It was a three and a half hour bus ride out through the Red River delta from Hanoi to Ha Long City. But that wasn’t so bad, because the rice paddy scenery was pretty interesting. And I got to get to know a bit about my other five companions for the three day cruise. There are three Australians, all a bit older than me; Terry and his wife Susan and another woman, Jan. Like most Australians I’ve met they’re friendly, open and voluble. The other two are French Canadians, a little younger than me; André and Marie-Joelle, also friendly and talkative, in a vuhr fransh sort of way. And given the accents involved, I can’t understand half the shit anyone’s saying.
But that’s OK. They seem like nice folks.
We de-bused at a pier and hopped on a little water taxi to take us out to our ship, the Dragon’s Pearl. I had been advised to book on that ship because it’s more luxurious than the other cruise ships that ply these waters, and I was well advised. The other ships I saw were all smaller and looked a bit seedy in comparison.
The Dragon's Pearl
Once on board we were given the keys to our nicely appointed cabins and then ushered to our own table for a long, big lunch. Course after course was placed under our eager chopsticks, and it was all delicious.
Meanwhile we cruised out of the harbor and into the bay. Limestone karsts (eroded stone towers, broken by fissures, ridges and arches) began appearing on the horizon. The sun was out for the first time in days, and the view was magnificent.
Dinner back on board was an even bigger feast, with ten courses, and just as delicious as lunch. I will not be losing any weight here.
The next morning we rose for an early breakfast and then boarded a smaller boat to take four of us for the “relaxing” cruise among the karsts. André and Marie-Joelle had signed up for the kayak excursion instead, so they left on a different boat. The plan was for us to meet up on a beach at one of the distant islands to enjoy a barbeque lunch.
The wind had blown hard all night long and at dawn it was still very windy, as well as overcast and cold. So my second thoughts about not having booked the kayak option vanished in the mist. I’ve done plenty of sea kayaking, and I know it’s not a lot of fun when the weather is miserable. But it was all new to André and Marie-Joelle, so they were excited, bless their deluded little hearts.
The others and I just cruised around all morning, ducking in and out of bays and inlets, taking pictures and marveling at the weird rock formations. It would have been nice to have seen them in sunny weather, but the mist lent a sort of unearthly quality to the place. So nobody was at all disappointed. Plus, we were dry.
When we stopped for lunch at the island, the tide was very low. So we explored the tide pools, looking for tiny crabs, sea urchins and colorful sea anemones.
The two kayakers arrived about an hour after we did, and they seemed to have had a good time. French Canadians, strange people.
The crew had set up a little folding table on the beach with a linen tablecloth and napkins, china ware and glasses. It was ostentatious, but we loved it, chowing down on barbequed shrimp, squid, pork, and cucumber and cabbage salads, and rice.
Oh, and beer! Mmmmm, beeeeer.
Then we waddled back onto the boat, the Canucks took off in their kayaks, and we sailed back to the Dragon’s Pearl along a different route.
By the time we made it back I was pretty damn cold. But a hot cup of tea changed everything for the better. A good day.
During the night the wind came up again. About 11 o’clock there was a big to do, with people running around deck and the engines revving and anchor chains running up and down. It turns out that the boat was being pushed by the wind and the anchor was dragging in the soft sand. I feared that I might soon hear the sound of the hull grinding against the bottom, but evidently the measures taken were taken in time, and we soon found ourselves in a safer anchorage.
The next morning we motored over to explore a medium-sized nearby cavern before heading back to Ha Long City to get back on the bus for Hanoi. Our guide Ngoc promised us a “more scenic route” back into town, but I’m guessing that he thinks mile after mile of joint-venture garment factories is scenic, because that’s what we got to see.
Ah well, we made it back. And I strolled over to Cuong’s Motorcycle Adventures to pick up the Minsk that will (Inshallah) take me to Ho Chi Minh City. It looks to be in good working order, and they gave me some tools, a repair manual, a bunch of spare parts, and traced a route out of Hanoi for me on a map. So I’m all set. Or as set as I can possibly be.
But right now, I’m scared shitless.