In early 2016, my spouse, John, and I cashed in frequent flier miles for two round-trip tickets to Ho Chi Minh City. We planned to spend four weeks in Vietnam, plus a few days in Cambodia. In the ensuing months, there would be visas to secure, transportation to arrange, and lodging to book. However, the next step was determining what locations we would visit and for how long.
While doing our research, we were intrigued by descriptions of Cát Tiên National Park. Located in the southern part of Vietnam, it encompasses one of the largest areas of lowland tropical rain forests in the country. It was our understanding that if visitors to the park are fortunate, they may hear the unique vocalizations of the endangered golden-cheeked gibbons, a species of small apes. Furthermore, if they are very fortunate, visitors may also see the gibbons. After doing additional research about how to hear, and possibly see, the gibbons, we made reservations at the only place to stay inside the park, the Forest Floor Lodge.
Three days after our November 1st arrival in Vietnam, we were picked up from our hotel in Ho Chi Minh City by a young man, who had been sent by the lodge. He arrived at Noon, the agreed-upon time, in a van that had seen better days. While the park is only ninety-five miles from the city, our journey took over three hours. After first taking time to pick up two fenders for his motor scooter, we finally escaped the frenzied traffic of the city. Heading east on a well-maintained divided highway, we passed through miles of flat, but scenic, terrain, where we enjoyed our first views of rice paddies and water buffalos.
Once we turned off the divided highway onto a two-lane secondary road, traffic once again became a challenging free-for-all of buses, trucks, cars, and motor scooters. The topography changed as well. We were now in rolling hills followed by low mountains, all of which were covered in dense green vegetation. It appeared our driver was quite popular, since he was busy making and receiving calls on both a flip phone and a smart phone. We were amazed, and concerned, at how he was able to chat with whomever, while passing vehicles on curves with on-coming traffic.
After driving through increasingly smaller villages, John and I were both relieved and surprised when we popped over a hill and saw that the road ended abruptly at the Dong Nai River. A small passenger ferry was docked at the river’s edge. We then drove down a steep dirt road, stopping near the edge of the river. Before we had time to soak in the fact that our ride from Ho Chi Minh City was over, John and I, as well as our luggage, were shuttled onto the ferry. Departing as soon as we boarded, the ferry engines strained to push the vessel and its contents across the high velocity, red-silt-laden river current.
After the ferry docked on the other side, we were thankful to be met by a young man from our lodge. After hopping onto the back of a golf cart, we held our day packs in our laps, while the rest of our luggage was piled into the cart as well. We were then whisked away through the dense rain forest to the lodge on a well-worn, but bumpy, mile-long dirt road. It was quite the contrast to Ho Chi Minh City.
After checking in, we went on a quick tour of the lodge, which included an open-air lounge overlooking the Dong Nai River. Sounds of tropical birds and insects accompanied the whir of ceiling fans, which helped keep mosquitoes at bay. When a pair of Oriental pied hornbills swooped down to munch fruit on a stand adjacent to the lounge, our decision to spend the time and money to come here was confirmed.
Rooms at the lodge were in separate buildings, which were connected by wooden walkways. It was recommended that guests watch out for snakes, especially at night, when walking back and forth to the lodge.
Our room was simple, but large and pleasant, especially for being in such a remote location. After unpacking, we placed our free-standing mosquito net under a larger net suspended around the bed. Even though we had received Japanese encephalitis vaccines before our trip and were also taking malaria pills, we wanted to minimize any chance of being bitten by disease-bearing mosquitoes while we slept.
While a generator provided electricity for the entire lodge; it was turned off from 10:00 p.m. until 6:00 a.m. That meant all of the fans and lights went off as well. Fortunately, the temperature was sufficiently cool at night that we didn’t wake up in a pool of sweat. However, it also meant that trips to the bathroom after dark were interesting. The first night, I chose not to use my headlamp and hoped that I wouldn’t step on anything squishy with my bare feet. After seeing a four-inch-long Huntsman spider on the bathroom floor the next morning, I no longer tiptoed to the bathroom at night without a headlamp.
Awakened by our alarm clock at 3:45 a.m. the next morning, we struggled out of bed, dressed by the light of the headlamp, and walked to the main lodge. Once there, we each picked out a pair of leech socks, which were mandatory for the gibbon excursion. Essentially, they were gaiters that covered the tops of our hiking boots and then extended up our pant legs to below the knees.
At 4:30 a.m., we were driven by golf cart to the park headquarters, where John and I met Trong, our park guide, at 5:00 a.m. The temperature was perfect. With our leech socks on, we followed him on a well-worn footpath into the pitch-black, mostly quiet, forest. We stayed close behind so we could follow his light. Most importantly, as we knew from other forays into tropical rain forests, we were careful to avoid touching any vegetation along the way to help prevent encounters with anything that could sting or bite.
After about twenty minutes, we came to a clearing underneath an impressive Tung (Tetrameles) tree. This particular tree was at least one-hundred-twenty feet tall and likely several hundred years old. Huge buttresses extended out from it base like wings. This provided the perfect place to sit and wait for the gibbons, which as Trong indicated, typically vocalize for just a few minutes around sunrise. Once shafts of light began penetrating the forest canopy, around 6:00 a.m., the surrounding rain forest exploded with birdsong. At that point, and much to our surprise, Trong headed out in search of the gibbons. As he left, he said, “Don’t worry, I will be back!”
After our initial, but brief, trepidation at being left alone, we relaxed. It was actually quite wonderful for the two of us to be there by ourselves, soaking up the early morning sights and sounds. It brought smiles to both our faces and feelings of awe. Plus, we had faith that Trong would, in fact, return. However, before he did, we heard a series of unearthly escalating, synthesizer-like sirens and trills. We knew immediately and instinctively what it was. We could not believe our good fortune. We had just had the privilege of hearing golden-cheeked gibbons vocalizing in the wild. Their “song” was both eerie and remarkable. We could never have imaged a primate making such a sound.
