Tri An – Listening to the Water's Murmur...

The river, much like life itself, embodies a fascinating evolution. In its youth, it often rushes with a powerful, impetuous current, driven by an urgent desire to surge forward. But after overcoming various challenges and enduring nature's wild tempests, there comes a time when it beautifully transforms, settling into a wonderfully calm and incredibly gentle flow.

A river is like human life. Youth is always fierce, yearning to rush forward, but after hardships and storms, at some point, it suddenly becomes calm and gentle.

Camping by the shores of Tri An Lake in the evening, I sat gazing at the vast expanse of water, sparkling with golden light.

Echoes Through Fierce Waterfalls

Tonight's moon was truly beautiful, shimmering and breaking into glittering fragments on the water's surface.

Night! Serene. Lying there, I listened to the wind rustling from the mystical Ma Da forest, as if it wanted to recount ancient tales. I heard the distant gurgle of a waterfall, sometimes close, sometimes far, like the plaintive murmurs of a woman expressing countless hidden sorrows. A myriad of dreams drifted through my mind.

Tri An Lake Spillway

I had checked in at this place many times but still hadn't found satisfying answers to the questions swirling in my mind.

My journey began with the question: "Where does the Dong Nai River truly start?" I embarked on a three-day upstream adventure from Tri An Lake, trekking to the river's headwaters, where it originates at an altitude of 1,500 meters above Ha Tien sea level.

Tri An Lake Basin

This is where the two gentle streams, Da Nhim and Da Dung, converge, intertwining to form a single flow. It is also the very source of Vietnam's longest domestic river.

The river's headwaters are likened to an innocent village girl, brimming with youthful vitality. She is a dreamer, so as she leaves the highlands for the lowlands, her waters playfully cascade over numerous rapids and rocky stretches, through deep valleys and undulating hills.

She reverberates through the mountains and forests with her fierce waterfalls. Yet, upon reaching the vast plains, passing through the "mysterious Ma Da mountain range" – a place of "sacred forests and poisonous waters," known as "easy to enter, difficult to leave" – she suddenly becomes gentle and benevolent.

A river is much like human life. Youth is always fierce, yearning to rush forward, but after a long journey of hardships and countless storms, at some point, we mature, become more seasoned, and suddenly find ourselves calm and gentle.

Recalling a Time of Hardship

On one occasion, I visited a friend who currently works in Vinh Cuu District, Dong Nai Province.

Knowing I was tracing the origins of the Tri An Waterfall, he took me to meet Uncle Hoc in Phu Ly Commune – a man born and raised, deeply connected to this land. Uncle Hoc is one of the living witnesses from the vibrant "Eastern Spirit" era during the country's early years of renovation (Doi Moi).

In the mind of a man already of advanced age, Uncle Hoc remained remarkably lucid, recalling the faded memories of his youth. It was 1979 when approximately 6 million workers from across the country converged here, tasked with clearing 32,000 hectares of trees in the lake basin. Subsequently, over 19,000 people who had lived in that lake basin area moved to what is now the new settlement of Phu Ly Commune.

Though that place was known for its "malaria and harsh mountain climate," it was also where many heroes sacrificed their lives in a brutal war. It was home to the Chau Ma, Cho Ro, and Stieng ethnic communities, and also where Kinh people came to build a new economy.

In late 1978 and early 1979, the authorities announced that all households must comply with an evacuation order. Uncle Hoc's entire family was reluctant, unable to bear leaving their humble little home. That small house was a thatched hut nestled beneath towering ancient trees in the winding mountains and forests; though modest, it had taken all of his parents' strength to build.

Amidst this lingering reluctance, the residents ultimately left everything behind for a noble purpose: the construction of the Tri An Hydropower Plant. Uncle Hoc's family also voluntarily departed after receiving enough money for two months' worth of rice. Memories of those arduous times echoed in his mind.

The two of us chatted for a long time. As if suddenly remembering something forgotten, Uncle Hoc slowly rose, his hands trembling as he opened a cabinet and retrieved an old, time-worn notebook. Its spine was frayed. He carefully opened it to a page and pointed to an old photograph – depicting a wide, churning waterfall.

Melaleuca Forest by Tri An Lake

The waterfall scene was majestic. Foaming water plunged from above onto the jagged rocks below, erupting into a white spray. Around the falls, the forest was dense and wild. The sky was a deep blue, dotted with clouds.

