I fell off the Ha Giang Loop
My motorbike adventure in Northern Vietnam took an unexpected turn when I disappeared over a cliff edge. Here's what happened, and why the Ha Giang Loop was still 100% worth it.
Hi gorgeous humans,
It’s story time!
You can listen to the full audio here:
I’m currently flying from Bali to Nashville, so I’m digging up this story from my archives to keep you entertained 😉. It doesn’t have anything to do with music, though I’d say what happened warrants a song someday.
Let Me Preface It:
In November 2024, my boyfriend’s parents flew from France to Vietnam. They’d planned a 1 month trip and invited us to tag along for some of it (it’s only a 5 hour flight from Bali).
I told Vincent: Listen, if I’m going to Vietnam, I have a non-negotiable. I need to tick the Ha Giang Loop off my bucket list. Of course let’s spend time with your family, but I gotta do this. With or without you.
And he was like… ok… no idea what that is, tell me more?
“Well, the Ha Giang Loop is a motorbike trip in the north of Vietnam. I heard about it from Michael Durkee. You know Michael Durkee?”
“No?” (Vincent is great with faces, and terrible with names)
“Yes you do! The blonde guy that’s always at Pantai Warung on Fridays for their happy hour? Yeah, yeah - he’s really cool. Well, Durkee was telling me it’s every thrill-seeker’s dream and you basically just drive for 4 days, see the most incredible views, sleep at mountain lodges along the way, and drink ‘happy water’ with locals at night. And Durkee said it’s not yet overrun with tourists! An authentic experience.”
Now, my man is a very logical man. He thinks ahead. I paint the picture, he narrows in on the fine details.
His listed concerns: international driver’s licenses, the low-season weather, and how the hostels will likely be infested with karaoke-inclined, backpackers…
But I handled his objections like the sly princess I am and BOOM, he was in. I made a rough itinerary, while he made the most immaculate spreadsheet ever. And off we went to Vietnam!
Skurrrrrt. Fast forward. Here comes the story, which I wrote on the bus after completing the loop.
Lucky Charm
I am currently being flung around sharp curves. Our bus driver is gruff and ruthless. He’s the exact type of driver I frantically dodged over the last 4 days driving the infamous Ha Giang Loop in North Vietnam.
I’m staring out the window, thinking about something I half-jokingly told Vincent shortly after we met.
I can be a pompous flirt.
“You know, if you treat me right, I’ll be your lucky charm.”
At the time, he’d laughed it off with an, “Oh, is that so?” But after this motorbike trip, he’s a firm believer.
I am a lucky person. I don’t know how to explain it, but things always work out for me. And when my man is in good favor, I know how to bring good energy to him too. Call it manifestation, call it feminine energy — whatever. I just know I am surrounded by a guardian angel SWAT team and they work hard for me and the people I love.
Day 0 of the Ha Giang Loop - Clear Eyes, Full Hearts
We arrived to Ha Giang City by late afternoon. We checked in at the Yen Ben Luxury Hotel (strategically selected for being slightly above the backpacker budget). While I got a complimentary Vietnamese tea bath at the spa, Vincent took a video call with the United Nations - speaking on how AI can positively influence tourism. Yes, I am bragging on him. He’s brilliant. We went to sleep that night so excited for our adventure ahead! Clear eyes, full hearts, blablabla. Not a worry in the world.
Day 1 of the Ha Giang Loop - Open Sky & Sticks
First mistake of the day: we took our sweet time in the morning. Grazed on the breakfast buffet, snuck in a few hours of online work… we only had to drive 3-4 hours to our first homestay, so what’s the rush?
Here’s where I should mention that the vast majority of tourists opt for group tours of the loop. Basically, they sit on the back of the bike while an experienced local called an “easy rider” does all the driving. These rowdy crowds ride in caravans of 10-20 bikes.
My non-negotiable was that I wanted to drive the Ha Giang Loop myself. And I was hell-bent on doing just that. There was no way I’d sit behind an easy rider or Vincent. So we pulled up to the bike rental place around noon and selected our chariots. We also selected insurance. Smart. A couple hours later, papers signed, helmets fitted, rain ponchos on, tanks filled, we were ready to go.
The first hour was a total high. I was audibly shouting, “Woo-hoooooo!” and “Yewwwwww!” as we wound up into the misty mountains. Michael Durkee was right - I felt magnificently present and in love with life. Not to mention I felt like a total badass woman, solo riding across rugged terrain, keeping up with the BOYS.
Then came the second mistake of the day. We were so enamored with the views that we took a wrong turn without realizing. We kept driving up and up and up as the road conditions deteriorated. I figured that any moment, we’d come around a corner to a solid road again.
