A Night With 700 Crocodiles

Spending a night beside Vietnam's largest population of wild Siamese crocodiles.

That night, roughly 700 crocodiles were watching us from the lake.

I only found out the number later. But standing at the edge of the wooden dock, staring into a darkness thick enough to touch — the ranger switched on his flashlight and swept it across the water.

And the lake began to glow.

Small cold dots of green appeared on the surface.

Two here. Five over there.

Then more. Everywhere the beam touched.

I thought: fireflies.

Then I realized every single one of those lights was staring back at me.

But that morning, everything started with wanting to escape the heat of Saigon.

7:30 AM. We set off. Cat Tien is roughly 145km from Saigon — about 3 hours if traffic is kind, longer if you overpack and keep stopping every few minutes to readjust your backpack like I did.

We arrived at 11. Rest, lunch, buy tickets, take the ferry. Entry fee: 60,000 VND per person. The ferry crossing is short. Step off the other side and you're officially inside the forest.

From the ferry landing to Bau Sau is 14km, split into two legs.

The first leg: 9km of concrete road, by bicycle. Sounds easy. My lower back disagreed from around the 2km mark.

The sun was brutal. My pack was heavy with nowhere to put it — I'd ride for five minutes, stop to shift position, ride another five, stop again. The initial enthusiasm faded faster than I expected.

I wish it would just rain and cool things down. — I thought.

The signal inside the forest is terrible, so it took about 15 minutes for that wish to reach the sky.

Then it rained.

Small drops at first, then heavier. Nobody in our group had a raincoat. We just stood there in the middle of the forest — not running, not hiding — and let the whole thing wash over us.

I've been to Cat Tien five times now. It has never once not rained. I always go during rainy season, because that's the only way to really hear the place. The sound of rain on the canopy, water moving somewhere deep in the forest — that's what Cat Tien actually sounds like.

The rain is part of my memory of this forest. Without it, it wouldn't feel right.

I waited under a wide-canopied tree for the downpour to pass, then we kept going.

The second leg: 5km of trekking through the forest.

The path is paved with stone slabs and easy enough to walk — but on either side, the trees are enormous. Wide green canopies stretching overhead, ancient trunks so thick you can't see the top when you look up. The light filters through in thin slivers. Walking through it felt strange — like shrinking down and wandering into a Ghibli forest.

In rainy season, the undergrowth is dense and intensely green. The kind of green that makes you feel like you're actually bathing in the forest rather than just passing through it.

After about an hour, the lake appeared without warning between the trees — flat, wide, and so quiet it felt like you shouldn't raise your voice.

The ranger station at Bau Sau is a two-story wooden building with a green tin roof sitting right at the water's edge. It's where the rangers eat, sleep, and keep watch — with a clear view across the entire lake. After checking in and dropping our bags, we headed straight out to the water.

We didn't have to look far. Right there on the bank, a few steps from the dock — two, three crocodiles lying in the sun. Completely still. Like rocks.

I walked out onto the dock and looked down at the lake. Just reeds and water plants — nothing visible.

But I was wrong.

Looking more carefully, I noticed one pair of eyes. Then two. Right at the edge of the dock, half-hidden beneath the surface, watching me through the weeds. The water was almost completely still. Just a few pairs of eyes floating between the reeds — like they'd been here long before anyone thought to build wooden docks and sell entry tickets.

Very close. Right beside me.

A cold feeling passed through me — even knowing that Siamese crocodiles are gentle, even knowing there are no recorded serious attacks. But that moment of realizing you're being watched from below the waterline, from close enough to touch — your brain sends the warning before your rational mind can override it.

If this were somewhere in Africa, I probably wouldn't have lasted five minutes in the wild.

That evening we had dinner with the rangers. Forest food — I honestly couldn't tell you what half of it was, but it was considerably better than the instant noodles with egg that appeared the next morning.

