by jeep, but most of it would be on foot on very muddy, very slick mountain trails. We would leave ASAP, spend the night at the site of the checkpoint, staff the checkpoint and then sweep from that checkpoint to the next one near a school in the small village of Pha Long.
I packed my kit, jumped in the jeep and headed off to parts unknown. It was to be more of an adventure than I could have imagined, as you will read in Part Two: Camp Squalor
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