Category: News

Cốc Tộc is a village nestled in the commune of Nam Mẫu, right in the middle of Ba Bể National Park. With its privileged location on the shores of Ba Bể Lake, this Tày ethnic village charms visitors with its pristine setting, well away from mass tourism. And with its mysterious origins.

If you ask a Sino-Vietnamese scholar what “Cốc Tộc” means, they’ll probably launch into some grand, smoky theory. They’ll dissect the word: “Cốc” (a ravine, a deep valley) and “Tộc” (a clan, a lineage). Therefore, the scholar will conclude, “it means a clan living at the bottom of a ravine.” It’s clean, logical, and impeccably academic. It’s also completely wrong.

The hills of Bắc Kạn couldn’t care less about filing cabinets and tick boxes.

To understand this little corner of the world tucked beside a lake, you have to accept that reality here isn’t an administrative report. It’s a bit more fluid, a bit steeper (often inclined toward wonder), and decidedly more poetic.

Welcome to the utterly true story of Cốc Tộc, a tale where karst meets sap.

Ask the same question to the locals, and they’ll look at you with that indulgence reserved for tourists attempting the local language. For them, the story is much more down-to-earth, and it smells of chlorophyll.

Geographically, Cốc Tộc is the exact spot where the mountain decided to give up on verticality and go have a drink by the lake’s edge.

In the Tày language, “Cốc” designates the base, the foot, the root of anything. And “Tộc” is the action of tumbling down, toppling over, falling heavily. If we stick to the rocks, Cốc Tộc literally means “The foot of the slope.”

It’s the kind of explanation you’d get from a civil engineer lost in the jungle: the village is built according to the immutable principle of *lưng tựa núi, mặt hướng hồ* (back against the limestone cliffs, eyes fixed on the calm waters). Where the rock retreats, the pirogues take over : hollowed trunks, laughter, nets, and makeshift repairs. A break in the slope that became a cradle, a landing point for stones when they decided they’d had enough of gravity.

But if you spend an evening in a stilt house, listening to the crackle of the hearth suspended beneath smoked fish, the elders will tell you a completely different story. A story that isn’t about falling stones, but about clinging roots.

For the old Tày, “Cốc” isn’t the foot of the mountain : it’s the trunk. The origin. The landmark. You didn’t found a village on geographic coordinates; you founded it in the shade of a tree with character. And that tree was called the Toc, or maybe the Giát.

Nobody knows exactly what this legendary tree looked like, baptized Gốc Giát or Mạy Tộc in local memory. Did its leaves cure monsoon fevers? Was its wood so dense it refused to sink? Was it so gigantic that an entire clan settled beneath its canopy, eventually confusing bark with house walls?

After listening to various accounts, a pragmatic truth eventually emerges: a clan simply stopped there one day, under an absolutely colossal tree. It’s terribly practical. And human. Because you know, humans don’t name places after abstract concepts of lineage or topography. They name them after the colossal tree they shelter under when it’s pouring rain, and where they argue about whose turn it is to watch the buffaloes. The tree has been dead for three centuries, but the name remained, like a label someone forgot to remove. A phonetic ghost, engraved on official signposts.

So, what to believe? The foot of the cliff or the forgotten tree?

The elders, who’ve seen enough seasons to know that certainties get rained on, warn us with a half-serious, half-amused air: “Without knowing what this plant really looked like, better not to stubbornly insist.”

The magic of Cốc Tộc lies precisely in this refusal to choose sides. It’s a place that exists simultaneously in the raw geology of the Northeast and in the whispers of oral tradition. It’s a living memory, slightly wobbly, passed down from generation to generation around a cup of rice wine. We all know it: official history is just a lie that’s had time to sit down and collect dust – and a few beers; the village’s memory, meanwhile, is still running everywhere.

Cốc Tộc. Just a village name. As simple as a label. And yet charged with living substance; a kind of linguistic compass reminding us that here, nature and humans share the same family tree.

Next time you walk the dirt path leading to the village, just after the bend at Bó Lù, look at the great trees clinging to the karst above the thatched roofs.

One of them might be the last descendant of the Gốc Giát, and it’s simply waiting for you to ask the question.

