Mike Huber

Returning to Vietnam – Ha Giang Loop: Part 4

By Mike Huber

Awakening the following day, I was eager to begin my second day on the Ha Giang Loop in northern Vietnam. Thankfully, the remainder of my first day on this road went without further incidents with local law enforcement.

As I continued northward in this beautiful mountainous region there wasn’t a day that went by where I wasn’t pulled over at least once. The officers I had paid the 8 million Dong to were true to their word as each time I was pulled over at license checkpoints the officer would pull out their phone and scroll through the many photos of tourists until I would stop them. “Right there! That’s me. See? I paid.”

The police officers then signaled me to be on my way. Outside a few verbal warnings to slow down, the police check points just became part of my daily routine as my journey continued.

Hitting the Vietnamese North Pole was one of my objectives along this ride. Starting off early in the morning was the best way to go. The early start was not only to avoid police check points and tourist traffic, but also to watch the mystical fog burn off the mountains as I weaved my way north. The roads were in pristine condition. The only thing more pristine was the green mountain views that unfolded as I powered through the corners. It was wonderful to have the road to myself, outside of the few meandering water buffalos that lazily crossed in front of me every so often.

Every day as afternoon approached, the police check points would appear. After a few days of constantly being pulled over to scroll through the police text thread, point out my photo, and on occasion be given a breathalyzer test (Vietnam has zero tolerance for driving under the influence), it began to get old. The road was filled with rental scooters. Most carried Westerners.

After four days of riding along the Ha Giang Loop, I reached my limit. I’d had enough of tourists, police stops, and crowds. Tigit Rental had written a solid itinerary, but at this point I needed more solace. I pulled into a coffee shop to see if there was another route I could take to deviate from the Ha Giang Loop (and there was). I hit smaller, less traveled roads. The coffee shop owner must have seen the frustration on my face as I zoomed through maps and roads to explore on my phone.

Using Google Translate with the shop owner, I described what I was looking for in terms of roads and a Vietnam experience. She quickly pointed out a direction. The roads she identified were remote and they met my criteria. The path would also send me north along the Chinese border, and then loop down to Hanoi. This would get me away from the Ha Giang Loop chaos.

Catch up with Huber in Vietnam:

Ha Giang Loop: Part 1
Ha Giang Loop: Part 2
Ha Giang Loop: Part 3

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Returning to Vietnam – Ha Giang Loop: Part 3

By Mike Huber

At 10:00 a.m., I was behind schedule, for whatever that means as I don’t really have much of a time constraint these days. But I did want to complete 200 kilometers that day. My usual thinking is to make up time by simply twisting my right wrist. I fully controlled time and distance with that slight move. This mentality had been successful in the past and so why not stick with what works?

It only took about 20 minutes of thinking that way before I saw a metal overhang with what appeared to be a speed camera. Tigit Rental warned me about speed cameras. I was not concerned. I figured it would be a fine when I returned the motorcycle. The fine would be a small price for the control of time and distance, and just another problem for future Huber to deal with.

Well, this time future Huber and present Huber were about to meet as three Vietnamese police and waved me over. There was quite the collection of motorcycles from tourists that had also been pulled over. I was then ushered across the street and found myself instantly sitting in front of a judge. I was quite frustrated and said, “Look, I just paid your buddy down the street 8 million Dong. I have no more money to pay.”

It was a stalemate between the police and me. I refused to pay the fine. After about 30 minutes he came back and started a video call with who I am assuming was the officer I had just paid 8 million Dong. By this time my day was shot, so I didn’t care if he had me sit around the courthouse all day. I wasn’t paying.

After another 30 minutes of me obnoxiously broadcasting the play by play of the other tourists in front of the judge, they decided I had learned my lesson (and they had obtained enough of my money). The judge and officers took pity on me and let me go.

It was now approaching noon, and it was finally time to put some kilometers and the morning’s incidents behind me, but perhaps at a slower pace. I had spent about four hours of my morning with the local police and the courts. It was time to salvage the day. I kept my speed down, at least in the more populated towns and villages. Either way, I was now officially on the Ha Giang Loop.

It only took a mountain pass or two before the morning’s frustration was replaced with my enjoying being back in the moment. The road and the amazing mountain ranges of northern Vietnam lay before me.

