Winter in Hanoi, always surprisingly colder than the temperature would suggest, is not really my favorite time of year here. Too many days of dreary greyness and the kind of fog which somehow suspends large amounts of water at face-level, with the result that any movement such as, say, walking or riding a motorbike, renders both umbrellas and raincoats into largely decorative effects. In this season, a trip to the coast, the north coast where you would expect the weather to be much the same, didn't jump out at me as the best of ideas. However, as usual, the trip turned out to be a fine time. Lan Ha Bay and Cat Ba Island were quiet and only slightly chilly, a marked improvement in both scenery and the shiver factor in comparison to the weekend in Hanoi.
Above, the over-photographed but still amazing view from a high point on Cat Ba Island, of Whale Island and Bat Island. Can you guess which is which? It's funny, the urge to christen pieces of rock as animals, or sailboats, or foods, or profiles. I'm remembering a small shiny bit of stone in Luray Cavern called the fried egg, and a "Sleeping Ute Mountain" in Mesa Verde National Park. There are hundreds of these karst limestone islands in startling shapes in nearby Ha Long and Lan Ha Bays, and most of them come pre-packaged with names, just in case your imagination isn't quite up to the task.
Staying overnight at a 'floating village' was a first for me. Ha Long Bay cruises typically stop by one of these places for a seafood meal or a tour, but it was fun to spend more time on one. Part of Cat Ba National Park, the area we were in is controlled in terms of how much seafood harvesting can be done. The view above is looking over one of the on-board plants toward a cruise vessel passing in front of more karst limestone islands. Below you can see our hotel/restaurant. Yes it is floating on those blue plastic barrels which, in a previous life, I used to haul around filled with well-placarded corrosive chemicals. Naturally, I'm sure these ones were emptied, washed, dried and spitshined before they built this fish farm on top of them in the middle of a pristine national marine park.
I wonder if they make kayaks in earth-tone colors like seaweed green or Sahel brown? The first time I really looked at a kayak was somewhere along Rt 9 in southern Vermont, eating lunch at a roadside pulloff next to a lake and chatting with someone dropping his kayak in the lake and about to paddle off into the great blue yonder. So, having had only the briefest of introductions to kayaking (in any color) before this, I was glad to find these little ones very easy to handle. They really do glide along with surprisingly little effort and, in spite of being (just a wee bit) top-heavier than I once was, I succeeded in having a great time paddling among island cliffs and fishing boats, and kept the shiny side up the entire time. It gives you a great perspective on those abrupt island cliffs when you can paddle right up to them, or go into what ought to be a cave to come out the other end into a "lake" entirely surrounded by cliffs.
In the shot below you can get an idea what this 'village' looked like. The wooden walkways have nets hanging in between them for keeping track of the fish they raise, and they have some serious fish there - seriously big and seriously good eating. Our hotel was the yellow shack on the right. It kind of reminded me of a house trailer inside, although the bedside window, where you could look out over jumping fishes, did sort of remind you about the floating bit. Amidst all the islands, there were no waves to speak of and the fresh seafood dinner on the porch was nothing short of delightful. Any lack of evening entertainment was overcome by the village dogs, who were having a fine time chasing each other with great abandon around those walkways until the least lucky puppy fell into the ocean and had to be fished out, with an unmistakably sheepish look on his face.
From the seafood-laden floating trailer park on Lan Ha Bay, we moved to a lodge in it's own happy valley on Cat Ba Island, which is of course made up of more karst limestone mountains. Lots of opportunity for hiking around the area, you just want to keep your eyes open when passing the very impressive spikes (above) of the bồ kết tree. According to my dictionary, notoriously incorrect about such things, it is called in English the soapberry tree. I don't know what the tree below is called, in any language, I just thought it looked cool.
That valley was also full of litchi trees. Litchis are delicious, incidentally, bite-sized round morsels of refreshing juiciness. Also refreshing, delicious and sort of juicy, there were an exorbitant number of fresh bưởi just hanging out on trees all over the place. Pomelo, commonly called grapefruit here, are bowling ball sized and way more mouthwatering than their grapefruit cousins that I grew up avoiding. That's my opinion and I'm sticking with it!
And yes, Hanoi felt warmer when I got back. You should come check it out.
