Climbing Cat Ba

You know there isn’t anything quite like climbing rocks.

The majestic islands of Cat Ba are made from limestone. Some two hundred isles are routed with climbing paths, of the more than 700 that make up Halong Bay. They are said to the be the scattered emerald teeth of the ancient dragons that came to Vietnam’s defense in her time of need. That the Vietnamese people are descendants of those dragons.

These isles host exotic animals like the nearly extinct Cat Ba Lemur. Their young have orange fur hoods and are some of the most elusive little things.

The soft limestone makes for impressive cracks with foundations that make for crazy interesting formations.

These attract the one animal known to climb weird shit and get away with it.

Goats.

JK. Climbers. Human climbers.

Enter Paige Tegan, climber, burner, and a straight faggot. We’ve been excellent friends since I get hooked into his harness and climb my first ever rock face. Him, Kate Stewart, and Alana Mosely make up the band of merry miscreants.

Adventures include pirating Vietnamese fishing boats. Chipping a tooth along with twenty stiches. Ringing out Vietnamese Karaoke at an ungodly hour. Climbing abandoned sites. Climbing crowded sites. Private beaches. Blowing fire extinguishers in abandoned buildings. Drinking. A lot. Of. Drinking.

Today though, we are taking a boat out to the bay.

Breakfast is par for the course. A round or two of Ha Long beers. Big bowls of pho. And a pack of cigarettes. [Healthier than our other breakfast, tequila and…. Tequila?]

But we need to be somewhat cohesive to climb the routes that make the impressive crags over the water.

Paige has worked as a climb instructor in Cat Ba for years, and with his experience and connection, we get a private boat, making it much cheaper. A boat lady captain drives us out of the ferry port. We switch to a few different skiffs. We stop at the floating market. There we get something like 50 beers and ice and cigs. No food. And no rum, which is important later.

The floating market is exactly that. A hodgepodge convenience store strapped to many empty plastic barrels and flotsam. The ice is brought to us by a lady, paddling a boat, blocks of the stuff under thick insulation blankets. She cuts us off a piece, hands us our change, and paddles away.

We get through 3 different spots, racing against the tide. But even still we spend many hours lounging in the water or on the boat, enjoying the sun and spray.

We drink a lot. We bob and laze. We cheer each other on, and make fun jokes and jump off the boat and jump off the rocks and wear life jackets upside down like diapers for maximum water comfort and try shit random shit and take photos.

I can’t quite tell you what it’s like to look at a rock face, one that has surely been climbed by thousands of hands before and just not know how to get up there. It seems impossible, that this hip height move shouldn’t work, but I just cannot find a single good purchase on this stoneface. I don’t trust anything right now, and I’m just scrambling around trying not to think about how tired my hands are, or my toes hurting, jammed into the smallest shoes, clawing at the unforgiving and unmoving limestone that both assures I will not fall through it, but guarantees I will also not fall up it.

The rock is distinctly exactly what it is, unapologetic but not unnavigable to those who take a dose of humility and a big gulp of courage before ascending its puzzle.

All I know is. It’s is fun. Hilarious. Tough. Rewarding. Just accessible enough to have everyone participate, just difficult enough to challenge your every limit.

This is the temptation of the climber. Always pushing the limits of themselves in the most fascinating and amazing ways.

There’s a climb. Easily 12 meters into the air. This rock is huge and I am struggling to make it up the face. Not only is it extremely high, the route is very long, making it arduous on my tired muscles.

Still. I failed my last face due to a slipped foot and unfocused attention, worried that I was not moving fast enough for my more experiences climber friends behind me. I nursed my wounded pride on the boat, over a beer and a cigarette. I watched in envy as they both made it to the end with a combination of good climbing skills and effort. I wished I could have jumped from the rock, or seen the bay from the cave that crowned the top of the route.

So, I’m stuck to this rock face. Once again, I’m ahead of Paige, but I give no worry to it, and make my own pace. Which turned to exactly 0 as I hang desperately on to the edge. I’m exhausted. I don’t know my next approach, but I am fairly balanced standing were I am. Eventually, Paige gives up as well. He had been following closely but chooses not to wait for me, dropping into the water and having a drink in the boat.

I. I am not interested in giving up. As the rock is unyielding, neither will I surrender. Painfully. Slowly. I make my way along the face. It’s not pretty. I scrap knees and bruise my shoulder. My fingers hurt and then numb, white from the blood loss and effort.

But eventually I do make it to the top. There I sit into my victory, enjoying the view. Before me the beautiful bay, serenity.

There is still one more task in front of me. Getting down.

I am not terrified of heights. Especially above water. I know which way is down. But that shit is high. And I am if not scared, then definitely wary. I can’t stay too long at the peak, as looking down is getting me woozy. So I keep my face sky level and with a leap and a whoop, fall into the abyss.

It’s far.

Really far.

As I’m on my journey down, I feel myself leaning a little. No longer are my feet directly below my hips.

“I should straighten out.” I think and then I smack the water.

With enough force, in a single instance, water is actually uncompressible, and you hit that shit like you hit concrete. This is not fun. I am thoroughly bruised. I shudder in pain as Alana grabs me with a life jacket and we just float in the water. Every once in a while, my body shudders in pain.

A few beers later and I’m back in the boat, relaxing in the sun.

We play a few games, lounge in the sun, smoke weed, and enjoy the rest of the sunlight as our captain takes us back to the shore. We thank Paige for helping charter a highlight of our lives.

The days with this crew are just that. Exceptionally fun and rewarding. Always hilarious. Paige is the epitome of the dyi punk. Another day we stick and poke tattoos of our mutual friend on to his knee, each of us taking a letter of BILLY OI that circles his kneecap.

I get the Y. I try very hard to be straight as I physically plunge an inky needle tip into the skin of my friend.

Other days we share poetry and music on open mics around the island.

Other days we climb top-rope and one time I even lead a route. [It was like a 5a, but still!]

Overall. Excellent friends. Excellent adventure. 10/10 would recommend.

Thank you Paige, Kate, Alana, Sam, Fleur, all of Woodstock, all of Secret Garden, Dill, Zee, Roos. Just gorgeous people on that island. So grateful for all of you.

 See you in Part 2.

Love,

Winston

First you get mad
Then you get humble
Then you get grateful
Then you give back.