Catch up with Huber in Vietnam:

Ha Giang Loop: Part 1
Ha Giang Loop: Part 2

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Returning to Vietnam – Ha Giang Loop: Part 2

By Mike Huber

I awoke in Ha Giang prepared for an early start. This would be my first day on the Ha Giang Loop. After a quick breakfast (see the photo above) and some coffee, I was packed and ready to ride.

I knew the roads could get busy, so I made it a point to have everything packed up. This would allow me to wrap up riding by 3:00 p.m., so I could explore whatever city or village I would be staying in that afternoon. Tigit Rental had printed out the route they preferred and my plan was to stick to it.

My kickstand was up just after 07:30 and I was off. It was about 07:40 when my kickstand went back down. I had been pulled over by the Vietnamese police. I wasn’t speeding (I never am, right?). It was a routine license check. I quickly pulled out my IDP (International Driving Permit) and handed it to them. Tigit Rental had warned me that my IDP was not valid in Vietnam. It literally goes back to some clause Vietnam refused to sign in 1949.

Tigit Rental had also warned me to keep a certain amount of currency separate to pay the “fee” to the police. That was where my ADD kicked in and I had forgotten the amount. Utilizing Google Translate and handing my phone back and forth, I now had three officers around me. One officer said it was 8 million Dong (about 256USD). I didn’t have that amount with me. I explained that to them and that a trip to an ATM was required and I would return with the payment for the “fee.” I was forced to either surrender my passport (which was not happening) or leave my bag.

As I ran the money conversion in my head, I realized the amount was not good. What’s worse is it took visits to three banks to find one that took my card (and that would allow that amount to be withdrawn). I also had forgotten to pay myself that month, so my bank account was now pretty close to zero after my previous numerous withdrawals. I was getting a bit flustered as I finally got all 8 million Dong and was ready to head back to the checkpoint, pay them, get my backpack, and depart. That was when I realized I had forgotten where the checkpoint even was located. I had been turned around so many ways in hunting down banks I was fully disoriented. The only thing I could think of doing was returning to the starting point, my hotel, and just re-riding my path from that morning.

That worked out and I finally made my way back to the checkpoint. The officer than asked why it took me so long and I know I typed something to the effect “I’m not that smart” into the translator. He then ushered me over to a van and in the passenger front seat opened a briefcase full of cash.

Looking back, this entire experience is a “what NOT to do” outline for these types of situations. I get it, and I fully deserve any bashing I get because I was beyond dumb here. I managed to get ever more stupid.

I thought taking my phone out to take a photo of the briefcase full of cash would be a great addition to this story, which I knew I would write eventually. As I angled my phone, another officer behind me grabbed it. This was not good. He spent five minutes reviewing every piece of data and photo in my phone searching for the photo that I never managed to take, and all the while I kept repeating “no photo.” He finally returned my phone.

I unknowingly overpaid the Vietnamese police about 150USD ((2 to 3 million Dong is the going rate; I had paid 8 million). I was almost arrested due to my own stupidity. There was just one final step to take before I could go on my way: A photo of myself and my motorcycle. This photo was uploaded to what I will describe as a massive group text chat for future altercations with the police that would prove I had paid my “entry fee.”

It was now close to 10:00 a.m. My early start was shot. I threw my leg over the Honda and fired it up. Feeling relieved I wasn’t going to jail, there was still plenty of daylight to salvage my slow and difficult start. Sadly, that relief was short lived. In just under 30 minutes, I found myself sitting in front of a judge and more police.

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Returning to Vietnam – Ha Giang Loop: Part 1

By Mike Huber

In December 2019 I spent a month motorcycling central Vietnam, but due to poor weather I missed riding the Ha Giang Loop. The Ha Giang Loop is a 240-mile loop through northern Vietnam. It has spectacular mountain views and roads that go up to Vietnam’s North Pole, the northern-most point in Vietnam. This loop is the best road I have motorcycled in Asia. It may be the best road I have ridden anywhere.

I started the 10-day journey from where I had previously left Hanoi. I rented my moto from the same place I had six years earlier (Tigit Motorcycles). I was familiar with the company and felt comfortable renting from them again.

Upon arriving and securing my motorcycle, a Honda XR150, the representative went over the usual rules and a few route suggestions. He informed me that my International Driver’s License was not valid. What this meant was that I would be expected at some point to pay the police “a fee.” This was news to me as I had previously ridden for four weeks through central Vietnam, and I of course had been pulled over. The police then never really seemed to care; however, now the Ha Giang Loop has become so popular that you are expected to pay the police this fee. The representative stated the amount in Dong (Vietnamese currency) I would have to pay, but my ADD kicked in and I didn’t hear the amount.

