Vang's Riverside, Countryside and Sam Mountain Tour Around Chau Doc

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Vang's Riverside, Countryside and Sam Mountain Tour Around Chau Doc

Next morning at 8:30, Vang and a colleague were there with their mopeds ready to whisk Monk and Saavas off to the riverside where they climbed on board a small boat piloted by an old lady - Vang's mum thought Monk - but no, just a friend said Vang later. Monk mentally nicknamed her Madame V. Whoever she was, she was an expert boat woman and handled the boat through some tricky situations during the 4-hour morning trip. Vang's trips usually cater for groups up to 4 people and today, 2 French Canadians joined Monk and Saavas.

At the Chau Doc floating market Madame V skillfully manouevred through the traders' boats moored on the river, gently colliding at times with other boats, some containing tourists, others, locals stocking up, but many were mobile floating vendors selling everything - lottery tickets, drinks, snacks, cigarettes - even full meals prepared as you bob on the water next to their floating kitchen. Up and back she went a couple of times as Vang pointed out how the vegtables and fruit strapped to the top of each boat's mast displayed the wares they had for sale - pineapples, cabbage, turnips, melons - just like supermarket labels. We precariously clambering aboard a couple of boats and Vang bought bananas and melons for eating on the boat.

Then the fish farm. Beneath the floating 'farm' building, extending into the depths of the Mekong below, nets enclose the fish like a giant tank. The workers feed the fish through open sections of the floor of the platform. For every bucket of food thrown into the water, a frenzy of fish comes to the surface, jaws wide open, fighting for space in the limited area of open water. Standing close to the open hole, one is drenched by the flapping of the fish. 3 divers were involved in bringing up dead fish from below, plunging into the tank for 5 or 10 minutes with just a plastic tube in their mouths for their oxygen supply while below. It must have been crowded down there. Huge amounts of money are tied up in these fish. Bank loans are taken out to buy the young fish which are then reared to adulthood when, hopefully, a negotiator will buy the fish for onward shipping, within hours, to supermarkets half way round the globe for consumers who will have no knowledge of the provenance of what they are putting on their plates. Antibiotics are routinely fed to these fish to protect the huge investment made in them. The supermarkets would probably label these fish as 'sustainably sourced' but this masks the fact that they have no control over the supply chain that finally sees the fish for sale on their shelves. For the local economy, this industry is absolutely vital and, hopefully, the economic importance of the Mekong fishing industry will ensure that pollution of the Mekong is kept under control.

In the area around the fish farms, hundreds of homes float on the river, many decked with pots of plants by way of a floating front garden. Dogs jump from floating building to moored boats, barking at passers-by. Cables stretch high on poles from the shore bringing electricty to the floating homes. Television aerials extend from most homes. It's a true village, or more correctly a floating town. Amongst all the apparent, and real, poverty, the women are always immaculately dressed in colourful outfits and clothes hang drying outside most homes - dignity and pride ranks high amongst these floating villagers.

Further on, after tying up at a makeshit jetty, a ricketty 'monkey' bridge leads to a Moslem village inhabited by the Cham people. Most of the houses are built in the traditional wooden style on stilts with the living quarters upstairs. As always, the largest and best-maintained building in the village is the mosque. Unusually for Vietnam, young children begged for money.

Back on the river, Madame V steered the boat into the Vinh Te Canal and, for an hour or more, Monk and Saavas were heading back west in the direction they'd come the previous day. All along the urban Chau Doc section of the canal is a shanty town of shacks perched precariuosly on wooden stilts looking as though they might topple into the water at any minute. A glimpse of life in these homes - women preparing vegetables in the brown water, people asleep in hammocks, clothes hanging out to dry, buckets of water and waste being tossed into the river, men and boys up to their chests fishing as boat after boat chug by.
Bit by bit it becomes more rural and Madame V moors the boat next to a herd of water buffalo wallowing in the mud. The huge beasts watch inquisitively as the group gingerly edges along a tree trunk bridging the mooring with solid ground, like a troupe of circus tightrope walkers. Once on terra firma, Vang leads a walk into the rice fields pointing out Cambodia just a short distance away beyond a line of trees. He explains the origins of the recent animosity between the two peoples after the Khmer Rouge's decimation of Vietnamese villages along the border.

