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Vietnam's southwest coast isn't just Phú Quốc. Scattered around it are clusters of small islands like Nam Du, Hải Tặc and Bà Lụa. These waters aren't only beautiful; they carry plenty of history too, from the years when Nguyễn Ánh fled from the Tây Sơn army to the era when pirates ruled the shipping lanes, which is how the Hải Tặc ("Pirate") Islands got their name.
But this time, I'm not here to tell history. Let me take you to an empty island instead, where we pitched a tent, foraged for seafood and lived for a day like Robinson Crusoe in the southwestern sea.
March 2022: Leaving the Mainland
It was a day in March 2022. Covid had just passed, and life still felt shaky and stifling after months of social distancing. The moment the lockdown lifted, we headed for a remote island to breathe some sea air, get close to nature again and disconnect from modern life for a while.
No radio waves, just ocean waves.
This time, the destination was the Bà Lụa archipelago. At 8 am, we set off from Hòn Chông port in Kiên Lương, Kiên Giang (now part of An Giang province).
Speedboats from the mainland usually take visitors to Ba Hòn Đầm, the archipelago's best-known island cluster. If you want to explore the smaller, wilder islands, you need a local fishing boat.
So we went by fishing boat. A bit slower, but it gave us time to take in the heat of the sun, the salty spray on our skin and the breath of the ocean.
The man who took us was anh Tám ("brother Tám"), a local fisherman. It wasn't my first trip with him. For years, I'd done this every now and then: go down to the port, call him, ask him to drop me on some island, and arrange for him to come back a few days later.
After about 30 minutes, small islands began to appear. People call this place "the Hạ Long Bay of the South", and when you see it, it makes sense. Plenty of places in Vietnam get compared to Hạ Long - Tà Đùng is "the Hạ Long Bay of the Central Highlands", for example - and this is the version in the southwestern sea.
Finding an Island
We pulled up at an island that looked sparsely inhabited, with just one or two roofs in sight. Nobody came out to meet us. Instead, two or three dogs ran over, and they didn't look very friendly. 🤣
The owners had probably gone out to sea. There are many homes like this out here: people build a house on an island, but their real life is out on the water all day.
We walked around for about 20 minutes. The island had people, and even a source of protein in those dogs (just kidding 🤣), but nowhere suitable to pitch a tent. So we left to look for another spot. Later, back home, I found out the island was called Bà Tám.
After another 30 minutes or so at sea, we reached another island. This one was completely empty, and at the time I had no idea what it was called.
At 10:15, I officially set foot on the island.
"What's the first thing explorers do when they land on a new island? Name it, probably. In that case, from now on this is Man United Island, where United fans can hide from the world after every humiliating defeat and avoid their friends' banter," I thought to myself.
Just kidding, the island has had a name for a long time. Back home, I found out it's called Hòn Đụng.
(By the way, I've been a Man United fan since 1999.) 😂
Next, I told anh Tám to come back for us at 1 pm the next day. You have to agree on this in advance, because out here there's no phone signal. If anything happens, there's no way to call him.
Setting Up Camp
Once everything was off the boat, we walked along the shore looking for a place to camp.
The beach we picked was small and full of pebbles. Not the dazzling white sand you see in travel photos, but when you're exploring, what more do you need? A fairly flat patch of ground, some trees to pitch a tent, a place to build a fire and somewhere to dive for seafood. That's enough.
After a quick walk around, I confirmed the island had no fresh water. Not a problem, as I'd prepared for that: we'd brought three 20-litre containers of water. Use it carefully and you're fine.
Tent up, fire lit. Next job: gather enough firewood to keep it going all night. Not hard at all. One walk around was enough to collect a pile of driftwood from fishing boats, plus some dry branches from the island.
Diving for Lunch
Right in front of our camp was a gently sloping rocky shore. As I said, this would feed the whole group. But if you want to eat, you have to dive!
By 11 am, the sun was already fierce. We slipped into the water in front of us to look for food. It wasn't hard: mostly pen shells buried deep in the sand, moon snails clinging to the rocks, and sea urchins clustered further out among the rocky crevices.
Sea urchins are the prize here, but they're also pretty dangerous. Their spines are as sharp as a porcupine's but very brittle. Once one goes into your skin, it snaps into several pieces that hurt and are hard to get out completely.
I once got stabbed in the foot by one of these little devils. A week after the trip, my foot still hurt, even though I was sure I'd pulled the spines out. When I looked closely, a few tiny fragments were still stuck in there.
There's a local myth that if you get stung, you just pee on the spot and the spines will dissolve. Back then, I believed it... 🤣
It doesn't work! If you're stung by a sea urchin, remove the spines you can see, soak the wound in water as hot as you can comfortably bear, then clean it and keep an eye on it. If the pain or swelling doesn't go away, see a doctor.
Before long, we'd filled a whole bucket with sea urchins. Grilled or cooked into rice porridge, they're unbeatable.
A successful hunt! Time to take the catch back to the kitchen crew.
Around Hòn Đụng
After lunch, I decided to explore the island on my own. It's fairly round, and a full loop only takes about 20 minutes.
Every time I explore like this, I get excited. Scrambling between colourful boulders, I'm still like a kid, thrilled with every step, as if just one more step will lead me to buried treasure.
