Travel blog: Scars of American conflict in Vietnam

Nick Claxton has never ventured outside of Europe before but a combination of too many years in London, a lack of proper responsibilities and an unhealthy admiration for Michael Palin now means he is spending a year travelling the globe. A terminally-disorganised 24-year-old taking on the world - solo. Here is his 24th blog entry:

I awoke in our Vietnamese longhouse with a throbbing hangover to find our guides were already up, had sorted out breakfast and arranged a ride on an elephant for us. Not bad going before 08:00, I thought.

Of course, we were probably the only ones in the village who were still asleep. The farmers had been in the rice fields for hours and the fishermen had made their first catch while we still sipped our staple Vietnamese breakfast of noodle soup.

As we finished up, our ride arrived and we crammed ourselves into the basket on her back for a slow lollop around the lake. Well, halfway round.

This elephant ride may not have had the excitement I felt when searching for tigers in Nepal, but our shortcut back to the village through the middle of the lake certainly made it memorable!

While we were trying not to get wet, our Easy Rider guides were loading up the bikes. So after getting back on dry land, we switched our mode of transport straight away and headed out of the village - we had eight hours of driving to get to Buon Ma Thuot.

As before, our route cut through beautiful surroundings - and we were on a road that was perfect for our motorbikes.

The surface was smooth, sweeping round the curves was incredibly satisfying and I loved that Sang routinely switched off the engine as we reached the peak of an incline - just so that we could glide down silently through the mountainous jungle with only the roar of the wind in our ears.

As we cut a path through the Central Highlands, Sang pointed out places of interest - and I noticed that were becoming more and more related to the Vietnam War, such as hills scarred by Agent-Orange, blown-up bridges or burnt-out churches.

The Central Highlands had seen such high levels of bombardment as it had been of key strategic importance. Viet Cong fighters had used tracks through the jungle to ferry weaponry and supplies down from the north away from the eyes of the South Vietnamese and US troops.

This meandering route had become known as the Ho Chi Minh Trail and following the war, the Vietnamese government had built the road we were now driving - both to improve transport links in the western regions and in tribute to their former leader.

Sometimes the road criss-crosses the trail, sometimes the two overlap exactly - the tarmac follows the most direct route as, unlike the original trail, this new one was made with heavy machinery and explosives.

Occasionally we'd pass travellers tackling the trail themselves on the back of old Russian Minsk bikes - available to buy in both Saigon and Hanoi.

And while I can't deny being slightly envious, I know that we'd have missed so much without Kenny, Sang and Son as our guides. Their knowledge was invaluable - I'd have simply carried on straight past many of the hidden-away hill-tribes if I'd been driving.

In the same way, I would have missed the waterfall near Buon Ma Thuot which we ducked under to take a break from the heat of the bikes and watch the water cascade over our heads.

These small stops are what made touring with Easy Riders such a great way to explore Vietnam.

On our way to Buon Ma Thuot and over the next two days, our stops included a chat with workers at a rubber plantation, listening to a chortling old man play his self-made bamboo xylophone (before having a go ourselves) and visiting a scrap merchant to find rusted US weapons that are still being dug out of the ground.

This was in addition to dropping in on more reclusive hill-tribes, with either Kenny or Son (who had better English than Sang) acting as translator for our questions.

Their interpretation skills also came in useful when we stopped to eat - otherwise we'd never have tried local delicacies like barbequed boar or deer with lime, lemongrass and chilli.

Our meal in Kon Tum (a town inhabited by 70 per cent minority hill tribes) was probably the best - superb fresh wild meat, caught by local hill-tribes, wrapped in crisp green salad leafs and washed down with beer from an ice bucket.

Clouds of barbeque smoke wafted through the packed restaurant, rain hammered down onto the iron roof outside and the place hummed with the eager chatter rising from each table where everyone was eating the same.

A good meal fills all the senses - making for some vivid memories. It wasn't just the food, it was where we were, who we were with and what we'd done that day. Food is just brilliant, isn't it?

Between Kon Tum and Phuoc Son, we learnt a good deal more about the Vietnam War thanks to Son.

More than the other two guides, he was especially good at explaining the historical significance of each area we passed through and was normally the first to point out key sites along the way, such as Hamburger Hill and the old US airstrip.

Son's knowledge more than satisfied the history-buff inside me - but in fact every part of the Easy Rider experience went beyond my expectations.

My earlier reservations about the price of this trip ($70 a day [£40]) were proved completely unfounded. To be honest, I really wouldn't want to have done it any other way.

So it may come as no surprise that I agreed to extend my tour through the region's highest mountain ranges to Khe Sanh combat base and the DMZ.

These had always been top of my list of places to see in Vietnam, and so adding three more days to my motorbike tour was an easy decision. I just hoped my aching behind could cope…

Nicholas Claxton