HOA TRUNG IN THE DRY SEASON

About 25 kilometers west of downtown Da Nang lies Hoa Trung Lake, a man-made reservoir constructed after the reunification of Vietnam in 1975. It serves as an irrigation source for the agricultural lands of Hoa Lien and Hoa Son communes. During the summer months, typically from July to September, the lake’s water recedes, revealing shimmering islets and vast stretches of green grasslands that resemble a wide-open prairie.

The dry season at Hoa Trung Lake is the perfect time for outdoor enthusiasts, especially young adventurers, to come and camp. As the afternoon fades, you can watch the clouds drift across the sky and the sunset cast golden hues over the lake. At night, you sit by a crackling campfire, listening to the croaking of frogs and the gentle hum of insects, and by morning, you can witness the sunrise over a misty lake — a truly peaceful and poetic experience.

Hoa Trung is also a favorite destination for mountain biking lovers who enjoy exploring Da Nang’s scenic routes. On a day off, there’s nothing quite like cycling alone or with friends to Hoa Trung in the early morning. It feels as if you’re leaving behind all the frustrations and noise of the city to immerse yourself in nature — with the fragrant scent of wildflowers and the earthy aroma of grass and trees. Riding up to a high hill to watch the sunrise, then wheeling your bike along the lake’s edge, crossing over small green islets, snapping a few photos or filming a short video to share on Facebook — it’s pure joy.

A SIDE STORY

Mentioning Hoa Trung Lake always brings back memories of the difficult days I once lived through in this very place.

I still remember the morning of March 29, 1975, when the liberation army was marching into the city. At that time, my family packed onto a Lambro 550 and left the city behind, heading back to the countryside — beginning what would become the hardest years of our lives.

Back then, there was no Hoa Trung Lake — only mountains upon mountains. I was a skinny, dark-skinned teenage boy who climbed the hills every day to chop firewood and sell it for rice money. Life was so tough that one day I threw down my machete and carrying pole, slumped to the forest floor, and cried — because the future ahead seemed too dark to imagine.

Luckily, I only had to live that life for two years. Eventually, I found the light at the end of the tunnel.

And now, every time I return to Hoa Trung — serene, green, and full of life — I’m overwhelmed with gratitude. The pain is behind me, but the memories remain, reminding me of where I came from and how far I’ve come.

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Mr. Old Man, 3/2020