Halong Bay (May 26 - 28, 2006)

It is hard to pass through Hanoi’s old quarter without seeing a hotelier or travel agent hawking some kind of package deal for tours in the region. The two most popular destinations are Sapa, a northern mountain town not far from the Chinese border, and Halong Bay, a vast waterway dotted with some 3,000 limestone islands. Our first trip was Halong Bay and we poured a good amount of research into which cruise company to take. Every vendor sells a better package than the last and there is a wide variety of prices. We ended up buying our tickets for a two night trip directly from a tour company, saving on commission and turning the smiles on our hotel staff faces upside down.

Despite the variation in pricing, each Halong Bay touring company offers some combination of transportation to the bay, an antique looking boat for cruising (called a junk) and one night’s accommodation, food, and a number of sites around the bay. Having opted for the two night package we were to spend the second night on Cat Ba Island because Vietnamese law prohibits tour vessels from staying consecutive nights in the bay so for multiple nights you are either handed off to another boat or dropped at a hotel. We checked one of our bags with the tour company and were packed into a van with twelve other travelers for the almost four hour drive to Halong Bay and our boat. Most of the cruises are blessedly small and this van load of tourists were to be our companions for the next 24 hours when the single-day attendees would return to Hanoi leaving the rest of us to visit Cat Ba.

Though in our old age (and we’ve discovered we’re old at heart) we rarely get excited by the prospect of mixing in with backpackers it turned out that we had a really good group. Our touring party broke down as follows: three French Canadians (a couple and an unrelated single man), four shrill twenty-two year-old girls from Britain celebrating their graduation from university, a pair of Australian women on holiday, and a strapping American man who happened to be taking a three week holiday from his job at the college attended by one of Roger’s sisters in Colorado. Our guide, a grinning, nervous man who efficiently directed our cruise without managing to spend any time with us, was to be with us each step of the way as well.

The majesty of Halong Bay’s 3,000 limestone islands and its deep, brackish waters is every bit as impressive as the promotional literature suggests. To get there, however, you must spill from your bus and worm through a sea of passengers - literally hundreds of them - swarming to or from their cruises. Behind the seething mass of confused, sun burnt tourists and their guides are rows and rows of almost identical wooden ships three deep jockeying for access to the pier. The ships grind into one another, scraping, cracking, and shoving their way in and out. Passengers crawl across the decks of one or two boats to get to their boat, walking planks or hopping from wooden rail to rail. Once loaded the ship pulls out, jostling only slight less to get to the open water than it did to get in close enough to take on boarders. A few short minutes in the water is open and you can begin to see the bay for all of its natural glory as lunch is served.

Our wooden boat had a crew of four and our guide. The lowest of the three levels contained cabins accommodating two passengers each. The middle level was a large open room with tables and a bar where we were free to lounge and where the crew slept at night. The top of the ship was an open deck of lounge chairs where most passengers spent their time. Our lunch, like all of our meals, was served family style with each table of passengers receiving six or seven different dishes of vegetables, meat, fruit, and fresh seafood.

After sailing among the rocky islands for over an hour we reached a cove and disembarked on a small pier. The pier ended at a stairway that disappeared into the brush clinging to the sheer side of the island. At the top of the stairs a magnificent cave system Hang Dau Go opened up to us. The initial chambers were relatively small and crowded with stalactites and stalagmites produced by rain water that had filtered through the limestone above. For hundreds of years a single droplet of rain might leech through the rock, ultimately depositing a tiny amount of sediment on the ceiling or floor as it drips through the cave and on toward sea level. While listening to our guide explain the features of the caves and some of the images locals see in the dramatically shaped stones drops of fresh water continued to splash in tiny pools among the rock, though a few also ended their journey on top of our heads. Whether this end, after years of travel through dark rock, was exciting or a letdown for the drops of water we don’t know, but it is exciting to catch a drip that started hundred of feet above and hundreds of years ago.

After passing through the initial chambers we were led into a fantastic cavern that could have held a football field. The cave looked like an underground moonscape full of large rolling hills and “islands” of boulders. Fresh water, recently arrived drop by drop from the cave roof, filled some of the lower lying areas, and there even appeared to be a dry “river” bed winding among the floor’s features. We walked to the far end of the cave and explored some of the locally famous features before heading toward the daylight at the open end of the cavern and climbing up into the light and a perch above the cove where our boat sat some 200 feet or so below us. The air of the caves was cool and fresh and it was with some reluctance that we headed back into the scorching summer light and humidity.

At the pier where we awaited the arrival of our boat we met our first floating vendor, a single woman in a row boat containing a well organized supply of cookies, candy, cigarettes, and drinks. Armed with treats we boarded our boat and prepared to head back into Halong Bay. As our boat began moving, however, a similarly sized ship entered the cove and, despite the obvious collision course and a good deal of shrieking among the respective crew members, the front of our ship smashed rather heartily into the front corner of the other boat. The cracking sound was tremendous and a large split appeared in the side of the other boat (well above the water line). While we expected a long argument, finger pointing, and maybe even a fist fight, the crew of the damaged boat looked at the damage and seemed unconcerned as long as the boat was still afloat. If you were to lightly swing your car door into that of another car at Wal-Mart you would spark a greater exchange of information than followed the boat collision.

