Cat Ba: Cannons, Karsts, Clams, Climbs and Treaties

Cat Ba Town harbor, from Cannon Fort

Having spent two+ weeks in the megalopoli of Bangkok, Ho Chi Minh City, and Hanoi, we were ready for a break from the teeming masses of humanity and a return to the waterside quiet we have become accustomed to as we've sailed our boat 1/3 of the way around the world. A trip to Cat Ba Island, in the north of Vietnam and nestled in and among the islands of Ha Long Bay, seemed in order. To get there, we took a bus from Hanoi to Haiphong, and then a shuttle through a long, ill-defined port that lies along the Red River. We passed through a dusty gate, and some land-filled areas where signs in Vietnamese and English touted the imminent construction of a "State-Of-Art Transport Pier to Cat Ba," and then we waited in the bus along a decrepit concrete pier for the ferry to arrive, carrying visitors returning from Cat Ba. As we were to discover, Cat Ba is, in US parlance, a gentrifying island, where local fishermen are slowly being supplanted by an already booming hotel, tour, and tourist market. Off season -- in winter, in the midst of Tet -- meant we would have the island largely to our proverbial selves, but it also meant that ferry service was sporadic at best.

After awhile, the boat arrived -- a low-slung ferry that carried maybe 20 passengers in ripped vinyl seats and badly stained carpeted surroundings. The helm station had the obligatory Tet offerings of red-wrapped boxes of cookies, whiskey, a small vase of flowers, some fruit, and a bundle of burned and burning incense sticks. Without fanfare, the lines were let loose, and we were headed to Cat Ba, along with a dozen or so slightly perplexed backpackers and visiting Vietnamese. We were on the third leg of a four-leg trip.

Arriving at an equally ramshackle pier on the northern tip of Cat Ba, we disembarked onto yet another bus, which took us the remaining 30 km to Cat Ba Town, a smallish village that wraps itself around the southeastern shore of Cat Ba and serves as the home to the Cat Ba fishing fleet. As we drove to Cat Ba Town, we passed along the Cat Ba National Park, which protects over half the island from further development. Nonetheless, there were several vast land-filled areas where new resorts were promised.

The streets of the actual town were mercifully empty of scooters, and our hotel overlooked the harbor and its collection of commercial fishing boats, native fishing craft, and a handful of tourist boats that take people out on one-day and over night trips into the islands of Han La Bay -- a part of the larger Ha Long Bay that features prominently in many postcards of Vietnam.


This is a special place, geologically speaking. Around Cat Ba, and rising from the waters of the South China Sea are several thousand islands -- karsts -- that jut skyward with sheer cliffs rising from emerald green waters. These limestone islands are a rock climber's paradise, with jagged limestone hand and footholds ascending several hundred feet with hundreds of routes. Importantly, many overhang the water, so a fall means a nice-sized SPLASH rather than a bloody SPLAT.

After a hard day of travel, we took in the sunset from the "Cannon Fort," where North Vietnamese soldiers stood guard over the entrance to the strategic port of Haiphong. Cat Ba Island, with its limestone caves, served as an important refuge -- and hospital -- for the VC leadership during the war, and Ho Chi Minh himself visited the island -- a fact that does not go unnoticed by the local government. As mentioned in other blogs, and particularly in the north, there is evident pride in the successful war efforts of the Vietnamese, and to this day, parents of soldiers and the soldiers themselves are accorded special status in the society. This of course contrasts sharply with the post-war treatment of sympathizers of the south, many of whom were sent to re-educaction/brainwashing camps, or were dealt worse fates.


The next morning, I awoke at 6 am to what I thought was a teenager's bad idea of a prank: mind-numbingly loud music from a set of boom boxes on the edge of the harbor. Opening the window, and shouting "Hey!" did nothing to ease the din, and the music was soon replaced by a man speaking at length. Of course, later, I learned that these were the morning announcements of the local government ... preceded by righteous music for the working class. The morning ritual repeated itself the following morning, and I could only imagine the exhortations embedded in the Vietnamese words that I did not understand ... "production quotas are being increased ... more is expected ... all praise to the General Secretary ... "

Cat Ba fish farm/village

After our rousing wake up call, we were off for a day of sightseeing, kayaking, and rock climbing. Leaving the dock, we encountered the first of many small floating villages of fish, shrimp, oyster, and clam farmers. These farming families live on houses built on floating rafts of criss-crossing bamboo rods, floating on blue tarp wrapped cubes of Styrofoam. If raising fish, the bamboo rods support nets slung in the water; if raising shellfish, the rods support bamboo baskets that hang down into the water, each containing a mix of sand and shells, and left for a year or so before harvesting the catch.

The grocery boat

These floating villages lie in and among the karst islands, and are supplied by vendors that paddle their way between them in the indigenous craft: oval-shaped "bathtubs" that are fabricated from bamboo and palm fronds, and coated on their bottoms with tar to prevent water logging.

Jennifer, about 50 feet off the ground

After a brief kayaking trip in and among the islands and villages, we went ashore for some rock climbing. Jennifer and I were first introduced to climbing while on a family vacation at Acadia National Park in Maine, so the idea of climbing by the water brought back fond memories. After that trip, Kate took a real shining to the sport, and she inspired the family to do a few more trips -- one at Seneca Rocks, in West Virginia, and then, with just the two of us, Kate and I scaled Devil's Tower in Wyoming. It had been some time since either Jen or I strapped on the harnesses and helmets, but our guides were wonderful, and we had a great time climbing up the intermediate-level climbing cliffs of Ha Long Bay.

Kayaking among the karst islands

The following day, after a peaceful night and another early awakening (!), we took a guide inland to hike the National Park. Riding by motor scooter into the interior of Cat Ba Island, we arrived a small farming village -- 17 families -- tilling a valley surrounded by cliffs. Once again, we encountered the memories and impact of the war as our guide took pains to show us how his parents and their fellow villagers would take rocks and tap them against the crystalline-structured karsts to produce an amazingly-loud ringing sound -- a sound used to warn islanders of approaching US bombers. Below, in the now-farmed valley, bomb craters were still evident, although we were reassured that no exploded ordnance remained. This is not the case in much of Vietnam, however, and tourists are warned no to wander off the so-called beaten paths as they hike the countryside.

Each year, over 3000 people are killed or maimed from unexploded ordnance here in Vietnam, and our Lonely Planet cites some amazing facts: as much as 20 percent of Vietnam land has yet to be cleared of unexploded ordnance (UXO), with more than 3.5 million mines and 350,00 - 800,000 tonnes of UXO unaccounted for. This translates to about 1-2 tonnes of UXO per square kilometer over the entire country. A few years ago, Jennifer and I were inspired by Emmylou Harris's Campaign for a Landmine Free World, to support the campaign; seeing the carnage firsthand makes it all the more real for us. I'm not sure what the current status of the Obama Administration's review of our historic and rather unexplainable refusal to sign the Ottawa Treaty banning landmines, but one hopes we can find it within ourselves to ban these weapons that create so many civilian deaths well after the warring armies have gone home.

Puddling water in a Cat Ba bomb crater