The sky, the cascading water, and the landscape evoked a sense of mystery. Uncle Hoc pointed to the photo and said, "That's Tri An Waterfall, my child."

Sipping fragrant tea, Uncle Hoc told me it was the only photograph his photography-enthusiast friend had taken and traveled all the way to Bien Hoa to develop, then brought back as a memento for him. This majestic waterfall was where he, his family, and friends spent their youth swimming and gathering wild vegetables. Many people used to come here to indulge their adventurous spirit.

He pointed out a rock lying horizontally across the waterfall's flow and said, "Look, young lady. Doesn't it resemble a woman turned to stone?"

Then his voice trembled: "Long ago, there was a young man from the lower reaches of the river. Driven by a passion for exploration, he feared no danger and shunned no hardship, navigating upstream on the Dong Nai River in a dugout canoe. One day, he wandered into the territory of the upriver people. Suspected of being a scout or a threat, he was captured by the tribe. But after a few days of interrogation, they discovered he was harmless. Seeing the handsome, intelligent, and courageous young man, the chief's daughter fell deeply in love with him, and the two married."

Ma Da Bridge over Dong Nai River

However, after living there for a long time, the young man was constantly tormented by homesickness. Thus, he sought every way to leave the village. One day, he discovered a unique bridge. Seizing a moment when no one was around, he crossed it, hoping to find a way back downstream. But that bridge was a sacred place, forbidden to everyone in the village. So, as he crossed, countless arrows rained down upon him.

The young man was forced to plunge into the raging waters. The young woman, loving her husband too much, wept day and night. She transformed herself into stone at this very ninth cascade of the waterfall. Her tears continue to gush from the headwaters. Even as years pass, the rocks at the foot of the falls remain steadfast, a testament to an intense love.

This fascinating folk tale makes the place sacred in the eyes of younger generations like myself.

Echoes of Present and Past

On another occasion, I returned to Tri An Lake, searching for remnants of the past, to see if the "waiting wife" rock, grieving for her husband, was still there. I was suddenly captivated by the sight of people working in the melaleuca fields beside the lake basin. I casually approached the women toiling under the sun, cutting melaleuca leaves. They showed me the way to Tri An Waterfall – a place long forgotten.

Then I returned to the embankment. The Tri An Hydropower Plant was releasing water from all eight spillway gates. The water surged, white with foam, rushing rapidly, heedless of the sturdy rocks jutting out, obstructing its path. It roared like a collapsing waterfall. The echoes of the present and past intertwined in a heroic and tragic symphony.

From that spot, I followed a dry stream bed. Motorbikes couldn't pass; I had to walk, my footsteps leaving imprints on the red basalt soil. After about 2 kilometers downstream, I found the waterfall's bed exposed. The jagged, black, barren rocks looked exactly like an abandoned quarry.

I suddenly exclaimed with regret. The majestic waterfall, once echoing with life, was now just a desolate, silent, and lonely ruin. I tried to find traces of the rock that was the "Waiting Wife Stone" from Uncle Hoc's semi-mythical tale. My heart was filled with a poignant sense of loss.

As evening fell, darkness gradually enveloped the vast expanse. Twinkling lights illuminated the roads. Tri An Waterfall, once resounding with echoes, was now just a memory. But in its place, spread before my eyes was a boundless sheet of water, shimmering with countless silver scales. From here, electricity would shine forth, connecting prosperous villages and bustling towns across the Southeast region.

Suddenly, the captivating melody of musician Ton That Lap's "Tri An Echoes of Spring" resonated within me: "...Return to the war zone/ stop by Thuong Lang, then pass Lac An/ A land of water and mountains, Tan Uyen awaits, mist drifts over Ma Da/ Electricity shines, burning within us, erasing all hardships/ Silently listen to the water's roar, echoing spring, dreams brightly glowing/ Electricity lights up, shining for your love, shining for tomorrow." 

"At the ninth step – the final cascade named Tri An Waterfall, the river suddenly becomes gentle and serene, flowing into the plains, creating lush green islets. Its rich alluvium has nurtured fruit orchards, heavy with sweet fruits and fragrant flowers.

Dong Nai 5491 view

Update day : 05/11/2023