Because the vocalizations of the gibbons can be heard over large distances, it was difficult for us to know how close the gibbons were. Trong, who had returned while the gibbons were vocalizing, motioned for us to follow him. We then trekked through the forest, both on trails and off, for almost two hours while Trong searched in vain for the gibbons. While he spotted several northern pig-tail macaques (a type of monkey), which was exciting in its own right, the gibbons were nowhere to be found. It was disappointing.
After giving up the search, much to our delight, Trong volunteered to take us out again the following morning, so we would have another opportunity to see the gibbons. After jumping at the chance, we began planning the rest of our day. In the afternoon, we explored more of the park with Piyush, a guide from the lodge. Taking us back into the rain forest, he regaled us with more information about the surrounding trees, plants, and critters. We were happy he advised us to check for leeches once we got back to our room. When I removed my hiking boots, I found five on my leech socks. I was surprised at how small they were. While they looked a lot like very thin inch worms, unlike inch worms, leeches extract your blood after attaching themselves to you. I was definitely not interested in that experience.
The next morning, we were up again at 3:45 a.m. This time we knew the routine; so, we were at the main lodge, with our leech socks on, ready for our ride at 4:30 a.m. Until late afternoon yesterday, we were the lodge’s only guests. That changed when a couple from Portland, Oregon, arrived, and were assigned the room adjacent to ours. While they were scheduled to join us on the gibbon trek, we didn’t hear any sounds coming from their room, when we proceeded to the main lodge. Nor were they anywhere to be seen when we left the lodge at 4:30 a.m. for the park headquarters. Trong, who was also expecting them to join us, decided to wait. Finally, around 5:30 a.m., they came sauntering leisurely down the road. As soon as they arrived, Trong quickly walked into the forest with the four of us in tow. I hoped we would not be too late to hear and see the gibbons. After arriving at the Tung tree; John and I sat on one buttress, the other couple on another.
Once we were settled, I couldn’t help but notice that the Portland couple weren’t wearing the required leech socks. In fact, the young woman was wearing tennis shoes (rather than hiking boots) and tights that reached just below her knees; the rest of her legs were bare. That is definitely not how you dress in a leech-filled tropical rain forest. I kept thinking I would see dozens of leeches high tailing it toward her bare legs.
About five minutes later, John whispered to me that a bug had gotten into his left ear. That seemed odd, since he was wearing a French-foreign legion-style hat that had cloth extensions covering both his ears and neck. I whispered to him that he should have Trong check his ear. Using a flashlight, Trong peered inside. He saw a bit of blood, which was unusual, but no sign of any bug.
We sat for another ten minutes waiting for the gibbons to vocalize. It was now past sunrise and the likelihood that we would hear, let alone see them, was decreasing by the minute. At the same time, I could tell John was uncomfortable. Sitting with his head bowed and his hands clasped in his lap, he was squeezing his hands together rhythmically. If we had any chance of seeing the gibbons, it was important for us to keep still and quiet, so we both felt a bit trapped by our situation. Then, a few minutes later, we heard the gibbons singing. It was just as eerie and wonderful as the day before.
As soon as the gibbons stopped vocalizing, Trong motioned for us to follow him deeper into the rain forest; the gibbons were close. Much to my surprise and great dismay, John whispered for me to go ahead, that he was walking back to the lodge. I wanted him to follow Trong to see the gibbons; but John had made up his mind. In less than a minute, he left the group and headed back down the trail alone.
I stood there frozen; left with the choice of following the guide to see the gibbons or going back to the lodge with John. We had come such a long way to see the gibbons and had paid a pretty penny as well. However, John was clearly in discomfort. I stood there thinking to myself and weighing my choices, “John-Gibbons, John-Gibbons.” The group was heading into the forest; I had to make a decision. While I loved John, this was my only chance to see the gibbons. I decided to follow Trong even though my choice left me feeling very guilty.
Not long after our group walked deeper into the forest, we did, in fact, see not just one gibbon, but three; a male, female, and their infant. Together, the family was swinging through the tree tops and vocalizing. It was truly exciting, and would have only been better if John could have been there as well.
We were in the forest for only about thirty minutes more before the gibbons moved out of sight. Once we returned to the road, I hurried back to the lodge, going straight to our room, rehearsing my profuse apology to John along the way. Much to my surprise, he was not there.
Now feeling both guilt and consternation, I ran to the lodge, where much to my relief, I found John sitting at his computer in the open-air lounge. He had his own story to tell and didn’t feel I needed to apologize for not accompanying him back to the lodge. In fact, he was thrilled that I had seen the gibbons. I apologized anyway.
After leaving the group and walking back to our room, he explained that he had tinkled into an empty water bottle and then poured the contents into his ear. After holding the urine in his ear for about thirty seconds, he turned his head to the side to empty the contents into the sink. Out came a mixture of blood and urine. He then repeated the procedure and the second time, more blood and urine, along with a very fat, and still alive, leech all came out of his ear.
While shocking, the story did provide three pieces of good news. First, the “bug” in John’s ear had, in fact, been removed. Second, while leeches have a definite “ick” factor, they are not known for transmitting diseases. Third, rather than needing to take John to a clinic in the afternoon to have whatever creature was in his ear removed; we could enjoy a well-deserved breakfast and then go on a scheduled hike to Crocodile Lake. After all was said and done, my biggest regret about the entire episode was missing the opportunity to take a photo of the leech before it disappeared down the sink’s drain.