Le Khac Quyen
A trek through Ngoc Linh Nature Reserve is a rare chance to hear nature’s song.
A winding mountain pass leads into Ngoc Linh Nature Reserve at nearly 1,900 meters above sea level. From there, our party begins our trek deeper into the old-growth forest. Carrying a distinct damp scent, the air grows cooler, thinner. Morning mist soaks the canopy, as if the entire forest is still half asleep.
The hum of traffic fades behind us, replaced by wind, the rhythmic sway of leaves, and the magical sounds of dawn rising from every layer of trees. Ngoc Linh welcomes us with mysterious, stirring tones – dreamy yet insistent – the unmistakable voice of a truly untouched forest.
The roof of the Central Highlands
Ngoc Linh Nature Reserve in Quang Ngai Province spans more than 41,000 hectares along the Truong Son range. It is one of the highest mountain ranges in Central Vietnam, with Mount Ngoc Linh reaching 2,605 meters – often called the “roof of the Central Highlands”.
These dramatic elevation changes create shifting landscapes. Deep valleys dense with bamboo, vines, and streams gradually give way to towering old-growth forests. Higher still, mist drifts across cliffs; light dims, trees grow shorter, moss thickens along trunks, and the forest seems to close in around each step.
The high-altitude zone is layered with thick, nutrient-rich forest litter – the result of millions of years of fallen leaves and decaying wood. This has created ideal conditions for countless rare plant and animal species, some of which bear the very name of the mountain itself.
When the forest reveals its stories
As we step deeper into the forest, its secrets begin to unfold. Ancient canopies hang overhead, and vines are draped in moss. Insects and tree frogs call from hollow trunks and streams, their cries blending into a continuous woodland symphony.
When sunlight pierces the dense canopy and morning mist, the leaves glow as though gilded. Birdsong rises from different layers of the forest, greeting the day. High-mountain birds are discreet, rarely revealing themselves. Most of the time, their presence is revealed by their voices, emanating from thick foliage.
The morning temperature hovers around 15°C. A gentle wind and drifting fog render the forest alternately clear and misty. On this trip, I carry very few expectations for photographs. Instead, I move slowly, listening and letting myself follow the forest’s rhythm. In these high mountains, birds are not simply found – they choose to reveal themselves. The more patient we become and the more we recognize our smallness within these peaks, the more beautiful stories the mountains share.
I move carefully, attuned to every sound as though to the forest’s breathing. A flash of red appears high in the canopy where a pair of Red-tailed Laughingthrush emerges, striking in their beauty. Their calls carry from afar, yet witnessing them is never guaranteed.
Fulvettas are entirely different. Restless and lively, they dart through undergrowth, combing ferns and moss for food. Following these small flocks often means watching them discover prey and squabble noisily over it. Rufous-winged Fulvettas chatter like festival-goers. Indochinese Fulvettas, staying lower and more discreet in their movements, emit constant soft calls that stir the senses.
Time slips away unnoticed along the trail. A single day feels like a brief tale within the vast wilderness. By late afternoon, an unexpected encounter unfolds.
The Ngoc Linh Laughingthrush – a mysterious bird bearing the mountain’s name – grants me rare good fortune. I had been observing flycatchers and White-throated Fantails feeding along a stream when the commotion of Brown-crowned Scimitar Babblers and Black-crowned Barwings drew me closer. There, almost by chance, I spotted a family of Golden-winged Laughingthrush moving through low shrubs.
Recorded only in small numbers and confined to a limited range in Vietnam, the Golden-winged Laughingthrush is a rare endemic species, legally protected and seldom seen.
Evening descends swiftly over Ngoc Linh. Light fades behind mountain ridges, temperatures drop, and birds call one another back to shelter. Final sounds thin and dissolve into the cool damp of the high forest. Not every day offers a radiant sunset. Low clouds and thick mist may swallow the entire landscape. Yet under any condition, the forest keeps its own rhythm – slow, discreet, enduring.
Nature shelters the community
Leaving the deep forest behind, the landscape opens to terraced fields clinging to mountain slopes. At this altitude, each terrace is the result of patience and long adaptation by the Xo Dang, Ca Dong, and Bh’noong communities who have lived here for generations.
Ngoc Linh’s terraces are not vast or dramatic. They quietly embrace the mountainside, reflecting the sky on rare sunny days. They are a modest yet meaningful human imprint within the wilderness – not imposed, not disruptive, but coexisting.
For me, the journey to Ngoc Linh is more than travel. It allows me to enter a highland realm still deep and quiet enough that I may merge with nature and hear the forest tell its own story – through birdsong, through mist, through terraced fields, and through the lives of those rooted here.
Amid the Truong Son range, Ngoc Linh stands silent and steady. May its pristine wilderness endure beyond the pressures of time and development. Ngoc Linh is a gentle reminder that some landscapes deserve to remain true to their own nature.
