About 6 months ago, I was lucky enough to hear about Son Doong cave slightly before the rest of the world caught on (a coworker had gone in one of the very first groups allowed). I nabbed a date in May in a tour with a couple open spots, a date just after I’d be done with school. Happy graduation, me. I booked a few days in Hanoi both before and after the trip to Son Doong, and waited. May 20 crept up quickly.
I got up at the crack of dawn to make my way to LAX. Luckily Google rerouted me off the 101 and sent me down through Malibu via the Pacific Coast Highway. Malibu is sort of out of the way so I’d never been before, it was a place frozen in the 60s, with many mod houses jutting out over the beach and surfers dotting the ocean at 6am. An incredibly beautiful and welcome detour.
There is no good time to drive in LA. Traffic was already at a near standstill heading north on the 405 at 6:45am.
This was the longest flight of my life: 14 hours (the leg from LAX to Hong Kong, before transferring to Hanoi). I didn’t realize it was possible to be in this much physical pain just from sitting, but it probably stems from the fact that airline seats aren’t so much “upright” and “back” as much as they’re “pitched forward” and “pitched slightly less forward”. I was mostly excited to finally have a flight long enough for a meal. Two meals, even! I find something about the slightly sci-fi aspect of tiny compartmentalized meals so charming.
Above Hanoi was one of the most gorgeous sunsets I’ve ever seen, but we descended into a thunderstorm, lightning flashing all around the plane. Hanoi seems primarily composed of narrow row houses of all different architectural styles, all crammed together, and it’s extremely visually interesting. I didn’t actually spend much time in Hanoi; I arrived a little late, and set off for Ha Long Bay early the next morning.
While not particularly hot, the humidity is oppressive. All of the SE Asian women seem unaffected with their stylish clothes and flawless makeup as they cruise around on mopeds, not even sweating enough to mess up their bangs under their helmets. Meanwhile I was mopping my brow constantly; life in Santa Barbara doesn’t prepare you for any weather falling outside of the 65-80 Fahrenheit range.
Traffic has to be seen to be believed. Watching armies of mopeds and motorcycles go by outside the bus window on the way to Ha Long, I covered my eyes in terror more than once. Traffic signals, lanes, one-ways…mean nothing. It’s pure chaos, but somehow it works.
As I watch Vietnam go by out the bus window on the three-hour trip to Ha Long, the juxtaposition between traditional and modern is very stark. A woman in a traditional conical hat, laden with baskets of produce, while people in trendy clothing on shiny mopeds zip by. A herd of oxen trying to cool down in a river, just their horns and faces visible above the water, down the street from an upscale coffee shop.
After taking a boat around the stunningly beautiful Ha Long Bay, I went to my hotel and took a swim; the hotel was on a hill so the pool overlooked the bay, and was blissfully uncrowded (though not necessarily cool). After dinner I laid low in my room, basking in the AC. The next day I ended up walking 4km in suffocating heat to a cafe down by the water. It was actually worth the walk, the building was made of old shipping containers and the tables all had private moats! Most Vietnamese speak little to no English (and I speak little to no Vietnamese) so I struggled to order water. They brought me hot tea, and I was glad for any hydration at that point. I had lost a least a pint of sweat on the walk over. I took a cab back to the hotel and then bused back to Hanoi.
Walking around the large lake in Hanoi old quarter (Hoan Kiem – apparently “Lake of Sword Restored”, how bad-ass is that?), a man approached me saying he wanted to practice his English. Of course I immediately assumed he was running some sort of scam, but we ended up hanging out for a few hours, eating various unique Vietnamese dishes, talking and asking questions about life in each other’s countries. It didn’t cool down at all in the evening, but sitting outside with cold beer for a quarter and lightning flashing overhead was a nice way to pass the time. I turned in pretty early, promising to show my new friend Duc pictures of the cave when I arrived back in Hanoi. Flew out to Dong Hoi early the next morning, and transferred to the charming little mountain town of Phong Nha.
I had been really looking forward to meeting people from all over the world for the cave trek, so I was a little surprised to find out that half of the people in my group live about 2 hours away from me in California, and work in the same industry. Small world.
I woke up the day of our departure for Son Doong when the power went out and the AC cut off. Time to go. I sweated off my sunscreen long before we even began the first leg of the hike.
