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Hanoi, Vietnam – Each step forward was a step upward.
And, as rolling valleys dotted by buffalo unfolded below us, each was a step farther into a picturesque postcard of rural Vietnam.
On a sunny clear day, though, the skies clung to me, falling heavily onto my shoulders with a humidity that sucked through my core. At 45 degrees, I became a puddle.
My second week with the Hanoi Hash House Harriers took us 90 minutes north of downtown Hanoi, and into the heavily treed mountains that frame the city’s landscape.
The day’s 14-kilometre hike wove through switchbacks and down sharp inclines, before trekking across vast rice paddies. At one point, we were forced to limbo under a barbed wire fence and a low-hanging clothesline, before emerging through the portico of a family’s house – much to the surprise of children playing in the front yard.
Throughout, wet red clay melded to our feet, trying to claim us for the mountain.
It would be a beautiful place to stay.
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