Halfway up a particularly sharp incline with a chunky rock gravel road, Vincent suddenly stopped ahead of me. I braked next to him and to our horror, we both started sliding backwards. To one side was a steep rock wall, to the other side, a drop-off. He shouted through his helmet, “This cannot be right, we need to turn around!”
I eased around and started going back down. Behind me, I heard Vincent shout, “Slowly!”
And I wanted to go slowly, I really did.
But somehow, my bike started revving. I was pulling the handbrake, but the bike was bouncing and jostling so bad, that I was accidentally accelerating at the same time. The bike was grumbling with angry sounds and from one moment to the next, I was completely out of control. Everything happened so fast. I knew I was going to crash, it was just a matter of where.
Jump off and I’d be brutally torn up from the huge rocky gravel. Keep straight and I’d only continue to gain speed and never make the upcoming curve. My eye caught a big boulder coming up on my right. And in a split second, I steered right toward it.
A microsecond of a thought flashed in my mind: I bet I could hit that at the right angle to stop the bike and not get too beat up.
What I didn’t anticipate was that the bike would stop…
And my body would keep going. Funny there’s this thing called inertia.
I should also mention that I had chosen to steer toward the side of the road with the steep drop-off. Idiot.
With a sickening crunch, I hit the rock, flipped off the bike, and disappeared over the cliffside.
For half a second, I was weightless. Airborne. Then I hit the ground with a thud. No traction. I bounced like a ping pong ball, then started rolling. Through my helmet shield, I saw the blur of open sky and sticks. Open sky, sticks. No thoughts just the feeling of “Waaaaaa!”
Until suddenly, I hit something sturdy. My surroundings came into focus.
I was deep in some brackets. My back cradled against a thicker trunk, my feet above me, resting vertically on the slope.
Wait, I’m alive. Wait, I’m ok. Oh shit, Vincent thinks I’m dead for sure.
I screamed upwards at the sky, “I AM OKAY.”
Enclosed in sticks, I struggled to budge.
“SYDNEY?!?!?!?!?!??!!?!!!”
I heard the most terrified yell from the edge above me. It gives me goosebumps remembering the level of fear in his voice.
“I’M OKAY.”
“OH MY GOD. WHAT?!”
“I’M OKAY, I SWEAR!”
“WAIT I’M GOING TO GET YOU OUT OF THERE. WAIT.”
“I DON’T KNOW WHERE TO CLIMB BACK UP.”
The ground had zero grip. It was like walking straight uphill on sandy gravel. Eventually, I broke out of the stick cage and Vincent guided me back up from his vantage point, grabbing me as soon as he could.
He embraced me in a shakey hug then forced me back, studying my face, his eyes red-rimmed and pooling with tears.
I remember shortly after we met, Vincent told me that he has a “bias for action.” Essentially, he prefers to solve an issue immediately rather than procrastinate it. I remember thinking how I could really admire that quality in a partner. He really does leapt right into action.
After watching in horror as I disappeared over the cliffside, Vincent had dropped his motorbike in the middle of the road and ran down to the site of the collision.
He said, "You have adrenaline in your body. There’s no way you’re not hurt. You just don’t feel it yet. Take off your layers. We need to check everything.”
Fortunately, I was covered head to toe. Rain jacket, rain pants, coat, leggings, thick socks, combat boots. And a life-saving helmet!
He was right though, I was hurt. Peeling off the layers revealed a rapidly swelling ankle, and a pretty deep cut on my calf. It appeared my double layer of pants had been slashed through by a sharp stick. But I felt nothing.
And then I noticed the massive truck coming down the hill, right toward his dropped bike and…us.
We started frantically waving down the truck to stop. A couple local guys hopped out. Seeing the chaotic scene before them, they were concerned. At least that’s how I interpreted it because they didn’t speak any English. I could see by their gesturing that they were offering to drive me down the rest of the rocky hill. One man motioned that he’d drive my bike down for me. Luckily, it started right back up. So I rode down in the truck and we all met at the bottom. Vincent and I thanked the kind men, hands in prayer, bowing our heads, and they went on their way.
Finally “safe”, I started hysterically laughing. Gaspy, uncontrollable giggles. The trauma response kind of laughter. Meanwhile Vincent held me again, both of us in shock.
We’d already lost so much precious daylight, we didn’t have the luxury of processing what had just happened.
My chariot was dreadfully scratched, but thankfully, it was running. He asked me, “Listen, are you okay to drive the bike again?”
No time to overthink it, I said, “Yes. Let’s get out of here.”
So I got back onto that near-death trap and we backtracked a whole 45 minutes to the main road. Worried, Vincent shouted over to me every 5 minutes. “Are you sure you’re okay?” I couldn’t think about it. I just needed to drive.
And here’s the third mistake. Vincent’s phone was dead and mine was on low battery. The sun set. We still had 1.5 hours to go. Running on adrenaline, we managed to find our way in the pitch dark on remote roads riddled with potholes, gravel, blind curves, and steep cliff sides (we couldn’t see them in the dark, but sensed the vast emptiness to our side). Yeah, not good.