Between shade, cloud cover, a breeze, and plentiful river crossings, it wasn’t an entirely unpleasant first day. We hiked about 10km through the jungle to the cave Hang En for our first night. We hiked through a tiny remote village of about 35 people, and I drank “jungle tea” (still not entirely sure what was in it, so I used it to wash down some charcoal tablets, to be safe). We arrived fairly early in the afternoon, and took an amazingly refreshing swim in the cave, which has separate warm and cool pools. Thousands of swifts are nesting along the sides of the cave, creating a cacophony of chirping. Between the strenuous day and the pitch blackness of the cave after sundown, I slept early.
Maybe “slept” isn’t the proper word. With only a very thin foam mat for padding, it was impossible to get comfortable and fall asleep. The few times I managed to drift off for a moment, I’d wake up with pins and needles in one or more of my limbs from having it pressed against the hard floor. I also heard something very large taking a swim and walking around between the tents set up on the beach, though everyone insists that they weren’t taking a midnight swim when I asked the next day. I’m going to tell myself it was the porters taking a swim and try not to think about it anymore. So I began day 2 on basically zero shut-eye.
Day 2 was intense, in a word. Lots of extremely steep climbing through the jungle, getting into harnesses and lowering into Son Doong, and scrambling over countless boulders. It was so strenuous that I happily swam in freezing underground rivers, fully clothed, to get some relief from being drenched in sweat. The size of Son Doong is staggering; often the ceiling wasn’t visible, and giant rock formations could just barely be seen, lurking at the edge of our light sources. We reached the second camp at around 3pm or so, briefly setting our stuff down before backtracking a bit to a giant wall of coral fossils. Beyond were many small pools, but a few of us headed down a steep, narrow passage that fed directly into a river at the bottom of a giant crevasse. The water was black as tar in the sparse light from our headlamps that were left on the rocks. Swimming in the dark in the narrow canyon was certainly an experience like no other, and the water was blissfully cold. After the swim I was finally able to take off my water-logged boots and socks at my tent; changing into clean, dry clothing has never felt more satisfying. We spent the evening eating an obscene amount of food to refuel and telling stories around the dinner table.
Who would have thought that crawling over muddy boulders all day would be so exhausting? Day 3 began with a lot of stiffness as we moved towards the next camp by the second doline. After reaching the camp and changing, we headed towards the Great Wall of Vietnam, the farthest you can go within Son Doong without scaling the 80 meters over said wall. As we were leaving camp we heard a boom like a thunder clap, and turned to see part of the cave ceiling collapsing over the second doline, where we had all been walking just 30 minutes before. The guide said he’d never seen a collapse like that in his 18 years of caving. Giant boulders and trees crashed into the jungle, raising a huge dust cloud. Luckily no one was injured, and no equipment was damaged. After checking in with the porters still at the camp, we continued into the cave to the Great Wall. During the rainy season, the area is a lake. During this time of year it is a gigantic mud pit. About a dozen of us spent a couple hours slipping around in mud as deep as our upper thighs, walking a very narrow path between giant hills of mud. Somehow I managed to escape with very muddy legs, but relatively clean clothing. We washed off in a small pool before heading back to camp, and cleaned more thoroughly with plentiful wet wipes at camp. Spending 6+ hours a day testing our strength and endurance, people don’t find it ridiculous to go to bed immediately after dinner. I was starting to get a bit beat up at this point; a toxic plant sting (We thought? No one knew exactly what caused the welt on my leg) and banging my shin against a jagged rock, coupled with bruises from sleeping on a hard floor, made me eager to get to bed early, and try to sleep listening to the bats screeching.
On day 4 we needed to travel from Camp 2 (day 3 destination) to Hang En (day 1 destination), and we were all dreading doing two day’s worth of bouldering and hiking in one day. On the way out, one guy badly sprained his wrist and another banged up his shin. We were all grateful to reach Hang En early in the afternoon to do some much-needed resting and washing. After I did laundry I was wading into the warm pool to wash my hair, when something went SPLOOSH a few yards in front of me. I went to check it out, assuming it was a rock falling from the ceiling. It was a baby swift that had fallen out of its nest, far above. After some surprised flailing I grabbed it and set it on the beach, but there wasn’t anything else I could do; the only reason it had survived the fall at all is because it hit the water instead of the sand. It was just a tiny hatchling so there was nothing I could do for it, but I didn’t just want to watch it drown. Out of the frying pan and into the fire.