From the cove we made our way to another nearby island noteworthy for the small temple on top and the small sandy beach at the bottom. We worked our way to the temple up some 450 stairs to a spectacular view of the surrounding islands. Aside from the small wooden roof and the view there was a solitary young woman selling cans of soda. Imagining the woman’s commute to work, never mind hauling the cans of soda up the stairs, was enough to wear us out.

After leaving the island we dropped anchor for the night. It was at this time that we were invited to take a swim in the dark green water which, according to our crew, was 30 meters deep. Our most eager and athletic companion performed a near perfect dive from the top of the boat (some 25 feet from the rail to the water’s surface). He was joined by several women, including Amy, who climbed down instead of leaping. Roger managed an awkward and frightful jump from the top of the boat that would in no way be confused with the elegant dive of our companion (would not be confused as anything other than a demonstration of gravity’s pull on a flabby object…). After our swim and as the crew prepared dinner a trio of row boats loaded like 7-11’s approached, the woman piloting each calling out to us to purchase cookies or cold beer. Roger could not resist and so a good number more Choco Pies (similar to moonpies), some Oreos and Ritz crackers somehow made their way into our possession before dinner.

Most of the passengers spent the remainder of the evening on the top deck of the boat drinking and gazing at the stars and the flickers of light dancing on the water. We also engaged in an in-depth and cross-cultural discussion of reality television shows. It would depress even the most eager proponent of globalization to know how pervasive the work of Joe Rogan is on the television sets of the world…. Different races, languages and religions, but one night a week for Fear Factor.

Sleeping on the boat after our long and colorful day was very nice. The bay, very calm by day, was silky smooth by night and the fresh air was magnificent for restful slumber. After breakfast most of the twelve of us and one guide hopped into a row boat for transport to one of the nearby floating villages to pick up some sea kayaks.

The floating village was remarkably like many of those we saw all over the mainland, though these float on giant, presumably empty, oil drums. We had seen a number of these floating villages as we explored the bay the previous day but upon closer inspection found them to be astonishing in their functionality. The floating villages, like their landed counterparts, feature rows of humble homes crafted by random parts and sheer will. The communities appeared to be small. Some had fire pits, patios, dogs, cats, laundry hanging on lines, and even gardens. As the vast majority of limestone rock in the bay was sheer there was simply no land to build on and one can easily imagine a child being born in one of the floating villages not setting foot on dry land until many years of life in row boats and the homes and shops of the floating village.

We loaded into our kayak and were off to explore the bay. Our approximately two hour kayak excursion would take us out of the mostly still water near the floating village and into open currents, alongside some of the massive limestone towers, and ultimately into a cove carved from one of the more immense limestone islands. Once inside the cove we paddled through a large cave and into a serene inner cove that seemed completely removed from the bay outside. The sheer rock on all sides of us was covered in mossy looking plant life bright in comparison to the deep emerald of the water (spying jellyfish we realized that the water was almost perfectly clear, owing its deep dark color to depth rather than sediment or pollution). Like the outside of the island there was no place to set foot if we wanted.

After our kayaking we returned to the boat and prepared to split our party up according to those who paid for the one night experience and those who purchased the two night stay. As the cruise vessels are only permitted to spend one night in the bay we all did some shuffling. The six single night guests boarded another cruise vessel while we, along with the pair of Aussie women and the couple from Quebec, were loaded onto a smaller boat in order to head a little further into the bay. Our smaller craft, a boxy wooden thing with a single open room on the main deck and a large empty deck for sitting above, chugged onto another floating outpost, this one providing us with a row boat and a barbecue grill. We pulled into a secluded beach area on one of the islands and were unloaded, along with the grill and three of the four crew, for a fresh lunch and some beach time.

The food, like all of the other meals, was very good and full of variety (several types of seafood, fresh veggies, rice, pork, fruit, and cookies). After cooking the crew returned to the boat and, we believe, took a nap while we chit chatted and walked along the shore. As we were told we could leave whenever we were ready we waved to our guide only to be politely told they would return for us shortly. This was consistent with some of the other tours we have done in Vietnam - everything was up to us as long as it fit with the guide’s itinerary. When we finally did load up for our next stop, the evocatively named Monkey Island, the sky was darkening and a massive storm seemed poised to wreck our afternoon. Sure enough as we entered the open water of the bay and away from the safety of the wind and water breaking islands our tiny ship was rocked by the storm’s swells. Our captain, who exuded a certain practical experience and confidence, spent the bulk of this ride standing on the front deck staring into the wind, arms thoughtfully folded as if any unnoticed wrinkle in the water or the sky might radically change his course. Our guide, the man with the nervous laugh who set out with us from Hanoi, perched on the ladder to the upper deck near the captain, clearly not as skilled at standing on a heaving boat deck.

