adventure

September 21

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Back on the motorbikes for a climb to the bamboo forest. This was more terrifying than the ride yesterday. It started out what has become the norm, 3-5 foot paths, steep hills, switchbacks curving in on each other, dogs, chickens, cattle, and the motor bike with grass sticking out from the back of the bike, threatening to knock you over as you pass. This time, there was a toll halfway up, which slowed down the progress. As if to make up for it, my driver zooms full sped plunging down a steep bank only to start up an incline that was half washed out. My last look, before I closed my eyes, was a tire width path with stones popping up everywhere, and a drop to nowhere you would want to look. In your mind you imagine being flung somewhere along the hillside, crashing downward. It makes no difference if your helmet fits or not, as it would do little to protect you. As you are hanging on, you are bouncing from side to side, the motorbike is rocking this way and that, coming close to the edge one minute and seemingly bouncing off the bank on the other side.

At this moment, you are asking yourself why it is so important to see a bamboo forest when your life is hanging by a thread. You imagine the phone call to your kids informing them their mom died while sailing off a motorbike into an abyss. Oh and if that is not enough, you finally get to the top of the steep hill where the path turns into a 2 foot path when down comes a loaded motorbike full of hay. The path maybe widened to 3 feet for the rest of the journey as you continue to climb ending at the top of the mountain. Your fellow travelers are either behind you, or are waiting with expressions of horror as you arrive. A group hug seemed to be necessary to calm our beating hearts.

The rest of the morning was spent walking through the bamboo forest and practicing portrait photography with a model dressed in her traditional Hmong clothes. We had an opportunity to really spend time with lighting filtering through the forest, and different setting. Lunch was served at a Hmong family home who specialized in batik. Then back on the motor bikes, waiting in anticipation for the single track, rock strewn path you had traversed earlier. By this time we were seasoned travelers prepared for the terror and the faith that we would come back to the road alive.

Off to another mountain, shaped like a dinosaur’s spines, but the light was too harsh. We stopped for a coffee. I mentioned to the guide that it would be nice if we could find an intimate spot to photograph rice workers without tourists in the shots. This is difficult because it is hard to stop on the narrow roads. However, we climbed to the second floor of a coffee shop only to discover rice workers right below us. I decided to go around the back of the building and there I found a path to walk down to the rice fields. An adorable puppy followed us as we descended the steep narrow path. Once down to the bottom we were able to photograph the workers at the same level.

Back in the van after an hour heading to the mountain range, with motor bikes, only to pull in as a rain storm began. Change of plans to head back to the lodge, with a walk through the forest on the way back if it stopped raining. Which it did. As we headed out on the path, views of rice fields, sunset reflections in water, and evening shadows advancing on the mountain with moon rise over the trees. Of course, we all stopped to get pictures when after 10 minutes our guide informed us that we had an hour walk ahead of us. None of us realized the “walk” was really a hike, nor did we realize our vans had left and were meeting us at the other end of the trail. Sometimes it is helpful to know the plan, but flexibility is the key word when you are on a trip like this.

We were rewarded with dinner of crispy fish, and the promise we could sleep in late (7:00pm), have a leisure morning before we left. The guides and our leader seemed very impressed that 8 older people were able to do what we accomplished, which is why I believe they decided to give us a “rest.” Or maybe they needed it more than we did.

September 21

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It is actually 5 AM on the 22nd. The roosters are sounding the alarm and I can’t sleep due to the rock solid bed. Old bones need soft landings. I am watching dawn arrive from my cabin in the mountains. fog surrounds us, as darkness did last night. I have yet to experience this eco lodge’s as we arrived too late. Lighted pathways led us to our individual cabin.

Our six hour ride yesterday was interspersed with stops to photograph people drying and grinding tea leaves for preparation to send to be packaged. Frequent stops created views of rice fields clinging to mountainsides, interspersed with tea plantations and corn. Layers upon layers of patterns, and color inspired us.

This region is known for the most beautiful rice fields in Vietnam. Being more accessible than our previous location we began to experience more tourism. Where we did not see any foreigners before, we began to see more buses and obvious tourists. Having been spoiled and privileged with no one stepping into our photographs with a cell phone or posing to take selfies, we did not take kindly to the intrusion.

