A Stand-Up Paddleboard Journey to Black Island, Da Nang

ZAD(ZOOM, AI, Google Documents) since 2023(Dec.) 5
A Stand-Up Paddleboard Journey to Black Island, Da Nang
Black Island is a small rocky island located about 1.5 kilometers off the coast of Da Nang. In summer, it is a popular destination for stand-up paddleboard (SUP) tours, especially in the early morning when the sea is calm and the sunrise stretches beautifully across the horizon.
From the water, the scenery is breathtaking. In the distance, about 28 kilometers away, Cham Island rises softly behind the morning light. To the left, the Son Tra Peninsula—often called the “Peninsula of Sunshine”—extends into the sea, famous for its forests and the rare red-shanked douc monkeys. To the right, the coastline curves southward from My Khe Beach toward Non Nuoc Beach. From the board, I could also see the Marble Mountains, one of Da Nang’s most famous landmarks, which I had visited years ago.
On the afternoon of January 8, I decided to paddle alone to Black Island. The distance was short, but the conditions required attention. The wind was coming from the northwest, and the waves were slightly stronger than usual. I paddled steadily, staying focused and calm. As I approached the island, I noticed powerful waves crashing against the rocks, creating dramatic white spray. The scene was beautiful, but I knew it could be dangerous to go around the rock in those conditions. After a moment of observation, I decided not to circle the island and instead turned back toward the beach. It was still a great workout and a satisfying paddle.
Early the next morning, I launched again from the beach near the peninsula. After warming up, I ran briefly along the shore, then paddled toward the hotel area on the other side. I moved slowly, letting my body adjust to the rhythm of the sea. After landing, I visited my favorite local coffee place run by a warm, friendly family. I enjoyed a cup of Vietnamese coffee soda—iced milk coffee with a hint of sweetness—along with some delicious barbecue. Later, I returned to the hotel, invited my friend down for breakfast, and watched him leave for his tour by bicycle and motorbike.
Later that day, I paddled again toward Black Island. Along the way, I saw two other paddlers practicing near the beach. I crossed toward the rocky side, where three fishermen were angling from a small boat. I greeted them, held their boat briefly, and asked about their catch. They laughed and told me it was not a good fishing day, but we shared a friendly moment before I continued.
This time, I carefully paddled closer to the rock area. The waves were bigger, forming triangular patterns as ocean swells hit the rocks, rebounded, and mixed with the wind. The water there was shallow, and I could see anchor lines below the surface. Standing steadily on my board, I paddled slowly and safely back toward the beach.
As I returned, I passed a man singing while preparing his fishing net. I paddled quietly so as not to disturb him. Near the shore, a surfer tried to catch steep, fast-breaking waves but eventually pulled out. We met in the water, shook hands, and greeted each other as friends. On the beach, I rested my paddle, and he joined me. I shared some fruit with him—small, apple-like fruit known locally in Vietnam. We talked about life. He was 65 years old, his wife 66, and he had four children: three daughters and one son. Our conversation was simple, calm, and full of warmth.
As the day ended, I looked back toward Black Island. In summer, it is crowded with tourists, but on that day, it felt quiet and personal. Watching the sun rise and fall low on the horizon, feeling the northwest wind, and moving with the sea, I knew it had been a truly beautiful day to paddle.