I am starting to get the hang of Mui Ne. One of the tricks is to rise early and go to the beach before the wind (and waves) pick up. A quick ice coffee at the beach bar, then 90 minutes of walking the shore, taking time for a refreshing swim, collecting unique shells to be deposited into my bowl of fame back home.
Arriving back at Coco Sand after a late breakfast, I engaged in a quick language lesson with the guy at the desk, then turned around to see a familiar face…the dude who has been trying to convince me since my arrival that I should see the sand dunes from the back of his motorbike. He wears a startlingly-white hat festooned with the Canadian flag, a gift from a tourist. He’s a sweet guy, but it ain’t happening. I think I finally got through to him yesterday, although he’ll likely try again before I leave here; I think it’s written somewhere in the motorbike driver code of ethics that no means probably…
I opted for a Jeep tour of local attractions in the afternoon…The vehicle was 40 years old, and we managed to cram eight tourists plus the driver into it – three young guys from Texas, two young Israeli women, a couple from LA and me.
The first driver was insane, so when we stopped and another guy took his place it was all we could do not to give him a standing ovation. Instead, I patted him on the back and asked him not to kill us. He smiled warmly, which I took as a good sign, fool that I am.
First stop, the Fairy Stream. I don’t know why they call it that, as I repeated over and over to the curmudgeon from LA as we walked barefoot upstream. It wasn’t long though before the magic began…soaring cliffs of PEI-red sands, impossible greenery, and cows! Almost as good as fairies!
I struck up a conversation with one of the Texas lads who was pretty banged up with bandages on his arms, legs and foot. Turns out it was…..drum roll….a motorcycle accident. Seems a truck cut him off. I rest my case about &@$/#€£ motorcycles.
Arriving back at the jeep, we were told we had to wait an extra ten minutes while the driver scanned the faces of passing tourists. We were a little confused, seeing as our group was all present and accounted for, but we finally got the signal to get back on board, only the Israeli girls weren’t coming with us. They were sent to another vehicle and we replaced by a very nice Chinese couple. I made a mental note not to be the last one back to the jeep…
On to the fishing village. There were boats. We took pictures. Back in the jeep, this time in a seat where I couldn’t see the road because this guy had apparently attended the same driving school as the first one…
The white sand dunes were absolutely mind-boggling. Trouble was, they were quite far away from the parking lot and the only way to get close was by 4-wheeler. I hate those things…more than motorcycles actually…but I had no choice. After getting the curmudgeon’s Vietnamese wife to read him the riot act about going slowly, I paid my two bits and climbed aboard. That bastard is responsible for taking ten years off my life….
Last stop, red sand dunes at sunset. And we made it back to town with no incident although we took the back roads instead of the highway because there are “less police… “