Further west along the canal Vang points out a huge 'paddling' of pink ducks on the water. Ah, thinks Monk, clearly these are prawn eaters, the colour of their feathers reflecting their diet in the same way as flamingos. Monk's theory is put to the test further on as the pink paddling merges into a paddling of orange ducks. The bright blue ducks still further on blow Monk's theory completely out of the water. Vang explains - each owner sprays their ducks a different colour to differentiate them from their neighbours'. It must be very confusing for a drake, who knows he's pure white, to find a duck of his own kind to mate with amongst all the technicolour hens. It's a surreal scene in the rural heart of the Mekong countryside. Back at Chau Doc, goodbyes are said to Madame V.

At 14:30, Vang and his colleague arrive at Monk and Saavas' hotel for the afternoon section of the trip, on the back of motorbikes. Fortunately, unlike Cambodia, it's a legal requirement in Vietnam for the driver and passenger to wear helmets and each xe om (motor bike taxi) always carries a spare helmet for the passenger. Saavas climbs cautiously onto the bike and hangs onto the driver for dear life - he's not happy on these bikes and was terrified when he took his first short trip on one to catch the ferry from Phu Quoc. It's very amusing to watch such a macho character putting his arms round any number of Vietnamese male strangers. Meeting up along the way with the Canadian contingent, Vang and his convoy of four motorbikes weave in and out of the busy traffic heading out of Chau Doc and finally turn down a dirt road passing through tiny communities. After a while, even these peter out and the group turns onto a narrow track running along one of the raised banks enclosing a large paddy field. Bright green rice fields are all around. After some kilometers, we stop at a small home where explore the crops growing in the land around - an island of vegetebles set in a surrounding sea of rice fields. Vang seems determined to put us through some kind of endurance test as we nervously inch our way across yet another makeshift bridge intent on avoiding the drop into the irrigation canal below. He points out chillis, corn, mango, papaya and many other crops growing in this 'oasis'. A woman herds a noisy paddle of ducks from one pen, onto the canal and up into another pen fruther along. The family make us refreshing iced tea with lemon and we sit and drink with them while the children play by the water's edge. Whatever is due to them, Vang sorts out and we continue on our odyssey deep in the countryside. Further on, Vang turfs us off the bikes and we walk for 15 minutes along the track bordered by banana trees and through a small village. Everybody's so friendly - the children waving and shouting 'hello' and then giggling together as we shout back.

As the heat of the day starts to wane, Vang leads the convoy along yet more 'levees' through the rice fields toward the distant looming bulk of Sam Mountain. Spiralling upward at breakneck speed so as not to lose momentum, we arrive at the top, somewhat giddy from the helter-skelter ride up. Over a beer and interesting conversation with Vang, we watch the famous sunset from the top of the mountain. Today is slightly hazy and just a bit smokey so the sunset is not as fanatastic as billed. On a clear day, the views all around and across to Cambodia would be worth the climb up, at sunset or not.

On the way back to Chau Doc it's already dark as we arrive at the Tay An Pagoda where crowds of believers are lighting joss sticks adding to the incense-laden air inside. Monk lights some sticks for his beautiful Irene, wishing she could have been here to share his adventures.

Weaving back through the traffic to Chau Doc on the back of the bike in the dark is even more terrifying than at daytime. Saavas, tense with fear, looks his though his knuckles and joints are turning white as he tightly embraces yet another Vietnamese biker.

If you stay in Chau Doc for a day or two, Monk thoroughly recommends Vang as a guide. His English is good and he's a pleasant chap. His all-day trip costs 350,000 dong per person. His phone number is 0946 604110 or 0916 255906. Do insist on having Vang personally take you on the tour - accept no substitute.

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