Mad Dogs and Englishmen...

Face flushed by ungodly bright heat of Vietnam's sun, I try to see whether my GoPro is working.

Wilson,

The last time I was even close to being this hot was July 4, 2015, when, exhausted from the heat of an El Niño summer, I neglectfully left you behind on the flanks of Mount Adams. You saw what heat was like then, but it's nothing like the heat of Vietnam on the backside of a monsoon, when the skies have graciously let in the sun, but the gauche humidity hasn't figured that out yet.

This represents my final series of reports on my Vietnam adventure. Four more postings are coming, and I hope you'll like them.

While writing this posting on our medical team's trek between two Vietnamese highland villages, I decided to dedicate my account to Noël Coward (1899-1973) who had a thing or two to sing about Vietnam's heat. Appropriately for my purposes, he wrote a little song about it while driving from Hanoi to Saigon many, many years ago. It's called "Mad Dogs and Englishmen."

 In late August our medical team finished up its work at Mai Hich, and trekked between 12 and 15 miles overland to the village of Cun Pheo. Yes, the temp was 95 F and the humidity about 80%, but I'm a hiker, so I figured it could make it. I packed lots of water, probably 3 liters, and rain gear, just in case a monsoon decided to appear. And I brought my 10 essentials, and my cameras, and wore my fly fishing vest to keep all my gear handy. I was prepared. Here's a map to show where we were heading:

Isn't Google wonderful? It could find the villages and map the route between them.

When I got home and began writing this dispatch, I was pleasantly surprised to see that Google's standard map program could find the villages. I was even more surprised to notice that Mai Chau Lodge was on the map. That was our way station to the villages we visited. Google even had a photo of water lillies of Mo Luong Lake, the site of the Lodge:

We started our hike early, taking in the magnificent vistas that lay out before us, such as a limestone karst, pictured below, which rose from the otherwise flat land we traversed:

Plenty of humidity and rain kept foliage green in this hot land.

Our group started out in a tight formation.

Before long, we spread out along the trail (such as it was).

Terraced rice fields were spread out before us.

Apparently oblivious to the heat, locals labored in the rice fields.

Our leader, John Phillips, smiled as he looked at the countryside and said it was like walking in a postcard. For example scenes like the next two pictures:

But don't let that all that greenery fool you. That shade means it's hot, and it's muggy. Before long, I was dripping profusely. Sweat doesn't cool you -- it seals in the heat.

In tropical climes, There are certain times of day

When all the citizens retire, To take their clothes off and perspire

It's one of those rules That the greatest fools obey

Because the sun is far too sultry

And one must avoid its ultry Violet ray

In this setting, a satellite dish.

Quaint scenes like the rustic dwelling, above, with a digital antenna connecting it to the 21st Century were a nice distration. So was the pair of lonely tombstones below, their only context being the jungle foliage around them.

These were the only tombstones I saw in my entire visit.

As well as this glimpse of  hungry, predatory plants, growing in the wild right beside our path:

Common as our dandelions? A line of Venus fly traps awaited the next unsuspecting insect.

But in the heat of the mid-morning sun, the abandoned cart below glared up at me as if to ask, "are you sweltering yet?"

The natives grieve When the white men leave

Their huts.  Because they're obviously, Definitely nuts

Like a mirage, the mysterious sign, below,  in the middle of foliage with no river in sight, should have been a warning.

Pant. Pant. Is this a joke? The only water we saw was in ponds or rice paddies.

Mad Dogs & Englishmen Go out in the midday sun

The Japanese don't care to The Chinese wouldn't dare to

Hindus and Argentines Sleep firmly from twelve to one

But Englishmen Detest a siesta . . .

Drying corn cobs basked in the glory of the hot day.

In the Philippines They have lovely screens

To protect you from the glare

In the Malay states There are hats like plates

Which the Britishers won't wear

All Vietnamese youngsters seem to know "hello" and "goodbye." And--they wave.

Were the children who waved to us from the comfort of a shady driveway at all curious about the strange group of tall, hot people who were walking by?

At twelve noon the natives swoon

And no further work is done

But mad dogs and Englishmen

Go out in the midday sun

Does the motorcyclist smile while we bake because the wind is in her face?

Not all the ground is flat. It's the hills that let you remember you are getting really hot.

Such a surprise

For the eastern eyes to see

That though the English are effete

They're quite impervious to heat

One thing I prepared for before leaving was a downpour. I didn't want to get soaking wet and I also worried about sliding on the slick mud that Vietnam's red soil would produce. But after a while, a rain storm didn't seem like such a bad idea.

