The Sydney Morning Herald Weekend Edition,Feb 24-25,07. Travel 3.
The article wrote by William Lee Adams who experienced Cruise Away in 2004.
Long ago Lac Long Quan, a mighty dragon that ruled the seven seas, swam to shore and encountered Au Co, a beautiful princess who ruled the land. The two soon fell in love, Au Co gave birth to 100 eggs and, legend says, the first vietnamese people were born. Standing in the second chamber of Sung Sot Cave in Vietnam’s Halong Bay, my tour group is privy to a remnant of that union: a phallus-shaped rock illuminated by red accent lights. “Here you have dragon organ,” says our cheery guide Ly, pointing to the massive symbol of fertility. “The woman’s breast is in other chamber.” Sometimes comical, sometimes absurd, the legends of Halong Bay certainly convey magic.
In the Gulf of Tonkin, on Vietnam’s north coast, the bay is home to 3000 islets many with huge limestone pillars – some as high as 200 metres. Beneath their forested slopes, the islands shelter magnificent caves and grottoes, many of which are still being discovered. The scenic value and rare geomorphology have twice earned Halong Bay recognition as a UNESCO World Heritage site.
The bay’s formation was Herculean. Huge limestone mountains were pushed up 30 million years ago and, over millennia, were eroded by wind, rain and constant invasion by the sea. As underground water systems formed, drainage dissolved portions of the limestone, carving out agnifi- cent caves filled with stalactites and stalagmites.
The Vietnamese have a more col-ourful explanation. As enemy war-ships rushed towards Vietnam’s shore, Heaven dispatched Mother Dragon to Halong Bay (hence the name, Bay of the Descending Dragon). The dragon spat pearls into the water that then grew into the limestone columns, destroying the warships on impact.
Three friends and I gather in Hanoi to sort through the numerous tour operators that shuttle visitors around the bay. They distinguish themselves with slogans that range from grammatically questionable, “Truly Vietnam Explore”, to inadvertently saucy, “Small groups, big adventure”.
We settle on Ocean Tours, a repu- table company with a 36-hour trip for just $49. For that price, we travel three hours to the bay, cruise among the islands, explore caves, kayak to remote lagoons and sleep on the boat only a stone’s throw from the rocky towers. Two million people visit Halong Bay each year and it seems as if half of them are waiting at the pier. Before dozens of wooden ships, tour guides bark orders in Korean, Japanese, French and English for their groups to move aboard.
The eight of us – three Americans, three Brits and two Australians – are herded into the boat’s parlour, a large room with windows span-ning its sides and a small bar at the rear. The boat’s engines hum, causing the whole room to vibrate, and a golden kitten pounces across the floor. In an attempt at humour in a communist country we dub him Chairman Meow.
As our boat draws closer to the islands, their barrier of green tree tops becomes porous, revealing white, brown and grey patches of rock. The water sparkles, as if covered with shards of glass, and its azure-emerald colour lives up to its billing. Our guide Ly points out Trong Mai (Hen and Rooster), one of the 1000 named rock formations, which resembles surprise, surprise, a hen and a rooster. We are told to look out for other shapely islands, including Vit (Duck), Voi (Elephant), Ca Sau (Crocodile), Con Coc (Toad) and Binh Tick (Teapot). The bay supports more than 1000 marine species. Lunch consists therefore of seafood bought from local markets. We feast on prawns the size of small bananas, squid salad and a grilled fish. Rounding out the meal is a cucumber salad, fried tofu with tomatoes and a plate of french fries.
When Chairman Meow paws at our feet, we gladly slip him some fish, largely because of an urban legend. In Hanoi, three backpackers relayed tales of rats the size of rabbits on board the overnight tour ships. The presence of a kitten, claws intact, suggests our captain deemed the legend credible. After lunch, the boat docks near the entrance to Hang Sung Sot (Surprise Cave). Inside, we walk beneath massive stalactites, some grouped like sheets of stone hanging from the raised chamber. From the ground, rock formations rise as clusters of cauliflower, straight columns and jagged stalagmite bouquets. Ly asks us to find a tiger’s head in the rocky bundles. Most of us search in vain, though one woman claims to see a bear. Flexibility isn’t Ly’s strength. “No. This is tiger,” he says. We continue through the caves, stopping occasionally to admire the geological sculptures, some surpris-ingly realistic: a frog, an elephant, a dragon and the Virgin Mary. In the third and final chamber, Ly points to a massive “horse” and recites a long legend. In short, a man once tried to win a woman’s affection by stealing her clothes and hiding them in the cave. Unable to find said clothes, the woman died and Heaven sent a horse to retrieve her body. Unfortunately, the woman was extremely heavy, forcing her and the horse to plummet back to Earth. The moral of the story? Fat people don’t go to heaven.
A bit suspicious, I prod Ly further. It turns out that in 1993, local hunters chased a monkey into the unexplored caves and their discovery spawned tourism initiatives. “At that time, we had local peoples come and create stories,” Ly says. There are physical signs of human intervention, too. Concrete pathways and theatrical lighting help us make our way but a small fountain with a visible water pump serves a dubious aesthetic purpose. French graffiti dating back to the 19th century, reminders of France’s long occupation, marrs some walls.
From the caves we sail to nearby Dao Titop, a tiny island that once hosted Ho Chi Minh and a Soviet cosmonaut, the island’s namesake. From the viewing deck on the summit, the bay transforms into a palate of serene colours: green island, blue ocean, brown sampan, red sail. It’s little wonder artists in Hanoi have created an entire genre of painting devoted to the bay.
As the sun disappears and the mountains become mere silhouettes, three of us sit on the boat’s bow, a bit thirsty and low on blood sugar. Back on shore, a merchant drifts slowly on a flat, wooden sampan. We wave her over, hoping to buy some biscuits and soft drink. She paddles to our boat and two other boaters follow. Three women miraculously balance with oars in one hand and boxes of Oreos, fresh fruit and beer in the other. The bar- gaining intensifies when three other sampans join the flotilla. Our group now lines the ship, starboard and port, and pleads for cheaper peanuts and another pack of cigarettes. A particularly sassy vendor, perhaps 15, orders me to buy some Oreos.
“But I already bought two boxes,” I said. Her response? “Buy more!”
The next morning we go kayaking. Our boat sails among water villages: communities of floating huts constructed from tin, aluminium and wood, roped together. Children and dogs run across the verandas, from which women set sail on rickety boats with nets and fishing rods. We disembark at one of the huts. Standing on someone’s veranda, we don life jackets and grab kayak paddles before sidestepping along a narrow ledge to our kayaks.
A woman, sweating before a pot of rice, doesn’t acknowledge us as we waddle by her kitchen. Perhaps she didn’t hear us over the techno music blasting nearby. We soon enter caverns, about three metres high, that lead to secluded lagoons lined with mangroves. In the peaceful waters, schools of fish turn in unison and our voices echo against the limestone. “Now we go very dark cave. It has no light and is black. We call this the Hell Cave,” Ly says.
Aiming our kayak at the narrow opening to Hell, my companion and I rush forward, only to crash into a shallow outcrop of coral. Saltwater splashes us and I hit my head on the seashell-covered wall, low and curved near the edge. Ly could have warned us about what lurked beneath the water but we didn’t begrudge him. After all, the bay was made by a dragon.