So sometimes, I’m too much into adventure. But I’m luckier than I am stupid, so it works out. Most of the time. Here’s a story where it [almost] didn’t.

I motorbike myself to Tam Coc, near Nimh Binh. It’s Northern Vietnam, about 4 hours from Hanoi. First time learning a manual bike, but I’m able to learn quickly and get on my way safely.

I meet with my great friend SJ who I had met in Cat Ba. She’s doing art for a restaurant in the town, and it’s kind of a well-known stopping point in Vietnam, so I’m game.

She’s been hard at work and hasn’t had a lot of time to explore things, so we head to the local park/bird sanctuary on pedal bikes.

The area is beautiful. There is a single resort, which is responsible for adding detail and art to the space. LEDs cover the trees that line the walkway over the shallow marsh, flowering ferns are trimmed into shapes, paths wind around iron-wrought bridges over the lake. It’s beautiful. There are a few caves to explore, well lit with LEDs to emphasis the natural/unnatural shapes and the sparkle of quartz and mineral veins. There are so many birds, like hundreds or thousands of herons and swans and pelicans, that use this place as nesting and hunting grounds. We even spot a couple of kingfishers, with bright orange and blue plumes.

Apparently, there is a hike around the swamp lake, and we decide that in order to explore the entire area we will take the whole route. We park the bikes and begin to traverse on foot. There’s an excellent view point to see the whole lake below us. The day is late, we’ve avoided the worst of the heat, but time is short. This becomes a pressing issue as the path, already over run with brush and growth, suddenly becomes all but invisible.

A Vietnamese local, from a shack, waves us off the route, but we are undeterred, guided by our technology, we are assured there must be a way through.

The scramble is real.

The sun is sinking.

As are our toes, the dirt is replaced with rot is replaced with mud.

We consider our options. Halfway around the lake, it seems like the way forward is just shorter than the way back. But it seems impossible either way that we would make it before dark.

We’re stuck. Pretty. Really. Stuck.

This is. Frankly. Not a life-threatening situation. But a pickle nonetheless. There was little reason to have kept going except for a self-assurance we would make it, an almost no reason to have done it except for the narcissism to complete the adventure.

And so, here we are.

The wildlife is cool tho.

Apparently other people think so too.

Dotting the lake [we’ve been seeing them go by] are metal rowboats, paddled by the strongest force known to man. Vietnamese women.

They are crowded with local and foreign tourists, all in bright orange life jackets, gently being carried around the lake to see the birds up close.

One of them spots us in the midst of the wild jungle that we are hopelessly trying to forge our way through. Her mercy must be great, because, for no reason, she paddles the boat right next to the shore. We clamor aboard. Safe. Stowaways.

She actually goes about and finishes the tour, so we get to get very close to the mangroves and birds, including another kingfisher. Birds generally return to their nests around sunset, so as we are on our last 30 minutes of daylight, swarms of flocks of avian creatures saturate the branches around us. It’s quite peaceful.

SJ and I spend the time profusely thanking the boatswain, and also laughing at our own audacity and our goodluck.

We slip her a 100,000 dong [About 5USD], and my bracelet from the Woodstock Circle Jamboree festival and, like true stowaways, get off before heading back to dock. One, to retrieve our bikes, and two, to duck the ticket counter that we did not pay for. Because we were not supposed to be on this boat. At all.

I’m an adventuring idiot.

Like Luffy.

But I’m lucky.

Like Luffy.

For great namaka.

Like SJ.

Love and Anime,

Winston