Cù Lao Chàm – Hòn Dài Island

It was again early when the life of the small island town pulled us from a restful sleep. It wasn’t entirely unwelcome. Diem and I, well, mostly Diem, had negotiated a captain and his boat the night before. We were told to be at the pier by 7. We readied ourselves in the early morning and stepped out to the street to find it already bustling and alive. Diem and I strolled by an older woman set up with fruit and fresh flowers. We purchased a bag of rose myrtle berries for our trip. The older woman was in the process of making her bags to hand out her products. Recycled paper folded and stapled into a pouch served as our snack pouch.

We continued to the flatbread banh mi vendor, who by now had turned into our travel agent, tour guide, and friend. Vinh connected us with the boat captain, arranged our tour, and kept us fed. We are already discussing a return to the island. Vinh has promised to arrange whatever we need. He handed us a banh mi and a couple of drinks, and with rose myrtle in hand, he handed us off to a lovely lady who escorted us down the pier to the boat.

Traditional Wooden Boat

The pier was lined with a small one-foot high rail. Not necessarily adequate in preventing one from stumbling off the dock. However, it was painted in yellow and black stripes, so there is that. Periodically the lip would have a gap, and a narrow staircase would lead down to the water. The lady showed us to the stairs and pointed to the boat that would be ours for the day. The captain was in the process of swinging the ship around and coming in to dock.

The boat was a traditional wooden workboat. Often called double-ended due to the similar shape from bow to stern. However, a flat section is placed over the stern for a work area. And to house a place to squat when one needs to. On the flat section of the aft sits what looks like a closet sticking up in the back of the boat. This “closet” serves as a bathroom complete with a bucket and, well, a bucket. At the center of the boat sits a wooden roof stretched with a type of roofing plastic. They were painted in bright greens, yellows, and reds. The boat has the traditional “eyes” painted at the front to mark the bow. Diem and I made our way down the tight staircase and boarded the wooden vessel.

Out To Sea

Diem and I took a seat on opposite sides of the boat. The boat had a very short beam and a shallow draught, making her lean sharply if Diem and I sat on the same side. The ship had signs that the captain lived here. A portable burner, a hammock was hanging from a corner beam, a kit of cooking equipment, and other things. The captain maneuvered his way through the anchored boats and out to sea. We slowly bobbed our way towards Hòn Dài island and a quiet fishing spot. We were not very far from the main island, though none of the islands are far apart.

The water appeared refreshingly beautiful, and we were the only boat in view. With the islands surrounded by 410 acres of coral reefs, and 1200 acres of unique underwater plant life, I was concerned we may drop anchor. I pleasantly discovered anchorage around the islands outside the bays and harbors of the main village is prohibited. Recognized as a global Biosphere reserve, the island’s generational inhabitants couldn’t precisely be removed. However, further intrusions on the habitat could be managed. In strategic places around the island, the managing authority has placed anchorage buoys to tie off too. Though I’m sure some disturbance occurred in installing the buoys, it was better than continually dragging anchors across the delicate coral and unique plant life.

An Attempt At Fishing

As the captain secured the boat, we sat in the rising heat, waiting for the next move. Finally, after tying off, the captain pulled out a small square plastic container filled with fresh pieces of shrimp. Just beginning to smell a bit beyond fresh, he handed me a fishing pole and the container of shrimp. I’d used larger rods and hooks to catch bream, and sitting a dozen miles from the mainland, my confidence in this proposition was not strong.

Simply at the desire to seem engaged, I made a half-hearted attempt to catch something that wouldn’t eat my rod. I dropped my shrimp into the water for about an hour only to pull up an empty hook moments later. I imagined a group of brightly colored coral species waiting for my tiny shrimp to drop in. Nibbling the shrimp ever so carefully from my hook, then giving the hook a slight tug to indicate they needed more. Then, thinking it was a bite, I would real it in to find an empty hook and load up another piece of shrimp to deliver down to the waiting diners.

Time To Get Wet

I think the captain could sense my interest waning and asked if I wanted to go snorkeling. Instead, he asked Diem in Vietnamese, and she asked me in turn. I thought he would never ask. The heat was building rapidly, and the main reason I had chartered the boat in the first place was to get wet and view the coral. So we stowed the fishing gear, and the captain untied from the buoy, and we made way for a spot nearby to enjoy some of the local reefs. As we came over the reef, the water became so clear you could see the reef below.

It was stunning. The clear water and coral beneath. The coral appeared like liquid, morphing, and ever-flowing under the rippling water above. The captain tied off and through a metal ladder over the port bow. He handed us some snorkeling gear, and Diem and I grabbed life jackets from the posts that held up the roof of the boat. I dropped in first, and the water was wonderfully refreshing and cool. Diem dropped in behind me, and we dunked our heads to take a look.

The First Reef

The reef was beautiful and not nearly as close as it seemed from above water. The seafloor was at least 15 feet beneath us and teeming with activity: Sea stars and urchins, countless varieties of coral, and several species of coral fish. I had purchased a couple of waterproof phone pouches just for these excursions, though they were not nearly as functional as I hoped. It was impossible to use the touch screen underwater, which made framing and focusing shots difficult.

In addition to this photographic shortcoming, we were not in an area very conducive to snorkeling. We were on the southern side of Hon Dai island, which was open to the sea and shipping lanes that pass by the islands and towards Hoi An. This made the current incredibly strong. Diem never let go of the ladder. While I would stick my head underwater to get a good view of the coral, only to pop up a minute later to find I had been pushed many meters from the boat. I spent more time swimming to keep from washing out to sea than snorkeling, and the captain informed me he knew a coral area more sheltered and calm. A bit puzzled, we loaded back into the boat and made our way.

