The weather that morning was wet and overcast, which was a nice departure from the heat of the last two months. But it left the trails pretty slick. And these weren't well-groomed US National Park trails. These were rough, muddy paths through back yards and rice patties.
But it sure was pretty!
The green rolling mountains would be beautiful under any circumstances, but what makes them particularly unique are the stepped rice patties that you can see in the background. The soil in the region is very soft, and the heavy rainfall is perfect for growing rice. So over time, the local communities developed their own methods for forming a series of mud berms to plant rice in. It's an engineering marvel, especially since they've been doing this for centuries without power tools or electricity.
In the background of the first photo above, you can see a small village. That was our destination for lunch, but we wouldn't be making the hike alone. A group of four Hmong women had befriended Tom and Helen, and were joining us for the hike.
Aimee and I saw where this was headed (selling their textiles), but bottled up our cynicism the first time they stopped us from sliding down the mountain. By the fourth or fifth time, we were calculating how many blankets we could buy, and still have enough money to get home.
I'm torn about how I should present that first morning. The scenery was impossibly beautiful, and we were so grateful to be there. But it got a little hairy at times. The soft soil, while great for stepped rice paddies, was one misstep away from a landslide. And the rain only made it worse, since the trail was essentially one long, shallow river.
Our guide, So, and our unexpected companions deftly navigated the trails in their $3 rain boots, further proving the superiority of experience over gear. Of course, we had neither. So we followed the advice of our trailmates, down to the exact placement of each step.
Ok, Myles. Look down, don't eat it. Now look up, this is beautiful. Uh oh. Whhooooaaaaahhhh! Ok, better look down again.
We navigated our way through more rice paddies, and got an up-close view of their farming techniques.
Despite the weather, we were there at a perfect time of year. The farmers were getting ready for the first of two annual plantings (May/June and November/December). The photo below is a good illustration of their technique.
The furthest sections (light green) show active rice paddies. The closer middle section (dark green) shows a cutling patch. Since the local farmers don't have the labor or money to plant across an entire mountain all at once, they farm in stages. They plant rice seeds in one section, and let them sprout up very densely. But rice needs lots of room and water to grow sustainably, so they can't keep the fields like this. The farmers then bundle up the cutlings (closest sections), and replant them across the rest of their land.
After So explained the farming practice, we came across the first of many buffalo stables.
Water Buffalo are the tractors, combines, aerators, and cargo trucks of the Vietnamese highlands. They're priceless up here. Well, actually they're 30 million Dong (US $1,500), which is a lot of money in any community. So while the parents are out planting rice, the kids tend to the buffalo. And let me tell you, it's something else to see a four year old herding a small pack of wild beasts.
We weren't in Kansas anymore.
Around 12:30 or 1, we came up to another small bamboo home. Lunch time!
We hadn't seen many other hikers along the trail, but there were three or four small groups and their guides at the rest stop. Everyone was eating the sautéed beef, pork, goat, and buffalo that define the cuisine of the region.
Aside from some much needed sustenance, the lunch was a major turning point in the hike. The sun had come out, and the trail was starting to dry out. Now we only had to contend with the usual dangers of an 8 mile hike through the mountains.
Mimi had mercifully slept through the most treacherous sections of the trail (the wiggle dancing she usually does in her carrier is much more adorable on solid ground). But as she woke up, we came to learn that the Hmong people share at least one thing with the rest of the country. They love our baby.
Our textile-selling hiking assistants brought out their goods at lunch, and we put their kids through college.
And speaking of college, So told us that she learned English entirely from chatting with hikers on the trail as a small girl. Like many Hmong children, she helped her family sell textiles to tourists after school. One scarf at a time, she eventually became fluent, went to college, got a degree in international relations, and now shows off her homeland to visitors from around the world. Pretty impressive.
With full bellies (plus a beer and coffee), it was time to set off on the rest of our hike.
My thought process every time we turned a corner and saw something like this was:
Wow, that is beautiful.
Look down.
Ok, solid ground. Look up.
Wow, that is beautiful.
Oh, man. We probably have to hike up/down/along that.
Sure is beautiful, though.
Mimi, easy on the wiggle dancing until we get off this ridge.
We continued over the mountains, taking in one impossibly beautiful scene after another.
Around 4:30 or 5, we reached our homestay for the evening. It was a simple mountain cottage made from brick and bamboo, like most buildings in the area.
Our host family lived in the main home, and we stayed in a screened-in building next door. Both the home, and the fact that we were living out of a Camelbak, were good reminders that most possessions are superfluous. For instance, we were a little concerned that we didn't bring anything for Mimi to do. But she didn't notice, as she joyously pushed around a plastic chair for hours.
Eat your heart out, power wheels.
Our homestay was in a tiny village, and we explored the area before dinner (read: looked for a much needed beer). Our quest was successful, and I certainly hadn't ever had a more scenic libation.
We joined So and our hosts for dinner that night, and it was nice to see what daily life was like on the mountain. Our host was Tay (pronounced Zay), another one of the dozen or so ethnic groups in the region. Every ethnicity has a distinct language, custom, and clothing, and people from different groups, like So (Hmong) and our host family (Tay) speak to each other in Vietnamese.
Of the highland ethnic groups, Hmong are probably the most famous in the US for a couple of reasons. The main one is that Hmong are indigenous to Viet Nam, Laos, Cambodia, and Southern China. This, of course, was not the most stable area of the world throughout most of the last century. The CIA recruited tens of thousands of Hmong men to fight various secret wars in the region, and obviously that didn't end well for anybody. Many Hmong had to flee as refugees, with a sizable population settling in the American Upper Midwest.
As an aside, I can't imagine how difficult it was for a community of warm-weather mountain farmers to adapt to living in Minnesota.
The other reason that the Hmong people are relatively well known in the US is because of a popular book in the medical community, The Spirit Catches You and You Fall Down. It's about a Hmong refugee family with a severely epileptic daughter. The book chronicles her family's difficulty interacting with the US medical system. Or so I'm told. The unfortunate irony is that every newly-accepted medical student is given that book as if they're going to have time to read it during the next five to seven years. But one of these days...
The food was delicious, and the rice wine didn't hurt either. I think we made it to about 8:30 before the day (and the rice wine) caught up with us. So we brushed our teeth, zipped up the mosquito net, and called it a day. Mimi settled in for a rare night of co-sleeping, and Aimee and I were too exhausted to let our little wiggler keep us up. All in all, we were doing surprisingly well. I didn't want to say it out loud and jinx us, but I was starting to think that we could stick to the original three day plan. Of course, we only had two diapers remaining, but every problem is solvable. First, zzz...