Discovering the Ethnic Villages Around Ba Be Lake

The Tay of Ba Be: A Fascinating People of Vietnam

Picture this. You’re gliding silently in a traditional wooden boat. Around you, karst mountains rise like ancient guardians of 450 million years old. Suddenly, a flash of electric blue: no, your vision isn’t glitching. That’s one of the 367 true masters of this place.

Welcome to Ba Bể! If you think this national park is just another pretty landscape, think again. It’s also one of the largest butterfly sanctuaries in Northern Vietnam.

Here’s why this place absolutely deserves a spot on your travel bucket list, and how to visit it with respect.

The numbers are staggering; even for scientists. According to recent inventories (2020–2023), between 332 and 367 butterfly species call this park home. That’s one of the highest densities in the entire country. You might even spot global celebrities like the Teinopalpus imperialis (Kaiser-i-Hind), a butterfly so rare that encountering it in the wild is basically winning the biodiversity lottery. Other protected superstars include the Troides helena (Common Birdwing) and several species listed under CITES, the international convention safeguarding threatened wildlife.

But wait, there’s more. During recent expeditions, researchers had the thrill of documenting 20 butterfly species never before recorded in Vietnam!

Beyond their undeniable charm, Ba Bể’s butterflies play a vital role in keeping the park alive. Scientists call them bio-indicators. In plain English: if the butterflies are thriving, the forest is healthy.

Their contribution is essential:

Shadow gardeners: They pollinate over 1,268 plant species within the park. No butterflies? No flowers, no fruits, no lush forest.

A crucial link in the chain: They feed the 233 bird species and the bats inhabiting the limestone caves.

Ecosystem sentinels: Their presence confirms the health of this 450-million-year-old karst ecosystem, designated a Ramsar Site (a wetland of international importance).

At Ba Bể, nature and humanity have never been separate. The lake has been home for over 1,000 years to the Tay, Dao, and H’Mông ethnic communities.

Did you know? Among the Tay people, certain forest zones are considered sacred (Rừng Cấm). Logging and hunting are forbidden there because these areas shelter the spirits (Then). These belief-protected zones act as untouched biodiversity refuges, where rare species find safe haven far from human disturbance.

Want to experience this magic? Here’s how to ensure your visit benefits both the park and its fluttering residents:

When to go?

The dry season, from October to April, is ideal. Butterflies are most active then, and skies are clear.

How to observe?

Opt for guided trekking or kayaking. Local guides know the trails where Papilionidae (swallowtail butterflies) love to rest.

The Golden Rule

Admire, photograph, but never touch. A butterfly’s wing is as delicate as antique glass.

Support local communities

Choose guides from the Tay or Dao ethnic groups. Responsible tourism helps fund forest conservation and preserves their traditions.

If you want to witness a true explosion of colour, forget the mountain peaks for a moment and head down to water level. The banks of the Nang River, especially near the majestic Động Puông Cave, hold a well-kept secret.

Contrary to appearances, these butterflies aren’t just casually sipping water on damp sand: they’re attending a full-blown mineral banquet. Ba Bể’s limestone soils and karst sediments, aged 450 million years, are rich in mineral salts and sodium—crucial nutrients for vigorous mating flights and reproductive success (which explains why males dominate these gatherings). This is where you’ll see groups of Papilionidae, wings trembling, sipping saline water like guests at a royal feast.

Our tip: Aprilis one of the pivotal months for this spectacle. It’s the tail end of the dry season, when the Nang River’s water level drops just enough to expose those mineral-rich sandbanks that “mineral-loving” species can’t resist.

Visiting Ba Bể isn’t just about ticking another destination off your list. It’s about stepping into a world where every wingbeat matters, where every flower holds a story, and where humanity still has so much to learn from nature.

So, are you ready to let Ba Bể’s butterflies guide your next adventure in Vietnam?

For more details, check out the original article that inspired this piece.

Dried bamboo shoot and bone soup
The soup of the broke lumberjack

Originally a “poor man’s soup” made from foraged bamboo and spare pork bones, this slow-simmered treasure proves that with enough time and a pinch of smoky hạt dổi seeds, poverty transforms into a masterpiece of Vietnamese tradition

When Bắc Kạn cooks with almost nothing (and a lot of hạt dổi)

Once upon a time, in a cabin in the Bắc Kạn forest, a lumberjack returned in winter. His bag was empty. His purse, too. In a corner, a handful of dried bamboo forgotten since the rainy season. On his table, three pork bones he had begged for in the village, too poor for meat. A chipped clay pot. Wood fire. And time. The kind you have when you have nothing else.

