Getting here to Halong Bay locaated in the north end of Vietnam was 'Half the Fun'.
Force 10 winds, i.e. over 60 knots, and mountainous short seas to go with it. The ship pitched, rolled and jawed worse in the China Sea than it did even riding the long rollers of the Southern Ocean. Having about 400 'short term' landlubbers aboard (sailing for 9 days between Singapore and Hong Kong) helped to empty the dining rooms and bars. Not too many had their sea legs, never mind their sea stomachs.
The barf bags were displayed out and about in every corner of the ship, the elevators had returned to clanging their wires, the swimming pools sloshed over, and things were in general quite miserable and - to top it all - quite chilly.
A few of the intrepid Grand Worlders were scheduled to enjoy their private 'Captain's Dinner' that violent night, dressed in their finest formal evening gear, enjoying 'meet and greet again' cocktail party, observing a collection of long stemmed wine glasses waiting to be swept of the sparkling white table cloths, and a multi course gourmet dinner accompanied with a superb collection of wines.
Of course, we all went - or better - stumbled to it, and partook in this very elegant and scrumptious event. No wineglass spilled it's precious contents, and the food served in the elegant Pionnacle Grill was outstanding, and we ate the whole works with gusto.
We had hoped to arrive earlier than scheduled in our next port, to gain a few extra shore hours in Halong Bay, a wonder of natural beauty. However, the night gales slowed us down and we arrived as per original schedule instead. Deeper into the recesses of the China Sea the waves laid down, and the chilly air was filled with a golden morning mist.
A beautiful sail - in, with many people out on deck watching the glorious scenery glide by. Eerie limestone karsts, some bare rock, some covered with lush vegetation, rise steeply from the sea, like the undulating back of a 'descending dragon', the 'Ha Long'. The bay's origin is shrouded in ancient legend. A fierce dragon once terrorized villagers across the countryside. A brave warrior set out to destroy it and frightened the dragon so much, that it fled away to throw itself into the sea. As it scurried away, it's tail carved gouges and crevasses along the escape route. When it finally dove into the sea, water splashed into the holes, and leaving the rocks as they are seen today.
There are about three thousand of these islands and islets, some have tiny beaches, some indeed look like humps of a mythical dragon, some contain deep limestone caves and vaulted secret chambers, none have water. Therefore there is no human inhabitation, except for the odd lighthouse or temple. A few floating fishing villages hide away in secluded coves nestled between the myriad of islands. Four hundred thousands Chinese Junks form the major commute. Unfortunately most are now diesel propelled, and only a few last traditionalists use the famous colourful Junk sails to move silently amongst the mystical rocks.
Ourt ship slowly made it's way along a dredged and buoyed channel into a busy anchorage just off Hong Gai, a small port at the north end of Halong Bay.
Anchors down, tenders launched before we even come to a final stop. Everyone gets ready to transfer ashore for a quick stroll through the village, and to check out the local treasure offerings. The authorities cleared the ship in no time, the first tender filled with eager travellers, and the stairways filled with more awaiting their turn to be tendered ashore.
Well, that was when the green uniformed authorities decided to retract their clearance and start the whole thing all over again, everything is immediately paralized. The little tender, which had just cast off returned and 'hovered' outside the boarding platform, the rest of us commenced 'hovering' in the hallways to observe happenings. Not much going on, except a bit of stalking about by stern faced officials, long silences and gazing at ships clearance papers, then someone said that the local Chief Immigration/Customs official did not understand English, then the 'office table' provided to the officials to process us through landing card stampings was in the wrong place, or maybe the wrong colour. Then two smaller fold up card tables were lugged out by the ship's crew, and placed on either side of the ship's two security scanning stations. Chairs were brought, no - they were the wrong ones for the dignitary's rear end. Other padded straight chairs came out instead. The ship's staff tried to keep the all-powerful authorities from slowing things down even further or boycotting our stop completely, and the patient travellers from getting rebellious. They broadcast calming comments - and murmured a few not so calm and a little more pointed. (If this gue wants a different chair again, I tell him what he can do with it, one of the Dutch Crew mumbled)
An hour passed. Still no clearance, and that AFTER we had cleared the prevous Vietnamese port without any delays just a day hence. Patience wore thin, more so with the crew than the waiting guests. More minutes crept by, then another half hour... no progress...departure time for a couple of scheduled tours came and went, people returned to their rooms tired of waiting, some sat down on the exit stairs.
No clearance yet....I had an afternoon tour which would depart - via Junk - directly from the ship, and was not too sure whether there would be sufficient time left beforehand for a short land based morning expedition.
After almost two hours, things got to a tense point, and OUR heavy gun in the shape of our Captain, appeared at the clearance station/cum ships tender platform to see what irked those pesky officials in their red starred peaked caps.
Some conversation between our BIG mand and their BIG man, and who knows what it took to finally allow the 'all clear' to be announced. Guests cheered, officials stamped landing cards happitly seated at their preferred furniture, we all smiled a Good Morning at them, just to watch their reaction (tentative and incredulous smiles), and tender boarding commenced in earnest.
