The Islands
The island archipelago of Cu Lao Cham, Hon Lao Island, has been continually occupied for approximately 3,000 years. Initially settled by the Cham empire in the first millennia BC, the islands have been essential fisheries and birds nest harvesting sites for centuries. As a result, Vietnam produces what many consider the highest quality bird nests in the world. And they are harvested here, in the Cham Islands.
Sitting just under 10 miles off the coast of Vietnam. The islands are both close to the mainland, a world apart. I discussed in my previous post the difficulties the islands often struggle with. Often cut off from the mainland for sometimes months at a time during the height of the monsoon season. It has created an environment void of fast-food chains, hotels, and anything that one would consider to be an enterprise. Instead, fuel is often purchased from small fuel carts that old ladies roll around with them. It’s just a primarily untouched village on a rocky outcrop where plastic bags and straws are forbidden.
The Swallows Nests
Each one of the islands has at least one nesting site. The swallow’s nests are harvested twice a year, each time just after the new hatchlings have left the nest. The work is dangerous. During harvest season, the harvesters often make pilgrimages to the uninhabited islands and climb bamboo scaffolding with minimal safety equipment. This reality has also caused the Vietnamese bird’s nests to fetch an incredibly high price making the native delicacy unavailable for local consumers.
The most incredible part of the Vietnamese delicacy arises because one kilogram of the highest quality nests can go for USD 10,000 a kilogram. That is equal to $4,535.15 per pound. The tradition of the nest collectors, as they’re called locally, is a storied one. The first Emperor of Vietnam, Gia Long, appointed Ho Van Hoa to chief nest collector in 1807. On the anniversary of Ho Van Hoa’s death, April 7, every year, the season commences with the first harvest of each year. We were visiting now in between harvest seasons, so hopes were low that I would get to see any harvesting action on the cliffs. But it was possible to maybe see a few harvest huts on some of the cliffs around the islands.
A Bowl of Mi Quang
After settling into the Inn, Diem and I decided to get something to eat. The morning boat ride and Indochina sun had worked up quite an appetite. So we made our way out of the inn and to a small cart at the water’s edge. An older woman stood at the cart, her green wide brim bucket hat, jacket, and flower-patterned fishermen pants. She sold Mi Quang, one of my Da Nang favorites, and we sat down at her little blue plastic tables.
She toiled in her cart and put together two bowls of Mi Quang. Originating from the province that once incorporated Da Nang, Quang Nam, means “noodles in the style of Quang.” Not.” he typical broth-heavy offerings conjured in the realm of Vietnamese food. Instead, turmeric rice noodles are covered with rich, heavily seasoned pork broth with annatto, dried shrimp, shallots, and garlic and topped with shrimp, sliced pork, quail eggs, rice crackers, baby basil, and mint. We sat at the edge of the sea wall and enjoyed the view while slurping up the bowl of delicious noodles in the warm tropical sun.
A Road Less Traveled
After our light lunch, we walked down the main street of the Bãi Lăng village. A beach ran in front of most of the village, with a sea wall that angled up to the main road. The angle of the sea wall made access to the beach possible without the need for a section of stairs. However, there were no bathers at this beach, only rigs and gear for the shellfish farmers and net fisherman that operated here in the village.
We walked past carts with fresh squid laid out for drying and the local fishmongers with their clandestine market set up out of old foam coolers and large stainless steel bowls. The village is relatively small, which I enjoyed, so we decided to hop on our scooter after a short walk. Within a couple of minutes, we had climbed out of the village and towards lesser populated areas of the island. Outside the village the island is mostly jungle—what an excellent thought.
An Hidden Temple
As we rode up the hill south of the village, the grade of the road became impassable for our automatic. We had to walk the motorbike up to the apex, which gave us an alternate perception of our surroundings. I spotted something yellow off in the thick vegetation and a small path leading out to the road. I disappeared down the narrow path until an area opened up a few meters squared. Long before I set my eyes on the site I knew what it was. A small religious temple, more than likely Buddhist. One of hundreds I have come across hidden in the forests of Southeast Asia.