The hike out of the jungle at the end was the hardest part of the entire trek. An unending vertical staircase made of tree roots is a daunting task after 5 days with no restorative sleep. At the top I was greeted with cold water and beer and some moist towelettes that had also been kept in the cooler. I peeled off my soaked, muddy boots and socks and poured ice water all over myself as I collapsed to wait for the 5 others behind me. We took the blissfully air conditioned bus back to Phong Nha to gather our belongings, and were dropped off at the cushy Sun Spa Resort in Dong Hoi to spend the last night and await our transfers to the airport or train station the next day. I sent my cave clothes to the laundry and they ruined them. I swam as far as I could into the South China Sea, idly wondering if there are sharks. I burned the soles of my feet running along the scorching sand without sandals. I pondered getting a 100,000 VND ($4.50) pedicure but the state of my laundry makes me reconsider getting more services from the resort. My flight to Hanoi is delayed by 5 hours so I watch BBC and shower more times than necessary. Cave rivers are a lovely bathing spot but it was nice to feel truly clean for the first time in a week.
In Hanoi I cool off and wait for the sun to set (not that it’s any cooler, but no need for sunscreen at least), then try a signature Vietnamese seafood dish called Cha ca la vong; much like Mexican food, it’s a little hard to describe Vietnamese dishes in a way that makes it sound distinct because there are a lot of common meal components, but trust me, it was delicious. I search in vain for a Latin America themed bar I heard about, hoping for some fancy cocktails, but end up at a pirate-themed pub instead, at a table of other travelers: a Brit, some Canadians, an American living in Australia, an American living in Saudi Arabia. We share drinks and later a meal (sort of a Vietnamese version of Korean BBQ) and go our separate ways.
My last few hours in Hanoi and I had approximately $68 USD left to spend so leave my hotel with a mission. There’s a dead cat laying on the sidewalk by a fancy cellphone store. There’s that juxtaposition I was talking about. I wander into a coffee shop that turns out to be more Vietnamese Starbucks than anything authentic, but they all speak English well which is welcome at this point. I buy a lemon mint freeze (45,000 VND/$2.05). It tastes like a non-alcoholic mojito and the same drink would easily run $6+ in the US. I continue down the street and buy a beautiful silk robe (250,000 VND/$11.50) and some gelato (47,000 VND/$2.15). I get my nails done (280,000 VND/$12.50 for both hands and feet, and this was actually quite a rip-off), then see how the Vietnamese do a Long Island Ice Tea and margarita (140,000 VND/$7). Both are passable, especially for three fifty. My dining companions from the night before had suggested an Australian place for burgers, and I am dying for a burger so I head there next. I get a bacon cheeseburger (215,000 VND/$10) and it satisfies my raging burger craving beautifully. The only possible way to follow up the burger is with a facial (600,000 VND/$28), which is quite perfect after spending a week underground and battling a heat rash on my neck (have I mentioned how oppressively hot it is, yet?). I have to bust out my credit card as I run low on cash so I call it a day and head back to the hotel to prepare for the long journey home.
A huge storm delays my flight by 5 hours. I miss my connection and stay overnight in Hong Kong; the hotel attached to the airport is the nicest hotel I’ve ever stayed at, and there’s no worrying about catching a shuttle to the terminals– you just walk. Good on you, Hong Kong. Most pleasant stranded-overnight-in-a-connection-city experience I’ve had. I fly 12 hours into LAX, grab my car, and head straight to work. And just like that, it’s over.
Going to Son Doong is such a humbling and special experience. It’s extremely physically challenging, and remote, and has been seen by so few so far. But the future likely holds rail cars, and lighting, and turning it into a polished “family-friendly” destination, where 90% of the cave will be off limits because of safety concerns. We saw an untouched, pitch black cave, as it’s been for millions of years before humans ever knew it existed. Some day it might have graffiti on all the stalagmites and famous rock formations, and a gift shop, and garbage floating in all of the pools. No one will squeeze through the rocks to go swimming in the underground canyon, no one will have to hike 15km into the jungle and then carefully descend 50 meters into the cave, no one will slide through the mud to the end of the cave. While I think anyone who us up for a very physically-involved adventure should experience it if they have the opportunity, a severe limit to the amount of humans that can enter the cave every year is paramount to maintaining everything that makes it so attractive and unique. Not every destination needs to have lit pathways and safety rails and changing tables. And that’s okay.
