The Bac Ha Adventure Day 2: 19 Oct 2013

Can Cau Market

Pete says:

Rachael had heard about a Saturday market in the village of Can Cau, 20km to the north, that was "off the beaten path", "tourists don't go there"... phrases that have become warning signs for me ever since. Sun told us the road to it was "broken" and "a bit bumpy" so we would either need to rent a motorbike to cross the broken bit or take the bus which would take a long route around to avoid the broken part.
Neil and Stacey rented a bike and we decided to get the bus... *Warning* This is a long story...

We got up early and went to town, jumped on a bus and, when it came time to pay, realised we were on the wrong bus, heading in the wrong direction. So we had to get off and run back, twice as far again to the town square, where we had missed the correct bus. After a LOT of hassle, with locals trying to confuse and scam us, we saw another bus and got on. This bus was a small Hyundai thing with missing panels and was heavily overloaded with people but also all kinds of food, bricks stacked down the aisle, bed-springs and all kinds, because the bus doubles as a delivery truck from Lao Cai to Bac Ha and all the various little remote places on the route to Can Cau. Sometimes a man would climb out of the door, while the bus was moving, and climb a ladder to the roof so he could chuck stuff off at the stops. It was all quite entertaining until we got to "the road".

The bus was going at high speed on the mountain roads, hairpin bends, etc, and I can't say it was a relaxing ride. At some point we realised we were heading directly to Can Cau and the "broken road". This road was not yet a road. It was a construction site, with big caterpillar diggers cutting into the mountainside and moving rocks around. The surface was thick mud (ankle to knee deep as we later discovered) with pools of sludge from the recent rains. There were no barriers and no road surface and a drop of several hundred feet. The bus just kept going. He even maintained the high speed, probably to keep momentum on the mud, as we were sliding sideways towards the bends in the road (no barriers remember). Some parts of the road were barely any wider than the wheels of the bus and it rocked from side to side a lot. Occasionally there were gasps from the passengers but no-one seemed too concerned. It was all starting to seem somewhat more hazardous than the number 1 from Werrington to Queensgate.

The bus of death

Rachael became more and more terrified until the bus hit a lump of mud/rock and rocked so far to the left that it paused on the balance point before rolling back on its wheels. This worried me a touch and Rachael by this time was crying and shaking and shouting at the driver to let us off. The crew and passengers didn't seem to take this seriously. They said we were too far from the town "so it was safer to stay on the bus"?! and weirdly, people were sort of pitying me at having to deal with my hysterical girlfriend and her crazy notions about not wanting to die.

"Stop taking photos and hold on!!"

We made them stop and we got off. Rachael was very shaken and tearful for a while. In fact she wasn't really right for the rest of the day. Also, we were standing on a mountain, in deep mud, miles from anywhere, with clouds drifting past below us. One stroke of luck at this point was that we managed to hitch a ride on a digger. Normally this would have seemed like a bit of a wild move, but in the circumstances I was glad to do it. Watching the tracks crush rocks inches below my feet seemed reassuringly stable rather than potentially deadly.

Discussing the conditions

Moments later, Stacey and Neil turned up behind us on a mud-covered bike (they were covered in mud too). We were so pleased to see them! They said they would have turned back but they knew we were going to be there so persevered. We all went to the market, which was rubbish (but Rachael loved it). We saw some very grim food being eaten...noodles in a grey kind of gruel and meat that had turned green, along with lots of wellington boots for sale. I bought a pair for the walk back that smelled strongly of petrol due to the toxic plastic they were made from. Neil said the road back was impassable for them to make the return but it turned out, to our horror, that there was no other way. We agreed that they would head back and if possible, Neil would return on the bike to the start of the broken road and hopefully pick us up there.

Amazing that a bus would even attempt this!

Walking the rest of the way to the market

Can Cau Market...

She doesn't look much like she's enjoying
the green (sheep heads?) either!

We started walking and Rachael still seemed quite dazed - I think she was in some kind of traumatised shock. We were also really hungry and only had two bottles of water and one bag of chewy sweets, so we rationed them for sugar energy as we trudged up the muddy mountain edge. The death bus soon turned up behind us, even more overloaded with people and so much on the roof that it was twice as high and leaning to one side. They laughed at us for even attempting to walk back, but there was no way we would get back on. It went off up the road, wobbling an insane amount one side and the other. We really couldn't see how they would make it back alive.

The death bus on its return journey

About 30 minutes of hard walking later, we passed the bus, stuck in mud. This time it was our turn to laugh. We spent the next 3 hours or so walking up this steep, muddy, building site of a road. Sometimes a digger would have to stop crushing mountainside to let us pass safely. We met a French couple on the way who were very angry at not being warned of the conditions as they had a child with them and their bike had broken down! We also saw quite a few local mountain people who walked the road but no-one else, aside from a few road workers. The bus never caught us up.

Pete looking frazzled on the walk home

I was hot and soaked in sweat for most of the walk but as we got higher we were in clouds and it became very cold (especially cold in my wet clothes) and the light was fading. We were considering asking one of the locals to let us stay the night in one of their huts, when finally, the road became gravel and we were nearing the top of the peak. At this point Neil appeared at the crest of the hill like a hero! It was incredibly good timing. I wasn't too pleased about three of us riding the bike so at first I told him to take Rachael and I would keep walking, but he said it was 20 km at least and too far to walk. So he took Rachael first, to drop her somewhere safe and I kept walking. This part was sort of dreamlike with the clouds and eerily quiet. It was quite peaceful until two wild dogs appeared out of the fog and decided to harrass/eat me. It turns out the best way to survive wild dogs is to open your cheap, plastic, springloaded, Chinese umbrella in their faces just before they get to you!! Neil eventually came back to pick me up, we collected Rachael and from there decided to squish on to the bike together and that was how we made it home in one piece...

That night we drank even more corn wine to celebrate our survival. The shared ordeal of the day cemented our friendship with Neil and Stacey and we have stayed friends ever since, meeting up with them throughout our trip.

Celebrating our survival!