Mountains of All Sorts

Along endless, winding, bumpy, mountain roads our van leaned and veered. Ahead of us was the lodge and beyond that China, off to the right, rice paddies, corn fields, and mountains, and behind us you could almost make out Laos. Everything was green, and brown, simple and purposeful.

Just when our stomachs were about to give up the fight to stay in our bodies we arrived at the most magical place.

We unfurled and breathed. Oh, and of course met some wonderful guest from Seattle with ties to Vashon!

Gus and Freja learned how to play pétanque with the lodge cat Henry.

 

And we hiked, and ate, and met the most wonderful people, who are such good salespeople we worried we would leave with all of their wares.

After being spoiled for a few days it was back to the lowlands, and the night train back to Hanoi. Then a few hours rest before flying into Da Nang and then catching a ride into Hoi An.

We realized, several days later, that sometimes the most physically taxing journeys sear into our memories so much clearer and sharper, than easier ventures. This one just about took all the cakes in all the bakeries.

 

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