Halong Bay

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Checking out of Golden Wings was not the drama I was expecting. I think the lads on the front desk realised there were not going to be commissions coming their way from us.

We walked the now familiar blocks down to Hoan Kiem Lake and across to Kangaroo Cafe, arriving about 0715.

Breakfast was a bowl of Pho and a soft drink each D80,000 all up (NZ5) from a tiny roadside cafe.

The bus to take us to Halong Bay arrived just after 0800 and eight of us (three Kiwis, an Aussie and four Poms) headed out on the four hour journey. I kept myself intermittently amused between the fine tunes of Megadeth and keeping an eye on how many head on collisions we avoided. The driving outside of the city was no better than in it. Two lane roads were treated like freeways, shared between bicycles, scooters, motorbikes, cars, busses, container trucks and every type of vehicle in between. At one point we were stopped at a railway crossing and well before we saw the train go by, the traffic on both sides of the tracks was six or seven deep, the resulting chaos took far longer to clear than it would have had everyone just queued up single file.

The other interesting part of the journey was watching wheat being harvested by hand. It was postcard Vietnam, with old women in conical hats working the fields. The grains were separated and left (quite literally) across lanes of the highway to dry… further adding to the traffic chaos.

We arrived at the wharf and were on a small feeder boat with 30 odd other tourists by 1230. Everyone from the three groups on board was watching the variety of junks going passed, cringing as we neared small old ones and hopefully crossing fingers as we rounded the bigger ones.

Our captain misjudged the first approach and gave one of the junks a thump, everyone lurched forward but as we could see it coming we were well braced for a hit.

Our group was the last one to disembark onto a small but well maintained four bedroom junk – just the perfect size for our group. We headed out into the bay almost immediately and within an hour of getting settled into our rooms, the lunch was served.

It appeared we weren’t to go hungry on this cruise. Two plates of chips were followed by a crab mornay, battered fish, stir fried squid and a vegetable dish.

A few hours in we berthed at Hang Sung Sot – a cave located halfway up a cliff face and accessed from a series of steep stairs. It cut around a hundred metres into the limestone and had a pathway running through it allowing the gathered tourist groups to be shown right through it’s depths. The group of American tourists we had encountered at the Temple of Literature the previous day were there and were, unfortunately, most American in their appreciation, oohing and aahing at raucous levels. They lost someone called Sue and were yelling through the caves for her… we joined in not long after having given up any thoughts of a peaceful experience.

Kayakaing (D100,000 – NZ$7) was next up so Jo and I jumped in and paddled the couple of hundred metres to an inlet for which the only entrance was Luon Cave – about 5 metres high and 20 metres wide. One of the lads paid the cave entry fee to an old bloke on a floating toll booth and we spent 20 minutes exploring the inlet. It had shades of Milford Sound about it and was a surreal experience being completely surrounded by limestone cliffs hundreds of metres high.

We were back on the boat as the sun (if we could have seen it) was starting to set… just enough time for a swim. Everyone jumped off the decks of our junk and using techniques ranging from the bomb to the 5 way syncronised freestyle.

In the distance a dinghy was heading our way. Yup – someone was trying to sell us something.

Never being one to miss the opportunity for a beer, I dived off with D30,000 in hand, swam to the boat and bought beer in what surely must have been one of the oddest situations ever.

We anchored surrounded by majestic limestone cliffs and 20 other junks.

After dark, dinner was served. Fresh prawns, clams and a spicy fish dish along with beef and vegetables. Once again there was plenty for everyone.

We stayed up drinking and chatting – interrupted at one point by one of the deck hands who’d been under deck having more than one drink. We’d just been given another round from the fridge by another staff member and it was poor Tuan’s job to keep tallies for payment.

“You got beer?”

“Yes”, we said, pointing to the bloke inside “He got them for us”

Tuan was thrown by this turn of events and was clearly swaying from the grog. He tried to appear professional but eventually let out a burp and came clean.

“Sorry, I drunk”

I don’t think I’ve laughed so hard in my life.

“You tell me what you had?”

We all said what we had ordered but there was clearly a booze induced disconnect in his mind.

We’d drunk the junk clean of Bia Ha Noi so we were all on “333″ brand. I seized the opportunity – stating our room numbers.

“2 333s for 403, 3 333s for 402, 1 333 for 401″

The smoke from the computations in Tuan’s mind could be seen rising through the darkness of Halong Bay.

I was last on deck having a broken English chat with Tuan about New Zealand cigarettes and Australian sharks – one of which I can claim to be an expert at.

We had a nice little cabin and I had no worries getting to sleep.

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