Dragon Spine – Node Two

The Waters of the Central Highlands – Dray Nur & Dray Sap

After a rather indulgent morning of great coffee, fresh croissants, and a blissful two-

hour massage, our driver, Bon, took us on another dragon adventure. Leaving Buôn

Ma Thuột, we travelled through the deep red volcanic lands of Vietnam’s Central

Highlands, where the iron-rich soil reveals the ancient forces that once shaped this plateau.

Our destination lay along the Sêrêpôk River: the twin waterfalls Dray Nur Waterfall

and Dray Sap Waterfall. Local tradition holds that these falls represent a feminine

and masculine pair, separated by the river but destined to meet again downstream.

The first waterfall we encountered was the feminine one, Dray Nur. As we walked

through the forest, the deep thunder of water reached us before the falls themselves

appeared — a vast curtain pouring over dark basalt cliffs, the volcanic bones of the land.

Near the basin stood an enormous guardian tree, its roots gripping a huge rock as

though the two had grown together over centuries. Standing before it, Anna was

suddenly overcome with emotion. The tree felt like a living cathedral, and she always

cried when she found herself in a temple.

To continue along the river, we crossed a narrow bridge of stepping stones laid

across the rushing water. It felt precarious beneath our feet, the current pushing strongly beneath us. As we carefully made our way across, a small water snake briefly lifted its head from the river beside the bridge before slipping away again. To

us, it felt like a quiet greeting — a messenger of the river naga, the ancient guardian spirit of the waters.

On the far side, we continued to the second waterfall, Dray Sap — the masculine

counterpart. Near the entrance, we were surprised to find what looked like an

abandoned fairground, littered with refuse.

It was unsettling to see such neglect around a place of such natural beauty. Again and again, we have seen the temples of stone carefully tended, while the living temples of nature are sometimes forgotten.

Yet beyond this entrance, the waterfall itself was breathtaking.

The river curved in a wide arc through a curtain of water, and above the falls, the river

was astonishingly clear. We swam there, floating in the cool currents beneath the open sky. It was a moment of pure joy.

Lying on my back in the water, weightless and filled with wonder at this liquid

substance that carries all life, I offered a quiet blessing to the spirit of the river. I

acknowledged its life-giving power and the ancient journey of these waters,

separated here into masculine and feminine streams that would meet again downstream.

Anna and I lingered there for some time, swimming, sharing a picnic, and simply

resting within the rhythm of the river.

Later, we made our way back across the suspension bridge and stepping stones —

more carefully this time, as the water had risen — before returning through the forest

to our car, where Bon was waiting.

It felt as though the dragon’s rising fire in the highlands had been met andt empered by water.

A beautiful day of thunder, mist, clear water, and quiet guardianship — marked by the

great tree, the river naga, and the powerful presence of the falls.