Memory effect and like a boomerang
N 20°40'14.6'' E 105°05'01.5''
Date:
04.11.2016
Day: 497
Country:
Vietnam
Province:
Hòa Bình
Location:
May Chau
Latitude N:
20°40’14.6”
Longitude E:
105°05’01.5”
Daily kilometers:
20 km
Total kilometers:
20,332 km
Soil condition:
Asphalt / gravel
Total altitude meters:
54.861 m
Altitude meters for the day:
200 m
Sunrise:
06:03
Sunset:
5:23 pm
Temperature day max:
20°C
Temperature day min:
18°C
(Photos of the diary entry can be found at the end of the text).
“So, how are you feeling?” I ask Tanja as she opens her eyes. “Let’s not talk about it,” she replies, yawning. It’s 6:00 a.m. Massive clouds move through the valley. “Looks like rain,” I say. “Do you want to stay and sit out the rain?” “No way,” I am determined to see Mai Chau in the rear-view mirror of my bike for the last time today.
Because we last loaded our bikes over three months ago, it takes us longer than usual. We simply lack the routine. Meanwhile, the clouds creep over the harvested rice fields at only 20 degrees. It won’t be long before they pour their wetness over the land. Because the next two days lie ahead of us on a partly unpaved road that leads through a remote mountain landscape, I start to have doubts. “What are you looking so thoughtful about?” Tanja interrupts my thoughts. “I hope that the rain that is sure to come won’t cause landslides again. When we drove the route with Manh Do back then, he warned us not to use this route in bad weather.” “Should we stay another day after all?” “I don’t know. The bikes are already loaded. Somehow it seems to me that this Mai Chau doesn’t want to let us go. That’s just not right.” “Oh no. Don’t worry about it like that. You’re not superstitious.” “Of course not.” “So are we staying or going?” “We’re going,” I decide, shaking off an unpleasant feeling.
“Can we take a group photo before you leave?” asks Ka the manager. “Sure,” I reply. Manh Do, who has come back from Hanoi, hugs us. I hope I don’t see you again so soon,” he jokes, knowing that we had already tried to leave his lodge several times and our departure was always thwarted at the last moment. “Thank you for your interest in my life, for sharing your many stories, your company, your friendship. I wish you a safe, eventful journey. Hope to see you again. If the elephant trip works out, I’ll be there. I’m looking forward to it,” he says and gives me a big hug. Ka also says goodbye with warm words. “Thank you for your advice. I’ve learned a lot. Since you’ve been here, we’ve been cooking without MSG. We will use better cooking oil in future. Thank you for your encouragement, your positive thinking and the many in-depth conversations,” he says and gives me a hug. “This is for you,” he says and hands Tanja and me each a hand-woven scarf. “It should be a reminder of the wonderful time you had in Mai Chau.” I feel a lump in my throat. I would love to unload the bikes, carry the bags back to our little bungalow, sit down in one of the raffia chairs like I do every day and enjoy the view of the beautiful rice field valley for a while before I start my daily notes.
“Have a safe journey! Have a safe trip! We’ll see you again!” come the shouts of the staff at the Nature Lodge, where we stayed much longer than originally planned. Because we have sent home our winter clothing, some of our cooking equipment and a few other small items that we no longer need, we are almost 10 kilograms lighter. Nevertheless, our bikes still weigh between 140 and 145 kilograms. After a few kilometers, however, the memory effect of our bodies kicks in and we feel safe again. “Wave again!” calls Tanja as the last rice fields of Mai Chau disappear behind us. In good spirits, we continue along the country road at around 27 km/h. “Hooo, how nice it is to be on the road again!” I shout, especially as my shoulder is doing well, at least for the first few kilometers. Krrrraaaack!”, a terrible sound directly behind me makes me freeze. I turn around in a flash and see Tanja stumble, falter and fortunately come to a halt right next to the one meter deep drainage ditch without falling. I slam on the brakes. I put my bike on the stand and sprint to her. “What happened?” I ask, feeling the shock hit the center of my bones. “I don’t know. There was suddenly this noise and then nothing worked. I almost fell, but somehow managed to stop.” “Oh no! That can’t be true. The bracket to which the trailer coupling is attached, and which we had welded in China because of a hairline crack, has torn off because of the heavy load and the permanently bad roads. Oh dear, that doesn’t look good at all. Absolute crap!” Stunned, I look at the trailer coupling, which has