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Published: August 17th 2010
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You know the story: the epic journey; the struggles faced; the travails vanquished; the perfect beach discovered; human vanity and greed exposed; the myth is continued. We wanted none of that, especially with a significant aversion to boats in the party. So all we really needed was a quick speed-boat to Cham Island, so that we could wander round and explore. The hotel desk promised it was all booked: the journey would be a mere, trouble-free 35 minutes.
The morning of our great adventure dawned bright and clear, and we yawned our way to our boat. We gradually became suspicious as diving gear and snorkeling kit was moved on board, but only after the boat had put out to sea and the wet suits were being distributed did we twig that things might not be going to plan. A quick chat with the captain revealed the grisly truth - we were not going to Cham Island, but a nearby rocky outcrop to one side of it; we weren't going to wander round on land in search of interesting flora and fauna, the purpose of the trip was to explore the waters off Cham Island. And there was worse to come:
Squid
Fish was drying everywhere around the village the engine was labouring and clanking loudly, as well as pumping out gouts of oily smoke and diesel fumes, this was no thoroughbred speed boat, merely a converted fishing boat that would take 90 minutes to arrive at its destination in the middle of the ocean. Idle and excited chatter gushed from everyone else in the party as they anticipated seeing the wonders of the deep; the boat chugged slowly on.
A little later, our resourceful captain came to tell us that he had organised a boat to pick us up from the diving spot and take us across to Cham Island to see the fishing village and then take us to the beach where everyone else would eventually gather for lunch. This sounded a bit better than bobbing up and down in the middle of the ocean for several hours, so we went for this plan. Right on time, a small fishing skiff arrived and we disembarked and bumped across the straits dividing the islands and then along the coast in search of the village; 40 minutes later and seriously queasy, we reached the shore. It was at this point that we became aware of our new companion,
the fisherman Dat. Not content with getting us to the village, he was now taking seriously his responsibility for showing us around. He spoke no English at all, and clearly had little idea quite what to do with us, but he coaxed us along, past trays of drying squid and other fish, to the visitors centre, which had some interesting artifacts and information about the ancient dwellers on the island. After that we repaired to a cafe and Paula took the only Sprite, leaving Dat and me to quaff disgusting bright orange and very sweet energy drinks called Sting. Dat, meanwhile, was getting lots of comments about his new friends from other locals in the cafe, at which he grinned enigmatically. The girl behind the counter spoke a little English, and this settled everyone down, and Dat relaxed as well. He now led us on a tour of the village, pointing out a small temple, a well, a hotel (one of the few substantial buildings in town it ran to two storeys and was made of concrete), and a small but well-stocked and lively market, where we were greeted like long lost friends. As we took photos and smiled at
everyone, Dat relaxed still further, and he brought us to his house and introduced us to, we thought, his wife and son, who bowed to us quite formally. Later we were told that he is 82, not in his thirties as we had assumed, so perhaps it was his daughter and grandchild. He seems far too fit and limber to be that age!
It was soon time to move on, so we were re-installed in the fishing skiff for a gentle journey through the harbour full of attractively decorated and neat boats, and on around the headland. Now we were better able to appreciate the clearness of the water and the beauty of the island. In places, jungle stretched down to the water's edge, but elsewhere it retreated a little to leave perfect crescent beaches of golden sand. The different greens and varied textures were interrupted in places by the bright orange flowers of the flame trees. Dat paused to summon a woman rowing a coracle for a closer photo opportunity and posed happily himself. A little later he showed us a bottle containing a large black lizard in a clear liquid (we assumed rice wine). He seemed to
indicate that this would be his lunch and that the lizard would be good for his back. We skimmed around the headland and headed for a perfect beach, empty except for some villagers swimming and a row of sun shades, all deserted. This we gathered was where we should wait for the others and for lunch. We were guided to a large communal hall which evidently would act as the dining room. Dat then disappeared back to his boat, though we would see him again throughout the day as he quickly emerged as the essential connecting link in the whole operation.
Our early arrival allowed us to bag a shade umbrella in a prime position and take a refreshing swim in the cool, clear, blue water, over fine sand, rocky outcrops, bits of coral, fish... Set into the vegetation that fringed the beach were three or four palm-thatched communal dwelling and a couple of community halls. This was home to the local fisherman, apart from the one set aside as our dining room.
Our boat arrived in the bay, and was joined by a couple of others, so lunch was a noisy, cheery event. The food was simple,
homely and plentiful with deep-fried tofu in tomato sauce and a morning glory salad the highlights. The grilled fish was chunky and full of flavour, but also a little bony; we left the dodgy looking chips to the children next to us though they weren't that keen either.
Our lunch neighbours on the other side were from Belgium, and we chatted about our various travels in Vietnam and our rather different mornings. They confided that the snorkeling had been only ordinary at best with little to see of note; it was spoilt for many by lots of young jelly fish which stung arms, legs, feet faces and lips. They reassured us that we had had the better morning.
The afternoon we spent swimming, walking along the beach, looking at shells and coral as well as some colourful and unusual looking fish. The other tourist boats gradually left, with a great deal of fuss and noise, and our companions returned to the water for more snorkeling, so peace gradually descended. We saw little furry animals skittering across the sand before disappearing down small holes placed just above the high-water mark. Crabs of all sizes and colours scuttled away as
we approached, as did the little sucker fish that clung to the rocks as the waves swept out. This really had turned into the perfect tropical beach.
As the afternoon cooled,we all gathered on the beach front to be transferred by Dat (who else) to the main boat - as the tide had gone out it could no longer reacher the rickety bamboo pier. We could now see that the boat had a seating area on top in the breeze, a much better proposition for the return journey.
About half-way back, big, black clouds welled up over the mainland and headed out to meet us. As we passed underneath, the temperature dropped and the humidity disappeared, but no rain fell. The sea changed colour dramatically from greeny-blue to dark, slate black, to aquamarine, to a golden purply brown. Up ahead, the mainland was wreathed in clouds and the unusual light created magical patterns over the off-shore islands by Da Nang.
Heading back in to the harbour, we were accompanied by a number of Vietnamese fishing boats, all in good order, pristine colours, and all proudly flying the national flag of red with a yellow star.
Wind,
The return journey
The dark clouds were reflected by the surface of the sea while the mainland and offshore islands were wreathed in mists. sea and sun burnished, we were dropped off at our hotel, where we wallowed in the pool reflecting on the the epic journey; the struggles faced; the travails vanquished; the perfect beach discovered.
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anonymous
non-member comment
sounds like a great day out...apart from the travel sickness! Looking forward to seeing the photos xx