The scenic coastal road is one of the true highlights of my entire Vietnam cycle tour, including a stunning excellent walking track to Bai Mon beach and a lighthouse.
This ride climbs then crosses the Vung Ro pass on good roads, ending up in Vu Gia, a medium-size town around 50km north of Nha Trang.
Blessed with great weather I was able to lap up clear views and vibrant colours our across Vung Ro Bay and surrounding cliffs and islands.
Travelling over a pass and around a headland also takes you from one weather zone to another, and the temperature at my destination was much hotter than at the beginning.
Cycling out of Tuy Hoa
It’s tough to leave Tuy Hoa, where I’d thoroughly enjoyed some beach and pool time. Tuy Hoa was also the most walkable town I went to in Vietnam. Traffic was light and drivers even (gasp) stopped at traffic lights.
It meant a bit less stress overall as I partook in my usual activities of street food grazing, wandering and people-watching. And although there’s not much of a traveller scene in Tuy Hoa I’d thoroughly recommend it as a place to stop for a few days or even start off a trip.
The first 15 kilometres out of town are flat and unremarkable and I grab my morning coffee at Ca Phe Nha Kieu which has a pleasant courtyard and buzzing social scene. So social that a random lady makes herself at home on my table (I even got charged her bill before clarifying we were not friends).
Scenic coast road to Bai Mon Beach
A wide, empty road eventually leaves settlements behind and starts to climb up around a rocky headline. The views are already awesome looking back towards the yellow sands of Tuy Hoa.
There’s a gradual climb to the top of a hill, revealing the first glimpses of Bai Mon beach and the Dai Lanh lighthouse to the south.
The lighthouse is perched on the Mui Dien Cape, also the southernmost point of Vietnam, and I joint a bunch of young Vietnamese road trippers to take photos as one of the many viewpoints.
Bai Mon Beach
Bai Mon is widely regarded as one of the most beautiful beaches in Vietnam. A distinctive crescent of bright yellow sand is wedged in between steep hillsides. It looks like something out of a pirate movie.
The turn-off to Bai Mon is not all that well signposted (especially if you’re not Vietnamese) so its a good idea to check the map and know where you’re going. You’ll need to park at the cafe and visitor centre and pay a fee (around 30K) before going on by foot along a short path to the beach. Swimming isn’t permitted.
From the southern end of the beach there is a walking trail up to the light house. It’s really worth doing the trail as this is where the beauty of the location is (for me) at its best. There’s a section of the path that passes under casuarina trees which felt particularly peaceful and a friendly lady selling drinks and snacks.
Dai Lanh Lighthouse
I totally loved the lighthouse setting – there are plenty of great viewpoints looking down nooks and crannies of the cliffs and rock formations. You can’t enter or climb the lighthouse but a plaque proudly proclaims this is first place in Vietnam to receive the morning sun.
Looking the other way down the coast is even more spectacular and reminds me of the Great Ocean Road in Australia. All up I spent around an hour in the Bai Mon precinct before heading back to the bike.
Vung Ro Bay
Leaving Bai Mon Beach there’s more of a climb before the road starts its descent to Vung Ro Bay, where I’m looking forward to a lunch break.
The scenery stays firmly in the ‘magnificent’ zone and I stop to gaze through lush vegetation and a sweet sandy cove below.
Vung Ro bay itself is a sheltered harbour home to what looks like thousands of fishing boats, dotted about like confetti. Finding a parking area at the bottom of the descent, I wander down a couple of the piers to look at the lunch options.
I choose the Thanh Nien restaurant (map link here) which seems to have a slightly nicer seating area than the place next door.
These restaurants are of course geared towards big groups but I order seafood noodles (My Xao Hai San), a reliable go-to option as a single diner.
I stop at the one cafe in the town of Vung Ro, where dozens of teenagers are glued to their phones and a matronly owner glares at me. The iced coffee at least fuels me up the one steep-ish last hill towards the final pass, from which the road makes a joyful swoop around the coastline with views back onto the bay.
Rounding the headland the teardrop-shaped island of Hon Nua (which wouldn’t look out of place in a James Bond movie or Game of Thrones) is a constant presence out to sea.
Welcome to Khanh Hoa province
Rounding the headland out of Vung Ro Bay has brought me down into Khanh Hoa province, famous for its capital, Nha Trang.
I briefly join then turn off from Highway One in favour of a smaller road (nguyen Hue) which runs parallel through fields and villages.
The climate is immediately different – much hotter and drier. I pedal on down the coast, stopping briefly outside a farm property and drink stall. (This lady was very keen to try out my bike and rode it in circles around the yard).
The scenery here continues to be surprisingly beautiful with electric green rice fields and mountains in the distance.
The villages here have a happy feel to them and I stop to take photos of rice paper drying in the sun (which is very strong).
Around 75 kilometres later I decide to call it a day in the small town of Van Gia. It has a few hotels to choose from and is a jumping off point for tourists wanting to catch a boat out to Diep Son Island.
I grab a huge, cheap room with a balcony at the Trung Kien hotel. The hotel is opposite a cake shop where I make up for a month’s worth of sweet cravings. I also visit the Moon Salon for a haircut. (Interestingly, both these places have staff members who spoke to me in perfect English – both former tour guides who reinvented themselves during Covid).
Van Gia also has a nice-ish waterfront area where I watch a group doing yoga at sunset.
After the polite calmness, the traffic in Van Gia is a shock. Despite being a small town, the driving was some of the most chaotic I’d experienced. Yet another reminder of the many shades of Vietnam and how 75 kilometres can be a world away.