Information as to our daily activities comes slowly, or as we all suspected, purposely being sprung on us at the last minute. We found out we would again be on the back of motorbikes. The particular viewpoint we were going to was up at the very top of a steep mountain. A toothy grinning teenager motioned me onto his bike. Hardly on the back, he took off as if we were being chased by bandits into traffic, cutting across oncoming traffic to a narrow concrete pathway and up a hill at about a 40 percent grade. Hanging on the back, we sped around switchback curves, narrowly missing chickens, dogs, people and oncoming motor scooters while edging to the side of ten thousand drop into the valleys.

Arriving at the top, we experienced our first “tourist” experience. Shops rented various degrees of fancy Hmong dresses to wear while walking in the rice fields. People old and young hire photographers to come while they model. Groups of the younger generation gather to take selfies or Instagram style pictures, never bothering to look at the incredible view around them. It is all rather bizarre.

Once over the shock of this intrusion into one of the most spectacular sites I have ever experienced, we were able to walk away from the crowd and find areas with no tourists to photograph. Although I will say, the scene provided a form of “street photography.” Meanwhile, in the valley were workers cutting and thrashing the rice into a large container. The heat was oppressive and you wonder how they could stand it, dressed head to toe with protective clothes to keep them from getting sun burned.

The contrast with valley workers probably making three dollars an hour to the money spent by the tourist at the top shocked us. I imagine it is not much different in the U.S., with people posing against mountain scenery. The fields were beautiful with marigolds, and purple flowers planted along the rice paddies, wooden huts dotted throughout, and the ever changing shadows on the mountains, it creates an unforgettable scene.

One more ride up to the top of another mountain, this time I chose an older woman as my driver. The road was not as steep. I am becoming used to this form of getting to the top of mountains and for my 81 year old self I am happy not to be climbing up in this altitude and steepness.

Today brings another motor scooter ride and lunch in a family home. We are still among the Hmong tribes. The colors and patterns of Vietnam is what I will take with me.

September 20

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Another day of sun, what luck, as Hanoi has been flooded. Here in the mountains we have had great weather. Surprise of surprises…what did I wish for last night? Some peanut butter! Breakfast today consisted of toast, fried eggs, cheese, and peanut butter. We were all delighted. Such a treat.

Off to the Sunday market about 10 minutes away. This one was so congested, it was impossible to get a clear shot of anyone or any activity. I finally came to the conclusion it would be good to move toward the food area and clothes as there is less activity. There I was able to get pictures of people eating, conversing, cooking and generally enjoying themselves. We spent about an hour and a half there, dogging mopeds, making friends with lots of people, some who spoke some English, but mostly it was sign language.

Later in the afternoon we took off for the rice fields and a town nearby. The fields were lovely, but the sun was still harsh so we went into town to photograph and waited until the sun began to set. At the very end of the market we came upon a friendly game of Chinese chess and spent a long time with them. The backdrop of a green door, kids watching their fathers, and the bantering back and forth added to the picture taking.

This area has enchanted us with fields of rice growing next to bubbling rivers, daily commerce being conducted, and the backdrop of high mountains with billowing clouds slowly moving across the sky. No other tourists to be seen, just eight of us wandering throughout the markets and fields and engaging with whomever we can. There are few places one can travel that still maintains the daily comings and goings, untouched by tourism.

After three nights in this ridiculous hotel we are happy to move on tomorrow. Our hotel has gold everywhere, Trump would love to stay here. It has 108 rooms and we were the only 12 staying here. It is owned by a woman in her forties and from what we understand it is not even close to making a profit. She owns several hydro plants so I think she does not worry about filling her hotel,

September 18

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Awakening to a rainy day we had a leisure morning. Our plans were cancelled due to the rain which most of us were happy as we were all tired and wanting to catch up on things. Several people walked through the village to explore the handiwork they were offering for sale, while others worked on their computers.

