In the Lam Binh – Na Hang lake area of Tuyen Quang (Tuyen Quang), people often begin with old stories before they talk about the scenery. In the middle of the lake stands a solitary limestone mountain—tall and straight—known as the “heavenly buffalo tethering post.” The Tay people say that long ago, a celestial buffalo came down to help humans plow their fields. When it flew back to the sky, it left the tethering post behind on the land. Over time, the water rose, the landscape changed, and only that “post” remained, rising quietly from the middle of the lake—silent, yet full of meaning. There are also other stories telling of an ancient valley that once held villages and rice fields. A great flood is said to have submerged everything, leaving behind the vast lake seen today. The mountain ranges rising from the water are believed to be the remnants of that old world. These legends don’t need to be verified—standing in this space, they naturally start to make sense in their own unique way. And then the lake reveals itself—different in every season. In the rainy season, from around May to October, the lake is at its most beautiful and its most “true” form. Water rises high, covering the valleys and forming a vast, endless surface. Limestone mountains seem to grow straight out of the water, while morning mist softens the landscape, making everything feel deeper and more fluid. Boats weave through narrow mountain passages, as if drifting through a living painting. This is also the ideal time for SUP paddling—the water is calm, the space is wide, and every movement feels slow and clear. Standing at the bow of a boat in this season, surrounded only by water and mountains, there is a feeling of being both small and completely free. Sometimes, simply stopping the paddle and drifting is enough for everything to fall into silence. In the dry season, from around November to April, the water gradually recedes. Patches of land, grassy slopes, and traces of the old lakebed begin to appear. The scenery is no longer as vast as in the rainy season, but it becomes more raw and more intimate. This is the right time for walking, exploring forests, visiting Tay and Dao villages, or discovering underground caves that appear as the water goes down. There are fewer strong waterfalls, but in return the air is clearer, the sunlight softer, and moving around becomes easier. For the most complete experience, the best time is usually early rainy season (May–July) or late rainy season (September–October), when the water is full and the landscape is at its clearest. No matter the season, the lake always keeps something uniquely its own. In the morning, the water lies still like a mirror, with almost no boundary between sky and lake. As the boat leaves the dock, the space opens slowly—quiet, unhurried, without rush. SUP paddling is when that stillness is felt most clearly. Each gentle stroke makes only the faintest sound of water parting. There are moments when simply standing still, doing nothing at all, already feels enough. By midday, as the sun rises higher, the lake becomes brighter. This is also when people are drawn to the water. The coolness here is not sharp—it seeps in slowly, clean and refreshing. Jumping off the boat, the first sensation is a wave of cold wrapping around the body, quickly turning into relaxation. Swimming a few laps, or simply floating and looking up at the sky, is enough to feel noticeably lighter. Meals on the boat remain simple: grilled fish, local pork, forest vegetables, bamboo-tube rice. Nothing elaborate, but in this setting everything feels richer in flavor. Sometimes the boat stops at a small shore, and people sit right at the water’s edge, eating with rippling water in front and layers of mountains in the distance. Accompanying the journey is Luc—a Tay man familiar with every stretch of the lake and every current. He doesn’t speak much, but each piece of information is tied to a specific place: where SUP is safe, where the water is deep, which paths used to exist. Everything is shared like a living memory of the land. In the late afternoon, the lake becomes its calmest. Sunlight slants across the surface, casting a warm golden tone over the water. Everything slows down, and the wind softens. Standing on a SUP at this time, there is almost no need to paddle—only balance, and the feeling of subtle movement beneath your feet. Lam Binh – Na Hang is not a place that impresses at first glance. But its ancient legends, seasonal changes, cool waters, simple meals, and quiet atmosphere are what make it linger in memory long after leaving. Like the “buffalo tethering post” in the middle of the lake—unchanging, unexplained, yet always there, and always remembered.