Tat Thanh packs her hiking boots and heads for Sapa before attempting to trek to the highest point in Vietnam

At a height of 3,134 metres, Fansipan shadows the mountainous province of Lao Cai in the northwest of Vietnam. September to March is the best period to climb Fansipan as usually the weather is dry, so the trails are not too muddy or slippery and the streams are also relatively tame.

Experienced trekkers claim that the end of February is the best time as thousands of wild flowers come to bloom. We set off on our expedition over the New Year’s holiday. After a week of preparations we come equipped with gloves, boots and provisions. Proud patriots we also have our Vietnamese-flag T-shirts. The train to Lao Cai leaves Hanoi Railway Station at 9:30pm – the journey is 330km but no one seems daunted.

In fact everyone is in high spirits. It’s New Year’s Eve and we’re ready to party! We drink champagne, laugh and sing as we wait for the stroke of midnight. But eventually we get some sleep, aware that we will arrive in Lao Cai at dawn. After having breakfast in a small restaurant in Lao Cai, we drive up the winding road that leads to Sapa, where we check into Trung Nguyen Hotel on Thach Son street. The hotel is in actual fact a serviced house, so the rates are cheap. We pay only VND150,000 ($8.5) for four persons per night.

Helping us on our trek will be a number of porters. Each porter earns VND 200,000 ($11) for one tour. They help carry luggage, cook and – most importantly – make sure we stay on the right track and don’t tumble down the mountainside! Most of the porters in the area are either H’Mong or Dzao. However, they speak Vietnamese very well.

We drive 33km from Sapa to a forester’s station on the top of Ton Stop mountain pass, which is the starting-point of our adventure at a height of 1,900m above sea level. We set off full of determination. The scenery is awesome though where clouds cover the mountain it is cold and dark. Bending my head as I walk into the wind, I only stare at my own feet. But when the clouds move across a brilliant sunshine pours through to reveal the mountain’s natural colour and wondrous beauty.

I spot a small clearance in a forest of Fujian cypress trees. Our guide explains this is where a group of trekkers previously lit a fire to cook lunch but they neglected to extinguish the fire carefully and the fire razed a number of trees in the area. We decide to stop at noon after reaching a height of 2,200m. We look down the mountain to see how far we’ve come and reassure ourselves we’re making good progress.

Our next stop is at a height of 2,900m. Darkness is starting to fall. Our porters help us collect firewood and dry leaves, pitch up our tents and after a fire is lit we prepare dinner. After a long day, I head to bed ready to sleep long and hard but the intense cold is unsettling. Luckily for those more susceptible to the cold, there is a small hut, which keeps out the elements better than a tent. A few of the women and I decide to abandon the tents and settle into the hut for the night.

Buoyed by the thought of conquering Fansipan, we rise early in morning and devour a breakfast: a rather cold egg noodle soup. The last leg is actually the hardest. We pass through a bamboo forest, which is ominously reminiscent of the forest in the film of House of the Flying Daggers. The trees apparently spring up so densely that locals have to cut them down to keep the only path to Fansipan’s peak clear.

The trail becomes muddier, darker, and more slippery. There is no rain but a thick mountain mist hangs in the air. The slope becomes increasingly steep. My leg starts to ache and tiredness starts to overwhelm me. At certain sections we use a rope ladder to climb uphill. One by one people start to give up. Soon we have lost eight members of our team. At times I’m tempted to so the same but I somehow find the energy to continue.

Eventually, after three long hours we arrive at the top. When I spot the landmark to indicate the pinnacle my legs at first buckle under me but then I jump for joy and scream at the top of my voice. We hug each other and then braving the cold we take off our overcoats top reveal our Vietnam-flag T-shirt. A bottle Champagne is opened and we toast our success before taking pictures.

I know we cannot linger for long. It’s bitingly cold and my fingers are now completely numb. Nevertheless I feel elated. I have conquered the roof of Indochina! As we make our way down the mountain, I am still buzzing with excitement.

Back in Sapa we reward ourselves with hot medicinal baths – a Dzao speciality –to ease our aching bones. We can’t stop talking about the scenery, our feelings, and how this achievement is an inspiration that will help us to find the strength and resolve to overcome any ‘mountain’ that we face on the road of life.

We also remind each other we couldn’t have done it without the kind porters, who always urged us on with a smile and said, “Come on! Keep going! The peak is not far, I know that you can make it!”

VietNamNet/Timeout