An Andaman Coast Island Hopping Retrospctive

Andaman Coast Island Hopping Map

I realise now that we’re on our last Thai island that my plan for blogging about each island as we travelled down the coast was somewhat flawed. I kept putting off writing about the island we were on, not sure I could give a rounded view until the end of our four or five day stay… but then we’d be moving on and I’d be too busy packing up, making last-minute travel arrangements and squashing our entire family into whatever combination of longtails, ferries, buses, taxis or other transportation we invariably had too many bags to fit comfortably into. Then, at the end of the journey, we’d arrive somewhere new and there would be no time in the excitement of moving in, unpacking and exploring to write about the place we’d left behind.

Now we’re in Koh Lipe, our ninth island, and I haven’t written anything describing the island we’re on since Koh Chang (our first). So, while we’re still in Thailand, here’s a quick rundown of the impressions left upon me by the islands we’ve visited:

Koh Chang
Tucked away at the very northern end of the cost, within sight of Burma’s forbidden islands, Koh Chang has a ramshackle, laid-back charm. The sand is kind of muddy and the sea is both so salty it sometimes makes your skin sting a when you swim and too murky for snorkelling. And yet, with nothing much to do but wander the enormous beach or clamber in the rocks, stopping occasionally for a fruit shake to cool us down in a homemade-looking beach café, we really liked it here. No pretension. No pace. Just long-term, laid-back beach living.

Koh Payam (Ao Kwai)
Chang’s glamorous little sister. The beaches here are whiter, the resorts smarter, the sea clearer, he crowd younger, there’s even a road. But it felt shallower and less likeable than the island we’d just left. And it was noticeably more expensive. Still, we had some fun days out here, especially sea canoeing out into the bay to explore its rocky islets.

The Similans
I visited these islands alone, on a live-aboard dive trip visited while everyone else stayed in Khao Lak on the mainland. Ten dives in three days was exhausting but there was no denying the beauty of these remote, National Park Authority controlled islands, both above and below the water level. I swam with sharks, saw astonishingly-enormous manta rays, moray eels, stingrays, sea anenomes incredible coral and, of course, a technicolour spectrum of tropical reef fish. I did miss the whale shark that was everyone else on the boat’s highlight (I was in the toilet at the time) but that aside, it was brilliant. In retrospect, I think we should have gone back there as a family and camped on one of the open islands as it was too nice here not to have shared it with my family.

Khao Lak
Not strictly an island but we did spend quite a while here, and Janet and the girls loved it. Not sure if that was Khao Lak or the swimming pool in our resort, though, where the girls happily splashed about for up to six hours a day while Janet chilled out reading and surfing the web.

Koh Jum (Andaman Beach)
Reminiscent of Koh Chang, this was our favourite place on either coast at the time. The wide beach stretched for kilometres in both directions and, like Koh Chang, everything was built back behind the tree line, giving the illusion of strolling along the shore of a desert island. The food in our bungalows was excellent and the owners were lovely. It was a sad day when we left.

Koh Mook (Had Farang)
We’d been looking forward to this one; Koh Mook was one of Janet and my favourite places last time we were backpacking. At first we weren’t sure we should have returned. The quiet, open coconut plantation behind the beach had been swept away to be replaced by a brash package resort and the bay was now so crowded with longtails that you could only swim in a tiny roped-off area. It was upsetting. But the view was the same, and we spent much of our time at the edge of the bay, away from the Charie’s Resort. We also, found a really cheap, delicious place to eat a little inland and within days had settled into a happy routine of eating, beach time, homeschool and watching hermit crabs. Plus we had some great days out sea canoeing, wandering rubber plantations and visiting Emerald Cave.

Koh Kradan (Paradise Beach)
What an experience this island could have been! The sand is blisteringly white, the sea a magnificent turquoise, there are impressive coral reefs swimmable distances from shore; there can’t be many more picturesque places on Earth… and yet the resorts here spoiled it for us. Even though this island is supposedly part of the national park, the authority has sold off a strip along the coast, and the operations squashed into their narrow parcels of land seemed determined to make back every baht they had paid. The food was uninspired and overpriced everywhere, often twice the price it had been on Koh Mook, which we could see a few kilometres away. The bungalows were tightly packed and although it is undeniably beautiful, the beach is also narrow, meaning the holidaymakers were equally tightly packed along it. The best times we had here were trekking over the island through the jungle to as-yet-undeveloped Sunset Beach where locals have cleared the rubbish that washes up there and made it into strange sculptures along the shoreline.

Koh Libong (Had Thungyaka)
Phew! Arriving at Libong, it felt like I could breathe again. There was space on the beach, and between the bungalows. There were actually Thai people living there not just harried two week package tourists reading management books on sunloungers. And the food at Libong Beach Resort where we stayed was some of the best I’ve had in Thailand. Sure, the sea was very shallow, so you could hardly swim at low tide, but this quickly took over as our favourite island. And we saw dolphins.