Generally, for visits ashore, the most popular places are the Gulf of Tonkin (a war site as well), Hon Gai the small village we visited ashore, and Tra Co beach resort. Cat Ba Island, across from our landing, is a National Park fringed with hundreds of picturesque lime carsts, is a popular destination for eco tourists, backpackers and avid hikers.
For us, by now both 'shopping and exploring time' was cut short, as well as being severely reduced for the hopeful vendors lining the esplanade for at least a mile. I checked out some of the stands: intricate wooden carvings, jade statuettes and jewels, hand embroidered bags and wall hangings showing Vietnamese motivs, beautifully crafted packaged chop sticks, colourful embroidered sarongs and cheong sams, and pearls, pearls, pearls and pearls again. Every shade from white to black, pink to sea green, every size, a great choice of quality, and with uniformly low prices.
I could not resist, and bought a couple of pink pearl necklaces (pearlfishing is widely practised within the island archipelago). This extravagance set me back a couple of ten dollar notes, but the pearls look precious....and they are genuine, and beautiful.
Back to the ship, where a long flat barge had been made fast to the offside of the ship. The tenders used starboard access, and the barge used port. The barge was our floating dock for a flock of large junks to nose in and load a never ending number of us for a leisurely cruise around Halong Bay, and a convoluted walk through one of the many caves, stalactites and all.
No sails, but a tranquil glide across the Bay, in between a few of the miriad of Islets. Junks and sampans everwhere. We arrived at Dau Go Island, where we disembarked the Junk in Vietnamese style. The bow of the Junk, adorned with a dragon's head of course, nosed up to something like a concrete breakwater, which is sculpted to form a series of rounded ridges, doubling as steps. Very steep, and 'rounded' for sure, so not much room to put down a foot, and the distance between these 'steps' requires agile knees, not something many of our guest still call their own. Consequently, one unfortunate lady took a ride down this 'landing' and ended up in the mud coloured water between several Junk noses. She was fished out by many helping Vietnamese arms.
The cave itself, cathedral like, lit up in Disney fashion, filled with grand halls, stalactites, small lakes and many lime stone columns, was worth everyone of the 200 steps one negotiated to clamber around it's intricate and vast interior. There are hundreds of these caves, some holding artifacts of humanoids long since extinct on not yet identified, and most have their own myth and legend to make it unique to Vietnamese culture and history.
If getting off the Junk was fun, getting back on again seemed even more so. The pick up site was at another stone dock. There a whole flotilla of large junks was jostling for position, shove and push, ram and crash...it did not matter. They forced their way to the dock wall, just held still long enough to have everyone negotiate the even craggier and more dilapidated round ridges (I had to sit down even to reach the first one with my foot), board up a couple of rickety boxes, climb past the carved dragon's face (one figurehead on a neighbouring junk was crushed in the onslaught), and up a varnished ladder to the upper junk deck, where laquered chairs and cool drinks/beer awaited out pleasure. Only a few victims, as far as falling down the dock is concerned, no one ended up in a Vietnamese hospital. .
If getting off the Junk was fun, getting back on again seemed even more so. The pick up site was at another stone dock. There a whole flotilla of large junks was jostling for position, shove and push, ram and crash...it did not matter. They forced their way to the dock wall, just held still long enough to have everyone negotiate the even craggier and more dilapidated round ridges (I had to sit down even to reach the first one with my foot), board up a couple of rickety boxes, climb past the carved dragon's face (one figurehead on a neighbouring junk was crushed in the onslaught), and up a varnished ladder to the upper junk deck, where laquered chairs and cool drinks/beer awaited out pleasure. Only a few victims, as far as falling down the dock is concerned, no one ended up in a Vietnamese hospital. .
Getting out of this 'parking lot' mess had less to do with navigation than brute force. A lot of hollering, banging, crashing later - collisions at sea are de rigueur - we glided off again, amongst the most fascinating scenery imaginable. Small sampans, all with fisher father and mother and a couple of toddlers, would come alongside, with bananas, dragon fruit, leeches and coconut, displayed on top of the sampan roof, and offered for sale to the passengers.
The toddlers are all adorable, and not too many visitors can resist buying a few fruit - en route - held out by those tiny hands across the water. The little kids just climb from dad's boat onto the side of the junk, no life jacket and with short legs appropriate for a two year old, hand over the fruit, grab a one dollar bill, climb across the watery gap again, and dad pockets his wage.
We passed one of the many floating fishing flotillas/villages, who seem to 'live' in certain small bays, where people fish, dive for pearls, sell their wares and conduct Karaoke sing alongs each night for their evening entertainment. I can just imagine: sounds of Broadway et al with a Vietnamese flair echoing off these towering cliffs during a magical moonlit night.
Back to the ship, to catch the tide, the waters are treacherous here. Back to the Chinese Sea, with her high winds and even higher swells.
Now, bouncing around again, sometimes there is a faint whiff of cleaning agent wafting along a hallway....another poor Aussie succumbing to Neptune's unrelenting force.