We left around 1:00 PM for our next destination which is the city of Sin Has. This is the most bizarre place. It is a town built by the government and it looks like no one lives here. But even more bizarre is the hotel we are staying at. We left a place that was rustic, full of vibrant Hmong families and arrive at this hotel which is huge, grand, and no one is around. The front entrance is easily over 15 feet high and opens into a large cavernous marble lobby. Trump would be in seventh heaven in this place with gold everywhere. Leaving behind our lovely village to arrive in this disgusting hotel was quite a shock. But they do have laundry service which after 4 days of not having any clean clothes to wear, is luxury.It turns out nothing dries here because it is so humid.

After a rest we went to the food market filled with tons of vegetables, fruits and all manners of meat. It was better not to examine the meat too closely. From the live ducks and chickens, to the cats and dogs available, I thought I would not be able to eat dinner. The market was lively,with mopeds darting here and there full of nightly shoppers buying fresh food to take home for dinner. And I mean fresh, one pan of fish splashed so energetically I got my foot soaked. Meanwhile, I could have picked out my very own live chicken or duck to have it slaughtered, cut up into pieces and even cooked for me. Thankfully that was not required of me, or I would definitely become a vegetarian.

Tomorrow 5:00 wake up call and 5:30 hit the lobby.

September 15,2026

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The alarm sounds at 4:30 AM, ready for the dawn patrol, and a 5AM meeting time. What’s Ap starts binging with messages of pouring rain and decisions of whether we should go to the market which is only partially covered. Pouring rain was an understatement, one could not hope to step outside without getting completely soaked. We had been provided with raincoats that would fit the average 6 ‘5″ man weighing 350 pounds. So coverage was not the issue, however, suffocating under them and having them drag in the mud proved to be a challenge. Yet,we stoic dedicated photographers loaded ourselves into the vans provided.

Off a just waking up market, we were warned to look in all directions as not to be annihilated by motor scooters with 100 pounds of cabbage, or plywood, or just about anything you can load on a truck. Narrow pathways divided the stalls. The motorbikes wove in and out between people pushing loaded hand carts. Meanwhile the tarps that were held up by bending poles were releasing the water weight like a waterfall, dumping pounds of water onto the muddy lanes. Where were we? Trying desperately to stay dry. Some of our cameras went on strike from the moisture, even the iphones refused to submit to the weather. The raincoats for the camera did not really fit, the plastic bag trick failed, and whatever head gear we were wearing also failed. Our feet sloshed around in our shoes, and the inside of the rain gear was just about as wet as the outside from our sweating from the humidity.

After two hours of shooting we got together and exchanged stories of our interactions with people, animals, trucks, motor scooters and the rain. Off to breakfast of Pho in a tiny restaurant, then back to the a another market called the Thief’s market. Full of mechanical tools, wires, rubber, saws, compressors both used, and stolen, anything you could want to fix something was found here. Finding pictures to take was interesting, my favorite being the millions of electrical wires tangled together on poles, trees, or just about anywhere you can use to attach something. How anyone could figure out where wires provided electricity to what, would be anyone’s nightmare. Despite the rain, we had a great experience.

We are now looking forward to our massages before we get on a night train to Lao Cai outside Sapa. Up north into a non tourist areas, where we are hopeful it stops raining.

228 Miles and Done

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What happens when you finish tip to tip ? You get a diploma and two blue ribbons with West End and East End on them. Yes, it is suppose to be 199 miles, but that does not count going 12 miles out of your way before you discover you took the wrong turn, nor does it cover having to get on your damn bike to find lunch. But we are now sitting in our comfortable bed at the Hotel Holman in Charlottetown ready to make the 11 hour trip home tomorrow. All I can say is the truck seat is a lot more comfortable than the bike seat. By the end of the trip I was looking at it as some medieval torture instrument.

We rode from Cavendish to St. Peter’s Bay on a cloudy, overcast day yesterday. It was probably the most scenic part of the trip with lots of views of the water, harbors, and long vistas of farmland to the ocean. At one point the fog rolled in and created a dreamy landscape for our pictures.

Dinner last night was a double scoop ice cream. There was not one place open for dinner as it was Tuesday night. St. Peter’s bay has a General store, an ice cream shop, a fish market where I think you can get dinner, a take out stand, and a tourist information center where we ate lunch and supposedly they served dinner. I think dinner is a repeat of lunch. So we slipped into the ice cream parlor and got an ice cream just before they closed at 7.

