Kelly and Quang's Global Roam

Yesterday afternoon we decided that maybe we should actually get out of our swimsuits and go check out Mui Ne's nearby sites. An Jeep whisked us out of town and dropped us off just over a small bridge spanning a red-river. The driver pointed up the river, dug out a brochure from his back pocket, pointed to a picture of a waterfall, then sat back in his seat. Apparently we were supposed to go find it sans guide.

We headed in the direction he'd pointed. Soon, the footpath dead-ended at a barbed wire fence. Now where? A young boy was standing close shooting pebbles from a sling shot at fruit in a tree. Quang asked him where we were supposed to go. The boy pointed at the river.

Quang and I exchanged glances. Were we supposed to get in the water? Yes, yes, the sling-shot boy said, walk in the river.

We shrugged. Good thing we were wearing our trusty sandals. We rolled up our pants, hopped into the red water, and were surprised to find it wasn't very deep. The orangy-red color was the color of the soft and sandy bottom. We made our way upstream. At first, we walked through greenery on both banks, but soon the trees fell away on one side, revealing the source of the red sand. Burnt-red canyon walls of soft, crumbling rock rose into the air. We stopped along the way to inspect them. Quang tapped one with his foot and we watched as a wall of red sand sunk and slid towards our feet. "Woah! Avalanche!" he said, pulling my arm to make sure I too turned to watch.

As we kept on, we finally did run into other tourists. We sighed a little. At least we hadn't been sent down a blind trail. But the further we followed that river, the more we began to wonder. Other travelers were few and far between. It was very hot and very sunny. The stream just kept turning canyon walls and stretching on. Where was this waterfall? "Our guide is so not getting a tip," said Quang. I grunted in agreement.

We caught sight of a trail leading up one of the river banks and guessed we were to take it. When we eventually found the waterfall it was an unimpressive dribble that we couldn't even see because so much vegetation was growing in front of it. We turned around and headed right back down that red, red river. When we finally emerged from it, we were slick with sweat. Our driver was leaning against the Jeep waiting. He got us loaded into the back and took off again. We sped through the original village of Mui Ne, a fishermen's city with a local harbor stuffed with wooden fishing boats. We didn't stop, however. Our next stop was a ways outside of town. We were going to see some sand dunes.

Our Lonely Planet was surprisingly mute on Mui Ne's sand dunes. They are mentioned, to be sure, but that's about it. There's no information about how the sand got there or how long it's been around. From the looks of it, however, these sand dunes have been collecting for years upon years upon years. We thought we'd seen sand dunes in Uruguay when we visited the secluded town of Cabo Polonio. Turns out, we were headed for the Sahara.

We watched the sand dunes approaching from the back seat of our Jeep. They glistened in the strong, tropical, afternoon sun. Sometimes they twinkled diamond white. Other times they glowed a deep auburn tone. The dunes rose up out of, in all seriousness, the middle of nowhere. They occupied the far side of a sapphire blue lake.

While we didn't know a whole lot about the actual dunes, three things were certain. One: walking across the dunes was like being the turkey in a Thanksgiving oven. Two: our driver was so not planning on making the trek with us.
Three: children from the neighboring village were more than happy to run along side us. They carried plastic sleds and lead us to the top of a really big hill. The hill of sand dropped nearly straight down and ended at the lake. We were supposed to get on their plastic sheets and take a ride.

Of course we went. If the hill had been of ice and snow, it was so vertical we would have zipped down it in the blink of an eye. Since it was made of sand, however, it was slower going ... but not a whole lot. By dragging our feet in the sand behind us, we could control our speed somewhat. It was fun and we would have been tempted to do a few runs if climbing back up hadn't been so dang hard. We were so completely winded upon reaching the top that we both doubled over and gasped, "I feel sooooo old!"

We'd managed to drain our bottle of water out there in the baking dunes. Quang was in a perpetual state of sweat and I had a banging headache from the sun. We made it back to our Jeep and found the driver (hanging out in the shade) and a gaggle of village children looking for a ride back into town. We gave the okay and eight of them rushed the Jeep. They squeezed and shuffled and hung on as we took off back across the sand.

Along the way, one of the girls stared and stared and stared and smiled and smiled and smiled at Quang. Finally, he asked her, Why are you smiling?

She thinks you're handsome, answered another girl from across the Jeep. All the children broke into a fit of giggles while the smiling girl blushed and turned her head. But not for long. She was back to staring and smiling when the the Jeep suddenly stopped. The kids leaped from their spots, waved and ran towards their homes.

The Jeep kept on, following the road back towards Mui Ne's resort strip, our very own streach of sand along the Pacific. We stopped to take in some views along the way and were supposed to stay out long enough to watch the sun set over another sand dune in the middle of nowhere, but we called it a day. We were hot, sticky and gritty and what we really wanted to do was watch the night come from a lounge chair on the beach.