On my return flight from Rach Gia to Ho Chi Minh City after exploring the Oc Eo archaeological site with ICOMOS experts, I came across an intriguing inflight magazine article about Yen Tu, pronounced “Ian De.” Curious, I discussed it with our local guide upon landing and, without hesitation, decided to extend my Vietnam trip to explore this spiritual mountain. My original plan to fly back from Danang via Bangkok was changed, thanks to my guide’s swift coordination with her company, and I instead rerouted to Hanoi to begin a special program focused on Yen Tu. With little prior knowledge of this holy land of Truc Lam Zen Buddhism, I initially asked to visit Vinh Nghiem Pagoda along the way, inspired by what Els had done. However, the tour company recommended Con Son–Kiep Bac instead, and after confirming the site's mention on the UNESCO website, I agreed.

Nearly two hours from Hanoi Airport, we arrived at Con Son Temple, pronounced "Concern", via a new, well-paved road that clearly seemed part of a larger beautification effort in anticipation of World Heritage inscription. The driver dropped me off at a small lake near the outer entrance. Behind the arch gate, a stately pathway led to the temple, reminiscent of Hanoi’s Temple of Literature, evoking an imperial connection. Each temple hall was richly decorated with red-and-gold painted wooden panels, surrounded by corridors filled with the scent of offering flowers, fruits, and incense. Beyond the dignified layout and ornamental detailing, the roofs of Con Son truly stood out. Adorned with porcelain and ceramic motifs of mythical creatures and floral patterns, they gracefully echoed Chinese Hokkien architecture. Behind the hall with a distinctive golden roof was a hilltop offering a panoramic view of the temple complex.

Next was Kiep Bac Temple, a smaller shrine on an isle, dedicated to General Tran Hung Dao, the national hero who led Vietnam’s defense against Mongol invasions. The cult-like reverence here resembled Taoist traditions in China. Due to recent renovations for the ICOMOS field visit, my driver mistakenly dropped me at the rear entrance. I made my way toward the iconic front gate, which resembled a small citadel. Inside, an intense offering ceremony was in full swing. The courtyard overflowed with sacrificed food, joss paper crafted into ancient weapons, warhorses, and treasure boxes. The shrine’s interior was packed with worshippers, and though I couldn’t enter, I caught a glimpse of decorations similar to Con Son’s, but with even more gold. I left after 15 minutes to escape the smoke and crowds.

My journey then continued to the heart of the Truc Lam Zen Buddhist landscape: Yen Tu Mountain, also known as the Hoa Yen Pagoda Relic Cluster, the spiritual center of Vietnamese Zen. After a late lunch and checking into my hotel, I took the shuttle service to visit Giai Oan Temple, which pilgrims traditionally visit before beginning the ascent of Yen Tu. As with Nikko in Japan and other sacred landscapes across East Asia, a rocky creek marks the boundary between the secular and the sacred. I crossed a beautifully arched bridge and strolled briefly to the temple as a symbolic act of purification before exploring the nearby cable car station that I would use the following morning. Afterward, I returned to the hotel to prepare for the hike which, according to the staff, would take around four hours.

The next morning, after an early breakfast, I bought my entrance ticket which included both cable car segments at the hotel reception. A shuttle brought me to the base station, though the official start time of 7:00 AM was loosely followed; operations didn’t begin until around 7:30. Once aboard the first cable car, I was lifted above a sea of trees and mist. Upon arrival, I followed signs to the Hue Quang Stupa Complex, a serene grove of stupas housing the relics of prominent monks, reminiscent of the sacred stupa forests at China’s Shaolin Temple, though smaller in scale. From there, I climbed a series of steps to reach Hoa Yen Pagoda, a modest yet beautifully decorated temple. Its charming bell and drum towers were really cute. Strategically located at the convergence of the hiking trail and the lower cable car line, the area surrounding Hoa Yen is lively, with many stalls selling snacks, drinks, and religious items. While the commercial aspect can feel at odds with the spiritual atmosphere, it also reflects the living nature of pilgrimage culture, something seen across sacred sites in Asia.

The walk from Hoa Yen to the second cable car station was unexpectedly pleasant, with gentle gradients, small waterfalls, and lush greenery. Along the way, I came across Mot Mai Temple, a small shrine nestled under a rock ledge, filled with statues and offerings, a hidden gem that felt deeply intimate. I reached the second cable car station and became its first passenger of the day. This segment of the journey offered the most dramatic views, temples peeking through forest canopies, winding stone trails clinging to mountain ridges, and the distant valley opening below like a painted scroll. It was easy to understand why this landscape has long been revered as sacred.

From the upper station, I began my final ascent on foot toward the summit of Yen Tu. Most of the trail was fairly easy to manage, though narrow and overgrown in places. Wearing long pants turned out to be wise, as wild shrubs brushed constantly against my legs. The last stretch, however, was steeper and more challenging, with uneven stone steps and no handrails in certain areas, demanding both physical effort and caution. At last, I reached the peak, home to the Dong Pagoda, a small but striking temple cast entirely in solid copper. Though modest in scale, it holds profound spiritual significance as the holiest site on Yen Tu. Yet it was the view that left the deepest impression: thick clouds rolling below, mountain peaks layered in the distance, and silence broken only by the wind. To stand alone atop this sacred peak, suspended between heaven and earth, was nothing short of sublime. After resting for a while, I took an alternate route downhill to visit the giant golden statue of King Tran Nhan Tong, the revered founder of the Truc Lam Zen school. The statue, standing in a majestic pose amid the trees, reinforced his dual legacy as both king and monk.

Eventually, I made my way back to the cable car station, ready for a relaxing descent. But just as I began enjoying the ride, the cable car abruptly stopped, leaving me suspended mid-air over cliffs and pagodas. I waited a few minutes, then tried the emergency hotline. No answer. Eventually, I contacted the hotel, who informed me that the entire mountain had experienced a power outage. For almost 30 minutes, I sat in a gently swaying gondola high above the forest, unsure what would happen next. When I finally reached the station, a staff member told me casually that such outages were habitual! something visitors should be prepared for. I returned on foot to the first cable car station via the same trail I had ascended earlier and made my way back to the hotel. The entire visit, including both cable car rides, hiking, and the delay, took just about three hours.

In reflection, Yen Tu, together with Con Son and Kiep Bac, forms a sacred landscape unlike anything else in Southeast Asia. It is Vietnam’s counterpart to China’s Mount Emei or Japan’s Nikko and Kii Peninsula. Vietnamese temple architecture especially the sweeping rooflines reminded me of styles seen in Sichuan, though with distinctly local touches. I couldn’t clearly define what makes Truc Lam Zen Buddhism architecturally unique based on what I saw, but the landscape, devotional practices, and artistic heritage spoke volumes. I really enjoyed the beautiful art, landscape and culture of Yen Tu.