He simmered. He waited. And discovered that poverty, simmered gently, becomes a feast.

From survival to tradition

The dried bamboo shoot and bone soup has taken the opposite path of most dishes. It did not originate in the kitchens of the rich to then equal the poor. It was born in poverty, that of the Bắc Kạn lumberjacks who only had pork bones and forgotten bamboo, and rose to the tables of Tết, weddings, and family ceremonies.

Before, it was simmered because it was all they had. Today, it simmers because “good things take time” ; as if this forced patience of the ancestors had become a chosen luxury. Pork bones, once given to the poor, are now sought after for their “flavor” (yes, we believe you). And the dried bamboo shoots, once hastily dried before winter, are now sold in chic packets in Hanoi.

The dish pretended so well to be poor that it became rich. And if the lumberjack had known, he might have kept his recipe to himself, instead of passing it on to his daughter-in-law, who passed it on to hers, until it landed here, in your hands.

The ingredients

Măng nứa from Mai Lạp

The nứa sprouts (highland bamboo) are harvested in the forests of Mai Lạp, on the lands of Na Rì. Hand-sliced. Sun-dried on racks. No sulfur, no industrial dryer. Just time and forest dust.

Real dried bamboo shoots are recognizable: they are ugly, brittle, and smell of good humus. Not acidic. Not chemical.

Hạt dổi: the poorly traveling secret

Here is the ingredient that separates tourists from the initiated.

Hạt dổi (seed of Michelia mediocris) is roasted and pounded in a mortar. Not in a blender, heretic. It perfumes the broth with a woody, deep bitterness. It’s meditation in broth. It’s what makes you close your eyes when tasting it.

It is found from Cao Bằng to Bắc Kạn, from Tuyên Quang to Pu Luong. Everywhere the Annamite forest keeps its secrets.

The recipe

For 4 patient people

Ingredients

• 500 g of pork ribs or shank (with bones, always with bones)
• 200 g of quality dried bamboo shoots (Mai Lạp if you find it. Ask the reception at Ba Be Jungle Houses to help you)
• 1 onion, sliced
• 2 cloves of garlic, chopped
• 2-3 roasted and pounded hạt dổi seeds
• 1 tbsp vegetable oil
• 2 tbsp fish sauce
• 1 tsp sugar
• Black pepper
• 2 liters of water
• Hành lá, rau mùi (Vietnamese coriander)
• Fresh chilies (on the side, never inside)

Preparation

The bamboo awakens

Soak the dried bamboo shoots for a minimum of 2-3 hours (3 days for purists, with water changes). Blanch 2-3 times until the water is no longer yellow. Cut into 3-4 cm pieces.

The bones purify

Blanch the pork ribs for 2-3 minutes, rinse. It’s ugly but necessary.

The alchemy

In a pot, heat oil. Sauté onion, garlic, and especially the pounded hạt dổi. Add the bamboo shoots, “xào” (sauté) for 5 minutes to absorb the flavors.

The long wait

Add the bones, cover with water. Skim off impurities. Simmer for 1.5 to 2 hours over low heat. The broth should become creamy, almost milky.

Seasoning

Fish sauce, sugar, pepper. Taste, adjust. The soup should be salty, slightly sweet, deep.

The finishing touch

Finely chopped hành lá and rau mùi at the last moment. Serve with white rice, chilies on the side, patient friends, and the desire to be elsewhere.

Conclusion

The legendary lumberjack, if he had known, would have sold his recipe instead of his soup. But he was hungry, and had time, and winter for company.

Sometimes, that’s all it takes.

Introduction

Nestled within the karst mountains of Northeast Vietnam, the Ba Be region showcases a landscape where water sculpts the rock and molds the communities. At the core of this aquatic world lies Lake Ba Be, fed and traversed by a network of rivers and underground springs. Let’s delve into a portrait of these rivers, their ecological and human significance, and the challenges they face.

