18th February 2020
The name ‘Cấm Sơn’ had been on many peoples lips ever since I had arrived in Chũ town. Known as one of the gems of Bắc Giang, the lake spans about 2600 hectares, and supports hundreds of families who live on its edges. The water is clear and fresh, and countless fish dwell in the depths of the lake. So rural are the surroundings that most of the people that live on the lake must travel by boat to get anywhere. The edges of the lake are dotted with houses, some pretty and painted, some displaying the tell-tale signs of poverty through their brutal corrugated iron and concrete construction.
After dropping baby Mit and five-year-old Oi at their grandparent’s house, the four of us rode out of Chũ for about forty-five minutes until we arrived at a small hamlet on the edge of the lake. We were soon greeted by two men who invited us to park our bikes in their courtyard. Thai, Ha, Sosanna and I then followed the two men down a track to the lakeside.
The sun was fighting its way through the few remaining clouds, and the day promised to become a beautiful one. Rounding the corner, we got our first look at the lake close up. On the shore lay a few rickety boats fashioned from raw metal. One of the men retrieved a bus steering wheel from a shed nearby and hopped nimbly onto one of the boats. Rushing around with a bunch of keys, he soon had the engine hatch unlocked and the bus steering wheel proudly attached to the rod at the back of the boat. As the old engine coughed its way to life with the enthusiasm of a geriatric sloth, we climbed on board and the other man began to use a great bamboo pole to shove us away from the bank.
The noise of the engine was brutally invasive and inescapable. But as we slowly turned around to face the wide expanse of water and set off in the direction of some distant islands, the engine seemed to run a little smoother. The fresh air on the lake blew softly under the brim of my hat, and I squinted as the light from the persisting sun reflected off the glassy waters. Soon, I forgot about the noise completely.
With just the six of us on the long boat there was plenty of space, and I soon found myself sitting on the prow with my feet dangling down over the water next to Thai. Behind us Sosanna crouched and leaned, her filmmakers’ eyes scanning the horizon, fingers deftly manipulating her Nikon. Ha sat smiling on one of the benches at the side of the boat, face framed by her fluffy hood, and at the stern our two guides were chatting and laughing together.
As we followed the line of the water’s edge for some way, I pointed out some water buffalo tethered by the edge of the lake. Slow and docile in their movements, these graceful giants with their formidable horns had become a sight to me in Vietnam.
We passed two small boats occupied by fishermen who peered at us silently from beneath wide-brimmed hats. I imagined what their lives must be like, living and working here on the lake. Working daily surrounded by the immense beauty of the lake seemed like an appealing prospect. Aside from the odd motorboat such as ours, the fishermen use only oars, rendering the lake generally quiet and unpolluted. On a day like today when the weather was fair, I looked at the fishermen with respectful eyes, appreciating that while their lives held hard work and little luxury, there was also an undeniable beauty to their occupation. It was not until later in the day when I saw motorbikes being ferried along on boats and noted that there were no roads connecting the houses on the lakeside that I realised how cut off their way of living really is.
As the lake began to widen and we headed out into the wide-open water, the sun finally cleared the clouds and the distant hills at the far end of the lake came into view. It was a stunning panorama of Bắc Giang’s hills. They seemed so far away, and yet here we were in the middle of it all.
The boat moved slowly, giving us enough time to fully enjoy the surroundings. Soon we wove our way through a channel where the lake narrowed between some islands, and we emerged on the other side in another part of the lake. We had been puttering along peacefully for almost two hours when neared a small round promontory and the driver cut the engines to let us slowly drift in and grind to a halt on the shore.
There was some form of restaurant on the little peninsula and sitting in a semi-circle around metal tables were a few dozen people in their seventies. Ha explained to me that they were celebrating a collective birthday for the old people in the community. While one of the men began roasting a whole chicken on a spit, I wandered across the narrow strip of land connecting the restaurant to the mainland and set off up a track. By this time the sun was high in the sky, and the combination of the blurry February heat and the peacefulness of the surroundings began to lull me into blissful sleepiness. I wanted to continue climbing the hillside to get a better view from above, but my reluctant limbs forced me down onto the earth where I sat and gazed out at the glittering lake below me, before closing my eyes for several minutes.
Fully soaked in sunlight, I returned to the restaurant where we feasted on barbecue chicken, bread, cucumber and oranges. Despite the horrific sight of the whole chicken rotating on a spit, beak slightly open in a silent cry, it was nevertheless a pleasant meal. Here in the middle of a lake in the Vietnamese countryside, I surrendered my morals and immersed myself in the local experience.
After we had eaten our fill, I slipped on my swimming trunks and plunged off the end of the boat into the bright green water. I was shocked at how mild the temperature was, and dove deep into the lake, gliding silently underwater. None of my three companions knew how to swim confidently, and I felt sad that they could not enjoy the same relaxing feeling of the warm water caressing my body. Feeling refreshed and elated, I returned to shore, and after some wine and dramatic handshaking from a couple of the old men at the birthday party, we left the little promontory behind us.
We continued on into the sunshine. By now the breeze had died completely, and I lay at the front of the boat, staring at my reflection in the deep green water. It was utterly peaceful, and I couldn’t stop a dumb grin of contentment from creeping onto my face.
We turned down one of the many inlets of the lake which cut into the hillside and approached a great dam and spillway. Stopping here, we climbed up onto the dam and looked out over the spillway where two jets of water spewed out in symmetry to the hills in the distance. We were looking at the mountains of Lạng Sơn province. With blue skies all around and the mighty Cấm Sơn lake behind us, the view was awe-inspiring. The mountains stood firmly rooted in the distance, majestic and mysterious as their details hid behind the subtle haziness. They protected Lạng Sơn, guarding against unwanted visitors; this was as far as we could go.
And so we turned homeward, and spent the next two or more hours cruising along blissfully in the boat.
As we rounded a headland and emerged into the wider bay, I noticed a great plume of smoke funnelling upwards into the sky. Since we had last passed this spot, someone had begun burning an entire hillside. Having seen countless times in Vietnam the charred hills which are testament to the careful forestry techniques of those that run the timber industry, I was impressed by my first sighting of the fires themselves. The scale of the fire was shocking, and I winced upon thinking of the sheer volume of carbon dioxide being released into the atmosphere.
Not letting this spoil my contentment, I turned forwards again and the plume of smoke was soon left behind us. The smooth motion of the boat, the beauty of the surroundings and the heat of the sun made me weary, and I relaxed for the rest of the boat trip, dangling my feet off the front of the boat.
The reverie of the experience was broken when the engines finally cut off and we slowly ground into the bank back where we had started at the south of the lake.
Cấm Sơn lake is a true treasure of the region which for the last three months has become my home. I felt privileged to not only see the beauty of the nature, but also the incredible way the locals live here. The huts dotted along the shoreline, completely cut off from civilisation, a boat and bike ride away from the nearest market or shop. It was a beautiful day spent with people that had become very dear to me. It is a memory that I will cherish.
Yên tử – Vietnam Blog 10