It took me two days just to get to Ha Giang, where this epic road began. During this time there was one moment that really stood out. It was getting late and I was about 30 kilometers south of the city of Ha Giang when I decided to stop in a restaurant to get some Wi-Fi and book a place for the evening. As I sat down, I noticed a group of four Vietnamese men a bit older than I was. Within a few moments they invited me over and we began passing my phone around using Google Translate as beers, a bamboo tobacco pipe (which looked similar to an Australian Digeridoo), and food begin to arrive at the table. A dish of food and a beer suddenly appeared in front of me. The conversation eventually got deeply serious about the Vietnam War and about the history surrounding the United States and Vietnam.

After an hour or so, I went to pay the waitress. I tried to be slick and ensured she knew I was paying for the entire table. She quickly waved me off. As I turned around, the men from the table all gave me hugs and nudged me towards the door. They texted on my phone “Your money is no good here.” It was probably one of the nicest gestures I encountered in all my travels, especially knowing they don’t make much money and for them it was a substantial amount.

After drying my eyes, I got on the Honda and continued to my hotel. Carefully parking my bike in the hotel’s garage, it was now time to get some local food and retire for the evening. Tomorrow was the day I was to begin the Ha Giang loop and I wanted to ensure I was fresh as it would be a long day.

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Scenic Byway 163 (Arizona to Utah): Part 2

By Mike Huber

As I left the gas station in Mexican Hat the sky was looking extremely menacing. I knew that camping in a lower elevation in the Valley of the Gods may not have been the best idea, due to possible flooding. The roads can get really slick with rain. There was a great state park just a few miles away. In fact, it is such a great place to camp I was hesitant to name it here, but it is Gooseneck State Park. There are about 20 campsites there which are on the edge of a 1,000 foot drop into what looks exactly like Horseshoe Bend. This park would suffice for my home for the evening, although in hindsight I should have gotten a hotel. But then there wouldn’t be a story.

I pulled into Gooseneck State Park and set my tent up. The sky was black. It really looked menacing, and I was quite sure it wouldn’t be a dry night. After setting up my tent I did my usual walk around the park and talked with other campers. I began chatting up some other riders and invited them over for a beer and to share my fire. Within five minutes of talking to them one replied to me as he pointed to the sky. “Yeah, you may need all those beers for yourself, and there is no way we are having a fire. Good luck.”

A few minutes later I found myself in my tent alone drinking my beers as the sky opened up. This was not good. As the rains continued to pelt down the winds picked up. Within two beers the ground became so soaked that my tent stakes had uprooted in the now mud puddle I was camped in. The tent was being blown all over just making loud cracking noises like a whip. Fortunately, I had brought my panniers inside and positioned them at diagonal corners of the tent in an attempt to keep the tent somewhat grounded. Unfortunately, the winds had grown so strong that my entrance zipper was ripped apart.

I felt like this was as bad as it would get. Sadly, I was mistaken as a strong gust got under the tent and threw my pannier across the tent and in doing so the floor of my tent was ripped apart. I managed to get a little bit of sleep that evening but not much. In the morning as I awoke at 5:00 a.m., I noticed my tent had a couple inches of water in it. It resembled a kiddie pool. Everything I owned was soaked.

By 05:30 I had everything packed up and I was ready to find a coffee shop to dry out in. My plan for that day was to meet one of my 82^nd Airborne friends in Cortez, Colorado for lunch. Even though I had an early start I showed up late, due to trying to dry my gear out. When asked why I was late I simply replied I had to hit a hardware store for duct tape. He then looked me up and down as I was covered in mud and even my 82^nd Airborne hat was destroyed from the previous night. “What the fuck happened to you?” he asked as he took in my appearance. I ordered a beer and began to tell him of my adventure. Even though I had a rough night, Scenic Byway 163 is still one of the greatest roads in the United States.

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Scenic Byway 163 (Arizona to Utah): Part 1

By Mike Huber

Arizona Highway 163 is one of the most iconic roads in the United States. This is the road through Monument Valley. From Easy Rider to Forest Gump to numerous westerns, when you ride this road you are in a magical place (especially on a motorcycle). It’s a big reason why I chose it as the cover for my book (and that’s cheap plug for A Trip Into The Moment). I’ve ridden Highway 163 many times on my BMW GS1200. Most times it was uneventful, but as with most things in life, as soon as you relax and feel comfortable Mother Nature will find a way to remind you exactly how small you are.

