I saw rhododendrons by the stream of the same name, growing profusely in soil that was three parts gravel and stone. I saw Lang Co Bay from a certain point up towards the summit of Bach Ma Mountain, and the railway tracks glowing in the sunlight—a scene that is only a memory, and perhaps even a segment of a dream...
Anyone who goes to Bach Ma ( Hue City) and doesn't visit the Vong Hai Tower, or stand beside the white horse and take a photo as proof, will hardly believe they've reached the summit. I've also heard people say that Bach Ma is the dwelling place of forest spirits and mythical creatures, including the serene white horse that often guides enlightened beings.
The villa, dating back to the French colonial era, is a haven of stories that provide endless inspiration for art. Many legends have been created, likened to a forgotten paradise, the remnants of stone, the curse of moss, the ethereal mist hanging over the paulownia trees where phoenixes perch, just like in the legends.
Silence serves as a backdrop for the birdsong, and it is this stillness that reveals movement; movement and stillness intertwine to the point of being indistinguishable, a state of serene meditation.
The road winds its way into the heart of the mountains, each bend like a question mark. Thick leaves blanket the slopes, the clouds are damp, and the cliffs are cold. I hiked deep into the Bach Ma forest in search of something unplanned, but all I found were vibrant young ferns growing on either side of the road, their stems reaching upwards, curving and glistening in the sunlight.
Here, only the wild, almost cold, wilderness possesses a mysterious beauty. Where all noise fades away, replaced by the melodious chirping of birds, the buzzing of insects, and the rustling of wind through trees heavy with dew.
Hiking up Bach Ma Mountain is about playing with the clouds, being lost in the mist. Clouds drift at eye level, and the green forest stretches endlessly. The long slopes seem to never stop, giving anyone a chance to breathe, enveloping weary, exhausted legs; one can sit down and laugh at the vast blue sky, holding onto the mossy steps to feel that time is still strangely familiar in this place.
The photographs are the most amazing thing about the misty, swirling, and dissipating peaks, like a quest into nothingness. I still wish I could photograph some rare bird species in Bach Ma National Park, one of the most biodiverse in Vietnam. But as I silently ascended the slope like a shadow, all I could hear was the distant sound of gibbons…
From Vọng Hải Đài (Sea View Tower), every view is shrouded in mist, like a dreamlike realm. The four seasons here are ethereal; things are clearly visible, yet difficult to grasp. The truest story is my own trek to the summit of Bạch Mã (White Horse), standing beside the white horse statue bathed in sunlight mixed with cold mist, creating a surreal color palette that permeates even the vastness of time.
Source: https://baodanang.vn/vo-ngua-tren-dinh-may-trang-3342147.html
