Saddle sore but smiling

If you have the stamina and the rear-end fortitude, touring Vietnam by bicycle is an ideal way to see this bustling, energetic…

If you have the stamina and the rear-end fortitude, touring Vietnam by bicycle is an ideal way to see this bustling, energetic country, writes Kevin Courtney

'WEEE . . . AAARE . . . cycling, cycling, cycling, cycling!"Eighteen of us are on a bus heading out of Ho Chi Minh City, and our group leader has decided it's time for a song. It's a song about cycling, and he wrote it himself. He clearly fancies himself as Vietnam's answer to Luka Bloom, eulogising the acoustic motorbike in his own southeast Asian style. He instructs us all to make a pedalling motion with our hands and sing along to the lyrics. "We have come together in Vietnam country-eee!" he croons with all the gusto of an overly zealous scout leader. I exchange a covert look of horror with my wife, and our eyes dart around in search of an emergency exit.

We are about to embark on a two-week cycle through Vietnam, starting off in Ho Chi Minh City, in the south, and ending up in Hanoi, in the north. Our route will take us through the mountain region of Dalat and along the country's long, snaking coastline through the modern resort of Nha Trang, the silk town of Hoi An and the bustling city of Danang and then over the spectacular Hai Van Pass and into Hue, site of the Perfume River and the ancient Forbidden Purple Palace. For the final leg of the journey we'll be leaving the bikes behind and taking the Reunification Express train overnight to Hanoi.

If two weeks in the saddle seems forbidding, the prospect of singing inane ditties around the campfire every night is even more daunting. We may have to feign dengue fever, just to avoid the mortification. Luckily, our leader spares us the nightly sing-song, and the cycling proves none too arduous - as long as you have a reasonable level of fitness, you should be able to keep up.

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We booked this trip through Exodus, the travel and adventure company. It's graded B, meaning moderate, mostly road, with no more than 75km per day.

Cycling proves to be an ideal way to see Vietnam: pedalling along the backroads and muddy tracks, through small villages and townships, past paddy fields and water buffalo, experiencing the smells, sights and sounds, you feel as if you're really immersed in the everyday life of this beautiful country, not just watching it all from behind the window of a tour bus.

Children come running out of their wooden homes to wave to you as you pass, and when you stop for a sip of water and a snack the locals gather around, excited at the arrival of this colourful cavalcade of westerners in their exotic cycling gear.

The coastal roads of Vietnam are mostly level, and, apart from some tough hills around Dalat - and an 11km incline up to the Hai Van Pass - the cycling is fairly easy. Still, I'm left trailing way behind some of the more competitive members of the group. We have a bus to take us to the starting point of each cycle and to take us on to our next destination after the day's cycle has ended. We also have a technical support team following us in a truck, carrying refreshments for the route and ready to carry out repairs or replacements as needed.

The bicycles supplied are sturdy hybrid bikes in good condition, so there's no need to bring your own. All you need is helmet, cycling shoes, mitts, protective sunglasses and lots of padding around your posterior. When the first day's saddle-soreness kicks in, you'll know all about it.

We begin with a warm-up cycle to the Cu Chi Tunnels, to the north of Ho Chi Minh City. And it's certainly warming up on its way to a sweltering July day. Cu Chi is a human anthill filled with secret tunnels dug by the North Vietnamese, from which they would mount stealth attacks on US bases around Saigon.

Claustrophobia was plainly not a word in the Vietcong vocabulary: these tunnels are narrow, going several storeys down into the hard red clay, and stretching from the outskirts of Saigon almost all the way to the Cambodian border. Visitors can go into a 30m section of the tunnels, widened for tourists but still so narrow you have to crawl on your hands and knees halfway along. I got as far as 10m before the heebie-jeebies set in and I had to scramble out before I passed out.

Saigon is now Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam's modern metropolis, with a bustling population of eight million, its streets noisy and thick with smoke from the cyclos that constantly putter along. Behind the rampant modernisation the city's French colonial past still casts a silhouette, in the shape of Notre Dame cathedral, for instance, or the Central Post Office.

Reminders of the war are everywhere, from the corrugated shelters at the airport to the War Remnants Museum to the edginess that seems to permeate the atmosphere. It's here that the downside of the "friendly Vietnamese" image becomes apparent, as endless hawkers and beggars hassle you while you walk along the streets. You soon get used to it, and simply shrug them off, but on your first or second day the barrage feels even more overpowering than the heat.

From Ho Chi Minh City we head directly to the Dalat region, a long bus ride that means we don't saddle up until late morning (for keen cyclists, that's half the day gone). The itinerary has since been altered to include a cycle to the sand dunes of Mui Ne beach, halfway between Ho Chi Minh City and Dalat, so you're not spending the whole morning cooped up on the bus.

Dalat is a malaria region, so we've brought a five-day supply of malaria pills to get us over the hump. Dalat is known as the Paris of south Vietnam - and, oh, look, there's the Eiffel Tower. It's actually a scale replica set atop the post office, but when it's lit up at night, and you've had a few glasses of Vietnamese beer, you could be looking at the real thing.

The weather is cooler here in the mountain region, but you'll still sweat copiously while pedalling up those hills. We pass tea and coffee plantations, rows of rubber trees, and beautiful beds of exotic flowers and plants glinting in the sunlight.

We're hitting into the start of the monsoon season, so late afternoon usually brings a burst of torrential rain and a thorough soaking. Sorry, did I mention you'll need rainproof gear as well?

Back down at the coast the temperature goes back up to sweltering, but we've got our momentum now, and there's always the afternoon shower to look forward to if it gets too sticky. If you're not getting burnt by the searing sun, you're getting choked by the fumes from the trucks that tootle by every five seconds. At least the drivers beep at you, so you know they're behind you.

You'll also be dodging hens, pets, grannies on mopeds and mounds of rice left on the roadside to dry. And if you're very unlucky you might get chased and bitten by a dog. If that happens, as it did to one of our party, you'll need to take a rather unpleasant course of injections when you get home, just to ensure you don't contract rabies.

Hoi An is a delight, a magical town on the river, lit up with lanterns and filled with silk shops and flower-bedecked restaurants. Every second shop has skilled tailors and seamstresses who will knock you up an outfit in next to no time - just show them a photo of that designer dress you've always dreamed of and, hey presto, it's yours for just a few dong. Make sure they take loose measurements, though - I ended up with a suit that fitted a bit too snugly for comfort.

Our last day of cycling takes us through Danang and on to Hue, ancient seat of the Nguyen emperors. My own ancient seat is feeling rather numb after all the cycling, but just one final push and I can rest my poor rear. The more competitive cyclists in our group are disappointed with the amount of cycling we've done, feeling there's been too much time spent in the bus and too many stops to see monuments, citadels and war memorials. Today, though, we're hoping to break through the 100km barrier, but as I gasp my way up the Hai Van Pass in the midday heat I'm wondering if I'm even going to make 10km.

As the day wears on I fall hopelessly far behind the rest of the group, but as I approach the outskirts of Hue, the late- afternoon rain pelting down on me, I'm feeling a sense of personal achievement. When I dismount at our hotel there's no one else to be seen - they must have got fed up waiting for me and gone off for their dinner.

Suddenly the rest of the group trundle in on their bikes, looking surprised and a little peeved that I've beaten them to the finish line. Turns out they took a wrong turn in the bustle of Hue and lost precious time searching for the hotel. Looks as if the tortoise has won the race.

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Kevin Courtney booked his cycling holiday with Exodus Travel. Contact Abbey Travel, Middle Abbey Street, 01-8047153, www.exodus.co.uk