The Roof of Indochina: Atop Mount Fansipan (Phan Xi Păng) in Vietnam

I always enjoy a good climb so the prospect of summiting the highest mountain in Vietnam (and indeed all of Indochina) more than piqued my interest.  Mount Fansipan, or Phan Xi Păng in Vietnamese (we referred to it as “Fancy Pants”), is part of the Hoang Lien Son mountain range and the easternmost end of the Himalayas.

When I learned this I was sold — to stand at over 10,000 feet atop the last major Himalayan peak before the ocean proved too hard to resist.  And the weather was improving in the region so Mt. Fansipan, which was hidden in clouds earlier in the week, was now starting to show its face.

I learned from local agents in Sapa that the climb is not extremely technical but is strenuous and steep so most trekkers opt for a 2- or 3-day ascent.  I was feeling strong from our rigorous valley walks so shopped around for a guide that would do the climb in a day which I was assured is reasonable if starting early.

Unfortunately there were no group 1-day trips leaving (which would have lowered the price) so I engaged a private guide for $65 which I thought was fine, especially given that the National Park entrance fee costs $20.  So $45 for a private guide, transport to/from the trail head, and all food/water I figured this was quite a deal.

I ate a hearty pasta dinner in preparation for the trek.  Just before bed, I glanced at Mt. Fansipan from my hotel terrace.  Its cloudless silhouette under a starry sky filled me with anticipation for tomorrow’s lofty challenge.

I awoke early the next morning.  Promptly at 5 AM in the predawn darkness I met at my hotel by Mi-to-sah, my guide from the Black H’Mong village of San Sa Ho in the Muong Hoa valley below Sapa.  Within minutes I was on the back of a motorbike bound for the Hoang Lien National Park entrance.  By 5:30 AM our feet were on the trail, slowed by sleepiness and darkness.

Soon the sun was up and my spirits brightened with the coming daylight and the cloudless morning.  A great day for the mountains!

We gained elevation steadily, moving at a pretty good pace.  My guide barely spoke English which was not really a problem since he was good-natured and our gestures and facial expressions worked well enough.  He pointed out sights in the valleys below, showed me some local plants used for nutritional, medicinal, or recreational purposes.

But it was hard to get some practical details regarding the trek, such as how long we should expect to reach the top.  He animatedly pointed to various spots far ahead and simply said “up!” and “down!”.  So I didn’t really have a good sense of our progress to the summit.

Until I crossed paths with a couple of middle-aged Canadians coming down from the mountain about 2.5 hours into our trek.  They were on a three day tour and couldn’t believe I was attempting this in a single day.  They explained some of the intricacies of the trail, how there was a first major climb, then a significant and steep descent (which involved some scrambling), before the final climb to the top.

They figured it would take me at least another 4 hours to reach the summit.  My spirits dimmed.  It was going to be a very long day.

I found the uphill trek increasingly strenuous and the thinning air left me breathless.  In order to keep forward momentum, I counted each slow step and every 50 or 100 paces I took a quick break.  This technique seemed to work, it kept my mind empty of doubting thoughts and focused on the next stopping point.

After the first climb (and immediate descent) at over 2,000 meters the trail moderated much to my relief.  Now we were directly below the Mt. Fansipan peak with glorious views of the hazy valley and Sapa town far below us.

As we trudged upwards on the final ascent, the clouds moved in and the temperature dropped.  I passed a European trio coming down, they said the apex was only 20 minutes away, great news!  I was expecting another 2.5 hours based on what the Canadians told me.  Jubilant, I found new energy and kept climbing.

At 9:30 AM I was standing at the Roof of Indochina having reached the summit of Mt. Fansipan, 4 hours since starting out.  I felt fantastic, despite the chilly air and gusting wind swiftly moving the clouds over the jagged mountains.  Mission accomplished!

The peak is a sharp pinnacle dropping precipitously on its western slope.  We climbed from the east which is much more gradual so the dramatic cliffs on the other side thrilled me.