There was some discussion about skipping Monkey Island as the weather was threatening and the monkeys are apparently not as entertaining in the rain and wind, but good fortune saw us to the island. Somewhat seasick from the journey Amy opted to stay on the boat and not attempt the row to shore. Only three of us, the most monkey-loving among us (Roger and the Quebecers) went ashore with Mr. Nervousgiggle in the row boat, armed at his suggestion with cameras and “waterlemon” (a fruit that looks EXACTLY like watermelon to those who spoke English as a first language).

Monkey Island features a short beach and a small building wedged below a dense tree covered wall of limestone. The building is comprised mostly of changing rooms, bath rooms, and a small shop perfectly placed to capitalize on the tourists drawn to visit the island’s monkeys. Aside from the three of us only a small group of Vietnamese tourists were on the shore, wrapping up their time swimming off of the beach, and a young couple who seemed to staff the island. We proceeded around to the back of the building where a couple of monkeys were perched in a tree above the bathrooms. We should have known that the chicken wire covering the outdoor shower stalls was indicative of just how wild these monkeys were. Once they were drawn from the trees by our waterlemon and we got a good close look at the monkey family and their monkey baby all proverbial monkey hell broke loose. Our guide, so eager to facilitate a close encounter with the island’s residents, was probably a little out of bounds when proposing we feed the critters.

As the monkeys became aggressive, and maneuvered to surround us (we are not kidding), the tiny woman staffing the island appeared with a huge wooden stick and started yelling at the monkeys while smacking her stick on the bathroom walls to let them know she meant business. One of the Quebecers made it back to the beach while the Vietnamese woman gave Roger the universal sign for “hide from the monkeys in the women’s bathroom” - a wildly animated flailing, some barking, and a stick being aggressively waved in his face, for those unfamiliar with such communications. Naturally, Roger burst in to the bathroom upon the (thankfully) recently-finished-with-her-business Quebecer from our group. After a few minutes and more wild gesturing from the Vietnamese woman we both escaped unmolested by the monkeys, though the time spent in the ladies room provided ample opportunity to reflect upon what an inappropriate gift waterlemon is for wild monkeys.

Safely back at the beach we watched the young man who worked on the island climb his way up the rocky cliff and out onto a protruding tree limb to gather a pair of pants the monkeys had stolen from one of the bathers. Pantsless Vietnamese men are never more gracious than when their pants are returned from a monkey outpost.

Our guide began loading up the row boat, which still included the barbecue grill from our lunch, to return to the boat anchored about fifty meters off shore. For some reason, and he still is not sure why, Roger opted to hand off his camera and shoes to the guide and swim for the boat (an exercise that rendered Roger exhausted to the point of nausea but spared him the dumping of the row boat in the surf due to a bush league miscalculation by our guide who dumped the boat and its contents upon the nice lady from Quebec who had only recently escaped the clutches of the monkeys). This event gave us an opportunity to clearly witness another aspect of Vietnamese tour hospitality, that of the inability to apologize. We watched empathetically as the rightly injured parties from our group tried to explain to the guide that just because the boat, barbecue, and passengers managed to survive the spill that an apology might still be appropriate and eventually the nervous laughter subsided and an apology was made for badly overloading the row boat and for setting off at odds with the waves.

After forty-five minutes we reached our destination for the evening, Cat Ba Island, where we were promptly checked into one of the numerous hotels thriving on Halong Bay cruising tourists. Our pre-dinner nap allowed us to watch a delayed NBA Finals game before heading out for a meal and drinks with our group. Late that night after settling in back at the hotel the surreality of the modern world allowed Roger to watch a live Yankees game and, from Cat Ba Island in Halong Bay, Vietnam, a chance to witness Derek Jeter’s 2,000th hit. As if another notch on Jeter’s Hall of Fame resume was not enough, the next morning we were also able to watch the latest NBA Finals game.

Sunday we loaded back onto our small boat and headed into the bay to board a larger cruise vessel, departing after its single night in the bay, for lunch at the conclusion of our cruise. There doesn’t seem to be much reason to do two nights on a Halong Bay cruise because of the restrictions on vessels staying more than a single night and because most of the worthwhile activities occurred before people staying one night departed. It felt like the activities planned for the third day were created just to offer longer, more expensive tours to travelers. It worked out well for us because we liked our group and the second day gave us more opportunity to get to know each other. Had our groups been less enjoyable though the second night and third day may have not only been a little redundant but painful.

Halong Bay is a majestic and unique place. The variety and size of the towering limestone formations are simply awesome and they look different with each change in light and weather. On the whole the accommodations and the food were very good. The floating villages that dot the sheltered waters, an unexpected and unadvertised sight along the tour route, are a sight to behold in themselves. Our Halong Bay cruise revealed yet another dimension of Vietnam.

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