One of my last trips on Highway 163, I stopped in Kayenta to fuel up and reload on water. It was late September, and the weather was perfect. I had a 45-mile drive to Mexican Hat, where I would grab firewood and camp in the Valley of the Gods. I never listen to music but felt The Band’s song, The Weight, was warranted to just set the tone and add more color to this final stretch. I was the Easy Rider!

As I tore out of Kayenta everything was just coming together perfectly. This was to be the coolest ride I’d ever done. With the music screaming throughout my helmet I eased into the moment and just embraced it. That was until I looked to the left and saw a sheet of brown coming at me. It was a sandstorm. Without missing a beat I pulled in my clutch, clicked down two gears and took off. I had about 30 miles to go and felt confident I could make it to safety in Mexican Hat. Safety would only be a gas station awning, but that would be enough to protect me from the stinging sands.

I made it as the sandstorm changed direction and went due south; however, I wasn’t out of the woods yet as a downpour began. I loaded up on a few snacks and water, and was waiting the storm out when a Harley rumbled up to join me under the awning. The two-up Harley riders had just come down Moki Dugway and were soaked and shaken. Fair enough. Even on my BMW GS1200 I would not want to attempt that, especially going down those hairpin dirt roads with no guardrails and nothing but a sheer vertical drop if you were to slide. It’s very unforgiving.

We chatted for the better part of an hour on our riding experience as the rain came down around us. When asked how long I was out riding, the guy almost fell off his bike with my reply: I think I have been out for four years or so. As the rain let up, we said our farewells. They went south and I went west toward Valley of the Gods to set up camp.

I think the best part about this story is a year later learning how small the world actually is. I had been helping a friend who I didn’t know too well navigate working remotely. I gave him a lot of ideas and tips and offered to assist if he needed anything else. I hadn’t heard from him for almost two years when I received an email. He had been hiking in Colorado and sat on an overlook to take in the views when a couple joined him and they began chatting about life and travel (the usual overlook conversations). The conversation then turned to people they had met and the couple mentioned this long-haired guy on a BMW with a stuffed animal they had met on Highway 163. My friend replied that he knew me; he had helped me get off the ground working remotely. They all had a good laugh and continued their hikes. These coincidences in meeting others who had met me probably could be its own blog, but I felt this story fits nicely here.

Returning now to that beautiful September day: Upon leaving the gas station in Mexican Hat the sky began to darken yet again. A new adjustment had to be made to avoid another storm. This one looked worse than both the sandstorm and the thunderstorm I had dodged. I was pretty confident my luck had run out in terms of staying dry at this point. Being familiar with the area there I knew there was one alternative that could protect me from the storm, but would I make it before the sky opened up?

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The Road to Pai, Thailand

By Mike Huber

After spending a couple months freezing in Nepal I was more than ready for a restful month (or three, as it turned out). I was craving warmth, a steak, and some scuba diving, and southern Thailand quenched my thirst for all three.

After a month or two in southern Thailand spending the days scuba diving and embracing the sun it was time to head north. The previous year when I was in Chaing Mai I got sick off eating elephant poop, not intentionally but it had me leashed to a toilet for four or five days and ruined my entire itinerary. It was now time to return to Chaing Mai and steer clear of the elephants.

Everywhere in Thailand there are a ton of Temples to visit and northern Thailand was no different. After a few tours and meeting a ton of new friends the road to Pai kept coming up as one of the best roads to motorcycle in Asia. I located a rental shop in Chaing Mai and rented a bike for seven days. This was a rather long time as the road to Pai roundtrip only took two or three days. I figured with the added days I may do a layover day somewhere and just blast around the northern tip of Thailand to some less frequented parts of the country and have some shorter days on the bike.

My trip to Pai ended up being delayed two days as there was a massive monsoon that blew through and needless to say it wasn’t good riding weather. Once the storm cleared I left on a Honda 500cc motorcycle ready to tear these roads up. Although it rained usually once a day at one time or another it was tolerable and outside some wet roads my first few days were going well. The roads were incredible and it was quite similar to motorcycling in Vermont, outside of driving on the left hand side of the road. There were beautiful twisties and colorful canopies of vegetation that provided a kaleidoscope of colors when the sun made it through the foliage.

