At the beginning of the year, we waded through streams to reach Ta Giang.

The small village of Ta Giang lies peacefully in Thanh Son commune, Khanh Son district, Khanh Hoa province, in the mountainous forest area bordering Ninh Thuan and Khanh Hoa provinces. This location also borders Phuoc Binh National Park in Ninh Thuan and Bidoup - Nui Ba National Park in Lam Dong.

There are several routes to the campsite in Ta Giang, but some of the most popular are: going down from Son Thai (Khanh Vinh) and going up from Khanh Son. The road to Ta Giang is generally not difficult, not very steep, and often follows a stream, so even children can participate.

Crossing streams to reach the grasslands

We set off from Ta Giang village quite late, as the group was large and included many children. Besides the familiar "little warriors" who had appeared before...Chu Nam mountain climbing tripLike the Kin sisters, Thỏ, the Seko brothers, Coca (Kem and Ni couldn't join this trip), and many other little friends.

The path to the campsite is about 15-16 km long, mostly following a large stream, but crossing back and forth on both sides of the stream more than a dozen times.

Jami, our guide, a member of the Cil K'ho ethnic group, said that the locals call this stream the Mao River. However, maps show it as the Khe River. This stream originates in the Bidoup mountain range, flowing southeast to become the Cai River, which flows through Phan Rang and out to sea.

At the beginning of the journey, we followed a fairly flat trail through a sparse, cool green forest. The stream still flowed roaring right beside us. As always, the children were at the front, following the guides and chattering incessantly.

Although the water level in the Khe River isn't high at the end of the year, the heavy rains following the last typhoon of the year to hit central Vietnam have made the current quite strong. In sections where the streambed is wide, the water only reaches the calves of adults, allowing children to easily wade across. However, in narrow sections or when the stream flows over rocky rapids, the water roars, foam splashes, and the current is swift. In such places, when crossing the stream, the guide must carry the luggage across first, then string ropes to create a "human barrier" across the stream to help each member cross safely. In such places, the "little warriors" are often carried across by the guides – who are intimately familiar with the streambed.

The children loved swimming in the stream. The water in this section was about waist-deep for adults, and the streambed was wide, so the current wasn't too strong. After crossing the stream, they all plunged in and immersed themselves in the cool water. The adults always stayed close to the children, even though they were all good swimmers; in fact, several adults were always with each child in the water. They splashed, squealed, and laughed loudly, their voices echoing through the forest.

For more than two-thirds of the journey, we followed a trail along the stream, crossing it back and forth depending on the terrain on both banks. There were also long stretches of walking on rocky areas in the shallow streambed. The lush green forest on both sides, the sound of the wind blending with the sound of the flowing water, created a wonderful atmosphere, bringing a sense of tranquility, a stark contrast to the stifling atmosphere of the city.

As evening fell over the mountains and forests, the stream continued to roar. The higher we went, the more dangerous rapids we encountered, some over a meter high, with the water flowing swiftly and churning up white foam. At this point, we mainly followed the trail along the stream bank, gradually making our way up to the Ta Giang grassland.

Ta Giang, the land of singing grasses

As darkness fell, the group's pace slowed down as we had to ensure the children's safety during the crossings of the stream downstream. By the time we reached the grassy hill where we set up camp, it was completely dark.

Explorers often tell each other about Ta Giang, saying it's the land of singing grass, perhaps because this grassland is windy all year round. But on this New Year's Eve, for us, the grass of the Ta Giang grassland was playing a rock concert... The wind howled with the majestic rhythms of nature in the night, seemingly endless.

Tents were quickly erected in the darkness of the night, and another group immediately lit a fire in the area sheltered by the wooden shed of the cattle camp on the hilltop. Skewers of grilled meat and chickens, flipped over and over on the glowing coals, emitted an intoxicating aroma that tormented the empty stomachs of the entire group who had just traveled a long distance to reach this place.

A large cocktail, a blend of wine and fresh fruit, was both sweet and warm. Our belated but cozy year-end "party" in the highlands of Khánh Sơn, amidst the mountain chill and the endless rock-like sounds of the Tà Giang grasslands, continued on and on. Then, everyone drifted off to sleep, as the grass continued its incessant song throughout the long night.

The next morning, it was drizzling. Looking into the distance, a thin veil of rain hung like mist. The lush green hillsides surrounding them appeared hazy. The wooden hut nestled in the grassy hillside, with the scattered canvas tents around it, looked truly picturesque.

Everyone busied themselves with breakfast, getting ready to descend the mountain and return. The guides had prepared breakfast quite thoughtfully, with a pot of vegetable soup to eat with instant noodles.

As dawn broke, the children exclaimed, "Mom, look! That's something beautiful!" Then they all rushed out onto the grass to look towards the hillside: a rainbow. Under the misty rain, a brilliant seven-colored rainbow appeared against the green hillside—a truly magical sight. Both the children and the adults, after the initial commotion, fell silent, admiring the wondrous beauty of nature.

Descending the mountain, the journey seemed shorter thanks to the daylight, unlike yesterday when we walked under flashlights. Soon we came back to the stream. The water was still flowing swiftly, but it was slightly shallower than the day before, making the most difficult sections of the stream crossing easier.

As usual, six-year-old Coca was among the first to arrive. And by the time his mother Giang, his brother Seko, and the whole group reached the finish line, Coca had already fallen asleep right there.

Text & photos: Nam Hoa