Editor’s note: This piece was written by Truong Anh Quoc following his recent trip with a friend to Mu Cang Chai, a popular tourist destination in Yen Bai Province, located in Vietnam’s northwest mountainous region. 

The story was translated from Vietnamese to English and edited by Tuoi Tre News for clarity, consistency, and coherence.

A friend in Hanoi once told me that northwestern Vietnam has its own unique beauty in every season, and that any month is a good time to visit.

So, we, a northerner and a southerner, made a plan just hours in advance to put our backpacks on and head there.

We knew it was too late to catch the golden rice season in October, so we settled for a trip during the straw season.

We did not bother reading any travel guides in advance. We simply hopped on a shared passenger bus for a spontaneous adventure. 

There is a certain thrill to traveling on a whim -- everything you see is fresh, new, and exciting.

From Hanoi, we took the Hanoi-Lao Cai Expressway and, after more than three hours, reached Yen Bai City, the capital of Yen Bai Province, without much trouble. 

We thought the rest of the journey would be just as easy. 

But the next leg was not quite as straightforward.

Since it was not tourist season, there were few passenger buses going from Yen Bai City to Mu Cang Chai. 

Most visitors rely on shuttle buses arranged by hotels and homestays.

Thanks to modern tech and the carpooling driver network, we were able to arrange a ride from Yen Bai City to Mu Cang Chai at a reasonable price with just a few taps on our phones.

As we traveled along the winding, treacherous mountain roads, we quickly understood why there were not passenger buses on the route. 

Although carpooling was a bit pricier, it was much faster and safer.

We were fortunate to meet a driver who knew the roads well, understood the culture of the northwest, and had an easygoing spirit that was not bound by the clock. The three of us felt more like companions than strangers.

When we arrived in Nghia Lo Town for lunch, the rain was pouring down. 

We worried that the weather would spoil our chance to see the mountains and hills, but our driver reassured us, saying, “Don’t worry. The weather here and up there is completely different.”

Sure enough, as we climbed higher toward Khau Pha Pass -- one of the four legendary mountain passes of the northwest -- the sky gradually cleared and the clouds began to lift, revealing a bright horizon.

Stepping out of the car, we saw several groups of people gathered, grilling corn, and watching the shifting clouds. 

It felt like we were standing on an island, surrounded by a sea of white, billowing clouds.

We leisurely cruised along the road, taking in the scenery and enjoying Tu Le sticky rice. 

We arrived in Mu Cang Chai just as the golden sun set. 

The two of us rented a motorbike and rode along the winding Nam Kim stream, heading west into the chilly evening air.

That night, we sat at the Nang rooftop café, watching as Mu Cang Chai Town slowly disappeared into the mist of a damp, quiet night. 

The young people playing football at a local stadium gradually made their way home.

The next morning, the driver was still asleep as my friend and I set off early to leave the town. 

My friend remarked that traveling off-season had its charm -- no parking fees, no crowded photo spots, and no pushy vendors trying to sell us things.

We had the freedom to wander through the terraced fields, breathing in the strong scent of dried straw, and even jumped onto the rice fields instead of just admiring them as we would have in the harvest season. 

Amid the fun, my friend accidentally stepped into a pile of dry buffalo dung.

Our motorbike creaked through the villages, and sometimes it felt like I might topple over while climbing the steep hills. 

Here we are, in La Pan Tan! 

My friend admired the locals, who were gentle, happy, and as natural and straightforward as the bamboo of Na Hang Tua Chu Forest.

For generations, the Mong ethnic people have cleared the land to create these winding terraced fields. 

Now, the villagers are weeding and clearing the banks, bringing water from distant streams to irrigate their fields in preparation for the next crop. 

They have preserved their terraced fields as a precious heritage.

As a farmer myself, I appreciate the smell of straw in the rice fields, the smooth pebble streams flowing in layers. 

My friend, on the other hand, was drawn to the wild sunflowers. 

She said seeing them in Mu Cang Chai is just as beautiful as in Da Lat, Lam Dong Province.

Whenever we passed stretches of wild sunflowers, I drove slowly, knowing that at any moment my friend would leap off the motorbike to take photos. 

Reaching the top of a high hill, I would pause and feel small in the face of the grand, peaceful landscape stretching before me.

These two rushed weekends were just a quick preview; I promised to visit Mu Cang Chai when I have more free time.

Life is full of unexpected trips, and when we open our hearts to them, every moment becomes a precious memory.

Though we have only been to Mu Cang Chai once, it left an indelible impression on us -- just like the terraced fields that rise higher with each season, standing strong against the passage of time.

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