Vietnam, Ile De L'Union , November 22nd 2006.

On this morning we paddled across the north end of Ile De L’Union. Here we went through a floating fishing village surrounded by squid fishing boats. We could tell these were squid boats because they had rings of large bare light-bulbs strung around the rigging. I never got to see one of these lit up at night. The water inside the coves between the karsks is so calm that people live in permanent floating houses in permanent villages. The government puts up with this and even issues permits for the houses. In a cove next to the squid fisherman’s village was a floating museum and school. While children were taught the alphabet under an awning outside we wandered through the displays inside. There was a poster on the wall showing how long different kinds of garbage take to decompose in the sea and trying to educate the locals not to litter. Like many people who have lived near the ocean, the locals have been able to toss all their trash into the sea for thousands of years with no ill effects. When your trash is bamboo, coconut husks and fish bones this is OK. But when your trash is plastic wrappers and empty oil drums you have to learn a different way of dealing with it. Inside the museum they had a display of models of different kinds of boats that the locals have used here for centuries. Most of them were powered by sail and a few with an interesting pair of sculling oars. Out on the water we saw no-one use a sail. Almost every boat had a motor in it, even some of the smaller basket boats and dugout canoes. Actually there were quite a few small boats and dinghies that relied entirely on oars. The smaller boats were made by weaving bamboo slats into a large basket, then painting the outside with tar. Some of these had rectangular wooden frames built around the basket lip to make them stronger for banging into docks or larger boats. I found the organic curve of the bamboo basket rising under and through the wooden frame to be strangely pleasing in an industrial-functional way.

We continued down the east shore of Ile De L’Union and crossed over to Ile De La Paix. Here Joe Toback took us into a sea cave. When we had originally talked to him about doing this trip, we had tried to do it as a custom trip. One of the things we wanted to do was go to an island that had a cave that connected the sea into one of those hidden lagoons inside one of these islands. When the custom trip had not worked out and we joined the regular November tour, Joe had dashed my hopes of going to this place. He said it was too far away to get to on the regular, shorter, trip. So I was completely flabbergasted and pleasantly surprised when this cave in Paix Island turned out to be the one I had heard about. I had a few minutes of warning when I saw there was an incredible amount of current coming out the cave and Joe talked to us for a few minutes about paddling in current and staying away from the walls of the cave. We paddled into this cave and it became darker and darker. However, it finally turned a corner, brightened up and opened into a hidden lagoon! Not only that but also this lagoon had another shorter cave that lead to another, larger, hidden lagoon! We ducked into this one and looked around. Joe told us we couldn’t stay long but assured us we would be coming back later to explore.

On our way back exploring the sides of the first lagoon I followed a sound to a little crack in the shore that had water noisily running out of it. Apparently there is a small cave here that fills up with water at high tide and gurgles out for hours at lower tides. I could see a larger crack in the shore on the other side of the lagoon. I thought I could see light glinting out from this crack. Joe saw where I was looking and leaned over to whisper conspiratorially: “Go ahead and check that out”. I dashed across the lagoon and poked my nose into this little cave and saw yet another lagoon! The current was very strong coming out this cave and there was a shallow rock in the middle of the entrance. Then the cave made a sharp jog to the left. The shallow rock was smooth and covered with marks like many boats had dragged over it and scraped off all the oysters. But the walls of the cave were covered with razor sharp oyster shells. I cut a finger just holding position in the mouth of the cave. I might have been able to maneuver around and through the jog but decided not to risk it. I didn’t want to violate Joe’s trust by banging up one of his kayaks. Joe had graciously allowed me to use the only single kayak while everyone else was in doubles. I had promised not to paddle out of site of the rest of the group and that jog in the cave would do it. Besides, Joe had hinted that we would be coming back here and might try to get the double kayaks through that cave. We headed back outside.

Doug Hamilton started out the day with the Greenland paddle. However, after all his work the evening before he was still was not happy with the result. Part way through the day he "offered" to "let" me have it back and we switched paddles. When we got back to the Junk I did a wet exit and demonstrated a re-entry and roll for the crew.

We were taken on a side trip in the “limousine”, a large oar-powered bamboo basket-boat that seats ten or more people and was used as the dinghy for the Junk. Visible from where the Junk was anchored we could see a colorful temple above a sandy beach. Apparently in the late 1970’s when the boat people were trying to escape from Vietnam there was a terrible storm. Many of these boats were sunk in Halong Bay and people washed up on the shore of the Karsks with little hope. A single woman started collecting these people, bringing them back to her floating village and feeding them until they could be transported elsewhere. Apparently she saved the lives of hundreds of people. A few years later she died, and her remains were buried on one of the few sandy beaches that stay above the high tide in Halong Bay. Since then the survivors, their children, and now grandchildren come back to the site. In the Taoist tradition they burn incense, paper money, leave food, fruit and cups of rice wine for her. Every year more people come back and they built a temple for her, then a larger temple, then a 10 foot high stone sea wall to protect the temple, life sized statues of elephants, and an an incinerator behind the temple to burn all the hundreds of pounds of paper money and gifts that arrive every year. The Chinese inscription over the temple door translates “Sacred Place of the Great Lady”. According to what I’ve heard to Taoism, this woman is now a VERY RICH WOMAN in the afterlife and is in danger of being elevated into a virtual goddess.

On the trip back from the temple to the Junk they let us play with the oars on the limousine. The crewmember who normally rows and sculls this boat has braided cords of tendon bulging out of his skinny arms. A few of us were only able to make the boat move forward or backwards a few yards, not for lack of strength but for lack of co-ordination and experience. I tried grabbing one of the oars by itself and sculling it like a Greenland paddle. Joe grabbed the opposite oar and did the same thing in the opposite direction and the boat spun around rapidly in a circle!

The afternoon paddle was delayed so that Joe could take us on an evening paddle into the dark. We paddled in very shallow water through some gaps between karsks. Then we found ourselves back at the entrance to the secret lagoons. Joe lead us into the first lagoon, into the largest one and across to the far end. By the time we arrived there it was pretty dark. It turns out this was a secret plan and he had drinks and snacks in his kayak for us so we could have Happy Hour in our kayaks watching the stars come out. The stars came out under the kayaks as well when we discovered that our hands and paddles set off the green sparkle of photo-plankton in the water. Afterwards, as we paddled out through the caves and back to the Junk for dinner it occurred to me that we hadn’t explored the lagoon through the third cave. I figured I would never get another chance and regretted not sneaking through for a peak in the morning.