A landscape shaped by water and limestone

The Ba Be basin is a geological masterpiece dominated by limestone. Amidst steep cliffs and intricate topographies, constant runoff guides the waters towards an 8 km emerald ribbon: Lake Ba Be. This unique system, comprising three interconnected basins (Pé Lầm, Pé Lù, and Pé Lèng), thrives through a dramatic interplay of open gorges and hidden subterranean passages.

► Ba Be along the water

The Nang River: the leading actress

At the heart of the hydrological system, the Nang River plays the starring role. Beyond being a mere waterway, it facilitates traditional boat traffic and provides continuous nourishment to the lake. Two significant sites mark its course:

• The Nang River doesn’t just skirt the mountains; it pierces through them. Beneath the majestic arch of Động Puông, the karst silence is only broken by the glide of traditional boats, offering an almost mystical transition to the lake.
• Downstream, the power of Nang reveals itself at Dầu Đăng Falls (Dau Dang), attracting strollers and photographers alike.

► Read more : The Nang River

A fragile and vibrant sanctuary

This water network, complemented by the tributaries Tả Hạn and Nam Cường, sustains a biodiversity of rare richness. Riparian forests (wooded strips along the banks) act as vital corridors for diverse fauna, while the micro-habitats of wet caves shelter endemic species.
Yet, this balance remains delicate. Amidst tourist pressures and agricultural challenges, preserving this site – recognized by the Ramsar Convention – stands as a top priority. Exploring Ba Be involves a commitment to responsible tourism: favoring gentle navigation in the dry season (October–April) and heeding the guidance of local guides to touch upon the soul of this living heritage.

► Ecological map | Rivers and waterways

Rivers and men

In Ba Be, water isn’t just a backdrop; it shapes daily life. Tày, Dao, and Hmong villages line the shores, where land and water merge. Artisanal fishing and rice paddies, irrigated by floods, mark the seasons. Travelers may spot traditional wooden boats, with shallow drafts, silently gliding to transport people and goods. This millennia-old cohabitation between man and karst creates a unique ambiance where each night spent with locals and every conversation by the water reveals a fascinating cultural resilience.

A heritage in motion

More than mere waterways, the rivers of Ba Be are the veins of a living organism where nature and culture intertwine. By safeguarding each meander and underground source, we’re not just preserving a picturesque backdrop but a fragile equilibrium that sustains entire communities.

Exploring this hydrological network means embracing a slower pace to comprehend the story of an ever-evolving landscape.

The Festival Long Tong,

has just drawn to a close. The lanterns are down, the giant speakers that shook the limestone cliffs have finally stopped red-lining, and Ba Bể Lake has returned to its glassy, leaden stillness. But as the roar of the crowd fades, it is the echoes of nearly forgotten games that still linger in my mind.

Amidst the modern chaos, there is a bubble of resistance: games that barely make a sound, yet tell the entire story of a people’s agility.

Đánh Yến

Long before 4G reached these valleys, Đánh Yến was the original “ancestral Tinder.” The concept? A handcrafted shuttlecock (chicken feathers fixed into a wooden base) flicked back and forth with a small paddle.

Here, the goal isn’t a power smash. It’s connection. It was a highly coded game of courtship: keeping the shuttlecock in the air meant keeping the conversation alive. Dropping it was the equivalent of leaving someone on “read” ; a clumsy move that ended the moment. A social network of feathers and wind, far more poetic than any algorithm.

► Learn more : The Tay of Ba Be

Đánh Quay

• 
  

  For those who prefer a bit more impact, there is Đánh Quay. Let’s be honest: this is the “Heavy Metal,” 1.0 version of our kids’ Beyblades.

  
  

  Except here, there are no neon plastic launchers. We’re talking solid, hand-carved ironwood tops, spun with a cord in a religious silence. The goal is to strike the opponent’s top and knock it out. It’s a duel of grounding and precision. When wood meets wood, the thud is dry and deep, a reminder that agility was once a matter of survival, not just a high score on a screen.

  
  

Đánh Khăng

In a similar vein, Đánh Khăng (a stick-tossing game) tested the reflexes of future hunters. A small stick, a sharp flick, and a trajectory that must be intercepted mid-air. It’s the school of discretion: these games require no shouting, no stadiums, just a clearing and unwavering focus.

