2010/05/05

Binh Thuan Travels (Part 1)



Five fifteen in the morning. The first light of dawn catches the tops of the cities tallest buildings. I’m waiting for a friend, Adam. He and I are heading a few hours up the Southern coast of Vietnam. He just wants to visit some new places, well off the beaten track, and get some nice photos. I’m more focused. I want a picture of the Mui Ke Ga lighthouse at dawn. I’ve been wanting this shot for years. The lighthouse on it’s island backlit by the first pink flush of the new day… a long, long exposure to flatten out the sea leaving it an infinite mirror of pastel glass. I’ve tried for this shot half a dozen times and never gotten it. Today I’m on my way to try again.


Our plan is to take a slow ride up the coast from the resort city of Vung Tau, passing through Long Hai and then on to LaGi, in Binh Thuan province. From there it’s a mere forty minutes to Mui Ke Ga the next morning. Things go wrong almost immediately. We cross the Saigon river by ferry and set off across district two. But the road we want to take isn’t there! It used to be. I’ve traveled it many times. This morning, however, we are confronted by a massive new six lane freeway which is not yet open to traffic. It takes us another fifty minutes of frustrating searching until we are eventually able to connect with the old Dong Nai road.


Within the hour though, we are speeding up a beautiful new traffic free road. On our left are the high forested dunes and deep jungles of Binh Chau. A few meters to our right, the turquoise waters of the South China sea gently lap endless dazzling white sands. The sky above is a deep blue and the breeze is cool. This is more like it. We stop for a drink at a beautiful little wooden hotel and restaurant, almost invisible amongst the trees of the jungle. It’s quiet. Not a sound except the wind rustling the dry forest leaves and the odd bird call. I’m starting to unwind. This is where I belong. The countryside. I can see that Adam is also starting to shed the stress of city life. He’s starting to look excited at the abundance of photographic opportunities we’ve passed.


We arrive in the little fishing town of LaGi by mid afternoon, book into our hotel, and immediately set out looking for somewhere to photograph the sunset. A few kilometers North of the town we follow a little track until it ends in a tiny village hidden in the sand dunes. We make our way along a series of winding footpaths until we arrive at the beach. It’s a vast expanse of sand stretching for kilometers in both directions. Apart from three unused basket boats and one or two locals we are alone. Perfect! Perfect that is, except for the dark clouds which race in behind us and obliterate the sun. That’s it for the day. No light. No photographs. Oh well, it’s nice just to be here. Indeed, the sense of wellbeing brought about by the beauty of our surroundings easily compensates us for the loss of the odd photo tonight.


We make our way back into town and a lovely little coffee shop which I know quite well from previous visits. After carefully setting down assorted camera bags, backpacks loaded with equipment, tripods, reflectors and the rest of our kit, we collapse into comfortable chairs and order two ice cold beers. We are met with a guilty silence before the waitress explains that they have no beer. No beer! Our jaws fall to our ankles and the look of horror on our faces tell the whole story. The poor girl looks like she wants to kill herself on the spot. She flees. There’s an urgent discussion in the kitchen and after a minute or so two ice cold cans of Heineken arrive (followed within minutes by two more) Turns out someone ran up the road and bought them for us from a nearby store. Can’t beat service like that!


Next morning long before sunrise, we’re up, loaded with kit and on our way to Mui Ke Ga and ‘my’ lighthouse. Adam and I were halfway there by the time it was light enough to see the low cloud being blown over the flat sandy landscape. This didn’t look good. Let me add quickly, that I like clouds. I love clouds! They can add so much drama and depth to a photo. Unfortunately these were not those sort of clouds. These were a featureless dull grey from horizon to horizon. Guaranteed to blow out in photograph. Didn’t look like I was going to get my shot today. Once again… Mui Ke Ga 10 – VinaPix 0! Still, Adam had never been here, and it is a truly beautiful spot in it’s own right, so we pressed on.


