Caving in Vietnam

Caving in Vietnam: The Wildest Thing I’ve Ever Done

By Hannah Greer
Dark tunnels, ancient formations, and a journey into the unknown.

The Dare I Almost Didn’t Take

When I first landed in Vietnam, my itinerary looked like any other backpacker’s: motorbike the Hai Van Pass, float through Ha Long Bay, sip egg coffee in Hanoi. But one experience kept popping up in travel forums and hostel conversations—caving in Phong Nha-Ke Bang National Park.

I had never been caving before. The idea of crawling through pitch-black tunnels, waist-deep in underground rivers, freaked me out. Claustrophobia? Check. Fear of getting lost in the dark? Absolutely. And yet, I kept thinking about it.

One night, while sitting in a riverside café in Phong Nha town, a fellow traveler told me about Hang Tien Cave. “It’s like walking into a prehistoric cathedral,” she said. Her eyes lit up with reverence. Something shifted in me. I didn’t want to just see Vietnam—I wanted to experience it, messiness and fear and all. So I signed up for a two-day guided expedition into Hang Tien.

Into the Mouth of the Earth: First Impressions

The next morning, our small group met with two guides from Oxalis Adventures. They handed us helmets, harnesses, and headlamps. We took a bumpy jeep ride through remote villages before reaching the jungle trailhead. As we began the sweaty hike to the cave entrance, butterflies filled my stomach. The air grew cooler as we approached a jagged limestone opening carved into the earth.

Stepping inside felt like entering another world—one damp, silent, and ancient. The sound of the jungle faded, replaced by dripping water and the crunch of gravel beneath our boots. As we moved deeper, the light from the entrance vanished completely, leaving only our headlamps to illuminate the jagged, alien walls.

Darkness and Discovery: Navigating the Underground

For the first few hours, we scrambled through narrow corridors, ducked beneath low-hanging stalactites, and carefully stepped around pools of clear cave water. At one point, we were instructed to turn off our headlamps. The darkness was so complete it felt physical. It wrapped around us like a blanket, forcing all of my senses to shift inward.

I expected to panic, but instead, I felt… calm. The silence wasn’t frightening. It was sacred. I had never heard the world so quiet. For the first time in my life, I understood the appeal of caving—not the adrenaline, but the awe. The humbling awareness that you are walking through time itself.

We waded waist-deep through an underground stream, the cold water sending chills through my bones. Our guide explained that these caves are millions of years old, formed by rainwater and time. We stopped to admire glittering rock formations—stalagmites as tall as trees, limestone walls with natural carvings that resembled dragons and waves.

Camping Underground: A Night Like No Other

That night, we camped inside the cave. Yes, inside. Oxalis had set up a base camp on a dry plateau near a mineral pool. Tents, lanterns, a hot meal cooked over a campfire—it felt surreal. Who gets to say they’ve slept in a cave?

I laid in my tent listening to the steady sound of water droplets echoing through the chamber. I thought about the people who had never seen this place, the sheer number of lifetimes these walls had witnessed, and how small my presence was. And I liked it. The cave didn’t care about my fears, my past, or my Instagram. It just was.

Emerging Changed: Climbing Back Into the Light

The next morning, we hiked further into the cave system before beginning our ascent back into the jungle. When we reached the exit, the sunlight was almost blinding. The green of the jungle looked greener, the sounds louder, the air sweeter. I had only been underground for two days, but everything had changed.

More importantly, I had changed.

Caving had stripped away my expectations. There were no tourist signs, no Wi-Fi, no curated views. Just me, rock, water, and time. And in that absence, I discovered a new version of myself—one who didn’t need constant motion or external validation.

What I Took With Me (Besides Mud)

I left that cave with more than photos and sore muscles. I left with:

• A deep respect for nature’s quiet architecture

• A reminder of how strength can come from stillness

• The knowledge that facing fear creates freedom

I’ve done many wild things on my travels—diving with manta rays, skydiving in New Zealand, crossing deserts alone—but nothing compares to the silent, slow, powerful beauty of Vietnam’s caves. There’s no adrenaline high quite like emerging from darkness with a better understanding of who you are.

Go Underground to Go Within

If you’re looking for adventure, look deeper—literally. Caving might not have the glamour of Instagram hikes or beach sunsets, but it will give you something far more valuable: perspective.

In the darkness, I found parts of myself I didn’t know I had—the brave part, the curious part, the patient part. And when I stepped back into the light, I brought them with me.

Would you ever sleep in a cave? Or have you faced a fear that changed you on the road? Share your story in the comments or tag us @AffordableJourney with #CavingChangedMe.