Treasures of Tay Con Linh: [1] Mac tea legendary

For generations, the forests of Tay Con Linh have been home and lifeline to Dao and Nung communities. Deep in these forests in Tuyen Quang, precious natural treasures continue to nurture hopes for change in villages once defined by hardship and poverty.

The sun has been relentless over Tay Con Linh these days. Mountain slopes lie exposed under the dry heat of highland winds. Yet amid the scorching weather, ancient Snow Shan tea trees remain lush and green, their tender buds bursting from old moss-covered trunks. Looking at these vibrant tea shoots, one begins to understand why Tay Con Linh tea carries such a captivating charm.

Village elders often say Snow Shan tea is not a cultivated plant, but “a tree of the forest.” These tea trees existed before Dao settlers carved the first mountain trails. They existed before stories were told around the fire. And perhaps, that is where the legends began.

Following the trail of Mac tea

I follow winding mountain roads from Cao Bo through Thong Nguyen to Ho Thau, searching for Dao villages nestled beneath Tay Con Linh. There, century-old Snow Shan tea trees still rise through the clouds. Each tea-growing region produces a distinct flavor, as if the land holds memories, the mountains carry emotions, and people pour their lives into every tea bud.

Dang Van Minh’s wooden house in Lung Tao village carries the fragrance of freshly brewed tea. On the wall hang old tea-picking baskets faded with time. Outside, mountain winds rustle through ancient tea canopies, carrying the familiar scent of the highlands.

Minh’s family has cultivated tea for six generations. His grandfather taught his father, his father taught him, and now his children and even his young grandson have learned to cherish each Snow Shan bud as a treasure of the mountains.

Looking toward the distant green mountains with weathered hands shaped by decades of tea picking, he says, “The life of Dao people grows along with tea trees. Many children first cry beneath stilt-house roofs and later follow their parents to tea fields. Many homes were built thanks to tea. In the past, tea was exchanged for rice, salt, and lamp oil. Today, tea has brought concrete roads, motorbikes, electricity, and education beyond what previous generations could imagine.”

For this man in his seventies, tea is far more than a livelihood. It is ancestral memory, the breath of the village, and the force that has sustained generations of Dao people beneath Tay Con Linh.

“Is Tay Con Linh Snow Shan tea really that good?” I ask. The old Dao man smiles, gently like smoke drifting beneath the roof. “Of course,” he replies. “If it were not, why would elders here still tell the legend of Mac Dang Dung? No one knows when the story began. It has simply traveled from fireside to fireside, carried through generations.”

Following the old tale, before rising to power, while still making a living as a fisherman, Mac Dang Dung once lost his way in the forests after days of hunger and exhaustion, collapsing among the clouds of Tay Con Linh.

Just when he thought he could walk no further, a mysterious stranger appeared. The stranger lit a fire, picked serrated leaves from the cloud-covered mountain peak, and boiled water for him. After drinking three bowls, Mac Dang Dung suddenly felt light, refreshed, and clear-minded, as though waking from deep sleep. His fatigue vanished, and strength returned to his legs. Then the stranger disappeared into the white clouds.

No one knew who that person was. No one knew when the tree first grew on the mountain slopes. All that remained was the oral legend.

Later, after ascending the throne, Mac Dang Dung never forgot the leaves that saved him. He ordered them to be harvested, dried, and preserved for regular use. That drink, people say, became what we now call tea. Before court or martial training sessions, he drank tea to sharpen his mind. Folk wisdom still preserves the phrase: “Three cups of tea, four cups of wine,” reflecting the king’s practice of nourishing both body and spirit.

Minh ends the story with a warm smile. No one can say how true the tale was. But in these mountains, people believe every ancient tea tree carries the spirit of the mountains. If a story has survived across generations, there must be some truth within it.

Outside, clouds drift slowly over ancient Snow Shan canopies. The tea in front of me releases a soft aroma. Its bitterness fades quickly, leaving a deep, lingering sweetness, much like the story I had just heard.

Perhaps that is why people in Tay Con Linh call this tea by a mystical name: Mac tea. Not only because of an ancient legend, but because they believe each dew-covered Snow Shan bud still preserves the spirit of the wilderness, the memories of Dao communities, and legends that continue to live among these mountain clouds.

Beyond the mountain shadows

After nearly 20 years working with Snow Shan tea regions, Giang Duc Hiep, Head of the Tuyen Quang Plant Production and Protection Sub-Department, knows every slope and forest path across Tay Con Linh.

He remembers which tree has the largest trunk, which one clings to cliffs, and which is considered sacred by Dao villagers. Many times, he and his colleagues have walked for hours through dense forests just to locate an ancient tea tree described by locals. Some trees require a full day’s trek.

Every time he encounters an ancient tea tree, it feels like meeting an elder of the mountains. He simply wants these trees to remain for future generations. That is why surveying, marking, and documenting heritage trees has never felt like routine work to him. It is a way of repaying the forest and the Dao communities who have protected these tea forests for generations.

“From Thong Nguyen, Hoang Su Phi, and Xin Man to Ho Thau and Cao Bo, wherever ancient Snow Shan tea forests grow, Dao villages are almost always nearby. The Dao do not simply cultivate tea. They live with tea, grow up with tea, and embed their customs and traditions into every snow-covered bud,” Hiep says.

In the past, Dao people processed tea in a very distinctive way. Freshly picked leaves were not pan-fried immediately. Instead, they were packed into bamboo tubes and dried in the sun before being smoked over kitchen fires for days. Smoke seeped into every leaf, so each brewed cup carried traces of forest wood, bamboo, and homes warmed by countless mountain winters.

Perhaps that is why drinking Snow Shan tea here is more about taste. It is also about experiencing the slow rhythm of Dao life deep in the mountains. To preserve these values, Cao Bo commune organizes the Heritage Tea Festival every year.

Amid the fragrance of tea, I meet Dang Van Long, director of Lung Tao Village Ancient Snow Shan Tea Cooperative. Long is the grandson of Dang Van Minh, the man who has devoted his life to protecting the village’s ancient tea trees. Born into a family of tea makers, Long has won first prize at the Heritage Tea Festival for two consecutive years.

Long recalled a childhood shaped by journeys carrying baskets of tea over mountain passes to district markets. On rainy days, clothes would be soaked and tea sold for little, yet everyone remained happy because at least the harvest found buyers.

Now, the tea basket still hangs on the wall, but beside it now sit a laptop, a smartphone, and neatly packed shipping boxes. Long has learned how to photograph products, write descriptions, and open online storefronts. Whenever his phone notifies him of orders from Hanoi, Ho Chi Minh City, or Da Nang, he carefully packs freshly roasted Snow Shan tea for shipment down the mountain. Some tea sells for as much as VND 1 million per kilogram.

Inspired by Long, many households now produce cleaner tea, develop OCOP products, invest in attractive packaging, and learn online selling. Along with the tea, they also carry the stories of Dao tea makers and Cao Bo to distant places.

As evening falls over Tay Con Linh, clouds rise slowly from deep valleys to embrace the mountain peaks. Beneath the ancient forest canopy, century-old Snow Shan tea trees stand quietly in the fading light. Within every rough bark and moss-covered branch lies the story of Dao communities who have spent generations protecting forests and tea, nurturing dreams of helping tea rise beyond the mountains and transform village life.

Today, Tuyen Quang has more than 7,029 hectares of ancient Snow Shan tea, distributed across 29 communes and wards. Of these, 1,629 trees in 19 communes have been recognized as Vietnam Heritage Trees by the Vietnam Association for Conservation of Nature and Environment.