DUSK ON O LOAN LAGOON

Admire O Loan Lagoon at sunset to discover the beauty of the local nature and people.

I followed a fisherman as he rowed his boat away from the dock at day's end. Gone was the bustling rhythm of the daytime; O Loan Lagoon now slowed its pace, defined by the sound of oars stirring the water, waves lapping against the hull, and the hushed, intimate dialogue between oar and wave.

O Loan Lagoon at dusk

Situated at the foot of Quan Cau Pass, O Loan Lagoon is a brackish water lagoon located in Bac Tuy An Commune, part of the former Phu Yen territory. It was designated a National Scenic Landscape on September 27, 1996. Nestled amidst mountains, sand dunes, and fishing villages, the lives of the local people have long been intertwined with the waters and their boats.

As the sun gradually dipped low, bands of red, orange, and purple light swept across the surface of the lagoon. Boats glided through the illuminated stretches before vanishing into the mountain's shadow, leaving long, rippling wakes in their path. In that moment, O Loan appeared like an oil painting composed of layered hues, at once vibrant and serene. As for a traveler like me, I found myself utterly captivated, lost in the beauty of both the landscape and the people.

O Loan Lagoon is a national-level scenic landscape recognized by the Ministry of Culture, Sports and Tourism in 1996.

The boats light up

Out on the lagoon, whenever two boats glided past one another, greetings and friendly inquiries would ring out, creating a lively murmur amidst the tranquil evening air. As the sky deepened into dusk, the lights on the boats were lit one by one; their golden glow mingled with the violet hues of twilight, casting shimmering, ethereal streaks across the water.

At that moment, the boats and sampans looked like floating lanterns, drifting languidly and shimmering upon the water's surface.

The Man and the Oar

In the middle of the lagoon, a man sat at the bow of a small boat and slowly lit a cigarette. Wisps of smoke drifted on the breeze, dissolving into the shifting colors of the sky. Beneath the water's surface, his gaunt reflection wavered with the ripples, now distinct, now blurred.

Perhaps the life of a fisherman, whether out on the vast open sea or in a calmer lagoon like O Loan, is inevitably one of drifting uncertainty. 

Drifting with the tides and the fishing seasons, embarking on journeys where no one knows for sure whether they will return with a boat-hold full of the catch or merely a few wet nets.

I sat in the stern, watching him skillfully maintain the rhythm of the oar while gazing toward the stretch of water where the nets had been cast. Every movement was familiar and composed, part of a daily rhythm that had played out on the lagoon time and again.

There was no rush, only the sound of oars gently stirring the water, the rhythmic lapping of waves against the boat’s hull, and a breeze carrying the distinctive salty tang of brackish waters. The last lingering streaks of sunlight on the lagoon’s surface gradually faded, giving way to the deepening hues of twilight.

Sitting in the small boat, I too fell silent, letting myself drift with the rhythm of the water and the quietude of the man before me.

Conclusion 

The afternoon over the lagoon eventually faded. Streaks of red and purple sank, one by one, into the water. Yet, perhaps what lingers longest in my memory is not the sunset over O Loan Lagoon, but the silhouette of the man at the bow, silently rowing and casting his nets, just as he has done through countless seasons.

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CREDIT: 

- Photography: Luan Nguyen 

- Content: Giang Huynh 

- Design: Phuong Nguyen