They always appear to be abandoned or neglected, and by western standards, they are. But there are always signs to show recent activity. A fresh pack of crackers or a bottle of water as an offering, or still burning incense. Since worship doesn’t occur in mass, at least for most Vietnamese, the sites tend to be kept up just enough. Individual prayer and ancestral worship is usually the kind of practice at these sights, and occasionally you might find someone in that act. But mostly they appear to be abandoned temples on the edge of ruin.
This particular site was protected by a very local depiction of a tiger at its gate. This island particularly holds the tiger in high esteem. All of the settlements on the island, and most of the fishing production here, occur on the western side of the island. In a Vietnamese folklore, the tiger represents the western cardinal direction and thus the spiritual guardian and protector of the island’s inhabitants.
A Secluded Beach
I hurried back down the jungle path, Diem was waiting for me towards the top of the incline, and there was so much to explore. We topped the hill and barreled down the coastal road that encircles the island. Once or twice we passed a group on a hike around the island, but mostly it was absent of people. The motorbike climbed and descended the coastal road as we made our way further out of Bãi Lăng. We were stopping here and there to take a few pictures. Eventually we came across a path down to a secluded beach.
We parked the motorbike on the edge of the road and made our way down through the brush and onto the empty shoreline. The beach was untouched, virgin, isolated from the destruction of tourism. Most of the island is. As a UNESCO nature and marine biosphere, much effort goes into its protection. We walked the beach for a while, Diem getting in her photoshoot, as I mainly was marveling at the pristine qualities of the area.
A little Cleanup
The pristine nature of the beach was magical, but it wasn’t without its issues. With the protected area only miles from the mainland, combined with the already staggering levels of pollution floating in the pacific and its adjacent seas, trash still seemed to find its way here. It wasn’t a lot, but any amount here brought with it a sense of sadness. There were trash receptacles near the road, so I took some time to collect what little trash had washed up and disposed of it properly. A candy bar wrapper, a small plastic bag, an empty cigarette pack, and some waded up old fishing line. Again, it wasn’t a lot, but it didn’t belong here. So I policed the beach, even if to do a small part in keeping this oasis pristine.
We continued to stroll our little private sanctuary for some time until the afternoon began to fade into evening. The afternoon often brings rain here, and we decided it was time to head back to the inn and prepare for our celebratory dinner. Our timing couldn’t have been better. As we arrived back in the village, the sky began to darken in the distance.
The Inn
Before heading back to the room we had a discussion with the lady of the house. They knew it was our anniversary before we arrived, and she offered us the first choice on a couple of seafood platters for $20 US total. I thought it sounded like a deal, and she agreed to bring dinner and a bucket of beer to our balcony at sunset. So we freSo weened up from exploring the island in the tropical heat and posted on the balcony to watch the late afternoon fade into night.
Anniversary Dinner
As we sat in the cooling ocean breeze, the town began to come to life all around us. A night market of sorts popped up on the street below us. We began to hear the sounds of conversation and laughter rising from the street below. As promised our dinner began to arrive as the sun was setting beyond the mountains in the distance.
Roasted oysters with chili and peanuts, deliciously seasoned clams, and steamed trochus sea snails. Barbecue shrimp, scallops, and large slices of squid. Grilled packets of fresh mackerel, roasted sweet potatoes, and okra. A plate of fresh vegetables comprised of onions, cucumbers, tomatoes, and herbs. As well as a plate of stir-fried noodles. It was quite a spread, and the more we ate, the more seemed to appear.
We sat in the dying sun and drank and ate until we could no more. As the sunset, the rain came in, but only in the distance of the mountain sunset. We watched our private show of natural beauty as the sun finally faded into darkness. It had been a long day. We had been on the move since very early, and we sat in the presence of each other. Until finally sleep warmed over us and swept us to that different realm of dreams and possibilities.
Click Here for more posts involving nature.
Or click here for more posts on the Cham empire.
And click here for a short video of us exploring the island of Hon Lao by motorbike.