Mi-to-sa prepared my lunch of vegetable-and-cheese baguette and fruit and I sat gazing at the scene below me.  Occasionally the clouds broke and the sky brightened, opening expansive views all around.  But I could not see the green mountains of China, just a short distance to the north.  It was still too hazy.

But no matter, I was glad that the top wasn’t totally enshrouded in clouds with cold and pelting rain.  This was a fine day to summit, especially since the peak is normally hidden.  I felt lucky to be sitting atop Mt. Fansipan with a tasty veggie sandwich, resting my legs, and appreciating the magnificent views.

The fine moment did not last forever — before long I was chilled from the winds but my hunger was sated and my body re-energized.  We started our descent around 10:00 AM and almost immediately we were out of the passing clouds and the air warmed.  I was happy to be coming down from the top of the (Indochina) world!

Since we made excellent time on the ascent, I lingered much more on the return trip.  It was mostly sunny so the views of mountains and forests were unbeatable.  Except for bumping my knee on a rock which left a gnawing (but not serious) pain for the descent, there were fortunately no mishaps to complicate matters.  We made good, steady progress down slope.

I was amazed by my guide’s footwork.  A very small man (child-sized, really) with a low center of gravity, he practically danced up and down the tricky trail.  While I normally step squarely on dirt when hiking, I noticed he did the exact opposite.  I dubbed this “root walking” since he invariably stepped on roots or rocks.

This is probably because of the normally wet climate — the mud and damp fallen foliage must be dangerously slippery.  Rocks and roots must be more reliable for stepping.  And since he grew up in this terrain, walking miles each day, I followed Mi-to-sa’s example.

I tried this for a while and sure enough it provides solid footing.  But it also results in sore soles which was okay for me since I was wearing proper hiking boots.  He was only wearing loose-fitting galoshes, ouch.  I even passed a number of local porters (for the longer overnight treks) wearing open-toed plastic sandals.  Amazing.

I noticed the variety of flora on the trail.  There was a good variety of blooming plants, mostly tiny blossoms hidden along the edges.  These diminutive bursts of color make the trek more interesting.

Bamboo grows everywhere in the Vietnamese mountains.  And these bamboo forests serve several important purposes for trekkers:

• the tight bundles are a thick barrier on the steep trail ledges — in case of misstep, the bamboo tangle would prevent a disastrous fall
• the stalks are felled and stacked on wet areas of the trail, providing solid footing in the mud
• the rods provide a hand-hold for climbing up and down the sharp rocky areas — I grabbed them frequently, to great avail
• the stems make light and strong walking sticks — my guide fashioned one for me at the start of the trek, this was my faithful companion the entire journey
• the gentle sounds of the bamboo stalks rustling in the breeze are an appealing musical accompaniment to pensive climbers

Sadly, the entire length of the trail is heavily littered.  Plastic bags, tissues, wrappers, empty bottles and cans are everywhere.  There clearly is a different mindset here in Vietnam, I wish the guides and agencies would aggressively promote better waste-removal practices.  After all, this is their bread and butter;  it is in their interest to keep the environment clean.

After stopping for nearly an hour at one of the base camps to enjoy a bowl of veggie soup with noodles, we reached the end of the trail around 2:00 PM .  It was still early in the day, the agency told me the earliest I should expect to be done with the trek was 4:00 PM, so we made great time.  My guide told me that several of the Vietnamese guides we passed commented how quickly we completed the climb.  I wasn’t trying to win any speed awards, but it was reassuring to know that that am a strong climber despite my relatively sedate year as I was consumed with work.

At the trail head, we posed for a final photograph together.  I was very proud of our accomplishment and glad to have such a trusty and capable guide as Mi-to-sa to help me to the top and back satisfyingly and safely.

I was exhausted.  The 20-minute ride on the motorbike back to Sapa seemed excruciatingly long, but I did enjoy clear views of the Hoang Lien mountains across the valley.   Mt. Fansipan did not seem so far away anymore.  It was an excellent achievement and a worthy mountain to scale!

Back at my hotel, I sat on my terrace in the afternoon sunshine, stretched my sore feet, and downed a cold beer, marveling at the mountains surrounding me.  A perfect day, but I was glad it was over!