Travel blog: Along the tourist trail to Hoi An

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 25th blog entry:

We'd run ahead of the rain for most of the day. Even when we slowed down to navigate through a landslide that had covered the road, we'd managed to stay ahead.

But as we descended from some of the highest peaks in Vietnam's Central Highlands, the clouds caught us up and within minutes drops of rain were splashing on our visors.

Sang and Kenny pulled the bikes into a deserted-looking restaurant and we settled in to sit out the rain - hoping it'd pass before nightfall.

Nik and I had left Ciaran and Son that morning - they were heading on to Hoi An, while we continued up the Ho Chi Minh Trail towards the DMZ.

Our extended route had dealt up the most beautiful landscapes we'd seen in Vietnam so far, along with a cool mountain freshness and more of those gorgeously inclined curves to throw the bike around.

But the sky was finally delivering the rain it had threatened all day and we were caught half-way up a mountain, 20km away from the town of Aluoi after our longest day's drive so far. We were all aching, tired and really not looking forward to a soaking.

Some coffee warmed us, a few stretches eased our throbbing spines and then a break in the clouds convinced us to make a dash for it.

For ten minutes we looked like having a chance of staying dry… but no such luck.

Half-blinded by the rain lashing down, Sang and Kenny still managed to guide us along the twisting road in the fading light and into the guesthouse.

We struggled, frozen and dripping, off the bikes - much to the amusement of the girls behind the counter - and tried vainly to warm up in lukewarm showers.

Naturally, within half an hour the storm had completely passed. But thankfully that was the last time we hit any bad weather at all - it was blazing sunshine up to Khe Sanh, across to the DMZ and then down to Hoi An.

These three days provided the best Vietnam War history lesson you're likely to get - apart from maybe Platoon, which Kenny reckoned was pretty accurate.

Visiting Khe Sanh combat base was especially intriguing as it was the only former American base along our route that is open to visitors.

Some historians argue that the siege of Khe Sanh played a decisive role in the Vietnam War as US commanders made defending the base a priority - which made them ill-prepared to deal with the Viet Cong's Tet Offensive in 1968 which, while a military failure, turned the American public against the war.

Walking around the base only takes ten minutes as just crumbling bunkers remain, but there are damaged tanks and helicopters on display while the on-site museum leads you swiftly through the history of the siege.

From Khe Sanh, we spent the rest of the day on the bikes - heading across Vietnam to Cua Tung beach on the east coast, with only a few stops at Bru Van Kieu minority villages.

But since it was Vietnam's National Day, we stopped off at the Truong Son National Cemetery, lit some incense with Kenny and joined the other visitors soberly paying their respects among row upon row of headstones.

Soon after leaving the cemetery, we reached the coast and turned north to reach the Ben Hai river, the 17th parallel and the former DMZ.

Walking across the historical Dakrong Bridge only took a few minutes and somehow this highlighted how tragic all those deaths had been - no matter the politics behind it, the divide splitting the country in two just seemed so arbitrary to me.

After leaving the DMZ, I realised our Easy Rider tour was coming to an end. Apart from short visit to another set of Viet Cong tunnels at Vinh Moc, all that remained was a long drive down Highway 1 to Hue and then on through Da Nang to meet up with Ciaran in Hoi An.

After eight days riding pillion for hours at a time, I can't say my body wasn't thankful - though any aches had been worth it for the scenery alone.

Even nearing the end of our tour, the landscape was stunning as we pulled off the highway and onto the Hai Van Pass which spirals up above the sea before gliding down into Da Nang.

This was to be our final leg - it was only half an hour or so to Hoi An from here. But instead of roaring stylishly and triumphantly to the finish, Sang and I rather limped home after getting a puncture at the last.

After a short delay at the mechanics, we arrived and met up with Ciaran, Nik and Kenny. But I only had enough time to check in at the Hoa My Hotel (huge room for $10 [£6] per night) before Kenny and Sang were heading off again to start the long drive back to Dalat.

We bid them, and the bikes, goodbye and then with a farewell toot from Kenny's horn they were gone. They'd left us safely ensconced on the tourist trail - possibly a bit more in tune with Vietnam, but most definitely grimier and more tender than before!

Nicolas Claxton