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28 MAR 2001 HANOI VIETNAM
Bowermaster
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Woken this morning by a small cacophony of typical Vietnamese city sounds: The first honk-honk-honks of the army of motobikes that literally propel the city. The gentle cry of some local Jimi Hendrix soaring out an alley near Hoan Kiem Lake. The scrape of metal grates being pulled back from storefronts along the otherwise silent streets. While charmed by the early morning urban sounds, so different from the big city sounds I’m used to in the States – all enriched by the smoke of grilled pork mingled with diesel exhaust floating in through my open balcony window – I am ready to be on the sea. The South China Sea to be exact.
After 18 months of oft-tedious planning and negotiations, four teammates and I set out early tomorrow morning on an adventure by sea kayak down the coast of northern Vietnam. The 800-mile, National Geographic-sponsored exploration of the coastline – a never-before-allowed adventure which required many months of hand-holding, begging and assurances in order to convince the Hanoi government that my intentions were simple curiosity not rabble-rousing -- will be revealing to both us and the thousands of people we will meet along the route.
My reasons for coming to Vietnam are straightforward: Despite openings in recent years of both trade and tourism Vietnam remains a country little-known by Americans. How can I mean that, since everyone knows “of” Vietnam? The historic resonances of the place are obvious to Americans of any age. When we hear “Vietnam,” we hear “War.” (Unlike the Vietnamese who, for obvious reasons of their own, refer to the period between 1962 and 1975 as the American War.) What I have come to explore – to learn first-hand -- is the more simple notion that Vietnam is a nation, not a war.
I dreamed-up this expedition during some long, cold nights on a sea kayak expedition in a very different part of the world, the Aleutian Islands. That trip was cold and lonely -- during one month I saw no other humans other than my three traveling partners. Our paddling days were short, primarily due to the constant dangers of paddling on 35 degree water. From there, the idea of paddling in a tropical climate, meeting dozens of people each day and spending long hours on the sea was appealing. Little did I understand just how difficult it would be to get the powers that be that run the communist government to formally approve my dream. The Vietnamese government, somewhat understandably, are very particular about who gains access to their country via the 1,600 mile ocean border. Smugglers, pirates, boat peoples are all everyday problems. The idea of sea kayaking the coastline – a sport the Vietnamese have seen little of, except in the touristed areas of Ha Long Bay and Nha !
Trang – struck every minister I spoke with as questionable at best. After those aforementioned months of nudging and promoting and promising, tomorrow the dream becomes more real, albeit accompanied all along the way by a government “monitor,” and having paid a sizable “permit fee. ”
Joining me for this five-week exploration is a pastiche of characters from around the globe: Ngan Nguyen, 29, was born in the Mekong Delta and fled Vietnam with her family on the final day of the war in 1975. Her kayaking experience is limited, but her knowledge of the country – and her openness to learn about the northern part of the country that has always seemed foreign even to her – is vast. Plus, she speaks the language, making her invaulable. Polly Green, 29, from Durango, Colorado, is an international whitewater kayak competitor; Canadian Rob Howard, 38, a veteran photographer for magazines ranging from National Geographic Adventure to Outside, Men’s Journal, Conde Nast Traveler and on and on. National Geographic “Explorer” filmmaker Peter Getzels, 45, was born in Chicago but has lived and made films for the past 18 years from London.
Our first strokes will be taken in the far eastern reaches of the Bay Tu Long, as near to the Chinese border as they are willing to let us kayak. By the time we take our boats out of the water, around May 1, we will have hopefully made it to the 1,000-year-old port of Hoi An. Along the way we will pass through the 3,000-island mecca of Ha Long Bay (its limestone stacks rising straight out of the sea are probably Vietnam’s best-known image), past beaches with names unknown (to Americans) like Sam Son and Lang Co, and through more familiar-sounding historical places as Quang Tri, Danang and Hue.
My main interest, on top of desperately wanting to put in some long days of mind-freeing paddling, is to stop and talk to the people along the coast. Nearly one-third of Vietnam’s 80 million people live, work or depend on the sea. Independent net fishermen, small-boat fishermen, solitary old men in stilted-shacks dragging their nets in and out of various sidewaters, deliverymen and women in longboats carrying everything from soy and vegetables, to plastic-wear and chickens. In a variety of craft ranging from round wicker boats and pedaled rowboats to the junks of Ha Long Bay and the chows that move slowly up and down the Perfume River and along China beach.
As I type, the morning sounds picking up outside my window, the biggest unknown is how all these people we cross paths with will take to us. Us in our long, skinny, bright-colored, all-plastic kayaks. I am sure they will be as mystified, and as curious and surprised by, us, our chosen means of transportation and our ways.
For audio reports from the field go to the National Geographic Society coverage of this expedition.
— Jon Bowermaster, MountainZone.com Correspondent
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