I think it was this bridge we crossed that had no handrails. I timidly clutched  the rail posts instead.

By the time we crossed this bridge, the heat was upon us. No rafters were in sight.

Once over that bridge, we were fully exposed to the heat of the day.

When the white man rides Every native hides In glee

Because the simple creatures hope he Will impale his solar toupee on a tree

It seems such a shame When the English claim the earth

They give rise To such hilarity and mirth

Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha

Hoo, hoo, hoo, hoo, hoo, hoo, hoo, hoo

He, he, he, he, he, he, he, he

No Mirage--that building  at the top of this hot hill and below the tree really is a watering hole!

After crossing the second foot bridge we had a brief break for snacks and a drink of water. About this time I was wondering whether all the water I packed would be enough. After more walking, however, we came to a refreshment stand at the top of a hill. It was well stocked, and we hydrated. By this time I must have consumed at least two liters of water. At least two liters. And I was hording a couple pounds, because there was no telling when the next water hole would show up.

How did our young GIs get their drinking water on their cross-country jaunts?

Real ice -- and safe!

We walked on. There were several more breaks along the way--one for lunch, and two more  for hydration. The second hydration stop was along a highway, at a home where the people actually had a refrigerator. They saved their rain water and froze it, so we actually had ice!  God, it was good. I had several glasses. Afterward I left the family a 100,000 dong bill to express gratitude. That's the equivalent of about $5 US. That had to have made their day.

Later, we had a chance to just sit for a few minutes to shake off exhaustion before we finished the last leg of the journey and reached Cun Pheo.

Mad dogs and Englishmen Go out in the midday sun

The toughest Burmese bandit Can never understand it

In Rangoon The heat of noon

Is just what the natives shun

They put their Scotch Or Rye down and lie down

In a jungle town Where the sun beats down To the rage of man and beast

The English garb Of the English sahib Merely gets a bit more creased.

After another bout with the sun we saw shade ahead, next to a pond, tinted by the red earth.

When we stopped under the shade of a bamboo thicket I discovered that one reason I was so bloody hot was that my flyfishing vest for holding camera gear was completely soaked with sweat and was acting like heat insulation. I took it off and hung it over my backpack as best I could.

In Bangkok at twleve'o'clock They foam at the mouth and run

But mad dogs and Englishmen Go out in the midday sun

Sometimes the path was reasonably obvious . . .

Mad dogs and Englishmen Go out in the midday sun

The smallest Malay rabbit Deplores this foolish habit
In Hong Kong they strike a gong and fire off a noonday gun,
To reprimand each inmate who's in late

A bamboo thicket afforded us a place to eat and hydrate. 

In the mangrove swamps Where the python romps

There is peace from twelve to two

Even caribous Lie around and snooze

For there's nothing else to do

. . . and sometimes you just hoped you were on the path

This small store provided evidence that traffic actually traveled this almost vacant, hot road.

The glare made it impossible to know  my GoPro was working. And did I mention it was hot?

Whatever made me think carrying an umbrella was a silly idea? Note her fan.

Almost there! A family home with fruit snacks  provides one more respite from the sun.

In Bengal To move at all Is seldom if ever done

But mad dogs and Englishmen Go out in the midday

Out in the midday

Out in the midday

Out in the midday

Out in the midday

Out in the midday

Out in the midday sun!

Civilization!

We climbed a bank, and suddenly came upon a road that had real traffic -- an occasional car, and bicyclists. And several buildings.

It seems like all bicyclists waved to us as they rode by. And they said "hello!"

And then we followed a path with real shade and real cows and houses in the distance the voices of people.

As we passed under a kind old tree, barking dogs told us we were almost "there."

He: Looks like he's glad it's over. She: resting and working her fan.

Exhaustion. time to rest and get ready, because tomorrow we have another clinic to run. Fortunately, it won't be under the midday sun.

I probably drank a gallon water today, and yet the  stream I released at the end of the day was the color of dehydration.

By the way, regarding the Noël Coward song: According to Wikipedia,

Biogapher Sheridan Morley said  Coward wrote the song while driving from Hanoi to Saigon "without pen, paper, or piano". Coward himself elucidated: "I wrestled in my mind with the complicated rhythms and rhymes of the song until finally it was complete, without even the aid of pencil and paper. I sang it triumphantly and unaccompanied to my travelling companion on the verandah of a small jungle guest house. Not only Jeffrey [Amherst], but the gecko lizards and the tree frogs gave every vocal indication of enthusiasm".

So there you have it Wilson. Stay out of the midday sun.

Love,

Robert, and Jean Baptiste

Tomorrow: 8,000 tiny teeth.