The back of the island looks completely different. No more gently sloping shore, just big clusters of rock with waves crashing straight into them. The rocks here have dark red patches that look like rust, and they're sharp, so I had to move slowly. One slip and it would be like falling onto broken glass. And there's nobody out here to rescue you.
After the loop, I went back to the tent. The sun was still harsh, my salt-soaked skin was starting to burn and feel sticky, and it was hard to nap.
But the breeze was cool, the sea kept murmuring, and I was free...
Sunset and Dinner
In the afternoon, we went fishing again. There were still urchins left from lunch, enough for another pot of porridge. I'd had enough of urchins, so I switched to digging for clams and picking snails. Someone had even brought snorkelling gear, so the afternoon turned into a mix of diving, playing and foraging.
Before I knew it, the sky had turned deep red. I brought the catch ashore, handed it to the kitchen crew, and went to set up the lights before night swallowed everything.
Dinner on the island came with no car horns and no city lights. Everything was quiet, just the sound of the waves and our singing.
The menu was seafood again: porridge, clams, snails and sea urchins. Simple, but after a whole day in the sea, every bite tasted like a feast. Maybe everything tastes better when you're happy, surrounded by friends and feeling like nothing from the outside world can bother you.
Night on the Island
After dinner came the singing. Someone had brought a mini speaker and a pre-downloaded playlist. Another guy pulled a bottle of "happy water" (rice wine) out of his backpack.
"Oh no, not again," I thought.
So much for an early night.
But why sleep early anyway? Tomorrow I'd still be lost on a deserted island, and my boss couldn't exactly swim out here to find me.
We drank and sang until late. I don't usually like this kind of karaoke, partly because I hate bothering other people. But today, here, on this island, it was just us. If we bothered anyone, it was only the fish, urchins, clams and snails swimming around somewhere...
This next song goes out to all the fish, urchins, clams and snails out there tonight. Tomorrow, you're all going in the porridge.
When the party was over, I spread a tarp on the rocks. The March sky was clear enough to see the stars. In the distance, the red and green lights of squid-fishing boats reflected on the water, stretching and warping with every ripple.
Or maybe I was just too drunk to see straight.
Both the sky and the sea know how to dress themselves up in their own way.
The Next Morning
The next morning, I was woken by the roar of an engine. A fishing boat was passing right in front of our beach, setting its nets.
The kitchen crew was already up. Apparently someone had gone out to chat with the fishermen and come back with a few fresh fish for the group. Breakfast was instant noodles we'd brought from the mainland, and the fish was saved for lunch.
I borrowed the speaker, found a quiet corner, put on some music and watched the fishing boat at work, the roar of its engine mixing with the music. Today, I was the boss.
Anh Tám wouldn't be back until 1 pm, so we had the whole morning to play. I borrowed the snorkelling gear and went into the sea once more. Yesterday I'd been too busy finding food; today I could finally enjoy it.
Honestly, there isn't that much to see underwater here. There are fish, but not the big schools you see in photos online. For me, snorkelling was just a way to escape the March heat.
I was having fun when my steps suddenly felt wrong. I looked down, and there it was: the Crocs that had followed me on so many treks from south to north had officially split open.
"Otsukare sama deshita!" I said, bidding farewell to my sandals.
Leaving the Island
At noon, we packed up, collected our rubbish and got ready to say goodbye to the island.
At 1 pm sharp, anh Tám's boat arrived as promised. Maybe one day on the island was too short to feel relieved when someone came to rescue me from my Robinson Crusoe life. Next time, I might ask him to leave me there for two weeks.
Of course, I'd have to pick an island with fresh water first.
All in all, I've marooned myself on a deserted island like this three times. Each time, I let the sea and the wind carry away my worries and the exhaustion of everyday life for a while.
I know it's only temporary, and every problem is still waiting when I get back. But those moments between the open sea and the empty sky have stayed with me.
To me, they're like a treasure I can take out to soothe my soul on stormy days, even when I'm no longer there.
If You Want to Play Robinson Crusoe
Best time: November to April. It rains less and the sea is calmer. If you're lucky, you might even see bioluminescent plankton at night.
What to bring: plenty of fresh water, a hat, sunscreen and rubbish bags. If you plan to be king of your own island, prepare properly, because not every island has fresh water or anywhere to buy supplies.
Phone signal: as of 2026, much of the area has signal, with Viettel the strongest. But on empty islands it's not guaranteed, so always agree on a pick-up time with your boatman before you go ashore.
Which islands: the region has Nam Du, Hải Tặc and Bà Lụa. Nam Du is already developed for tourism in many places. Hải Tặc is close to Cambodia, so access is more tightly controlled, especially for foreigners. If you want to try the Robinson Crusoe experience, Bà Lụa is the most sensible choice.
For something easier, there's Ba Hòn Đầm in the same archipelago, with passenger boats from Kiên Lương, places to stay overnight and, in the right season, glowing water at night.
Rubbish on the islands: even empty islands collect a lot of household rubbish washed in from inhabited areas nearby. Watch out for broken glass, sharp metal and even syringes. Whatever you bring to the island, take your rubbish back to the mainland. Waste is still a big problem in these waters.
