Ham Rong

The Last Day of Busking – Fansipan On the final day of our busking journey, we climbed Fansipan, the highest peak in Vietnam. When we left Sapa, the sky was bright and clear, but as we reached halfway up the mountain, thick fog enveloped everything. It felt as though Fansipan would not easily yield its summit. Yet, as we approached the terminal near the peak, the mist slowly sank beneath the cable cars. Though the summit was unclear, the view opened enough for us to enjoy the majestic scenery. Since my first climb in 2008, whether on foot or by cable car, I’ve been here more than a hundred times. Still, the days I witnessed a crystal-clear summit can be counted on one hand. Today, once again, the blue sky did not appear. That left me with a lingering regret and a unique, unforgettable feeling. Climbing always brings both experience and a sense of accomplishment. Standing on the highest mountain of Indochina, looking down over Sapa town and the endless layers of mountains, the exhaustion of the climb vanishes, replaced only by joy and pride. After descending, we returned to Hanoi and held our final performance. Though the 5 days 4 nights journey passed in the blink of an eye, it left behind a profound afterglow. It was our very first busking trip, and there were many shortcomings. But within those shortcomings, we found lessons—on what to prepare next time, how to choose the right places, moments, and equipment. Though I did not step directly onto the stage, the resonance and meaning that the performances carried were deeply felt. The moments where music met travel were warm, creating precious memories that will remain in our hearts for a long time. To everyone who joined us on this journey: may the joy and happiness you felt through the music stay with you always, and may your lives ahead be filled with health and happiness. And someday, on another road, with new music and new laughter, I hope we’ll meet again.  

Fansipan (3,143m), the highest peak of Indochina, is a sacred mountain of Vietnam. Morning in Sa Pa begins from where that majestic peak looms, half-hidden, half-revealed in the drifting clouds. I have visited countless times, yet the scenery never grows old. The farther away you look, the more beautiful Sa Pa’s morning appears. When seen up close, the world feels filled with competition and struggle. But when you step back, it softens, dissolving into a sense of ease. That is precisely what Sa Pa offers. Today, I once again started up my motorbike with a refreshing spirit. In Sa Pa, traditional villages are even more precious than the famous viewpoints. Cat Cat, Lao Chai, Ta Van, and Ta Phin are among the most notable. This morning, I visited the first three, leaving out Ta Phin until later. Heavy with ripening grain, the terraced rice fields were already glowing golden. Autumn’s abundance filled the valleys: the hands of farmers threshing rice, buffalo relaxing in the mud, and ducks with bellies full. A rich energy unique to this season spread across the fields. With the sunlight shining, even my steps felt lighter. I ended the morning at Cat Cat, the representative H’Mong village, where I had lunch. In the afternoon, I rode to Ta Phin, the traditional village of the Dao people, to wrap up the last leg of my motorbike journey. It was bittersweet to part with the young men from Mu Cang Chai who had ridden with me for three days. Perhaps our bond had grown deeper because we had shared the same motorbike all day, shoulders pressed and arms around each other’s waists. A motorbike tour is truly a journey that narrows the distance between people. Tomorrow, I will climb to the summit of Fansipan. The scenery of Sa Pa – more beautiful the farther away it is – will finally greet me from the very highest place.