Why these echoes still matter

These games are on the decline, nibbled away by globalized entertainment. But watching them, you realize that the agility of the Tày and Nung people didn’t lie in brute force, but in the economy of movement and a respect for silence.
The festival is over now. But if you listen closely near the shores of Ba Bể, you might still hear the frou-frou of a feathered shuttlecock or the “clack” of a wooden stick. It is the sound of a culture refusing to fade away without one last dance.

Blending ancestral rites with contagious joy, the Festival Long Tong, or “Descent to the Fields”, embodies the spirit of the Tay people in Ba Be. In the Year of the Fire Horse, it will take place from 25–27 February 2026 on the village festival grounds of Bó Lù, Ba Be commune.

When Earth meets Sky

At the heart of Ba Be National Park, where limestone cliffs drop into emerald waters, one of northern Vietnam’s liveliest events unfolds each year: the Festival Long Tong. More than a celebration, it’s an immersive glimpse into Tay culture, where spirituality and community meet.

A millenary agricultural tradition

Long Tong literally means “Descent to the Fields.” Rooted in an agrarian society, the festival marks the break with the old year and the welcome of spring’s renewal. It’s a collective prayer to the deities of the fields, mountains, and rivers — asking for good harvests, healthy livestock, prosperity, and communal peace.

► Learn more : The Tay of Ba Be

The program: from sacred to festive

The event divides traditionally into two parts: the Lễ (ceremonial) and the Hội (festive).

The ceremony: gratitude and rites

It begins with a solemn procession: each village brings an offering tray (five-colored sticky rice, boiled chicken, and traditional cakes like Bánh Chưng and Bánh Giầy). At the An Ma Temple, the shaman or respected elder performs rituals to thank the ancestors and officially launch the agricultural season.

The celebration: joy and living traditions

The festival then bursts into games and performances:

• Con throwing: a colorful cloth ball is tossed through a hoop atop a bamboo pole. Symbolizing the union of Yin and Yang, the act is believed to restore the flow of energy between sky and earth.
• Then singing, accompanied by the đàn tính lute: an UNESCO-recognized spiritual art that carries listeners into a poetic realm; singers are considered able to cross worlds.
• Water and land activities: canoe races on the lake, archery, wrestling, and sometimes ox-fighting energize the shores and village squares.

Contemporary impact: identity and sustainable development

Today Long Tong goes beyond local folklore: it supports sustainable tourism, boosts crafts and homestays, and encourages young Tay people to reclaim and transmit their heritage. Held within the national park, it also highlights the need to protect this unique ecosystem.

Insider tip

Taste the local farm products and visit the culinary demonstration stalls before you leave.

The Festival Long Tong offers a sacred and festive perspective on Ba Be National Park, where every gesture pays tribute to nature and ancestors.

While Hanoi lights up in red and gold, Ba Be National Park lives a different story.

No neon lights here. No constant fireworks. Just the lake, the mist, and the slow rhythm of preparations in the stilt houses of the Pac Ngoi and Bo Lu villages. If you’re looking for a calm and authentic Têt celebration, far from the usual tourist guides, this is where it’s at.

Tay Têt: days of preparation

For the Tay (and others), the New Year doesn’t start on the first day of the lunar calendar. It begins 3 to 7 days earlier, in a silent ballet of cleaning and preparation.

It starts with the basics: doors, windows, floors, kitchen. Sorting, repairing, tidying up. Then, on the eve of the big day, it’s time for finishing touches – light sweeping, dusting altars, setting up offerings. Golden rule: no sweeping on the morning of Têt. To sweep is to risk erasing the luck that has just arrived.

Outside, fog covers the lake. Silence is only broken by the sound of the Đàn Tính, the traditional lute that accompanies the Then songs. No looped music, no pre-made playlist.

► Learn more : The Tay of Ba Be

Bánh Chưng Đen: an identity in a dish

Forget the neon green rice cakes from supermarkets. At Ba Be, Têt has a specific color: black.