A Better Spot

We made our way around Hon Dai island to the northern edge sheltered by the main island. Still the only boat around, it felt like the island was ours. The captain again tied off, positioned the ladder, and I quickly dropped back into the water. The area was substantially calmer, and Diem and I floated in the water mesmerized by the coral and darting fish for hours. A few yards from an uninhabited island, we were swimming alone, surrounded by the South China Sea. It was a surreal feeling of remoteness and isolation. I can’t recall a time near coral in an ocean with no one else in sight.

Eventually, another boat of divers showed up, but they tied off to a buoy quite a distance from us. Giving us a broad and appreciated berth. With the appearance of another boat, the heat of the mid-day, and the building of hunger, the novelty of our secluded coral adventure was fading. I took a few more pictures of the coral as best I could, and Diem and I climbed out of the water.

The captain was fast asleep in the aft behind his chair, and I think we startled him when we called out. He hopped to his feet as if he had just been caught doing something inappropriate. The captain shook his head quickly as if to loosen the grip of his sleep and asked if we were done in a not entirely sure it was the right question manner. Diem informed him that we were, and he prepared to set a course.

Back To The Sleepy Island Town

The captain made way for the docks, and Diem and I sat in the shade of the boat and enjoyed the fresh ocean breeze. The captain again maneuvered through the anchored ships in the bay, and we disembarked to the small staircase that rose the side of the dock. Diem and I were both pretty hungry, having worked up quite an appetite floating in the sea. As we came to the end of the pier, we stood in front of Dan Tri restaurant from the day before. Having had such an incredible meal the day before, we agreed simultaneously to sit at the table on the bay.

Dan and his wife came to the table in big smiles and recognizing greetings. We again ordered the spicy, candy-like squid. We had already placed our dinner order at the inn, and we didn’t want to overdo it here. So we ordered the jungle vegetables again, but this time in a stir fry noodle dish that sounded delicious. It was again delicious. The squid was so incredibly tender, sweet, spicy with an umami saltiness from the fish sauce. The noodles were tasty but straightforward. Water spinach, noodles, a bit of fresh garlic. Uncomplicated and elegantly simple. We sat satisfied and enjoyed a glass of six-leaf tea while watching the town busy in its afternoon activity.

The Coming Storm

Diem settled our bill, and we walked down to the beach near the main dock. The activity around the town was building in anticipation of growing darkness in the sky. A boy chased his dog down the coast. A woman finished pulling her giant bivalves from a farming rig that floated just offshore. I stood transfixed at her work. Organizing her haul, washing the mussel like shellfish in the surf, and quickly packing them in mesh bags. I stood for some time transfixed on the woman and mesmerized by her focused task. Even after looking at me, she paid me no attention. Her task in the coming storm was her only present.

The sky was darkening quickly and not in the distant insignificant way it had in previous days. This time there was no doubt the town was going to get drenched and in short order. We made our way back to the inn and sat on the edge of the porch, and ordered coffee. Diem and I sat in the scene and watched the town scurry around, preparing for the coming downpour. The fishmongers were packing up in earnest, the man of the inn rolling out awnings to cover the porch. A sense of urgency all around.

A Calming Dinner in the Rain

Diem and I had pre-ordered the more exotic of our dinner at the inn. Five black sea urchins were harvested in the local waters this morning. I was anticipating with an air of excitement, sitting on the porch in the tropical storm and enjoying a few delicacies from the regional sea. We discussed other choices for dinner and ordered a couple of beers as the afternoon faded into a wet evening. Shortly after the beers arrived, the skies opened up and in that torrential and tropical kind of way. The rain was so heavy and moving in directions one couldn’t exactly describe as down, so we were forced to retreat from the porch edge to a less vulnerable area within.

Soon after, our dinner began to arrive. A plate of fresh char-grilled urchins. A chunk of mackerel grilled in a foil packet with green onions and Thai chili, a bowl of vegetable soup, and a plate of white rice. The urchins were the star of the meal. Seasoned with seawater and placed in hot coals to cook through. When one eats an urchin, they are eating the reproductive organs. The urchin consists of simple instruments. A mouth, intestinal tract, connective tissue, ampullae, and anis, not much exciting. But all of this is removed, and what is scientifically described as the gonads or roe in the culinary world is left behind or removed as sushi and eaten raw or cooked. A sweet taste of the sea, delicate, and an excellent addition to a great meal.

A Post Rain Walk

As we finished our dinner, the rain began to slow. We enjoyed a couple of post-dinner drinks, and the rain eventually stopped together. The sky cleared shortly after, and almost like magic, the moon, only hours from the full moon peak, lit the island high above the southeastern sky. Diem and I walked towards the end of town and found a place to sit. We took in the view of the town, dock, sea, and island mountain in the distance—the full moon shining down on it all.

It had been another fantastic day. But our time on the island was coming to an end. Tomorrow we would take the ferry back to the mainland and back to the world. We sat in the moonlight, reflecting on our adventures here on the islands. We still may have an early experience or two in the morning. Mostly, however, this trip is one for the books. We eventually made our way back, rather lazily, to the inn. It was a comfortable sleep to catch as I faded into a dream that started before I closed my eyes.

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