Sunday, January 27, Cat Tien National Park, Vietnam
A short 1km walk from the lodge, the road dead ends at the river, the boundary line of Cat Tien. A $2 fee bought me a ride across on the small diesel “ferry.” I paid the fee and mentioned my desire to see Bàu Sâu, Crocodile Lake. She smiled in recognition and advised, “ferry” point point straight across the river, “bicycle left” point left, “walk right” gesture so.
Across the river I followed her guidance. To the left, for my bicycle. I had been told that a Jeep could take me to the walking trail, or I could bike an alternate route, about 9km, to the trail start. In the visitor center a cashier took the rental fee and sent me across the way to the racks of bikes. I picked out my companion for the day, a sturdy-looking mountain bike with no real suspension to speak of and a green and yellow colorway heralding its 80s vintage. A friendly assistant pumped air into the tires and placed the bike on the path for me. Arrayed in front of me was an impressively paved road, stretching out into the distance. With a wave back to the attendant I plopped my ass, still sore from yesterday’s long ride, onto the thin plastic seat and began my leisurely ride towards Crocodile Lake.
After a half mile, I became incredibly aware of the 90 degree heat, the humidity, and the thickness of my jeans. Soon after, a warm Vietnamese man walking the opposite direction called for me to stop in the visitor center, back the direction I had come. Without slowing, I hollered that I had, and he nodded and smiled and continued on his way.
After three quarters of a mile, I was beginning to regret the leg workout of two days prior. At mile 1.5, the paved road gave way to rough gravel and loosely packed dirt. By mile 2, I was completely at peace.
I have always loved the jungle. Here there are no neat rows of fragile trees lining the street, gingerly blowing in the wind in gentle unison. The dense green grows unruly here, defying the straight lines imposed upon it by feeble trails. The jungle is never quiet, never still. It chirps, squawks and hoots from every angle. The movement of unseen creatures rustles leaves, the plants themselves shivering in unrest. But the jungle is peaceful. It does not impose, it exists. The air itself is heavy, a warm embrace; the occasional breeze, a caress.
I rode for six miles without seeing another person or hearing a sound other than the wheels of the bike on the dirt and the symphony of the national park. Eventually, the ride was brought to a stop when I hit a locked barricade fence in the road, ugly with barbed wire. There was no apparent trail in either direction, no clear place to leave the bike. Was this the turn off to Bàu Sâu? Next to the gate sat a little guardhut outfitted with a desk, a bed, and no guard. It was Sunday, but surely there would be someone working to take the ticket they had sold me at the visitor center? I explored briefly off the path to both sides, but found nothing to indicate I was on a popular trail. I finally gave in and checked Google. Someone had posted a GPS recording of their journey to the Lake, and sure enough, it started with a six mile bike ride — six miles the other direction of the visitor center. I laughed at myself, remounted, and began the ride the other direction. Back near where I began I stopped for a lunch and a beer and consulted a map. I had ridden 12 miles, to the edge of the ecological center and back, and was no closer to Crocodile Lake.
By now the sun had risen to its midday height and the heat was brutal. I was still considering Crocodile Lake, but my enthusiasm was waning. Still, it was too early to quit, so I had off again, this time in the right direction. I got about a mile before I saw a sign for a botanical gardens trail. That one mile had considerably weakened my resolve — I stopped for a walk through the gardens, leaving the bike at the side of the road. After a mile or so on foot, the jungle opened onto the river, a beautiful peninsula. A family was seated there, taking it in. We exchanged roles as photographers and I wished them good day, but not until hearing a recommendation for the Gibbon sanctuary. The last tour leaves at two, the father said, I bet you can make it if you hurry back.
When planning my trip to Cat Tien I made a choice between the Lake and the sanctuary. Both had been appealing, but the bike ride to the lake had won me over the no-effort preserve. Now, feeling I’d achieved my goal in that regard, the monkeys were sounding excellent. Another mile walk back through the gardens, another mile on the bike, and I arrived at the visitor center just in time for a tour.
The tour itself was quaint, from the single volunteer guide to the iMovie presentation at the end, complete with a soundtrack of “Let it Go.” But the ferry ride down the river alone would have been worth the $12 and the guide was well-informed. I left having seen three species of rare ape in a semi-free rehabilitation habitat and, even better, having caught their rare territorial song. By the time I had returned back down the river, it was 4pm and I was sweaty and exhausted from the heat. I walked back to the lodge and promptly showered, shedding the jeans that I had worn the last two days, worse for having suffered through the motorcycle ride and now this jungle excursion. Still, the sun had not yet set and I had a bit more adventure in me still. I hopped on the motorcycle and set out to take in the countryside. My timing was perfect. The sun was just beginning to threaten setting and I got to enjoy it’s rays across the river which I kept over my right shoulder for a few miles. In contrast to the silence of the morning, I kept a bud in one ear, enjoying Bobs Marley and Dylan for my ride. 20 minutes in, the main road turned south, through quiet valleys and small citrus fields. The few houses I passed each had a fire of some sort burning, the smoke either sweet with barbecue or sickly sweet from the day’s trash. My ride ended as a town opened up before me. I stopped in a “coffee shop” and enjoyed a local beer in a hammock while taking in all I had done in a day. Finally, the sun nearly set, I got back on the bike and set on towards the lodge for dinner. I arrived in near darkness, my day complete.
