How to explore the Vietnam’s newest hotspots for tourists of Lan Ha Bay

Leaning over the rails of the Dora Cruise boat, I find myself drinking in the scene before me. Shimmering through the haze, row upon row, are giant-like mythical creatures torn straight from the pages of a fairytale. Slowly, it’s clear, these are the towering karsts of Lan Ha Bay coming into focus, Mother Nature adding brush strokes to her canvas. Plants cascade down from the rock face, greens mixing with the greys and silvers of the limestone beneath, while butterflies flap lazily among little white flowers just visible through the foliage. Passengers and crew are dumbstruck, but, as my gaze roves around the rest of the bay, I notice something else: there’s not another ship in sight.

In comparison with the booming tourist trade in neighbouring Ha Long Bay, where dozens of ships ply the waters daily and where travellers are surrounded by so many boats that the megaliths somehow lose their magic, Lan Ha Bay is the area’s quieter alternative. Very few cruise companies have permission to sail here, so for most of the journey, I’m sharing the water with a handful of fishing boats, dwarfed in size as they sail past the stone giants.

“Families live on board for many weeks at a time,” the ship’s guide, Dien, reveals, waving to a rickety boat that bobs past, crab baskets hanging precariously from the back. “They won’t return to their village until all their nets are full.” A family of three returns his greeting, a little girl no older than six grinning up at us, her eyes twinkling mischievously.

Unlike Ha Long Bay, much of which is protected as a UNESCO-designated site and where fishing is strictly forbidden, Lan Ha Bay is home to hundreds of people, most of whom live in floating villages and depend on the sea for survival. “The goddess of the ocean is the most important deity to this community,” Dien tells me. “They depend on her for safe passage, for a good catch and to protect their families. Every boat you see will have a tiny shrine inside, dedicated solely to her.”

The fishing boat in front of us — painted in red, blue and green, with the Vietnam flag fluttering in the breeze — slowly disappears behind another limestone mountain. Life must be hard on board the tiny vessel, I think, constantly at the mercy of the elements, waiting for the sea goddess to grant a catch so bountiful one can finally return home.

Each island in the biodiverse bay is covered in dense forest, ripe for exploration.

ARTICLES BY CHARLOTTE WIGRAM-EVANS