Rain, Rain, More Rain, and a Rainbow

Our third day in the central region consisted of a trip to Bach Ma mountain. In the morning we went hiking in chilly, biting rain for just a short time up to a small but picturesque peak. The mixture of rain and morning mist kind of obscured our vista, but you can still see the lagoon among the mountains and if you're really good you can see the rice paddies as well.


















Our guide for the morning was an unbelievably toned, tough, buff, muscular, compact little man who introduced himself as Quyen. Although his English was superb, his accent squeezed out "Queen" rather than how you'd think Quyen would be pronounced. Hence the rest of the trip due to his musculature and nomenclature we dubbed him "Mighty Queen." He loved it. Or he didn't get it. Either way.




The hike was lovely. We crossed streams, stepped through leafy puddles, turned on steep paths that practically turned on themselves, and avoided tricky roots. And it rained, rained and rained.


About halfway to our destination of the beautiful Bach Ma waterfall, Annalee and Kelsey alerted us with screams that we were not alone on the path.

Countless stringy, slimy and dark creatures were inching through puddles and down tree bark to wriggle into our sodden socks and unprotected ankles. These intelligent, one-track minded leeches were small but indomitable. They attached themselves with horrific efficiency, drawing blood, which attracted more of them, and resisting being swatted away by continuing to wave their circular mouths around in search of sweet skin.

It was ABSOLUTELY HORRIBLE. I know I'm hounding this point, but those things are nasty and ought to be obliterated. Happily I only sustained one bite on my ankle, but the other bite was a mysterious location on my left ribs. That's TERRIFYING to realize they can travel so far, and what other territory they are capable of reaching...Pablo and Annalee attracted the most, getting somewhere in the range of 14 pinprick bites apiece.

Anyhow, we courageously continued our damp trek, making frequent leech-removal stops. Speculation on their bloodthirsty avarice included the facts that it was raining and leeches are attracted to water, we'd already had a bite or injury or two that probably smelled like lunch, we stopped in puddles where they thrive, we didn't all wear long socks or long pants to thwart them ever so slightly, and so forth.

We reached the start of the steps descending to reach the waterfall. The steps were slick, smooth stone steps varying in height from a half-foot to two-and-a-half feet high.

SIX HUNDRED AND SEVENTY-FIVE STEPS LATER...and heck yes we counted...we reached an amazing view of the waterfall. And it kept raining the entire time.


Here's the view, which you get with considerably less effort than our soaked, Herculean efforts:


And then we had to climb SIX HUNDRED AND SEVENTY-FIVE STEPS back UP. Irregular, stone-hewn steps in an unrelenting ascension up a recently rain-washed mountain. It was tough on the ol' quads, but felt great when we finished.


The waterfall was lovely, yes. But when we returned to the only hotel next to the only restaurant on the mountain (both having proven themselves hospitable to leeches) and we pulled off bloody socks and determined leeches hanging on for the meal, we had to wonder if it was worth it.

I'm glad I did it; I love being outside and seeing the gorgeous sights God's created. Good things take work...blood, sweat and tears sometimes.

Plus, we saw this peaceful sight when we returned.