Today, our last day, we woke up to clear skies and bright sunlight. Of course, it would be our last day! This day was spent cycling along Route 16 the whole way to the Eastern tip. Except we took a wrong turn.We stopped at the interpretive center which was interesting and got a tip of a short cut to Route 16 without having to backtrack the entire way. This little mistake added 12 extra miles, but was worth it for the wonderful view.

In six days, we have seen chipmunks, geese (at least 50 all together), a fox, the National flower the “lady slipper,” beautiful lupine along the trail, buttercups, Sweet Williams, and various bird species that I could not identify. Included in the sites, we have seen fields of potatoes, blueberries, strawberries, and more potato fields. Lobster boats bringing in the catch around noon, much of it ending up in small eateries serving the PEI famous lobster roll. Richard’s was the best with a toasted bun, all meat, mostly claws with mayo, onion, chive, celery all mixed together. I actually think I have my fill of lobster rolls since I had one at least 4 days out of 6.

If I was asked how I liked the trip I would honestly say it was an accomplishment for me. Shap loved every bit. I have never been comfortable on a bike since I went over railroad ties onto my face when I was six, I am glad that I did it. I figure not many 81 year old women would do this unless they were extremely athletic, like my friend Carrie who bikes 100 miles like the wind. And so, the journey of this epic ride has ended, but there is always another adventure around the corner. As my father always said,”If I stop being curious, I hope I am 6 feet under.” A philosophy I hope always to live with.

Summerside to Cavendish to Brackley Beach

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After having breakfast with no less than a hundred or so families who were obviously staying at the hotel for a baseball tournament, we started the morning with overcast skies, but no rain. Not far into the Confederation trail we ran into the two couples from Ottawa coming out of their hotel. We could not have timed it better if we had planned it. They actually did ride the trail after all.

The directions on our ride GPS are not the easiest to follow. So the 6 of us got lost from the Confederation Trail at an intersection. Riding along route 2 was not fun, although there were shoulders. Lots of traffic. We finally found a street that connected to the trail, after that it was smooth sailing. We found that Shap and I rode faster than the other couples, we quickly passed them, would stop to take pictures and still be ahead of them. They commented when they were 80 they would ride in turbo hinting the reason we were faster was because we had it in turbo. I quickly made sure that we Smith’s are no slouches, we were in ECO 90% of the time. If we weren’t we would be out of battery quickly.

After about 7 miles we came into Kensington, a small quaint town with a stone railroad station, now a restaurant and a bakery. You are right – coffee and a pastry for Shap, water and a lemon cookie for me. Ivan, as we later found out, stopped to talk to us on his way passing on his morning bike routine. A very engaging man who lived in town and worked at the building supply company. He gave us a lay of the land ahead and warned of “HILLS” as he put it. Oh those hills can’t be compared to Vermont hills I thought. Later on, after 29 miles, those hills definitely could be compared to Vermont.

The Confederation Trail was much nicer with grass between the lanes, lupin blooming, scenic views of rolling fields, water ways and something we do not see, oyster traps in the bay laid out straight lines. I thought they were mussel traps until I saw all the oyster restaurants. Into Cavendish for the night in a lovely inn called the Kindred Spirits, old fashion style cottages and a friendly staff. Thirty-two miles total.

Today started with bright sunlight, quickly turned to grey weather with strong winds and only 18 miles to ride. The first part of the trip was on route 6, a busy highway but it had shoulders, so we had room. Then onto Gulfshore trail which is part of the Prince Edward National Park. There is a designated bike and walking path with views to the ocean, long beaches, mostly red sandstone and seaweed, not particularly attractive to swim and have a beach picnic. But the red cliffs are gorgeous. One of the most beautiful views we have had. Then back onto route 6, very unsettling riding with cars whizzing by, although people were respectful. Shortly we came into Brackley Beach and our hotel, Shaws Hotel, which is a historic building. Our rooms have been quaint with flowery wallpaper, old furniture and a blast from the past. Everyone greets us like long lost friends.

