Amazingly found an internet hotspot in the middle of nowhere so an update...our last day, although I have plenty to tell you from yesterday as my post was so early.

We were picked up on schedule at 8 am for our drive to Halong Bay. Our guide notes provided by our travel agent describe our 4 hour drive through the gentle villages of North Vietnam. The reality is a drive of that length, through sprawling city outskirts, on a 4 lane motorway, when the road is only two lanes. By this I mean that the traffic going in your direction drive in its own lane and the oncoming lane, and the traffic coming towards you also drives in its own lane and your lane, making 4 lanes in total. Never have I seen such maniacal driving (añd that includes all of India, Portugal and Spain). Worst of all are the local buses, immune to the laws of road safety and courtesy, the local nickname for these buses is 'flying coffins'.

So we speed along our 'Brands Hatch', dodging death by a hairs breadth it seems until we reach the town of Hai Phong where we will set sail on our junk. By now we could be anywhere on the Costa del Sol, as hotel upon hotel pass by, aligned on a wide, palm lined promenade. Not Blackpool, but not far off Benidorm. (Do I spy 'Madge in her invalid carrier?)

Soon our guide, who will not travel with us but will hole up in a hotel waiting for our return, bids us farewell and we board our tender for transfer to our boat, the Victory Star. In no time we are sailing out into Halong Bay and get our first glimpses of these limestone monoliths, incongruously contrasted against large steel container ships.

However, soon we slip into quieter and shallower waters where we get up close and personal with the limestone rocks rising vertically, some 3 or 4 hundred feet, from a still, azure blue sea.

After a few hours of cruising amongst the rocks we stop and transfer to small rowing boats where we load up, some boats carrying 2 passengers, some carrying 8, but all rowed by a slight, vietnamese lady some 5 foot nothing, but with shoulders to make Arnie Schwarzeniggar proud.

We get up close and more personal (some would say intimate) with the rocks as we glide amongst the houseboats on which these people scratch a living from fishing (and tourist tips).

Its then back to the boat for the main event - Tonkin in the Tonkin. Yes, I am going swimming, from the boat, in the Gulf of Tonkin. Soon I am stripped for action and poised at the stern. In a flash I leap salmon like into the crystal sea (Julie's opinion was 'whale like'). Refreshing yes!

Then back on board before we are off for more cruising before we anchor for the night, our final night.