Bánh Chưng Đen is not a chromatic curiosity. It’s a millennia-old craftsmanship that defines Tay culinary identity:

• The color comes from sifted rice straw ash mixed with glutinous rice. A deep, earthy hue, a tribute to the resilience of the highlanders.
• The taste is smoky, complex. Vegetable charcoal acts as a flavor enhancer and, it’s said, aids digestion – useful during Têt banquets.
• The shape differs from the classic square: cylindrical or in a turtle shell (symbol of longevity).

Did you know? The preparation is a social event. Families spend the night around the fire, watching the cooking in large pots. This is the moment when the elders pass on the lake’s legends to the younger ones.

Why Ba Be for Têt?

1. Unfiltered hospitality. Being invited to share a glass of corn alcohol with locals is not a paid tourist option. It’s a certainty. The Tay don’t host for business, but because it’s their way of being.
2. The lake atmosphere. A boat ride in the early morning, alone in the mist, offers a silence that cities can no longer produce.
3. Post-Têt village celebrations. After New Year, Long Tong (field descent festival) mobilizes villagers for cotton ball throwing (Con) and archery competitions.

Practical tips for a successful Têt at Ba Be

• First, warmth. The winter here is humid and biting. The multiple layers system (“onion style”) is essential, especially in the morning and evening.
• Book a homestay. It’s the only way to taste the Bánh Chưng Đen straight from the fire and understand why this community still lives at the pace of their ancestors.

► How to go to Ba Be

Nestled in the heart of the Northern Vietnamese mountains, Ba Be National Park is a sanctuary of biodiversity. Each season transforms this fascinating ecosystem, offering visitors a rich and unique experience full of discoveries. Whether you are drawn to the colorful spring festivals, summer water adventures, contemplative autumn landscapes, or the peaceful winter serenity, Ba Be promises ever-renewing beauty.

Spring: rebirth and festivals

Spring, from February to April, marks the awakening of the park. Orchids bloom, and the lake, surrounded by mist, offers enchanting landscapes. It’s an ideal time for bike rides. Two major festivals enrich this season: the Lông Tông Festival and the An Ma Temple Festival, colorful celebrations of the local culture that attract crowds. Agricultural preparations are in full swing, and the park becomes a vibrant place where nature and culture meet.

► The Long Tong Festival in Ba Be

Summer: water adventures

From May to August, summer brings heat and humidity. Ba Be becomes a haven of coolness, where kayaking and swimming in fresh waters add to the beauty of nature. The rainy season also features majestic waterfalls and lush vegetation. Although thunderstorms are frequent, mornings are sunny, perfect for exploring the park.

Autumn: golden treks and ideal climate

Autumn, from September to November, transforms Ba Be into a golden painting with pleasant temperatures. It’s the perfect season for hiking, boat rides, and exploring picturesque landscapes. Visitors can admire the beauty of golden rice fields and observe the arrival of migratory birds, while quiet trails offer an escape from mass tourism.

► Ba Be, a destination for the whole family

Winter: caving and serenity

Winter, from December to February, symbolizes tranquility. Cool temperatures and a dry climate allow for exploring caves, especially Tham Phay, accessible only with a guide. This season is ideal for those seeking peace, away from the hot hustle of other months. Friendly meals with local flavors conclude these serene days.

Ba Be: a park to discover year-round

Each season at Ba Be brings a unique magic. Whether for the lake’s silence, the mysteries of caves, or the authenticity of villages, the park offers diversity to explore all year round. Landscapes change, but the park’s charm remains constant, promising unforgettable discoveries.

Which season will you choose for this adventure?

► What to know before visiting Ba Be

The wild soul of the new province

You may know that since July 2025, the Bắc Kạn region has joined Thái Nguyên to form a new “super-province.” While Thái Nguyên is the commercial capital, Bắc Kạn remains its wild soul. Here, tea abandons the codified rituals for a more ancestral and ethnic flavor. In Ba Be, it’s not just a “tea ceremony”; it’s a way of life.

► Read also :Agricultural tourism in Thai Nguyen | Bac Kan Province

The secret is not just in the leaf

Here, the water comes directly from sources that flow through the limestone mountains (the famous karst). Loaded with minerals and gentle as an excuse, this water gives the tea a velvety texture that smooths out the bitterness to make way for a slight hazelnut aftertaste. It is in this sanctuary, at 150m altitude, that tea is savored with rare serenity.