I asked why PEI seems to have only lobster rolls or lobster burgers but no lobster dinners. I really did not get a straight answer. Richard’s at the wharf was mentioned to us as “the best lobster rolls, better than anyone else, apparently people come from all around to eat there. It is housed in two small fishing style cottages connected by a deck. We were told in the summer the wait can be an hour and a half long. Being June, it was not busy in that sense, but cars were lined up, all the tables were full and people were still coming when we left. I had a lobster burger which I thought would be ground up lobster, like a fish cake. I now understand why they have the reputation as the best, my hamburger roll came with probably a pound of lobster meat. At least 4 sets of claw meet. Unbelievable, it was so good.

Back on the bikes to a lovely beach, still blowing like crazy, cool and cloudy. Then back to Shaw’s Hotel for a nap. Why can’t all our days be like this? 18 miles a day has a nice ring to it. Tomorrow back to 31 miles and rain. Two more days and we reach the Eastern most tip.

Summertime in Summerside

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Oh, if it truly was summer in Summerside, but instead it is a dismal, dreary day, the temperature is around 48 degrees, and it rained most of the day. This is Day 2 of our trip. On Day 1 we were picked up at 8:45 AM, June 12th, in front of our hotel, zipped around the corner and picked up 4 more passengers from Ottawa. The day was cloudy with a promise of 100% rain starting around 11:00. As we road West to the North Cape it began to rain, then it began to pour, then it began to blow. The driver suggested we start in Tignish instead of going to the North Cape. The other four thought that was a very good idea, but, Oh No, the Smith’s aren’t about to let a bit of hurricane type weather deter them from any tip of a country. After all they went to Barrows, Alaska in June with snow falling as they landed onto the barren tip. Barrows is the furtherest most tip in the United States.

Back to North Cape, we got dropped off at a small building, grabbed our bicycle gear and ran to the building, getting almost soaked before we started. We had our trusty ponchos in our packs, plus raincoats, rain pants (or I had rain pants), rain ponchos for our gear, and hats so we were prepared. Of course, the bathroom is through the gift shop so we killed an hour waiting for the rain to abate. By killing an hour, I mean we bought two really fabulous rain jackets that looked like you could go out lobster fishing in a storm in them.

Finally, we set out after putting on jackets, vests, rain paints (for me, Shap had shorts), my camel back on under my jacket, Shap with rain jackets for his camera bag on his back, and rain jackets for our bike packs, adding to the attractive outfit, a helmet on top of our rain hoods, and gloves. I felt like a kid in a too big snowsuit. Off we went, down the road. Why is Shap turning around and going back? Of course, he forgot his coffee. For the ten miles to Tingnish, rain and wind poured down on us, then onto the Confederation Rail Trail with 30 miles of non-stop rain, red mud everywhere and two wet riders.

Doesn’t it sound wonderful to ride a rail trail? Imagine straight paths, with interesting scenery, no traffic, farmlands, brooks. wetlands? Now think of it with pouring rain, mud, (red mud not brown), mosquitos, and mile after mile of closed in trees. This was not my leisure ride, stopping at seaside restaurants, and long vistas to the water. Definitely not, just miles of the same thing over and over again. Finally we arrived, 40 miles later, never stopping along the way to a very nice resort hotel with a hot tub. After a dinner with about 50 golfing buddies, I took two Tylenol, rubbed evey inch of my body with Arnica, took a 1/2 an ambien, two Tums for my leg cramps and fell asleep.

Day three we woke to more pouring rain. We meet the other four bikers in the restaurant and they recounted their experience leaving from Tignish, running out of power, and getting completely soaked and dirty. They were opting to take the taxi to Summerside. But what do 80 year olds do? We ride, oh yes, those younger seniors are not going to smoke us. Off on the Confederation Rail Trail for the second day of rain, red dirt, and miles of the same boring scenery. One bright spot was finding a lady slipper that is the country’s flower and a bunch of cows laying down, munching away as if they were having dinner served in bed.

I think after this trip I will be done with rail trails. I should know the train never goes through interesting places but I had my hopes. Tomorrow 31 miles, a relief from the 49 today. And who ever said it was easier to bike West to East as it was downhill going East. Beats me, they definitely lied, it was all gradual uphill which is fine if you are 20 years old. Well here are some pics along the way.

Onward to Prince Edward Island Epic 6 day bike ride

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Is there anything better than opening a Christmas present in December with a trip to bike tip to tip in Prince Edward Island on June 11, 2026. You will have to ask Shap, cause that’s what I gave him. Heads together, we dreamt of ocean air, fabulous views, zipping along on bright sunny days, stopping to photograph, falling asleep exhausted but happy.

