Halong Bay: Where Scenery Mesmerises Your Soul
Imagine this: the Andaman Islands in the Bay of Bengal number around 300. Now place that picture next to Halong Bay in northern Vietnam, a staggering scatter of roughly 1,600 limestone towers and islets, cloaked in wild greenery, riddled with ancient caves and floating on a sheet of emerald. No wonder UNESCO stamped it as a World Heritage Site and travellers flock here in droves.
Most people either begin their Vietnam trip up north in Halong and slowly make their way down to Saigon or do the opposite. We ended up doing the latter, which meant Halong waited patiently for us right at the end - after the chaos of Saigon, the lantern-glow of Hoi An, the tunnels of Cu Chi, the cold bite of Hanoi and the languid beaches of Da Nang. Saving the best for last was definitely the right call.
From Hanoi, a smooth four-hour drive - with a stop at a massive handicrafts centre - brought us to Halong Bay. There are several ways to explore these waters: hire a private boat for a few hours, hop on a day cruise and return to Hanoi by sunset or stay overnight and sink into the rhythm of the bay. We chose the overnight option and my 24 hours aboard Bhaya Cruise II left me with vivid memories of warm hospitality, unbelievable scenery, a beautiful cave excursion and some surprisingly energetic kayaking.
The moment you reach the harbour, Bhaya’s crew sweeps you into their cheerful world with hot jasmine-scented towels and cups of tea. They introduce you to everyone - the captain, the chef, housekeeping, the dining staff and the ever-smiling in-charge, a young Vietnamese man named Huan who insists we call him Johnny. Once on board, a chorus of ‘Sing Chow!’ rings out, safety instructions are rattled off, rooms allotted and lunch plans announced. Lunch itself is comforting and customised for vegetarians. Afterwards, I wander up to the deck with a glass of wine to soak in the sun.
The slow pace of our smaller cruise boat is almost meditative. It slices gently through clear waters under a flawless sky, the limestone giants rising around us like guardians. My phone loses signal, seabirds cry somewhere in the distance, a horn echoes from a far-off vessel and everything feels perfectly suspended.
We’re told November-December is the sweet spot to visit Halong; the rest of the year is either scorching or soggy, neither ideal for drifting around these surreal formations.
Later, after a quick nap on the deck, we’re given two choices: a simple boat ride or a kayaking trip that also involves exploring caves. I chose kayaking. Our cruise halts, we shift onto tender boats that carry us to the kayaking station, which is also home to several women selling local produce and trinkets straight off their boats - scallops, mussels, oysters, mineral water and straw hats. Johnny joins me in my kayak and once we’ve paddled hard enough to earn a pause, we let the kayak drift. It grows quieter, save for the odd splash from a passing group.
As we get closer to the caves, the light dims and the air turns cooler. We duck under low rock formations and emerge into another open pocket where the cliffs loom overhead. Johnny excitedly points out a langur perched high above and some western travellers gasp more at the length of its tail than anything else.
Night drops quickly in Halong Bay. Our cruise anchors for the evening and the bar swings open with the staff gleefully shouting, “Buy one, get one free, buy 10, get 10 free!” I happily fall for the sales pitch and sip my margaritas under a brilliant sky, the darkness around us dotted with tiny golden lights from other anchored vessels.
The next morning takes us into much larger caves, filled with thousands of years’ worth of whimsical stalactites and stalagmites. Our guide keeps us entertained, guessing which formations resemble a turtle, which looks like dunes and which, he says with a grin, looks suspiciously like a man’s private part.
By the time we head back towards the harbour, the sky has turned moody and the captain advises everyone to stay indoors. A light drizzle begins and our boat moves steadily through the mist, leaving the majestic limestone silhouettes of Halong Bay slowly receding behind us.
Supriya Newar is a multi-lingual writer and poet from Calcutta. Besides being a music aficionado, she is also an avid traveller, particularly drawn to places that have a ‘je ne sais quoi’ about them. She may be reached at [email protected]
Photo Courtesy: Suriya Newar