Finally, we pulled into our homestay. Our local host was visibly relieved. He had tried to call Vincent several times after it got dark. I took the best hot shower of my life, discovering more scrapes and bruises as I washed off dirt and crusted blood. My left ass cheek was particularly mottled with painful bruises which made sitting on the bike a real treat the rest of the trip.
After my shower, Vincent went to work on my cuts with Betadine while our host cooked us our only meal since breakfast: instant noodles. Not nutritious, but delicious.
Out in the homestay dining area, a group of travelers invited us to sit with them (note: super lovely young professionals, not backpackers!). One couple lightly shared how they’d crashed within the first minutes of their trip. A gentle tipping over. Everyone laughed while Vincent and I slurped our noodles and shared a long look. That night, we held each other tight as we finally talked through the details of what had happened. I started to realize the gravity of his experience.
“I thought I was going to have to retrieve your dead body.”
“I imagined having to tell your parents the worst news.”
“I figured at minimum you’d have a broken leg and we’d need to helicopter you out of there to a hospital.”
“It was the scariest moment of my life.”
I felt for him. I still do. He saw me fly over a cliff edge and there was a gap in time where my condition was unknown and he thought the worst. That must have been frightening.
Meanwhile, I only registered open sky and sticks. I still struggle to fully comprehend it. In fact, in recalling the story, I still bust out in giggles. What a strange defense mechanism to laugh at ones own near-demise.
When Vincent asked me how I felt about it after, my honest answer was this: ashamed.
No women were driving the loop. I looked for women in every face on the road and it was all men. I told Vincent that I felt ashamed to have crashed because I wanted to be perceived as competent and strong. I know it sounds ridiculous but my pride was hurt. I wanted to best represent female motorbike drivers. And the accident made me feel like I had fulfilled some stupid stereotype that women drivers suck. I told him I wanted to keep the story between us.
But I’ve never been great at keeping a good story to myself…
Day 2 - ALL FINE and GLORIOUS until the POLICE BRIBERY
The checkpoint officer was ecstatic as he pointed out some fine print about Vietnam on our international driver’s licenses. Turns out Vietnam is like the only exception on a whole list of countries we can drive in. Loved that for us. He started with, “Well, we’ll have to confiscate your bikes and take you to our station.” We knew it was all bullshit. Yet, we put on our best frightened faces and danced the dance. Not our first time bribing police in Asia. “Awww no, is there any other way?!”
$70 per person.
We tried to talk him down but he wasn’t budging, only replying with, “We take dollars, euros, and local currency.” We passed him the hunk of cash. And who would've known, it was our lucky day! My lucky charm energy struck again. He said he was going to put our passport pics in a special Whatsapp group to let other police officers know that we already paid the bribe. So we wouldn’t have to pay at the upcoming checkpoints. How generous!!! And off we went again on our journey.
Day 3 - RAINY and CHILLED TO THE BONE
Day 4 - MISTY FOGGY and OVER IT
On the last night, we were eating a local family-cooked meal and sharing our trip highlights with more travelers. Most of them had just begun the loop, because Vince and I decided to do it backwards to avoid being behind those wild easy rider caravans. I had indulged in a bit of “happy water” and with my inhibitions lowered, I go, “Y’all I gotta admit, I had a bad crash. It was the first day, too.” Surprised, Vincent piped in:
“Wait, sorry, I need to interrupt and preface her story to tell you guys: Sydney is a GREAT driver. She’s really experienced and she always takes it slow and safe. That’s why it’s important to remember accidents can happen to ANYONE on the loop, so please be careful.”
He interrupted at least twice more throughout the story.
“I just want to end by saying a final time that Sydney is an incredible driver, and please be safe out there.”
I felt so much deep appreciation for Vincent in that moment. Not because of how we bonded through the challenge (trauma bond?), but because he was so intentional to lift me up in that moment. I felt a true partnership where I’ve got his back and he’s got mine.
Between you and me? The Ha Giang Loop, boulder incident and all, was worth it.
A friend asked me to describe the experience in one sentence.
"Among Dr. Seuss-like peaks, colorful ethnic people, rockslide warning signs, and stolen breaths, the Ha Giang Loop is a pilgrimage for thrill seekers to marvel at the mystical, to find each other, feel, and revel in the rush of being fully alive." - My sentence
Because Michael Durkee was right - there's nothing quite like the rush of being fully alive, even when that rush comes with a side of falling down a cliff.
I’m so lucky. To be able to tell this tale with a happy ending. To live so fiercely, whilest knowing I am protected and loved.
And if you ever want to do the Ha Giang Loop, trust me when I say, buy the insurance, drive slow, and report back to me how it goes!
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