Into the Depths: Becoming More In The World’s Largest Cave

I almost canceled the trip.

The flight was booked. My gear packed. The permit to explore Hang Sơn Đoòng—the largest cave on Earth was secured months in advance. 

To get there, you don’t just show up. You train. You're selected. Each year, only a few lucky travelers are permitted entry. This isn't a typical bucket list journey—it's a unique, once-in-a-lifetime adventure from an explorer's fantasy. 

Honor, excitement, and privilege packed right along with my essentials but there was something that made the load a little too heavy to bear—guilt. My fiancée at the time was pregnant.

My world was expanding and with every kick, each ultrasound, and every precious moment we shared, it became increasingly difficult to board that plane.

There was guilt. Deep, chest-heavy guilt. The kind only future fathers know. How could I leave, even briefly, with so much unfolding at home? But something inside me—some still, stubborn voice kept saying: go. Not to escape, but to prepare. To meet a version of myself I hadn’t yet earned. 

I felt the weight. That invisible pull of knowing you’re carrying more than those around you. But this was painfully familiar. As a Black man, I've been aware that adventure isn't typically aimed at us. We aren't often featured in climbing advertisements, travel brochures, or as leaders in documentaries. Many of us grow up without the encouragement to envision these types of adventures.

I wasn’t just exploring, I was representing. Breaking a narrative. Becoming the presence I wanted to see growing up. It felt like I was doing something not just for me, but for my unborn child. So I went. And what I found deep in the jungles of central Vietnam wasn’t just adventure. It was revelation.

Hang Sơn Đoòng is not your average hike. It’s a multi-day expedition through otherworldly terrain. A place so massive, it has its own ecosystem, climate, and jungle inside the cave. We’re talking stalagmites taller than city buildings, sunbeams cutting through collapsed ceilings, and river crossings in total darkness. 

The journey in felt like stepping through Earth’s secret door. One moment I’m scrambling through dense jungle, the next I’m descending into a prehistoric underworld, headlamp flickering, as the awkward squish of soaked boots echoed through the cave walls. Every corner turned revealed a scene that felt straight out of a sci-fi film.  

And then there was the silence. Not empty silence but deep, ancient quiet. The kind that makes you feel both incredibly small and strangely grounded. The kind that makes thoughts clearer and hearts louder. 

Imagine standing in an enclosed space so big, clouds form above your head. It humbles you instantly and we all felt it. It was as if our hearts had synced to the same rhythm of nature. 

We were a varied group. Ranging from places all over the globe but united in wanderlust. In the silence, away from the chaos, something wonderful unfolded. 

We became a family. 

We bonded over challenging terrain and stories shared during lantern-lit dinners. We laughed at muddy mishaps and soaked socks. Marveled at light slicing through collapsed ceilings and surreal green patches of jungle growing in darkness. 

There are some places you visit—and others that shift your sense of scale.  It's as though we were held in Earth's powerful grasp, united in awe. Propelled by the spirit of discovery.

On the last day, as we stepped out from the cave's magnificent hold, I felt lighter. Not because I had left something but because I had gained some invaluable traits.

Clarity. Calm. Connection. 

I returned not just with amazing photos and gear blessed by cave dust, but with a stronger stance. A fuller heart. Ready. Humbled. And proud.

The load never got lighter but I grew stronger.

This journey wasn’t just about exploring a cave. It was about breaking a barrier. Pushing past the idea of what’s “typical.” Reclaiming my space in the wild. I left that cave not just in awe of nature, but in awe of possibility—my own, and ours.

So to those who’ve never seen themselves in these places: go anyway. Go with wonder. Go with courage. Go knowing you are worthy of the world’s deepest beauty. Respect it. Let it change you.

To every soon-to-be parent who’s battling the balance between duty and self-discovery: You can hold both. You should. Because sometimes, becoming more starts by rediscovering you.

This wasn’t just a trip—it was a reckoning. A reminder that there’s still magic on this planet, tucked in wild corners far from Wi-Fi and noise.

And oh yeah, pack extra socks.