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Halong Bay – where the dragon entered the sea

In 1944 Halong Bay in Northern Vietnam was designated a UNESCO World Heritage Site in recognition of its unique geological significance.
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Floating Docks near Hong Gai Harbour

In 1944 Halong Bay in Northern Vietnam was designated a UNESCO World Heritage Site in recognition of its unique geological significance. Three hundred million years earlier Northern Vietnam, and the place that is now Halong Bay, were under a shallow sea dotted with coral reefs. For the next 100 million years the discarded shells of marine organisms accumulated to form a massive slab of limestone more than 1,000 metres thick. According to geologists this limestone was uplifted by tectonic forces and sculpted by monsoon rains into the dramatic karst topography of the Bay.

But there are other explanations. According to Vietnamese mythology a great dragon charged out of the mountains and as it entered the sea its thrashing tail carved out the myriad islands. And it is mythology, not science that gave the place its name – Halong means “where the dragon entered the sea”.

It’s about a three-hour drive from Hanoi to Halong City (aka Hong Gai), a small port town at the entrance to Halong Bay. Most of the route is across the Red River delta, an utterly flat landscape of rice paddies, fields of corn, and vast areas flooded with shallow water. This incredibly fertile farmland yields two or three crops a year and the fields are crowded with people both harvesting and planting. We are almost three hours into our drive when the first rounded summit of a karst mountain appears in the distance. A few kilometres farther the horizontal landscape of the delta changes abruptly to the vertical landscape of the coast.

Located on the northern shore of the Gulf of Tonkin, Halong Bay bristles with almost 2,000 steep-sided islands and sea-stacks. Their rounded summits and near vertical walls are typical of karst mountains throughout the world but their marine location makes them scientifically special and scenically stunning. Karst topography results from the slow solution weathering of limestone by slightly acidic rainwater and, since limestone is not soluble in sea water, karst is formed only above sea-level. And that’s what makes Halong Bay so unusual. Its islands have a history of tectonic ups and downs that has taken them from the ocean to dry land and back again to the sea.

Halong Bay’s World Heritage status and spectacular scenery have made it one of the busiest tourist destinations in Vietnam. Hong Gai harbour is a veritable armada of junks tied several abreast to the dock and anchored in clusters offshore. Fitted out for both day- trips and overnight tours they are tended by a flotilla of smaller craft, mostly open rowboats, that scurry among them like water beetles in a lily pond. After many enquiries we located our boat and climbed aboard for a two day cruise through the Bay.

The Huong Hai is a classic Vietnamese junk complete with two fan-shaped yellow sails and the head of a dragon carved into her wooden bow. She has eight tiny but comfortable shower-equipped staterooms below, and a bright sparkling dining room on the top deck. She’s only a mid-priced boat but the quality of food and service rivals that of any five-star hotel. Our first meal onboard started with roasted prawns, followed by steamed clams, whole crab on the half shell, and deep fried squid. And that was just the starter. The main

course of pork, chicken and veggies was superbly prepared and presented with a flare for culinary artistry.

Half an hour into our cruise the bustle of Hong Gai harbour fades into the distance and the Huong Hai is often alone as she threads through the myriad channels of the Bay. With an area of 1,500 square kilometres Halong Bay is so vast that the fleet of tourist junks literally disappears among its thousands of islands. There are almost no beaches or other flat land. The limestone islands jut abruptly from the sea, and, with no place to build, there is virtually no permanent habitation within the bay. Those who do make their homes there, mostly local fishermen, live either on their boats or in one of several makeshift floating villages. But living in Halong Bay was not always a matter of staying afloat.

Between 18,000 and 12,000 years ago, when the sea level was low during the last ice age, the whole of Halong Bay was dry land. The islands, now surrounded by shallow sea, were then hills surrounded by flat-bottomed valleys. The people who lived there found refuge in the area’s many caves and food in its lakes and rivers. Thick middens of shells discarded by the cave dwellers are almost entirely from fresh-water snails and mollusks – further proof of the remoteness of the sea.

Huang Sung Sot , the largest of three major caves on Bo Hon Island, has been greatly improved since its original inhabitants left some thousands of years ago. The addition of walkways, railings, and lighting make it accessible to even the most claustrophobic modern spelunker. It’s a long climb from the dock up to the cave entrance but the air inside is cool, and the hike through its three vast, stalactite-hung galleries is more than worth the effort. We spent a couple hours poking into the cave’s nooks and crannies before emerging from a second entrance high above the bay. Below us the flotilla of tourist junks had begun to assemble for the night, shattering any illusion that we were alone.

The Huong Hai joined the rest of the fleet and dropped anchor near Hang Luon, a sea-level cave that extends through a narrow isthmus of rock into a large circular lagoon. That evening, after another elaborate meal and a couple nightcaps, we watched several locals with flaming torches drift around the cave in a rowboat. “Collecting bats” explained one of the crew. “Why” I asked. “Very tasty” he told me matter-of-factly. I still don’t know if he was pulling my leg but I began to give the more exotic Vietnamese appetizers a closer look.

The next morning we climbed into a rowboat for our own tour of the cave and as we passed under its low, smoke-blackened ceiling there were no bats to be seen. But the inner lagoon, completely surrounded by towering limestone cliffs and accessible only through the cave, is a magical place hidden away from the rest of the world.

Before heading back to Houng Gai we docked at Titop Island and were invited to go for a swim. Titop’s scruffy little beach is one of the few in Halong Bay and all the boats bring their tourists there. Considering the scores of junks anchored, and dumping God knows what just offshore, and the makeshift dwellings doing the same thing onshore, we declined the swim at Titop and talked the skipper into a compromise. He took us to one of the larger channels where clear water from the Gulf of Tonkin flushes in and out of the bay. With the engines shut down we drifted silently in the strong current and dove into the cool, salty water for a swim. For the next hour, with no other boats in sight, it felt as though we and the crew of the Huong Hai were the only people in Halong Bay.