been destroyed by dragging over the asphalt. “No,” I shout as I discover the broken wheel stand. Only now do I notice several broken and bent spokes. Completely frustrated, we push the broken bike and trailer onto a concrete square in front of a stilt house. A few children, women and men immediately rush over. “Can you fix it?” asks Tanja. “It looks bad,” I reply meekly. “Somehow I’m getting fed up,” I hear her say. “Well, ask me. But that doesn’t help us now,” I reply, examining the damage more closely. Fortunately, the shifting module of the Rohloff hub hasn’t been damaged. The brake disk and the rear swing arm also seem to be in order.” “How could that have happened?” asks Tanja, kneeling next to me and looking at the rear tire in bewilderment. “Hm, it looks like after the bracket to which the trailer was attached broke off, the drawbar crashed onto the stand and was then pulled into the wheel by the trailer’s safety strap for some damn reason.” “You mean the drawbar crashed into the rear tire?” “Yes. You were totally lucky. It’s like someone stuck a stick in the wheel. If you’d been going faster, for example when going downhill, that would have been it. It would have inevitably catapulted you off the bike in a high arc. In that case, it would also have totally destroyed the rim and the swing arm,” I conclude and feel my carotid artery pulsating and I’m annoyed that I didn’t replace the obviously poorly welded bracket months ago.
“And can you fix it?” Tanja repeats her question. Only now do I discover that four spokes have been torn out of the rim. “Doesn’t look good. Not good at all. Oh dear. Look at that. The spoke bolts are literally torn off. Well, I don’t have them as spares.” “That means?” “We’ll have to turn back and as we have a particularly wide rim, I don’t think there are any such bolts in Vietnam.” “Don’t make me weak. We have to go back to Mai Chau?” Tanja snorts as I fetch the spare parts from the trailer. “There they are. I can’t believe it. We’ve got enough spoke bolts,” I say happily. We unload the bike. Then I remove the rear tire, pull off the casing and take a look at the inside of the rim. “Could work. The rim looks dented at the spoke holes, but the spokes are not really torn out. This means that the bolts have broken off just above the rim wall. A stroke of luck.
Three hours later, I have pulled in four new spokes with new spoke bolts, centered the rear tire, installed a new bracket for the trailer and put a new coupling piece on the drawbar. “Your superbike rides like new,” I say after a test ride. “Great, you’re my best mechanic,” Tanja laughs with relief. “Now there’s just one problem with the kickstand. It’s broken beyond repair due to the impact of the drawbar.” “And how am I supposed to load and unload the bike without the stand?” “Well, I have no idea. Even if we stop for a photo or for whatever reason, there’s no way to park the bike quickly. Simply laying it down in the dirt is not possible because of its weight and the resulting twisting of the trailer coupling,” I think. “What do you suggest?” “We should turn back and try to get the stand repaired in Mai Chau. Maybe Vingh will think of something. He always has brilliant ideas.” “You really want to go back? We could have the bike rack fixed somewhere on the route ahead.” “It’ll be dark in an hour. The unpaved, narrow mountain road lies ahead of us. Who knows if there have been landslides because of the constant rain over the last few days. I don’t think it’s a good idea to continue. I don’t feel the slightest inclination to turn back either, but I still think it’s the more sensible route,” I reply.
Manh Do and Ka can’t believe it when we turn up at the Nature Lodge. “You’re like a boomerang,” says Manh Do and is happy that the serious mishap ended so smoothly. Ka and Vingh immediately look at the broken stand. “I’m sure I’ll think of something by tomorrow,” muses Vingh. Maybe we can rebuild a new stand and adapt it to the rear swing arm.” “Hm, it would have to carry a lot. A normal bike stand isn’t suitable,” I reply. Then we unload our bikes again and carry everything back to our old room. I order our dinner in the kitchen. We sit down on our terrace, listen to the light rain and think about our next steps. “I’m annoyed that I didn’t replace the welded bracket when we got the new spare parts,” I say quietly. “Well, you’re not a clairvoyant. Nobody could have guessed that it would break again. You certainly can’t blame yourself for that.” “It certainly depends on the quality of the weld. That’s exactly why I’ll be repairing such parts in future.prophylactically renew.”…
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