Over the past six weeks, Vietnam has continually stunned us with its unbelievably diverse, colourful scenery. Despite thirty years of war and decades of lax governmental conservation laws, it is one of the most naturally beautiful countries I’ve ever visited, and the northern mountains, our current location, are the icing on the cake.

Following our tipsy tour of Ha Long Bay we took the night train from Hanoi up to Lau Cai, a little town perched right on the Chinese border (James and I will head back there in two days time to cross into Yunnan), then grabbed a bus up to Sa Pa, which has been our base for the past week. Sa Pa is a very popular tourist spot thanks to its magnificent location (1600 metres above sea level in the shadow of Fansipan, Vietnam’s highest mountain), and also due to the large concentration of ethnic minorities living nearby, many of whom descend on Sa Pa daily to act as guides to local villages or sell beautiful, gaudy handmade textiles.

From the moment our van started its ascent through the valley we were surrounded by mile upon mile of green – that’s the best I can do to describe it here, everything is ridiculously green and fresh – and by the time we reached the town itself, despite the drizzle and the thin layer of low cloud that had descended over Fansipan, the views had become absolutely breathtaking.

From Sapa, there are seemingly endless miles of mountain roads and muddy footpaths to explore, which is mostly what we’ve been doing all week – in fact, my body has almost shut down in protest over the unaccustomed exertion. James and I have been for two long hikes down into the valley, passing through H’Mong and Red Dau villages full of brightly dressed women and children, then climbing back through the mountains on tiny, muddy little tracks – every time you turn around you’re hit by another stunning view of jagged mountain peaks, undulating streams and insanely green paddy fields that seem to roll on forever.

The undisputed highlight of the week, though, was today’s mountain bike ride from Lai Chau to Sin Chau and back to Sapa, which (thanks to the joy of a one-way lift in a minibus) was an unadulterated speed-fest down nearly 30km of vehicle-free road with less than 5km of uphill to disturb the velocity. The only things worth slowing down for were the heart-in-mouth hair pin bends and the spectacular views of the valley rolling away from the road as we hurtled down the pass with Mount Fanzipan towering over us.  Immense.

As if things couldn’t get any better up here, there’s a real, actual pub – The Red Dragon - that sells carbohydrate laden shepherd’s pie to keep you going - we are almost regulars. Happily, the presence of this establishment means that, for the first time on the trip, I can bestow the highest possible honour on Sa Pa: it’s nearly as good as the Yorkshire Dales. This is not an accolade I throw about lightly, and to qualify for it, three strict criteria must be met:

1. The climate must be tempramental enough to demand that you leave for a walk carrying shorts, t-shirt and thermals, in case of every eventuality

2. You must be able to finish a long, painful, hilly hike/bike ride and find yourself within 100 metres of a pub.

3. The scenery must look at least as good, if not better, through a thick, drizzly, cloudy haze, as it does when the sun is out.

Check, check and check. As my very Yorkshire grandad would have said, it’s smashing up here. Now, where was that pint of stout?