You always arrive at Mui Ke Ga as if by accident. There’s a single lane road lined with coconut trees weaving it’s way through rice paddies. Clustered around a sharp corner are a few houses, a general dealers store and the odd coffee shop. Both sides of the road are littered with vendors selling vegetables, fruit, fresh seafood and almost anything else you might need. Almost totally obscured by stands of bright yellow pineapples and pink dragon fruit is a tiny sandy footpath. It’s so unremarkable you would be forgiven for riding past without ever knowing it was there. This little path continues for about fifty meters before it, quite literally, turns into the beach. This is Mui Ke Ga.


Before you is the ocean, dotted with wooden fishing boats painted every color of the rainbow. A few hundred meters to the left stands a small rocky island, looking pretty much like the two humps of a camels back. Rising from one of the small hills is the French built light house. It’s not, by any stretch of the imagination an attractive building. It is, however, a unique and imposing structure. The beach itself is a hive of activity. Hundreds of people gather around the incoming fishing boats. Cargoes of fish are offloaded, sorted, weighed, haggled over, sold and bought, repacked and then carted off on the backs of ancient motorbikes. It’s like this every morning… a gold mine of photographic opportunity: boats, people, activity, children, fishing nets, old weather beaten faces…


Adam is positively jumping up and down with glee as he surveys the vista before him. I sit under a large tree and order my first coffee of the day as he excitedly unpacks his camera and disappears into the mass of activity on the beach. Later as the sun cautiously breaks through the clouds, adding a little color and depth to things, I take a stroll. I’m able to grab a few shots before the clouds once again put an end to everything. Nothing exciting or earth shattering. I eventually find Adam amongst a group of woman. He’s pulling the strangest faces to try to get the attention of a young child. All he succeeds in doing, however, is making the unfortunate infant cry. Much to the amusement of the little girls mother and friends. Hours have passed. It’s time to head back to La Gi.


It’s hot. The heat is oppressive, pressing down upon the earth with the weight of all the heavens above. There’s an old farmhouse on the side of the road. It’s a lovely faded pastel blue color. The front yard is littered with bright yellow hay. The entire right side of the house is buried under a massive bougainvillea plant, awash with flowers of purple and white. To cap it all, above the front door a red Vietnamese flag with it’s victorious single gold star showing, hangs limply from a stick, as if the heat and humidity have drained it of all pride and life. Adam wants a photo. He knows the sun is too high. That the gray clouds will burn out horribly. But he wants to try. I don’t try to dissuade him. If it works it could be a great capture.


We wander into the yard, wave to a young boy sitting under a tree. Adam’s scratching around in his bag for his graduated ND filters. Already I can see he’s struggling. The sweat is pouring off him. He actually looks unsteady on his feet. Rather than offering the assistance a real friend would, I flee to the shade of a nearby tree. There isn’t a whisper of breeze. Sound seems muted. I’m not sure how long I can last. The heat is killing me. Adam courageously assembles his filter unit and positions himself for the shot he wants. He can’t take it though. The sweat is flooding salt into his eyes. He can’t even open them to find a handkerchief. His shirt sleeve is soaked through and dripping, absolutely useless. He seems to sway on his feet. He kneels for the first shot. Clicks the shutter release. I’m not sure he will be able to get up. But he does. He takes four more shots before he stumbles back to his motorbike. Totally exhausted. He may not be a professional photographer, but this guy sure has the heart of one!


I’m not sure quite how we got moving again. Even the wind caused by the bikes did nothing to alleviate our burning skin, parched throats and heat induced dizziness. We’re both in a bad way. Only a few hundred meters down the road we call a halt. Stumbling into a roadside drink stall and order glass after glass of crushed sugar cane juice. It takes another twenty minutes before I even begin to sweat! Dehydration can be a killer… but we’ve both had a great morning and lived to shoot again. Now we can swap photographic war stories and bore our friends with tall tales back in Saigon. Next on our list are the fishing boats of La Gi harbor, but that’s tomorrow morning… and another blog.

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