Skip to Sunday morning June 7th in Stowe. Vermont, 7 AM departure in pouring rain with Olive tearfully sitting on her bench looking out the driveway as we drive away. Well, we say, let’s take a look at the long range forecast in PEI (as everyone seems to call it). WHAT??? Rain the whole week with one day of possible sun!! Seriously, what happen to that dream we have been dreaming all winter.

Not to be deterred, we head out across lots, as they say in the vernacular of New England, toward Machias, ME. One of my best friends comes from Machias and I am not sure she raves about it, but I will finally get a chance to see her hometown. Meanwhile, first stop at Front Seat coffee for a pastry and latte. I mean, it has been an hour since we had our first cup. And Shap can never pass this coffee shop without stopping.

Windshield wipers are going full tilt, as our trusty Red Toyota truck hugs the road, and the bikes in the back are loudly complaining of how wet they are. but we can’t see them so we ignore them like small children whining from the backseat. At mile whatever, I suggest an audio book since Shap and I seem to have run out of conversation. Remember those days when you could talk to each other, we were both so interesting and had so much to tell? Yeah that was 30 + years ago. Now, it is what book has the most murders, intrigue, gore and can be finished in 7 hours.

As we roll into Maine we pass one of our favorite haunts for photographs, the TREASURE HOUSE. If you have never been, this is a must. A three story barn, filled beyond its walls and spilling throughout the yard with everything that has ever been made since time began. Old plastic letters, hose bibs, radiators, car parts, faucets. etc. I could go on with the list, but you would stop reading.

Below are examples of the “stuff.” Here’s a good mystery to solve. Picture a basket full of those faucet heads you have on your outside water spigot to turn it off and on. Now picture a basket full of at least 400 of them in all colors. Interesting photo right? There are so many so you just put your eye to your camera, move it around to figure out how to arrange the picture and BANG, there is a decapitated doll’s head staring up at you. Seriously, who puts a decapitated doll’s head in a basket of faucets? Oh yes, I have included a picture.

Back in the car and on to Machias. All will be revealed of your childhood home, Bessie.

November 19

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No rain in the forecast today. Not trusting the report, we packed up our backpacks, the cameras, extra layers of clothes and our borrowed umbrellas to set out to the village of Shirakawa-go, a UNESCO World Heritage site. About an hour away by bus sits this Japanese alpine village. It is renowned for its steep, thatched roofed farmhouses designed to withstand heavy snowfalls.This is known as the Gassho style of architecture translating to “two hands joined in prayer.”

Historically isolated this village, incorporated in the 1800’s, shows evidence of the existence of people as far back as the 1600’s. The high mountains were covered with snow creating an backdrop of white against vivd red and yellow maples. The last of the plums, roses, and rice dotted the fields while thatch tents tied together stood as a sentry guarding the fields. Photographically this was an opportunity to create something beautiful. Except the tourists picked the most picturesque sites in the village to spend 10 minutes taking “friends” pictures of each other while posing with the peace symbol shading half their face or in the most ridiculous poses. Patience I do not have for such antics, waiting ten minutes to get that perfect shot was painful.

I believe now Shap and I have gone “forest bathing.” We kept our clothes on and did not have towels with us. But we did walk amongst the most magnificent cedars with trunks so wide we could not join hands around the tree. The path led us higher up from the village with a water way running beside us. Although, quiet contemplation is not my style, and communing with nature means either walking the dog or taking pictures, I did enjoy the solitude and beauty of this cedar forest.

By the time we left, the sun had faded and we were glad to have a warm bus in which to journey back to Kanasawa and an early dinner of tiny fried shrimp and tempura. There are the lots of small restaurants close to our hotel that serve excellent food. Eating in these restaurants is an experience all its own. Tiny hole in the wall places barely large enough to have a counter, dish up excellent beef. However, along with the beef someone will be sitting close by eating weird, I believe, almost live octopus, or soup with strange shapes floating in broth that belong to parts of bodies you would never think of eating. All of this coming from a kitchen the size of the front seat of a car. What fun!