Alone in the Northeast

Quan Ba ​​- the Heaven's Gate and the Twin Mountains

The first leg of the journey from the city to Quan Ba ​​was quite short, just over 40 km, so I treated myself to a hearty nap before setting off. It was still the same winding mountain passes where wind and sun intertwined at the hairpin bends.

During Tet (Vietnamese New Year), the people of the highlands all seek out the most beautiful "clothes" they can find, and of course, nothing is more beautiful than their vibrant traditional attire. Girls dress up in pretty flared skirts, young men add a charming beret to their outfits, some walking, some riding bicycles, all meeting at the market or visiting each other's homes to exchange New Year greetings. They share simple meals with a glass of corn wine, chatting and laughing happily, sometimes even exchanging flirtatious remarks with the rosy-cheeked young women at the table.

Quan Ba ​​Heaven's Gate is located at an altitude of 1500 meters above sea level, and was once considered the boundary of the "autonomous region of the Hmong people". From Heaven's Gate, you can see the Twin Mountains nestled between white rocky mountains and the beautiful terraced rice fields, the golden rice paddies resembling brocade covering the Twin Mountains.

The first Hmong family I stayed with was located on the mountain pass from Quan Ba ​​town to Dong Van. The house was clearly divided; the wooden house belonged to the father, Mr. Phu, 54 years old. Next door was the house of the mother and her two daughters – a single-story house built with some government assistance. I stayed with the mother and her two daughters; they were warm and thoughtful, perhaps because it was Tet (Vietnamese New Year) so the meal was quite elaborate, especially the meat marinated since the 28th of Tet, a little salty, but the meal, filled with warmth and care, tasted incredibly good. That night, everyone let me sleep on the small bed, while the mother and her two daughters slept on the floor on a fairly thick mattress, as that was the only way there was enough space for all three of us. Later that night, my granddaughter cried terribly because she had been sick for several days, keeping the whole family awake, with only the sound of persistent coughing echoing throughout the night.

The next morning, having packed my belongings, not forgetting to pay the landlady for the scarf I'd bought the night before and giving the children a New Year's greeting, thanking them for letting me stay the night, I packed up and set off again…

Dong Van – where rocks grow large

The journey of the new day was filled with hairpin bends, and my car glided leisurely and smoothly through these delightful moments. Occasionally, I would shout loudly, listening to the echoes of the mountains and forests, or hum a few familiar songs to ease the feeling of loneliness. The next destination on my journey was Dong Van.

It's no surprise that the saying "living among rocks, dying slowly among rocks" came about. Dong Van is beautiful, stunningly beautiful in the harshness of nature's creation. Houses along the roadside or halfway up the mountain, with rocks arranged like a fence, feel like a solid wall protecting the house, yet are also incredibly romantic. That image captivated me from the first time I saw it through my thick glasses.

Building houses in the rocky highlands is a very elaborate process. First, explosives are used to break up the rocks and create a level surface. After blasting away the rocks on top, more explosives are used to blast the rocks underneath to create the foundation. Only then can construction begin. Some houses are made of interwoven wooden planks, while others are entirely made of earth, also known as rammed earth houses – a distinctive roof style of the H'Mông people and one of the cultural features that is gradually disappearing in this region. These houses are carefully constructed by skilled artisans, and their main advantage is their excellent heat retention; even when it's cold outside, the inside remains very warm, and conversely, when it's scorching hot outside, the inside remains incredibly cool. Building a house is also an opportunity for relatives and neighbors to work together, sharing meals and drinks after the work is completed as a token of gratitude.

I chose to stay at a homestay nestled behind a cliff overlooking a valley full of rocks. A winding road snaked up the mountainside, plunged down into the valley, and disappeared into the distance. The hosts were a young couple, born in 1992, small and resourceful, with over a dozen mint beehives in their backyard. Pointing to the peach and plum trees in the garden, the young owner smiled and told me that in just over ten days, each tree would be covered in a white and pink blossom. Imagining the garden overflowing with spring flowers, I felt an indescribable regret; if only I had come a dozen days later…

Sitting at the New Year's feast table with the host couple, besides me, there were a few of their relatives and friends, all of whom were Hmong. The conversations, a mix of Hmong and Vietnamese, were incomprehensible to me, but joy filled every glass of wine, and every pair of eyes sparkled with smiles.

As night fell, I was assigned to sleep on a small bed, quite cramped for my not-so-large frame. Earlier, when I inquired about the health of the couple's young child (because the cough hadn't stopped since I arrived), the host nodded and said, "I guess it'll get better on its own." I kept wondering about that. In this mountainous region, with wind, fog, and cold air seeping through layers of clothing, how long would it take for it to "get better on its own"...?

