Mui Ne's Red Sand Dunes: Ultimate Guide to Sandboarding & Desert Photography

If there's one thing a retired bus driver knows, it's how to navigate public transport in foreign lands. Getting to Mui Ne from Ho Chi Minh City is straightforward enough – you've got options that won't savage your wallet.

The sleeper buses are your best bet for value, running about 200,000-250,000 VND (roughly £7-9). As someone who's spent half his life navigating Liverpool's roundabouts in a double-decker, I can tell you these Vietnamese bus drivers earn every penny. The overnight journey takes about 5-6 hours depending on traffic, and while the 'sleeper' seats aren't exactly the Ritz (especially if you're a stocky 5'10" like yours truly), they're leagues better than sitting upright.

Once you're in Mui Ne proper, you'll need to get to the dunes themselves. Now, this is where it gets interesting. Most tourists get fleeced taking expensive tours, but here's my transport insider tip: arrange a motorbike taxi (xe ôm) for about 150,000 VND (£5) round trip. The driver will wait while you explore. If you're comfortable on two wheels, hiring your own motorbike runs about 100,000-150,000 VND (£3.50-5) per day. Just remember to bring your international driving permit – something I learned the hard way after a rather awkward encounter with local police.

The Red Dunes are about 10km northeast of Mui Ne's main strip. Unlike the touristy White Dunes further north, these beauties are easier to access and less crowded – perfect for us independent travelers who prefer to avoid the package holiday crowds.

At 64, with knees that have seen better days after decades of clutch work, I wasn't exactly planning on throwing myself down sand mountains on a plastic board. But as we Scousers say, 'in for a penny, in for a pound.'

As soon as you arrive at the dunes, you'll be approached by local kids offering plastic sleds for rent – usually around 20,000 VND (less than £1). These simple contraptions look like they've been fashioned from cut-up jerry cans, and frankly, they have. Don't expect professional snowboarding equipment here.

My first attempt was what you might politely call 'ungraceful' – picture a stocky bus driver tumbling head over heels down a sand dune while a group of Vietnamese children howl with laughter. By the third go, though, I'd figured out the basics: sit on the sled, lean back slightly, lift your feet, and let gravity do the work.

If you're after a smoother ride, I'd recommend bringing your own microfiber towel to sit on. These pack down small in your daypack and create less friction than the plastic sleds. Plus, they're handy for wiping off the inevitable sand that will find its way into every crease of your body.

For those with dodgy knees like mine, there's no shame in being a spectator. The youngsters put on quite the show, and watching the sunset paint the dunes in fiery oranges and reds while sipping a cold Tiger beer is a perfectly respectable alternative.

When my wife gifted me that Canon camera for my 55th birthday, I hadn't the foggiest idea I'd end up photographing desert landscapes in Vietnam. Yet here we are.

The Red Dunes are a photographer's dream, even for an amateur like me. The rippled patterns in the sand, the play of light and shadow, and the stark contrast between the rusty red sand and blue sky create postcard-perfect shots without much effort.

My top recommendation is timing. The early morning light (5:30-7:30am) creates dramatic shadows across the dunes, while the 'golden hour' before sunset (around 4:30-6pm) bathes everything in warm amber light that makes the red sand positively glow. Mid-day sun washes out the colors and makes the heat unbearable – trust a man who's driven un-air-conditioned buses in Sydney summers.

You don't need professional gear either. My trusty mid-range camera does the job nicely, though I've added a polarizing filter which helps manage glare and makes the sky pop against the sand. Even a decent smartphone will capture stunning images, especially newer models with wide-angle lenses.

For composition, look for natural leading lines in the sand ripples. Include a person (or yourself) in some shots to provide scale – these dunes are more massive than they appear in photos without reference points. And don't forget to protect your gear from the sand! I learned this lesson when I had to spend an hour cleaning fine red dust from my camera after a particularly enthusiastic tumble down a dune.

One thing my years of driving buses taught me is that you meet all sorts in public transport. From suited businessmen to school kids to late-night revelers who've had a few too many, I've seen humanity in all its forms. This experience has given me a knack for reading local customs and respecting different ways of life.

The Red Dunes area is home to fishing communities who've seen their quiet corner of Vietnam transform into a tourist hotspot. While tourism brings money, it also brings challenges. The local kids selling sleds and offering to guide you are trying to make a living, but some tourists treat them poorly or try to haggle them down to nothing.

My approach? Respect goes both ways. I'm happy to pay a fair price (not the inflated tourist rate, mind you) for services, and I expect fair treatment in return. A bit of basic Vietnamese goes a long way – 'xin chào' (hello) and 'cảm ơn' (thank you) open doors that remain closed to those who expect everyone to speak English.

Some tourists treat the dunes like a private playground, leaving rubbish behind. As someone who's spent countless hours cleaning gum from bus seats, this behavior makes my blood boil. The simple rule my mum taught me still applies: leave a place better than you found it.

And while we're on the topic of respect, remember that revealing clothing might be fine on Western beaches but can cause discomfort in more conservative areas. I'm not saying dress like you're going to church, but a bit of modesty goes a long way, especially when you're off the main tourist drag.

As someone who's lived on a bus driver's salary most of my life, I've become something of an expert at finding value without sacrificing comfort. Mui Ne offers options for every budget, but I'll focus on what I know best – getting a decent night's sleep and a good feed without emptying your wallet.

For accommodation, the main strip of Mui Ne has plenty of guesthouses and budget hotels ranging from 250,000-500,000 VND (£9-17) per night. I stayed at a family-run place called Hong Di Guesthouse about 3km from the dunes, which set me back 300,000 VND (about £10) for a clean room with air conditioning and hot water. Nothing fancy, but everything worked, and the family treated me like one of their own.

If you're after something with a bit more character, consider the hammock option. Several beachside cafes allow you to hang a hammock for a minimal fee or the price of a few drinks. I spent one glorious night swaying in the sea breeze after a day at the dunes – though at my age, I was grateful for my proper bed the next night!

For food, skip the tourist traps and head where the locals eat. The seafood in Mui Ne is spectacular and surprisingly affordable if you venture away from the main drag. My top pick was a little place called Lâm Tòng, where a feast of fresh crab, prawns, and morning glory vegetable stir-fry with rice cost less than 200,000 VND (£7). Wash it down with local beer for 15,000 VND (50p) a bottle.

For quick meals, the bánh mì sandwich stalls offer delicious filled baguettes for about 20,000-30,000 VND (less than £1). Perfect for packing before heading to the dunes for sunrise.