How rescuing an elephant overboard saved my holiday

Edited by Travel Weekly

Chaser comedian and TravelDAZE MC Chris Taylor takes on his hardest assignment yet as our Guest Travel Writer in this three-part series on Vietnam. Here is Part 2.

HERITAGE LINE

“Elephant overboard!” goes out the cry. There’s a flurry of activity, as the crew of the Heritage Line ship scramble to prepare the tender for a rescue operation. “Elephant overboard!” the ship’s first mate repeats.

I’m cruising on the waters of Lan Ha Bay, in northern Vietnam, and my 18-month-old daughter has just thrown her plush toy elephant over the railings. My initial instinct is to write it off as lost, destined to join the other strange items of detritus that bob on these straits. But my wife, evidently more sentimental than me on the question of toys, insists we raise the alarm.

The ship halts its engines and the tender sets off. From my position on our cabin balcony, I’ve lost sight of the drifting elephant, and can’t even be sure that it’s still afloat. I watch with declining hope as the tender circles the vessel in the fading light. My daughter’s indifference to the search is almost insulting, when all of a sudden I see her eyes jolt wide open.

“Elly!” she squeals, pointing towards the water.

I look out to see a crewmember standing on the tender’s bow, holding the stuffed toy triumphantly above his head. I can see that the toy is sopping, shaggy and most probably quite smelly. But the important thing is: We have it back. The elephant, and indeed our holiday, has been saved.

Operation Elephant, as the entire ship comes to call it, is symptomatic of Heritage Line’s dedication to next-level service. There are scores of cruise companies operating on these waters, with a particularly high concentration of them on the world-famous Ha Long Bay, just around the corner; and this density in and of itself is something some travellers may not be able to easily brush aside. But it’s a bucket list destination for a reason, and if you want to do it in style, there are few ships more handsome than the Ylang, the jewel in the crown of Heritage Line’s luxury fleet designed in the traditional Indochine junk style.

There are several points in Ylang’s favour. Firstly, by cruising on Lan Ha Bay, rather than on Ha Long Bay, you’ll be spared the overcrowding that frequently now besets the better-known neighbour. Visually, they’re interchangeable. Lan Ha Bay is essentially just an extension of Ha Long, offering the same natural abundance of limestone karsts that rise from the water like shrub-covered icebergs.

Both bays enjoy UNESCO World Heritage status, but only Lan Ha Bay seems like it’s taking that status seriously. Don’t get me wrong: you’ll still be surrounded by other ships. But the number of cruise companies allowed to operate here is strictly restricted, as part of a new (perhaps belated) government commitment to minimise the tourism footprint – and pollution – in the region.

Secondly, a Ylang cruise lasts longer. Most operators offer either daytrips or 1-night cruises, but when you step on board the Ylang, you’re signing up for a 3-day/2-night experience. As someone who loathes packing and unpacking a suitcase more than twice in one week, I relish this less hurried approach. Perched once again on my cabin’s balcony (are you sensing a pattern?), drinking in the shapes of the mist-shrouded karsts as they seemingly hover above the water, I can’t imagine anyone not wanting to do this for as many nights as possible. Clapping eyes on these wonders was one of the main reasons I wanted to come to Vietnam – why would I shortchange myself with a flying visit?

Thirdly, and not unimportantly, Ylang is a supremely refined ship. The suites are improbably well proportioned and eye-catchingly decorated with colonial-era detailing and objet d’arts. Floral motifs abound. (Ylang itself is a type of plant and Lan Ha Bay translates loosely as “orchid from heaven”.) When my family first enters the dining room, the second thing that catches our eye (after those views) is the fine silver cutlery laid on each table.

Having just come from Hanoi, where our mealtimes were spent squatting on ankle-high plastic chairs, the sight of upholstery is something of a shock. And the food itself is no less astounding. Both lunch and dinner on Ylang are a multi-course affair. It’s possibly more generous – and more formal – than anyone requires in the country where culinary bliss can be found just as easily in a steaming bowl of pho. But who’s complaining? When our cruise leader overhears my occasional mutters about over-indulgence, she very politely directs me to myriad wellness activities that the ship offers, such as yoga, tai chi and tea-drinking ceremonies.

Are there any negatives? Perhaps just a couple. Our room smells a little musty, which points to minor maintenance issues. I also find it unusual to be immersed in such a geological marvel – one of the most unique landscape wonders of the world – but not receive any kind of information about it from our guides. Sure, nobody’s wanting a 3-day geology lecture. But I’m disappointed there isn’t at least a little bit of talk about the area’s formation, history and the evolving role it plays in the lives of local fishing communities. Indeed, it seems that Heritage Line’s focus on gourmet excellence and wellness treatments might come at the expense of some of the more lively and communal activities that most other companies offer, such as cooking classes, squid fishing, beach excursions and karaoke. (Then again, nobody on Ylang is mourning the absence of karaoke.)

As we finish our dessert on our final night, a spectacular storm breaks out across the bay. Flashes of sheet lightning illuminate the sky, unmasking hundreds of silhouetted karsts in cinematic widescreen. This is a light show for the ages. I order myself a gin and tonic and retire to watch the spectacle from – where else – the dress circle seats on my balcony cabin.

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Heritage Line