As I stated most the times the roads were wet and I adjusted my speed with the ever-changing road conditions. What I didn’t factor in was an oil spill on one of the corners as I approached Pai. All I remember is “boy that slid out from under me really smoothly” and the next moment I was floating through the air. Prior to being a paratrooper is I am very proficient at playing patty cake with the earth. I executed the perfect PLF (parachute landing fall) and as I slid down the road after that execution I couldn’t stop laughing as the bike was spinning like a 600-pound fidget spinner and went off the road and settled into the grass.

As I stood up I performed a self-assessment of the damage to myself. I was very fortunate. Just a few scrapes and bruises. My shirt and pants were pretty tore up I noticed a very sharp pain in my ribs. I definitely cracked, broke, or fractured a rib. I picked up the bike and noticed one mirror was destroyed and my right foot peg was snapped off. Also my front brake handle outside of a 2-inch piece was snapped off. I had about four days left with the motorcycle so I would just use one finger on the front brake and move my leg from the rear peg to tap the rear brake as needed for the remainder of my trip. My tourism layover days were now replaced with staying in bed to nurse my injuries with Chang beers.

I ended up completing all the roads I had planned on and it was now time to return the motorcycle to Chang Mai and continue to rest the cracked rib. I am certain if this accident had happened in the United States the bill to the damaged motorcycle would have been over 1,000USD, but in Thailand it was under 100USD and I threw in a few Chang beers for a tip. The road to Pai is really one of the better roads I have ridden on, outside of the oil slick of course. Still, it was a great way to explore northern Thailand.

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Lukla Airport, Nepal

By Mike Huber

Yet again apologies for the prolonged hiatus from writing. I think five or six countries have passed since my previous blogs and I have just been caught up in the moment and dealing with life in my own way (is there any other way to deal with it?). Having a bit of downtime over the holidays I thought I would try to pick up where I believe I left off.

In April I was scheduled for a 0700 flight from Ramechhap Airport in Nepal into Lukla Airport, which is the gateway to Everest Base Camp. It is only a 20-minute flight between the two airports and as I stated in my previous blog after three days of delays forced me to scrap the Everest Base Camp trek originally. This was due to constant cancellations e to weather conditions. As you can imagine the weather patterns in the Himalayan Mountains aren’t always smooth. There is nothing more demoralizing then boarding a flight and having the props fire up and then have the flight scratched and having to deplane. Actually, there is. That being if you fly halfway to Lukla and then are forced to return to Ramechhap due to winds. This isn’t the best way to start off your journey to the rooftop of the world.

Lukla Airport is the world’s most dangerous airport. Nature is brutal in these mountains and add in the dramatic runway at a 45-degree angle which ends abruptly and drops off 2,000 feet into some foggy abyss becomes a recipe for either numerous cancelled flights, or worse yet, a disaster. When the Airport is up and running it is quite a sight. Helicopters in and out constantly in-between fixed wing aircraft landing and gear and supplies being wheeled all over the tarmac. It’s probably not only the most dangerous airport in the world but the busiest one for having only a single runway.

The other thing that I was to learn was even though it took four days to obtain a successful flight into the airport (I ended up opting for a helicopter to improve my odds of making it to Everest Base Camp) was that leaving Lukla airport is just as difficult. After two days of cancelled flights to return to Katmandu I once again chose to take a helicopter.

I was fortunate that I was in no rush, that and having the foresight to obtain a 90-day visa for Nepal almost assured me that I would eventually make it in and out of Lukla with minimal stress. Having both time and patience was required for this as five full days of my two months in Nepal were spent gaining access and leaving Everest Base Camp through Lukla Airport. I knew this time spent sitting in the airport making new friends would pay off once I began the trek to Everest Base Camp.

Another great asset was having my tour guide Kiran from www.theholidaytrek.com make the layovers much more tolerable as all I had to do was show up and hope the flight would be a go. He took care of all the bookings, rebookings, and hotel accommodation setups. I am not one to plug companies and I rarely am on tours but Kiran made being stranded for five days almost fun. There also was another positive out of it. While having a captive audience in Lukla I became friends with another trekker and we are going to be neighbors in the next country I travel to in a week. Colombia!

