Many people think the more places you know in tourism, the better.
I used to think that way too.
When I first came to Tay Con Linh, whenever I heard there was a beautiful waterfall somewhere, an old-growth forest, an ancient tea tree, a wide viewpoint — I wanted to go.
Some days walking from morning to dusk.
Some days getting lost.
Some days not getting back until dark.
Some days arriving home only to find both ankles covered in leech bites.
Back then I could only sit and laugh.
Thinking to myself: « I guess they were hungry today too. »
But the more I walked, the more I understood something.
Not every place I know should become a destination.
Some beauty only needs to be known as still existing
I still remember the first time I walked into a forest with very few human footprints.
No signage.
No clear trail.
No one there but birdsong and water.
Standing in that forest, I thought:
« It would be wonderful if more people knew about this. »
Many years later, I think differently.
Perhaps the most wonderful thing is…
That few people know about it.
Not because I want to keep it for myself.
But because some places, the more people who come, the more they lose the most precious thing about them.
I used to want to share everything
When I first started building this place, I thought: if I see somewhere beautiful, I must take visitors there.
Tell everyone about it.
Photograph it.
Mark it on the map.
That is a very natural thought for someone in tourism.
But nature taught me more slowly.
Some places — with just a few groups a week — the trail begins to widen.
Grass begins to disappear.
Litter begins to appear.
Human voices begin to outnumber birdsong.
No one deliberately sets out to damage the forest.
But many small impacts accumulate into one large change.
Some times I chose to turn back
Sometimes visitors ask:
« Do you know anywhere more beautiful? »
Yes.
Of course.
But I usually smile.
And reply:
« Yes, but we won’t go there. »
Some people are surprised.
Some feel it is a pity.
Some even say: « Why keep it? »
I do not quite know how to explain it fully.
Only that if today I take one more group.
Tomorrow another group.
Then a year.
Then five years.
Perhaps I will be the first person to destroy the place I once loved.
I do not want to be the person who opens every path
Working in tourism is sometimes very difficult.
Because everywhere beautiful has value.
And that value can be exchanged for money.
But not every value should be exchanged.
Some paths I can walk alone and that is enough.
Some forests only need to be known as still peaceful — that is enough.
Some viewpoints do not need coordinates.
Do not need naming.
Do not need to appear on a map.
I think nature also needs its own private space.
Like people.
We will choose to step one step back
Someone will ask:
« Doesn’t that mean missing opportunities? »
Yes.
Certainly.
But I think if a business only knows how to open more paths without knowing when to stop, sooner or later there
will be nothing left to open.
We do not want to be the operator that has brought the most people to a place.
I only hope that ten years from now when I return, the place is still nearly as it was the first day I stepped there.
If that means there are a few places we will never sell as a tour,
I think that is completely worth it.
Some secrets are not held for keeping
Many people think I am keeping secrets.
Actually, I am not.
I am only keeping a promise to the forest.
A promise no one required of me.
That not everything I know needs to become a product.
Not everything beautiful needs crowds to come and admire it.
Not every path needs more footsteps.
The most precious thing is not the place you have been
Now, if anyone asks me:
« What is the most beautiful place you have ever been to in Tay Con Linh? »
I will probably not answer.
Not because I am afraid of others knowing.
But because I hope that many years from now, that place will still be a forest.
Still with birdsong.
Still with running water.
Still with old trees standing in quiet.
And perhaps someone else will sit there for a very long time, in front of that forest, just as I once did.
Needing to bring nothing home.
Only the feeling that some beauty in this world is still intact because someone once chose not to open one more path.
