Vietnam is a staggering 2,500km long and in places, only 150km wide. It is squeezed between Laos, Cambodia and the South China Sea. So far we have taken nearly 56 hours of constant traveling by bus and train to get from Saigon in the south to Halong Bay in the north.
Ha Long means 'The dragon came down' and the Vietnamese believe that the amazing topography was carved by the lashing of the dragon's tail.
More fadish views hold that five million years ago the area was volcanic. Lava tubes surfaced with alarming frequency, creating thousands of hard basalt columns known as karsts, which have been left standing after the erosion of the softer surrounding sediments. They tower hundreds of feet into the air, some bald and scarified, others densely forested.
As we approached, the plain occasionally produced a small rocky outcrop sticking incongruously from the flat land on either side. Gradually, these became more frequent until, by the time we reached the sea, the horizon was lined with a labyrinth of jagged peaks, silhouetted against the hazy sky
Sea eagles swoop to pluck fish from the water, between the passing boats. Countless arches have been hollowed out in softer parts by the endless action of the sea. Some have collapsed. Others perch precariously on insubstantial supports, looking for all the world as if they could go at any minute, or maybe last another hundred thousand years.
At present only 500 junks ply the bay, carrying tourists on over night trips. When they are gathered together in the bay, sails raised, it is the very picture of a Chinese War Armada preparing to set sail; but when they disperse in the massive bay, you can be alone in the eeriness, the rocks and channels hiding everything from view.
Road safety is the same on the water as on the tarmac. Tenders shipping people and provisions to the junks collide with wood splintering force. Junks collide with even more alarming noise. Like the road, no one gets angry. The damage is inspected briefly before everyone carries on. The tourists look on, ashen faced. The look says:
" Yes - we did read about the sinking and tourist drownings in February but it can't happen again".
Just for the record, it can. Some of the boats list badly and bear battles scars from earlier collisions.
After two hours sail you are amongst the wonder. It is the most spectacular thing I have ever seen.
We stood in silence, drinking in the filmic beauty of the place.
Then we jumped, whooping and screaming, from the 8m top deck into the emerald water. We kayaked through unspeakable rock formations into enclosed lagoons. We hiked to a spectacular three chamber cave, high above the water with heart stopping views of the junks maneuvering in the bay far below. We stopped at floating villages, complete with floating school rooms, lessons underway, and floating concrete boats. We bought a live squid that the junk chef steamed for our lunch.
All the while, the permanent haze clung to the karsts and as darkness fell, the on-board lights came on, attracting more squid. We slept in wood panelled cabins with crisp white linen and woke refreshed to the rising sun, its futile efforts to burn of the mists creating wonderful shadows in the air and reflections in the water.
Too soon, we were jostling for access to the water front, clunking and clonking off other boats, coughing in the diesel fumes and covering our ears from the machine gun rattle of engines working years beyond their respectable life span.
And then we were on dry land again, aching for more time amongst the silent and enigmatic sentinels of Halong Bay.
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