Exploring the Rubber Tree Season in Chư Păh

In March, the Central Highlands captivates travelers not only with coffee flowers and pepper but also with a picturesque blend of red earth, golden sunlight, brown dry leaves, and fresh green buds.

Pleiku Travel: Embracing the Rubber Tree Season in Chư Păh

Being born in the North, I had little knowledge of rubber trees beyond the images in books or the tales of the struggles of rubber plantation workers decades ago.

As I grew older and began to write and take photographs, I envisioned the mesmerizing natural scenery of rubber forests during leaf fall, with a carpet of golden leaves tinged with earthy hues. However, I had no concept of rubber trees in spring or summer.

March in the Central Highlands marks the season of coffee flowers, pepper, and the late-blooming wild sunflowers. Fortunately, a friend from Gia Lai informed me that this land is abundant with rubber, not unlike coffee.

My companion drove me to a patch of forest, a true rubber tree forest that I beheld with my own eyes for the first time in my life, smelling the scent of leaves blending with the aroma of red basalt soil.

Unlike buckwheat flowers, which are only beautiful in Dong Van or the famous sunflower gardens in Nghe An, Da Lat, this entire Tay Nguyen region is blanketed with endless rubber trees. Not a single tourist in sight, no road signs or traces of photographers, the rubber tree forest felt as if it was in my hands, incredibly tranquil and serene.

The forest area my friend led me to is located in Chư Păh district, north of Pleiku city. Driving along National Highway 14 towards Kon Tum, you will come across a small path leading to the Yaly hydropower plant, and this forest is on the right-hand side.

Laid out before me is a rubber tree forest bathed in the March sunlight, a picture painted with harmonious colors of red soil, golden sunbeams, brown dried leaves, and fresh green clusters of new buds.

In the late dry season of the Central Highlands, some young branches are still devoid of leaves, leaving behind bare, stark tree trunks. People often overlook this transitional period of the rubber tree forest, when the layer of dry leaves remains thick, and the young shoots have yet to fully sprout.

To me, the transitional period between seasons remains the most beautiful time to savor the essence of both.

Lost in the rubber tree forest, only the sound of rustling leaves beneath my feet, occasionally the wind whispers through, yet the space remains as silent as a sheet. I tread lightly on the ground, afraid to disturb the dry leaves above.

Rubber trees shed their leaves starting from early November, creating a melancholic yet desolate scene for the forest. From that point until the end of the dry season, leaf shedding continues, and the trees begin to regrow their foliage.

The atmosphere of the rubber tree forest in March is somewhat solemn, yet also vibrant thanks to the sunlight and the lush green foliage.

Visiting the rubber tree forest in March, one would absolutely not see the presence of rubber tappers. Spring is the time when rubber trees cease to yield latex, after months of tirelessly providing the milky flows for life.

No longer are there fresh cuts on the trunks; the rows of rubber trees stand silently, accumulating vitality for an impending new season. The latex cups lie quietly beside the long-standing latex streams, turning brown on the tree trunks.

Some say that visiting the rubber tree forest in March is when you feel your soul calm down, especially when the scenery also returns moments of tranquility. No more bustling laughter of rubber plantation workers, no more white latex flowing on the old tree trunks... only the shadows of trees etched with streaks of sunlight on the carpet of dry leaves remain.

Lying alongside the national highway amidst the towering rubber forest, it feels like stepping into a distant, entirely different world.

The mountainous breeze of the Central Highlands sweeps through the rows of stretching trees, bringing a sense of freshness and liberation.

Perhaps if time permits, I'd venture along the rubber forest to see where it leads me, as before me lies only a road flanked by straight trees, with its endpoint just a tiny glimmer, like a light at the end of a tunnel.

And above all, the greatest sensation in this secluded place is witnessing signs of life. On either side, the tree-lined paths are divided by a red dirt road, casting wisps of blue smoke in the afternoon air when the sun shines down.

Occasionally, motorcycles pass by, swirling up red dust. They are the workers of this rubber plantation, perhaps; or some who enjoy the feeling of riding beneath the high rubber canopy, serene, rustic, and tranquil.

Leaving the realm of the Chư Păh rubber forest, I am reminded of the saying 'easy to go to rubber, hard to leave...'. Perhaps the 'hard to leave' now isn't the painful memory of a difficult time, but the soul of a wanderer left somewhere amidst the sprawling rubber trees.

According to Youth

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Reference: Travel Handbook from Mytour