I pulled out my phone, intending to quickly check Facebook, but the signal was intermittent. Then, amidst the heart-wrenching coughs of the child, after a tiring journey, sleep, lulled by the rustling leaves around the house, came over me without me even realizing it.

Riding a raft across the Nho Que River

Bidding farewell to the small house perched precariously amidst the jagged rocks, I had the chance to witness the sunrise shrouded in early morning mist on the Happiness Road. The journey up Ma Pi Leng was incredibly cold, while the descent to Meo Vac and To Du was surprisingly warm.

Around noon, stopping at a small roadside eatery with the emerald green Nhiem River behind it – the river bordering Ha Giang and Cao Bang – I was fortunate enough to be invited to stay for lunch by two Giay sisters. From there, I had two options to continue my journey: continue the 130 km back to Ha Giang city or follow the road through Que Sang village to Na Pinh and then take a bamboo raft across the charming Nho Que River. And of course, for an eager solo traveler like me, the second option was the best.

The road to Na Pinh village is only about 7 km from the highway, but under the scorching sun and on the rough, rocky red dirt path, it felt like torture. By the time I reached the village, drenched in sweat, I was shocked to learn that the river was shallow and it was impossible to cross by raft at this point. I had to travel another 20 kilometers to find a raft to continue downstream to Cao Bang. Looking at the dusty road ahead, I was truly worried. The 7 km had already drained most of my energy; what would the next 20 km be like? But having started, I couldn't find any reason to turn back.

Then, as my body almost resisted the urge to move forward, my eyes drooped, my vision blurred by dust and smoke, my hands numb on the handlebars, the road narrowed, the trees withered… and the emerald green river appeared before me. Unable to contain my joy, I could only exclaim, “Amazing! Amazing!…” All my fatigue vanished, replaced by an overwhelming emotional euphoria because the grueling day's journey had been justly rewarded.

The raft was steered across the river by a Nung father and son with decades of experience. The raft, made of thirteen bamboo poles, glided smoothly and gracefully across the river like a floating leaf. The excitement and joy of having my dream come true was indescribable. At the time, I thought I would definitely recount my time on the raft in many words when I returned, but in the end, as I type these lines, I can't form a concrete image; it's all just a feeling. Excitement and pride.

Leaving the raft and heading ashore, after wandering around for another few dozen kilometers, I looked up and saw the sun setting behind the mountains. Darkness was enveloping the trails, and I suddenly realized that if I didn't find a place to rest for the night, I might have to turn back, which would be especially dangerous given that both I and the vehicle were starving.

But then luck came my way. This time, I was given a place to stay by a family whose father was a teacher at a nearby school. The last night was also the happiest night of the journey; we all gathered around a simple meal and endless glasses of wine. The alcohol permeated every breath, every muscle weary after a long day battling the winding mountain roads. Sleep came peacefully…

The road to the banks of the Gâm River

On the final morning of my journey, waking up as the sun cast its first rays through the old house, I received a small portion of rice from the host family to eat on the road. Not forgetting to thank them and promise to return, I said goodbye and continued on the final kilometers of my trip. Bao Lac, Bao Lam, Cao Bang, then Bac Me – the feeling of driving alone along the charming yet challenging winding roads, with cliffs on one side and the emerald green Gam River on the other, filled my lungs with the cool, humid air of the mountains and rivers, trying to absorb the sweetness of the clear morning sunlight. Then, as the sun rose higher, looking up through the forest canopy, I smiled to myself with satisfaction. My decision to embark on this journey was not a mistake; the joy of the past few days was simple yet wondrous.

Someone once said, traveling isn't just about going somewhere; it's about growing...

Additional information

- To get to Ha Giang, tourists can choose buses departing daily from 9 PM to 10 PM from My Dinh and Giap Bat bus stations, with ticket prices ranging from 300,000 to 500,000 VND per person. Afterward, rent a motorbike from Ha Giang city to reach other destinations in the province such as Lung Cu, Dong Van, Xin Man, Hoang Su Phi, etc., with rental prices ranging from 200,000 to 300,000 VND per day.

- What tourists fear most and also love most about Ha Giang are the narrow, winding roads with many mountain passes, so tourists need to be careful and prepare with helmets and appropriate footwear when traveling.

- Temperatures in mountainous areas can drop very low in winter and be scorching hot in summer, so tourists should remember to bring warm clothing and sunscreen.

Doan Manh