Midway through the meal, one of the rangers stood up, grabbed a flashlight, and walked toward the lake. He turned and waved us over, like he wanted to show us something.

I stepped outside. Complete darkness — no streetlights, no electric glow from anywhere. Just a sky full of stars above and a black lake in front.

He switched on the light.

And the lake lit up.

Cold green dots appeared on the surface.

Two here. Five over there.

Then more — everywhere the beam went, the dots appeared and disappeared.

I forgot about the half-eaten dinner behind me. Those lights reminded me of something from nearly ten years ago — on Fansipan, deep in the forest, I'd seen lights like this before. That time, they were fireflies.

This time, they were crocodile eyes.

The insects never stopped. The lake stayed flat and still. Nothing moved — just those cold points of light watching silently from below the surface.

Only stars above. Fireflies in the trees. And 700 pairs of crocodile eyes beneath the lake, quietly swallowed by the darkness and the silence of the forest.

A scene from a horror film crossed my mind. Here we were — surrounded by 700 crocodiles watching our every move. Deep inside a forest with no phone signal, no other voices, nothing.

Somehow I slept very well that night.

Next morning: instant noodles with egg.

I'm so tired of this dish. But there aren't many options in the middle of a national park — I ate quickly and went back out to check on the crocodiles one more time.

Less hesitant than yesterday. One had climbed completely onto the wooden dock to sun itself. I walked closer. Then closer. Close enough that stretching out my arm would have put my hand on its nose.

I wanted to touch it.

But I was worried that if I reached out, I might not have a hand to reach back with.

So I just stood there looking at it for a while, then went back inside.

There are small boats here, and guided rowing tours out onto the lake — at sunset or early morning, alongside the rangers, out among the crocodiles. A friend of mine once went. Naturally, at the time he had no idea there were any crocodiles in the lake.

The station keeps records of the crocodile conservation project, along with guestbooks filled with notes from international visitors. Around 1992, the Siamese crocodile was believed to be extinct or nearly extinct in the wild. After more than 20 years of reintroduction and conservation work — there are now roughly 700 individuals living at Bau Sau.

I read that number here, the morning after, in the ordinary light of an ordinary morning.

The night before hadn't felt ordinary at all.

At 8, we packed up and headed out. Said goodbye to the rangers, promised to come back soon. I didn't bother saying goodbye to the crocodiles. They didn't seem interested anyway.

See you later, alligator.

5km trekking back out through the forest, then 9km cycling back to the ferry. On the way out, I noticed a few bicycles with the seats removed. Couldn't figure it out on the way in. On the way out I understood — it's how people mark their bike so nobody takes it by mistake. No lock, no name tag. Just pull the seat off.

Leaving the forest, I kept thinking about standing in front of that dark lake.

And knowing that somewhere behind me, hundreds of pairs of eyes were still lying quietly beneath the reeds.

Still.

Patient.

Practical Information

Getting there

• Saigon to Cat Tien: ~145km, around 3 hours
• Park entry fee: 60,000 VND per person
• Ferry landing to Bau Sau: 14km total, two legs
• Leg 1 (9km): bicycle rental 150,000 VND/day — check brakes, seat height, and tires before you take one. Tip: remove the seat when you leave your bike so nobody takes it by mistake
• Leg 2 (5km): trekking only, paved stone path
• Jeep rental: ~700,000 VND/vehicle return trip (up to 7 people)

Staying overnight

• Only 3–5 rooms, maximum ~19–20 people — book at least 1–2 months in advance
• Contact: Cat Tien National Park Management Board: (0251) 3669 228
• Bau Sau entry fee: 250,000 VND per person
• Boat tour to watch crocodiles: ~150,000 VND per boat

Notes

• Almost no phone signal inside the forest
• Bring leech repellent, a flashlight, and proper walking shoes
• Public holidays (especially April 30): arrive before 8–9 AM or risk finding no bicycles or Jeeps left
• Siamese crocodiles are very gentle — but don't try to touch their nose