Four days trekking through the jungle to reach two mountain peaks in Lai Chau.

I spent four days trekking through the forest to reach two peaks in Lai Chau province, Chu Va 12 (2,751m) and Ta Lien Son (2,996m), experiencing a myriad of emotions from anxiety and bewilderment to overwhelming happiness.

Located in Son Binh commune, Tam Duong district, Lai Chau province, Chu Va peak, viewed from afar, resembles a sharp arrow piercing the clear blue sky. On a clear day, swirling white clouds create a magnificent and breathtaking scene. Although not among the top 15 highest mountains in Vietnam, Chu Va 12 has recently attracted mountain climbing enthusiasts due to its diverse terrain and landscape. The nearly 20km route (including both ascent and descent) passes through enchanting forests and a spectacular sea of ​​clouds. As one of the most challenging peaks in Northwest Vietnam, conquering Chu Va requires high levels of physical fitness and endurance.

There were five of us, and we arranged to meet in Tam Duong, Lai Chau. After about seven hours of overnight travel from Hanoi, we arrived at the foot of the mountain, met our porters, and set off into the forest. The first steps weren't too difficult because the path was relatively smooth. However, this was when our bodies had to gradually transition from a state of rest to continuous activity.

The first leg of the journey involved crossing lush, green cardamom plantations whose leaves swayed and blocked the path. The fragrance of the leaves mingled with the damp earth after the persistent rain. As I walked, I listened to the rustling of dry leaves underfoot, the chirping of birds overhead, and the sound of the wind rustling through the branches and leaves—things rarely found in the city. Sweat began to trickle down my face. My body gradually warmed up. The chill disappeared after just a few minutes of warming up, but a brief rest would bring back the biting cold.

After the first hour or so, the signs of the challenge became clearly apparent. In the middle of the dry streambed, large rocks were piled up, covered in vibrant green moss. The path was slippery, so each step had to be taken with caution. Smaller rocks occasionally threatened hikers by rolling freely down from above.

The path stretched endlessly into the deep forest. Ancient trees, their massive trunks reaching out like eerie, long arms, displayed a mysterious, wild beauty. As evening approached, thick clouds descended, obscuring the path. Visibility was reduced to less than 1 meter. The landscape was dim and hazy. Flashlights flickered dimly. Everyone's steps were cautious to avoid falling. The rain also began to intensify just after we reached the hut at around 3 PM. At that moment, we wondered whether we should attempt the summit that day, as the descent would be much more difficult if it rained after dark. Exhaustion began to seep into our bodies, immediately extinguishing any thought of reaching the summit that day.

Darkness descended upon the vast expanse. The only remaining light was the flickering fire. The wood crackled and burned. We sat around to warm ourselves, cook, and chat. As night deepened, the temperature dropped, and gusts of wind blew through our warm clothes, cutting into our skin and sending shivers down our spines. Things worsened as it began to rain heavily near dawn. The rain pattered against the roof of the hut. The wind lashed violently against the tarpaulin covering the hut. Through the gaps in the hut, I saw the trees swaying, their tattered leaves flying. Huddled under my blanket, I pessimistically thought that the journey would be cut short, and my heart sank.

Unexpectedly, just as I was in despair, the rain began to subside and then stopped completely. The joy of continuing didn't last long before rugged terrain reappeared. After the rain, the already steep path near the summit became even more challenging. Obstacles piled up. Some slopes were so steep that just looking up was breathtaking. Small, jagged rocks seemed ready to roll down. Looking up, you saw massive boulders; looking down, you saw a chasm. In front of me, sometimes a thick thorny bush clung to my trousers, other times a bamboo forest lashed at my face. I had to take deep breaths to calm myself and inch forward little by little. Each step felt heavier, as if my feet were buried in mud.

After almost two hours, I reached the summit. The morning rain seemed to have washed away the gloom, leaving the sky clear and bright. Just a few hours earlier, I couldn't have imagined the scenery at the summit would change so drastically. That's when I realized that sometimes, good things are always there, waiting for me ahead, perhaps thousands of steps away or just a few steps further. The important thing is whether you have the perseverance to overcome the deceptive clouds that try to discourage you.

At the summit of Chu Va 12 mountain, at an altitude of 2,751 meters, the view was unobstructed in all directions. Standing there, I felt the wonder of nature in the vast, awe-inspiring expanse. Layers of clouds, like undulating waves, sometimes fierce, sometimes gentle, swirled around the towering, layered peaks. In the midst of this boundless expanse, within minutes, a different scene unfolded, captivating all my senses, leading me from one surprise to another.