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Pa-Pae Meditation Retreat

By Mike Huber

After scuba diving and a relaxing month living in Ao Nang, Thailand, I was becoming too comfortable and thought it was time to move north to experience Chiang Mai and its temples and sights near the Laos border. I didn’t have much of an itinerary, but I had met a pretty cool French guy who highly recommended a Buddhist meditation retreat called Pa-Pae. It was about an hour’s bus ride north of Chiang Mai. Having never experienced meditation before, this seemed like a great opportunity.

I was surprised at how well organized the retreat was. It was adjacent to a small village with its own store and a local restaurants, but otherwise this retreat was in its own world separated from everything else. This was the perfect location to practice meditation. Wanting to experience this retreat even deeper I chose to perform a fast (water only) and not speak throughout the four days (the silence was the world’s loss for the four days).

Once settled into my little cabin on the mountainside and changing into the white pants and shirts they provided, it was time to relax until the evening meditation class. The class would cover the basics of meditation in an attempt for me to clear my mind (never an easy task) and try to find some peace within myself. Meditation isn’t easy for me. It took a lot of work to focus on a mantra or an object within my mind and remove all the static from the outside world.

With there being three meditation classes daily and without speaking, I was able to silence my mind, if only for a few moments each class. In between the meditation classes there were monks who would share their illuminating life stories and also provide answers to the many questions we first timers had. With not being able to speak, the question-and-answer sessions were my only source of social activity.

Our final meditation ceremony was held around a fire pit. This is where I almost broke my silence as the wood for the fire was quite wet (we were in a rainforest, after all) and I had an extremely difficult time pantomiming “get some gasoline to get this fire going!” I did finally manage, though, and the fire was lit. When that evening’s meditation ended, we lit paper lanterns to release into the sky. My lantern in the photo is the one stuck in the tree. Slip away!

Upon leaving I felt refreshed, rested, and almost ready for the next part of my adventure. I successfully completed the classes, my fast, and even my 92-hour silence. Later that evening I celebrated by stuffing my face with some Pad Thai and talking with my mouth full. My next retreat should be one that involves learning proper manners.

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Nepal Annapurna Trek Part 1

By Mike Huber

You can catch up with earlier parts of Mike’s Nepal adventure here.

With the inability to reach Lukla Airport due to weather my guide and I were feeling defeated as we bounced along the bumpy road back to Katmandu. We each had a couple of beers along the ride to kill the boredom and try to determine what next steps would be. Upon arrival in Nepal I had the foresight to purchase a 90-day visa to be proactive should things go sideways, as they seem to always do.

Upon returning to Katmandu my tour operator Kiran met me at the hotel with a new itinerary. One that would lift my spirits for sure. There was another trek I was contemplating, The Annapurna Circuit. It was a 17-day trek which was more remote than the Everest one. This would now replace the Everest Base Camp Trek. Kiran then added that upon completing the Annapurna Circuit I would helicopter from Katmandu to Lukla as rotary winged aircraft had much less restrictions in terms of visibility. All in all this would fill up a month and a half and allow me to hopefully complete both objectives (Annapurna and Everest Base Camp).

The next day Guyen, my guide and I were on our way on another local bus that would take us to Tribeni Tol, which was the starting point of the trek at a low 738 meters in elevation. The first few days would remain at those low elevation but long days, up to 27k. There were a lot of fires in Nepal and the region we were trekking had the worse air quality on Earth (even worse than New Delhi, India).

Not being much of a hiker and even less of a trekker it didn’t take long before I realized being uncomfortable was part of this hobby. Something was almost always hurting. My previous occupation of falling out of airplanes had me feeling constant pain in my back and constant knee issues. Being used to having pain here or there (or everywhere) I travel with a plethora of medicines. Pretty much a full kit and as needed I reload in countries where most of these drugs are over the counter.

It didn’t take but half a day and my knees were beyond shot. My hiking poles became crutches. It was time to dig into my medicine kit and see if I had anything that could help. A challenge with my med kit is the pills are from literally all over the world so whenever I need something I have to hope there is a cell signal for me to cross reference it and translate it. After tearing the kit apart I found something that I thought may help. It was a powerful anti-inflammatory I picked up in Romania. As I opened the pills they looked a bit odd. They were longer and sorta waxy. Back to the internet I went. As it turns out it’s a suppository. At this point I was in a ton of pain and contemplating turning back as I didn’t want to get into trouble further u the trek due to this injury.

I gave the pills a shot, and with my dinner of chicken momos completed it was time to go to sleep to see if these Romanian anti-inflammatory pills would be able to salvage my trek.

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