Just Enough
I had to travel hundreds of kilometers to learn to listen to my fear
🎬 Sometimes the story keeps writing itself even after it ends – A behind-the-scenes moment is waiting at the end of this post, for The Secret Journey members only.
📍 Hang Loop, Vietnam
We started the day with pancakes with honey and banana. It was really nice and a surprise I wasn’t expecting. I’ve gotten used to food being mostly functional during such journeys, but they put thought into the culinary experience here, too.
We set off, and the guide reminded us that today we would cover about 100 kilometers. These numbers still impress me - we did 100km on the first day, another 100 on the second, and 145 km expected on the third! All on motorcycles through mountainous roads! This isn't just a ride, it's a complete experience.
We stopped at breathtaking viewpoints along the route. Sometimes I wonder if one can get used to such landscapes, but I found myself in awe each time. Every mountain we passed revealed an even more amazing view than before. The roads were insanely beautiful, and they weren't just connecting places - they were part of the experience themselves.
Today, we experienced more dirt roads and fewer paved ones. That's probably what happens when you get far away from the city. We ate a bit of dust, but I felt it was worth it - we experienced the journey in its full intensity, unfiltered and unmediated.
We arrived at a quiet river, where they ferried us in bamboo boats to the entrance of a huge cave. Everyone left their phones and other equipment on shore, but I took my smart glasses with me and filmed.
Later, we opened a shared photo album in the Photo Circle app. All group members joined, and everyone shared their photos. That way, if we photographed each other or if each person captured a different piece of scenery, we would have a collection of photos and videos from our shared journey. It's a brilliant, wonderful, and convenient way for groups traveling together.
Only when I posted the videos I filmed from the cave to the album did I discover that my glasses were covered with dust from the dirt road. The quality of the recordings was lower than usual. Here's lesson one for a city girl heading into nature: technology is great, but you need to know how to maintain it in field conditions. From then on, I cleaned my glasses frequently, especially the camera.
Our guide continued leading us through the valley with the river. We passed by several cafes with views until we reached the one with the best viewpoint. The guide took us to a side terrace that was reserved just for our group, and we sat down to drink coffee and gaze at the incredible landscape stretched out before us. In that moment, I began to understand how our group was receiving better service than others.
There's a well-oiled machine of cooperation here - cafes with viewpoints and tour companies doing the Loop. A rich economic branch, with so many tourists coming here and spending their money.
As I sipped my coffee, I found myself wondering if this is why most of the people we see along the way, adults and children, wave to us as we cross their village on motorcycles. Are they used to the sight of strange-looking people on motorcycles crossing their village daily, several times a day? Do they understand that we're tourists coming here and in some way, as I like to think, helping their economy grow? What do they think of us? Does it bother them?
I was left with many questions, able only to guess at the answers.
During one of our breaks, the French woman who works at the hostel we started the tour from told me that they donate 7% of their income to the villages we visit.
She continued to tell me about our skilled drivers, who do this Loop regularly, and have only three days off per month. That means one Loop that they "miss." Wow.
Suddenly, I thought about the fact that they have families, they have lives outside this Loop. They do seem so happy, making jokes with each other all the time, goofing around and seeming to enjoy themselves because, after all, they're friends and spend most of the day together. But wait, this isn't their life, it's their job. What about life, family? They see them only three days a month. And for all this hard work, they receive $10 a day.
$10 a day.
That's not something I can easily grasp. It reminds me of the experience at Kawasan Falls in the Philippines, where I overheard a conversation between a local guide and a tourist from Germany. The tourist asked the guide about his office job and how much he earns, and was completely shocked by the high amount. I'm sure the local guide couldn't imagine Western salaries, just as he couldn't imagine Western living expenses.
The journey through the mountain villages and the understanding that people live here, entire lives, on a mountain, in the middle of nowhere, strengthened my realization that I am fortunate. Fortunate because I am free, and I can choose to do what I want.
I wondered if these children playing with their flip-flops, probably because they don't have toys to play with, feel that they are free. Are they even aware of the possibilities they have in life? Are their parents aware? Do they even have possibilities?
At one of our stops, I saw children in one of the huts with smartphones. I wondered what they see on those small screens. Do they see the big world? Are they aware of their situation, of how other people live? After all, the world is already a global village thanks to the internet. Just as I can see life in Vietnam (though it's not the same as being here and experiencing it firsthand), I assume they are also exposed to life in the West.
With these thoughts in mind, we continued to the climbing trail. We went for a walk of about half an hour that brought us to the foot of a high, rocky mountain. The guide climbed first and directed us to reach the very peak. Everyone climbed after him, but only two girls and I stopped halfway and decided that was high enough for us.
High enough, dangerous enough, scary enough, exciting enough. Enough.
From the mountain's side jutted a rock that reminded me of the opening scene in 'The Lion King' - the kind that just by looking at it draws the adventurous side of me to climb it. A guy who climbed before me got on that rock, and although he spoke to his friends in French, I understood exactly how he described the feelings when sitting there on the edge, feeling on top of the world.
I immediately knew I wanted to experience that too, after all, that's why we gathered here. To step out of our comfort zones, push our boundaries, and grow.
The guy continued climbing the mountain, the girls in front of me hesitated, and I took a few steps toward the coveted rock. The only way to reach it was to make a really big step upward. As I stood there, trying to calculate my steps, I made the big mistake and looked down.
Fear immediately took command and presented me with the following list:
It's very dangerous to take this step! It's really high and you have nothing to hold onto!
Just because he succeeded doesn't mean you will succeed. Don’t compare your path to others!
True, you've trained your fear, and you've already jumped from frightening heights, but that doesn't mean you have to keep pushing it all the time!
In other places, there were more people around, there were safety cables, and professionals. Here, your guide is already at the top of the mountain, and there are only two young French girls here who might not be able to help if something happens to you.
You don't have to climb every scary rock you see! You don't need to prove anything to me! I already know you can do anything! Just please be careful!
"Okay, dear fear," I said to myself, "this time you're right."
I was glad we had an understanding, and that fear didn't say something like "you can't do this," because that probably would have pushed me to try anyway. But I accepted all its arguments - I knew I could do it, but I also knew that maybe it wasn't the right thing for me right now. I was glad that fear protects me sometimes.
At first, I thought I had "surrendered" to fear, but it didn't feel like that at all. It really didn't feel like defeat or giving up, but like understanding that it's okay. The height I was at right now was enough for me. I don't need to be at the peak, I don't need to be the best, I don't need to do what most people do. I'm just looking to meet my truth - and look, I managed to do that even halfway up the mountain.
For me, it was just enough.
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