A spiritual and human bridge

For the Tay and Nung ethnic groups, tea is a spiritual bridge. It is prepared around the central hearth (bếp lửa) and often accompanies the enchanting tunes of the Then Singing.

Here, tea is above all synonymous with sharing: You won’t find a kimono-clad master; the tea arrives in a small earthen pitcher called Chén Tống, the “pot of justice.”

But tea is also the spirit of equality: The pitcher is passed around so that each guest receives the same infusion and the same kindness. No one is above another; we share the same forest and the same cup. That’s also a bit of the spirit of Ba Be…

Taste the Nature of Ba Be

If you’re lucky, you’ll taste Shan Tuyết, this “snow tea” with fluffy buds whose flavors seem sweetened by the clouds. It’s the first welcome word of the Tay, a moment of human warmth that prepares the mind for the magic of the lake.

Want to taste? Ask us for a tasting on your next canoe outing!

Why winter in Ba Be is the best idea of your life (yes, even with 3 sweaters)

Summer in Ba Be is for tourists. Winter is for explorers.

And if the temperature hovers around 10°C, even better: fewer people, more soul. It’s precisely the damp cold and enchanting mists that sculpt the authentic charm of the park. Under a sometimes-grey sky, nature doesn’t quite fall asleep; it transforms, while migratory birds claim the silent shores.

Regarding temperatures, expect 8°C to 15°C. Winter is dry, so no mud, no rain, just landscapes wrapped in mist and exceptional visibility: a dream for hikers.

The luxury of warmth in the heart of the jungle
While winter in Ba Be beckons raw adventure, staying at Ba Be Jungle Houses turns this experience into a comforting break. Contrary to common beliefs about chilly Northern nights, we’ve designed our rooms as cozy nests. Here, the authenticity of wooden structures meets modern comfort tailored for the season: high-quality, thick bedding, supplemental heating for a temperate atmosphere, and of course, hot showers after your explorations.
With us, winter isn’t endured, it’s savored.

Culture & immersion

The essence of this season is undoubtedly found in the heart of traditional Tay villages, like Pac Ngoi or Bo Lu. It’s there, by the fire, that you warm up while sharing a local meal after a day of exploration. You sleep in a stilt house, the blanket might be a bit scratchy, but the grilled fish and smoked pork hanging above the fire make you forget about the 10°C outside.

Cho Ra market: Don’t miss this gathering (on days ending in 0 and 5 of the lunar calendar). It’s a burst of colors where the Tay, Dao, and Hmong ethnicities come to sell their goods in an ultra-authentic atmosphere.

♠ Discover the ethnic minorities of Ba Be National Park

Tranquility and poetry

With 70% fewer boats than in summer, you’ll feel like you have the lake all to yourself. Navigating the lake in a canoe at this time allows you to skim past Widow Island in absolute solitude, amidst karst cliffs and ancient forests reflected in the water. Sure, the comfort is rustic and requires layering warm clothes, but this austerity is the price to pay to experience Ba Be in its most secretive and poetic form.

It’s a journey for those who prefer the whisper of mist over the sun’s glare, and who know that true warmth is always found inside homes, near the fire and hearts.

BONUS February 2026: Long Tong Festival

If you visit Ba Be at the end of February 2026 (from February 25 to 27), you’ll stumble upon the Long Tong festival (field descent). It’s the Tay Super Bowl: Còn ball throwing, stick fights, UNESCO Then chants, and lots of rượu nếp (also known as Happy Water or Rice Alcohol).

Our advice: Book your homestay at least 3 months in advance (expect prices to be 30% higher during the festival).

Northern Vietnam’s best-kept secret

If you’re not afraid of a little morning chill, winter in Ba Be offers a VIP experience of the national park. It’s the moment when Ba Be reveals its authentic soul, far from mass tourism. So, bundle up and let yourself be enchanted by the magic of winter nature! Because in Ba Be, winter isn’t a tropical bug, it’s a feature.

Ideas for winter outdoors activities in Ba Be National Park:

•  1-Day Trekking
•  Hiking in and around the Ba Be National Park
•  Discover the natural paradise of Ba Be National Park by bike