Where the Dragon descends to the Sea

I was having a flash back. It was 1990 and I was stood on the side of my old school hall with the rest of the boys in my year, being told off for sliding on our knees, "It's a disco, boys, you're supposed to be dancing." The girls were dancing - they always did, but until then we were pretty sure that our role in proceedings was to make fun of the girls and see how far we could slide on our knees before our polyester shell suits caught fire.

Back in the present day, I had the same urge to slide. We were stood on the edge of a dance floor with a group of boys, watching people dance to awful music. The difference was that we weren't stood between the PE cupboard and the Headmaster's office, we were on a boat in Ha Long Bay. 

The previous night we had journeyed northward from Hoi An on another sleeper train. Before darkness had fallen we had watched the stunning landscape unfold outside the window as we climbed higher. The railway line clung to the hillside, perilously close to sheer drops down to the the waves below. A bit like the Dawlish line in South Devon, just a little higher, and a little less ruined by the storms.

We all managed to get a bit of sleep before a man we nicknamed Bob Flemming hopped on at midnight and proceeded to cough sporadically throughout the rest of the journey.

Once we arrived in Ha Noi, some fifteen hours later, we had to endure a long wait in the station before we were picked up by our tour company. I say endure, because the only place to sit was directly in front of a television screen that played advertisements. The same four advertisements. For three long hours. I was just beginning to realise how terribly I would hold up under torture, when, just after seven a.m., a gentlemen arrived to rescue us from our ordeal.

A bus journey and a short boat trip later and we were boarding the vessel that would take us around the thousands of islands that make up Ha Long Bay. We were shown to our living quarters, introduced to the overly enthusiastic crew members and then began our cruise.

Ha Long means 'where dragon descends to the sea'. Local legend has it that a giant dragon, who lived in the mountains, once ran towards the sea - as it did, the beast's flailing tail gouged out great valleys and crevasses. Now only the peaks of the limestone karsts are visible above the shimmering waters of the Gulf of Tonkin. Since Vietnam has become more accessible to travellers, people flock to Ha Long Bay in their thousands to witness the breathtaking beauty for themselves.

That said, our view of the islets that day was less breathtaking. There's a lovely saying in North Devon that goes something like this, 'If you can see Lundy, it's going to rain; if you can't see Lundy, it's raining already.' Needless to say, it was raining in Ha Long. I think that summed up our view nicely that day...

The mist, or 'mizzle' as we might call it back home, was a shame but didn't ruin the experience entirely. As we stood on the ironically named 'sun deck', big dark shadows loomed out of the clouds - the weather creating an eerie, mystical feel as we floated silently on - spectacular in its own way.

After lunch, where we'd met some of our fellow passengers (3 Germans, 3 Australians, 3 Americans and a Vietnamese girl), we headed to our first stop - a cave filled with spectacular stalagmites and stalactites. It was surprising to see how huge the caves were - extending hundreds of metres into the karst. Actually, it would've been surprising if they hadn't called the cave 'Surprising Cave'. The name ruined the surprise a little. They should've called it 'Quite Good Cave' or 'A little bit better than your average cave Cave', at least then the experience might have actually contained a genuine element of surprise.

My favourite experience of our time in Ha Long Bay was when we were given the opportunity to paddle a kayak around and explore some of the grottos and bays. The kayaks were only big enough for two people, which meant that one of us would have to pair up with a stranger. But whilst Steve and I were deciding who would find a new partner for the trip, Nick had already employed his usual charm to snare one of the German girls as his other crew member.

We spent the next twenty minutes slaloming between floating villages and the islands. We weren't necessarily intending to slalom, but we didn't quite have the oarsmanship skill of Messrs Redgrave and Pinsent, and so our straight lines weren't often very straight.

Once we back on the boat, we were told to get a shower, whilst there was some hot water available, and then meet upstairs for dinner. To my surprise, what greeted us on our arrival in the dining room wasn't the captains table and silver service I'd been expecting, but a disco ball and a small Vietnamese man dancing to Gangnam Style.

So there we were, watching this strange show - me resisting the urge, wisely, to slide on my knees - and wondering when our western dance 'moves' had made its mark on this ancient culture.

Thankfully we didn't have to ponder that question too long as we were soon seated and served dinner. We spent the rest of the evening playing card games with the Australian lads and a couple of the German girls. It was a close run thing, but we did our country proud and recorded a victory for GB.

The next morning, following a visit to a floating oyster farm where they harvested beautiful pearls, we packed and readied ourselves to return to the mainland. 

In truth, our visit to Ha Long Bay had been a little disappointing. It had been a place all of us had wanted to visit when we came to Vietnam. We had all dreamed of emerald waters and majestic views that we'd cherish forever. I guess it goes to show that things don't always work out how you planned them. I certainly hadn't expected a toe curling school disco, but, I thought as we drove back towards Ha Noi, at least I wasn't wearing a shell suit.