"How many times in a lifetime do I get to witness scenes like this?" I suddenly wondered. The arduous journey unfolded before me like a slow-motion film, making me appreciate the value of each moment that appeared before my eyes even more. The feelings of fear and exhaustion were still there, but they had temporarily subsided, giving way to an unusual sense of peace. The journey to the mountain peaks taught me that happiness does not mean the absence of pain; happiness begins when the heart honestly acknowledges the existence of pain, allowing the eyes to perceive the beauty of the surroundings, even the beauty in what seems like the harshest things.

After about 30 minutes at the summit, we returned to the hut and descended the mountain along the same path, managing to get off the mountain just as the sun was setting.

Leaving Chu Va, I said goodbye to my friends and stayed in Lai Chau to continue my third day of the journey. From here, I will travel without any familiar companions. I don't think being alone is too bad or scary. Being alone is an opportunity for me to learn how to live in loving and joyful harmony with myself.

Ta Lien Peak, also known as Co Trau Mountain (2,996m), was our next destination. It's the sixth highest mountain in Vietnam, located in Ta Leng commune, Tam Duong district, Lai Chau province, bordering Lao Cai. I had long heard about an ancient forest with moss-covered old trees and red maple leaves interwoven with green foliage. Even though I had climbed many peaks in Northwest Vietnam before, I was still excited. With only half of the four-day journey remaining, I sought out a porter to guide me and avoid any unforeseen problems.

On the morning of the third day in Lai Chau, I woke up feeling sore all over, my leg and arm muscles numb after two days of trekking through the forest and crossing streams. Imagining another two days of enduring the dew and trudging up steep slopes, I just wanted to give up. I muttered, "Maybe I should just turn back, not continue this ordeal." But after a few minutes of hesitation, the forest beckoned within me, and I mustered the motivation to continue.

Ta Lien is characterized by its primeval forest with ancient trees whose trunks are so large that it would take several people to encircle them, exuding an air of majesty and mystery. In winter, the maple leaves change color, preparing to don their new coats. Patches of red and yellow dot the lush green of the forest, brilliantly appearing and disappearing amidst the hazy mists that come and go.

After nearly four hours of relatively easy walking, we stopped for lunch at a hut at an altitude of 1,900m and ascended to the summit in the afternoon. Lunch consisted simply of bread and sausages. While the path from the foot of the mountain to the hut was relatively easy, the section from the hut to the summit was the complete opposite. This part of the trail was characterized by steep rocky slopes. At times, I had to crawl down using both hands to squeeze through tree hollows and navigate through dense, interwoven bamboo thickets. Finally, I reached the summit of Ta Lien before sunset.

Descending from the summit of Ta Lien back to the hut was just as dusk was falling. At night, the temperature dropped, and my temples ached intensely whenever I felt cold. My teeth chattered uncontrollably. As soon as I reached the hut, I quickly grabbed a piece of bread to eat, then immediately wrapped myself in a blanket to prevent any cold air from getting inside.

After a good night's sleep, exhausted, I woke up on the fourth morning. The gentle sunlight filtered through the forest canopy, making the dew drops on the leaves sparkle, then softly touched the ground. My heart rejoiced at the appearance of the sun. But that's the weather in the mountains. The sun rises and sets suddenly.

Bidding farewell to my companions from the campsite the previous night, I began my descent. The final stretch was relatively easy, both in terms of terrain and distance, but for me, it was the most difficult part as my energy was depleted. Halfway there, I pulled out the only ginger candy I had left in my pocket and sucked on it to replenish my energy. The water in my bottle was only half full, and I drank as much as I could, as if I had never felt so thirsty before. After a while, we reached a small trail leading out of the forest, ending our two-day journey.

Each time I go into the forest, my spirit is cleansed. Nature always has an extraordinary soothing power. The forest is mysterious, harboring lurking dangers, but at the same time, it gives me a feeling of protection. The forest has rocky slopes that leave me breathless, deep ravines that frighten me, but also gentle streams that soothe and relieve the weight on my knees and legs. When climbing mountains, I allow myself to be vulnerable, not always needing to be strong, like the withered leaves of the forest that can never resist the flow of water. When tired, I allow myself to rest; whenever my spirits are low, I refresh myself by pouring the lush green canopy of the forest into my eyes.

I've always believed that travel isn't just about geographical movement, but also about a shift in spirit and thought, about building new ideas about life, nature, and oneself.

Text and photos: Xuan Phuong