Hue to Dong Hoi by Train: Why We Broke the Journey

Some travel days glide by with gentle scenery and quiet reflection. Ours began with a locust attack and ended with a cockerel eviction, so reflection wasn’t really on the cards.

We set off from Hue to Dong Hoi. It wasn’t in the plan but neither of us fancied spending twelve hours welded to a bus seat or rattling around on a train like loose change, so breaking the journey felt like the only sane option.

The Locust Incident at Hue Station

While waiting at the station, I was reminded that Vietnam has an impressive enthusiasm for insects. A locust the size of a small aircraft launched itself at me with the enthusiasm of someone greeting a long-lost relative.

I didn’t just jump. I performed a full body panic routine that was not dignified. A strangled squeak escaped, my arms went wild, and my legs did something that looked like freestyle tap.

The unfortunate man beside me received the locust squarely on his chest. He woke with the expression of someone who has been rudely evicted from a pleasant dream.

Craig was no help at all. He was in bits laughing. I reminded him that I do not do bugs. He reminded me that he does not do sympathy.

Vietnam Train Travel: Chaos, Cockerels and Soya Feet

The train ride was three hours of pure Vietnamese chaos. A masterpiece of human density with every seat taken and every aisle filled. Packed, noisy, sweaty, and absolutely infused with people and the unmistakable presence of marinated soya feet.

At one point I found myself with a stranger’s foot tucked under my arm, as if I had been assigned it for safekeeping.

A woman in front of us had brought along a cockerel in a basket, which announced its presence at regular intervals. She found this hilarious. We found it hilarious too.

There was no need for scenery. The carriage provided its own entertainment. Snoring, cockerels, feet, cleaners, and a woman next to me methodically eating sunflower seeds and firing the shells across the carriage like shrapnel. Laughs, debates, food trolleys, and of course phone reels played on high volume by fifty different people.

It was like travelling inside a live action circus with surround sound. There’s a level of tolerance for shared space here that makes British etiquette look like a nervous breakdown waiting to happen.

Evicting the Cockerel

Eventually the train master appeared, alerted by the cockerel’s ongoing commentary. She marched down the aisle with the authority of someone who has dealt with far too many birds in her career.

After a spirited debate, the cockerel was removed. Or rather, relocated to the interconnecting carriage, which I suspect it considered a promotion.

The Smell Situation Nobody Claimed

Somewhere nearby, someone had a bladder situation. The smell of stale wee drifted through the carriage like a ghost of toilets past.

Craig suggested we stand up and announce that the incontinent pants control department was in the next carriage and that we would be conducting checks. He was only half joking. I was tempted. It made me gag.

Arriving in Dong Hoi: Budget Hotel Surprise

Dong Hoi absolutely redeemed the day.

Our fourteen pound hotel turned out to be an absolute gem with a modern room and a view over the beach and riverfront. After that train, it felt like checking into the Four Seasons.

Family Kitchen Pizza and Tiny Waitresses

Dinner was in a family kitchen that had recently decided to moonlight as a pizza parlour. It was actually very good and made even better by the service team, otherwise known as the chef’s two little girls.

The eldest, about six, marched out with plates and drinks like a tiny professional. The youngest, maybe two, waddled over with the bill, completely baffled by our existence but determined to do her job.

It was adorable, slightly chaotic, and easily the most efficient service we’d had all week.

The Fall I Didn’t Bother Mentioning

Later, my knee reminded me that I had fallen at the station earlier. One of those small steps that exist solely to humiliate people had sent me to the ground.

Craig asked why I hadn’t mentioned it. I told him it wouldn’t have made any difference. This is the same man who once watched me fall out of bed, split open my eye, and responded by turning over and going back to sleep.

He smiled. A smile that suggested he probably would have just laughed, unless of course it involved a medical bill.

Dong Hoi Vietnam: A Rebuilt City with a Quiet Soul

Dong Hoi is a curious place. It looks new because, in many ways, it is.

During the war, much of the city was bombed so heavily that what stands now feels less like preservation and more like starting again. The streets are wider, calmer, and oddly orderly compared to the rest of Vietnam.

The old citadel, once a 19th century fortress guarding the mouth of the Nhat Le River, has been partly restored. It sits there now like a quiet reminder that this peaceful little town has seen far more than it lets on.

Beach, River and Morning Calm

The riverfront is peaceful, the church ruins atmospheric, and the mornings are genuinely lovely.

We sat on the balcony with coffee and yogurt, watching fishermen lower their nets as the sun came up. It’s the kind of scene that makes you forget yesterday’s stale wee train trauma.

Later, we strolled along the riverfront and watched a couple working a small boat. He rowed while she cast the net, then once it was in, they calmly swapped roles. She took the oars, he gathered the net, and the catch went into a small bucket between them. No fuss, no discussion, just quiet teamwork that we stood and watched for far longer than planned.

When they noticed us, they broke into wide smiles and waved, as if we’d been part of it all along.

A little further down, an older man in a sampan was working alone with a large drop net. Each time he lifted it, he ducked underneath, tapped the fish loose, and let them fall neatly into a bucket in the middle of the boat. Not much of a catch that morning, but still a big smile and a cheerful “Xin Chao” in our direction.

The beach here is gorgeous, fine white sand stretching for miles, but the South China Sea looks more like something you might pour out of a boot than a tropical dream.

The town itself has all the ingredients for being a brilliant tourist spot, but it’s quiet, almost stubbornly so, and the residents don’t seem in any rush to change that. For as long as it stays off the tourist trail, they keep their peace. Fair play.

Onwards to Phong Nha National Park

But we’re not here for Dong Hoi. It’s purely a base to explore Phong Nha National Park and a small section of the Ho Chi Minh Trail.

After yesterday’s circus on rails, the idea of a quiet jungle and nobody’s foot under my arm feels like luxury.