The Road Is the Destination: Hai Van Pass, Vietnam

devanandpaul
2 days ago
4 min read

After spending a few wonderful days exploring the city of Hoi An, Vietnam, it was time for me to move on to my next destination—Hue, particularly the Hai Van Pass, a mountain road, approximately 21 kilometre long, that cuts through the Annamite Range and links the cities of Da Nang and Hue. When I planned my trip, I was considering the easiest way to get there. The fastest route by car is through the Hai Van Tunnel, the longest in Southeast Asia. It’s quick, modern, and efficient. But when I mentioned my plan to a friend, he smiled and suggested, ‘If you have the time, take the old road. It’s beautiful. You’ll be glad you did.’

That was all the convincing I needed.

Choosing the Scenic Route

I wasn’t in any rush. I wanted to enjoy the journey. So I skipped the tunnel and took the scenic route instead—an old mountain road that snakes along the rugged coastline and climbs up the mist-covered hills that divide central Vietnam.

After passing Da Nang, the car started ascending and the atmosphere began to change. The road, with tight curves, weaved through steep inclines and hugged the edges of cliffs that dropped dramatically into the South China Sea. The higher we went, the more spectacular the views were. To my right, the sea shimmered under the morning sun; to my left, the green ridges of the Annamite Range rose steeply, blanketed in thick vegetation and occasionally veiled by drifting fog. It felt as if we were driving on the very edge of the sky.

I asked the driver to stop often, as around every bend, there was something beautiful waiting. There was no need to hurry.

Ocean Clouds and Ancient Borders

The mountain pass is known locally as Hai Van, which means ‘ocean cloud’—an apt name, as the clouds that gather here seem to hover right where the sea and the cordillera meet. It is spectacular. The pass separates the cool climate of northern Vietnam from the warmer tropical south. You feel this shift in real time as you ascend—one moment you’re in sunlight, the next, enveloped in cool, damp mist.

The Hai Van Pass also holds rich historical significance. In the early 14th century, this very ridge served as the border between two powerful kingdoms—Champa to the south and Dai Viet to the north. However, a royal marriage between Princess Huyen Tran of Dai Viet and King Che Man of Champa brought the regions together, resulting in redrawing of the boundaries.

The Watchtower Amidst the Clouds

At the top of the pass stands Hai Van Quan—the Hai Van Gate—an ancient stone gateway that has stood watch over this road for centuries. Once a military outpost, it now serves more as a historical marker. Just beside this gate you can find remnants of a French colonial fort, built in the 19th century, when Vietnam was part of French Indochina.

Standing at the gateway, wind pulling at my jacket and clouds swirling overhead, I tried to imagine the people who had stood on that very spot in the olden days—royals, merchants, soldiers, travellers. The Hai Van Pass was a frontier, a battleground, and, now, simply a road—but one of the most famous roads in Vietnam.

The Street Without Joy

Not all of its history is ancient. During the Vietnam War, this road was called the ‘Street Without Joy’, reflecting the deep sorrow that hung over this region during the conflict. The pass witnessed heavy fighting. You can still see bunkers scattered along the pass—small concrete outposts, built by the French and later reused by American and South Vietnamese forces.

Coffee at the Mountain Top

The summit has many coffee shops. Sipping a cup of coffee (nothing fancy, just hot coffee served in a simple glass), I enjoyed the cool and fresh mountain air heavy with the scent of wet leaves and the saltwater from the sea below. The clouds shifted constantly, unveiling new angles of the sea and mountains.

Descent into Calm

As we descended on the other side, the landscape gradually changed. The mountains softened, and the sea came closer again. Soon, the calm waters of the Pho Loi River appeared, where small wooden fishing boats drifted across.

Farther ahead, the Thuan An Peninsula stretched into the sea. Its beaches were quiet, lined with palm trees swaying in the breeze. We passed small villages—clusters of homes with tiled roofs, children playing outside, women sorting seafood in plastic tubs. The rhythm of life here is gentle, unhurried.

Lang Co Bay

Finally, we arrived at Lang Co Bay.

The sight was heart-stopping. A perfect crescent of soft white sand framed the bay, and the water shimmered in shades of turquoise and jade. Behind the beach, the lush forested hills of Hai Van still loomed. The seascape was serene, almost surreal. I walked down to the beach and spent a long time by the edge of the water, taking in the beauty and the rhythm of the waves.

Hai Van Pass: More Than a Road

As we drove back, the Hai Van Pass was fast disappearing into the mist. Suddenly, I realized that this trip wasn’t just about going from Hoi An to Hue. It was about everything in between. Each stop, each view, stirred something inside. I didn’t just see the landscape—I connected with it.

This is the kind of travel that stays with you. Not just in your memory, but in your heart.

‘It is good to have an end to journey toward; but it is the journey that matters, in the end.’

—Ursula K. Le Guin

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