Koh Tarutao(Ao Pante Malakka)
This was Janet and my dream island last time we travelled. We loved it so much here that when our cash ran out, we went back to the mainland, stayed just long enough to cash loads of travellers cheques and jumped back on the boat for another long stay. Tarutao is another national park island, this time is operated by the Park Authority itself. In the bay where we stayed (Ao Pante Malakka), there’s just one restaurant and you can either camp right on the beachfront or rent a neat little bungalow in the shady grounds behind. In the end we did both as our bungalow turned out to have bedbugs – Janet and the girls had over 300 bites between them after just one night. Elsewhere, getting eaten alive like that would have put us off but this was Tarutao so we switched to tents and stayed on. After all, unlike anywhere else we had been in Thailand, Tarutao hadn’t changed. How an island with a white-sand beach as wide as a football pitch and over three kilometres long (with another equally large a short rocky clamber south) has remained off the radar, I have no idea. Maybe it’s because there is nothing really to do there other than beachcomb, lie in hammocks, watch sunsets, swim, play frisby and occasionally wander away from the beach to eat, get a book from the library or climb the cliffs along an exciting jungle path for even more stunning sunset views. If you can muster enough energy, there are mountain bikes to rent (but be sure to check your brakes – the hills are steep), sea kayaks to rent and an old prison on the far side of the island to explore. But there’s no Western food, no wifi, no beach bars or dive schools, no beach furniture or touts trying to sell to the tourists. In fact, most of the tourists were Thai and judging by the crates of food, drinks, fish sauce and other supplies they brought, far too canny to buy overpriced tat from beach sellers. We spent ten days here; twice what we spent on most islands. We could happily have stayed much, much longer.

Koh Lipe (Had Pattaya)
I realise now we should never have returned to Lipe. Thirteen years ago it was an undiscovered jewel, known only to travellers who managed to get this far off the beaten track. It has one short road, a few scattered bamboo bungalow resorts and the clearest, brightest waters of anywhere I’ve ever been. Now the islanders have, after having the fishing rights restricted, been allowed to turn to tourism. They have sold off all the beachfronts, which are packed with bars, cafes and resorts. Music pumps out until the early hours, replaced during the day with the rumble of JCBs and pneumatic drills as yet more resorts are thrown up. The locals have that shrewd, hard look I’ve seen in other places where farangs outnumber the locals by a large margin. The sea is so crowded with longtails you can’t swim on our beach at all (apparently that’s where the first profits always go – they’re the ultimate status symbol for the Cho Lay people who live here). You can still see the beauty of the isand underneath. But that makes it sadder if anything.

And there you have it. Our Andaman coast island hop. After two solid month of beach bumming, tomorrow we head off to Malaysia… to another island: Langkawi.

(If you’re interested, you can click on the island names, above, to see all the posts we did manage to write while there.)

Moving On from Koh Chang

Our bungalow on stilts

Our bungalow on its tall stilts

And already, after just four days, we’re packing up. It’s beautiful here on Koh Chang but it wouldn’t be island hopping without some hopping. So, tomorrow, we’re getting on a speedboat and heading off to Koh Phayam, just a few miles to the south of here.

It’s hard uprooting ourselves. Not least because within moments of arriving anywhere, our rucksacks are empty and our room is suddenly stuffed with clothes, sarongs, hats, a kettle, tea cups, tea (Earl Gray and redbush – thanks, Mum!), sun lotion, a medical bag, a wash bag, a dirty washing bag, packing cubes, games, cards, diaries, pens and pencils, school books, various electrical gizmos, cameras, a multitude of chargers for the gizmos and cameras, inflatable mattresses, sheets, snacks, bottled water and all the other paraphernalia apparently essential to travelling light. It’s surprisingly easy to unpack all that stuff. And surprisingly daunting to somehow fit it back into our bags.

Whenever we stay still too long in any place where there’s not much more to do than wander the same jungle paths or strip of beach, a Groundhog Day effect comes into play, each day blending with the one before. The later days offer diminishing returns of experience.

And, I’m pretty sure there’s something psychologically beneficial to moving on like this. It’s not the house that makes a family. And it’s comforting knowing that we can survive in relative comfort with just what we carry. Or maybe not. Maybe it makes us feel rootless and unconnected and we’ll return to the UK psychologically shattered. I don’t know.

Whatever. We’ve decided to island hop, so it’s time to move on.

Most importantly, though, even more so than the impending mega-pack and possible psychological implications of abandoning the comforting familiarity of our resort, I have a very practical reason for wanting to move on. Our bungalow is one of the most dramatically-located we’ve yet inhabited. It’s perched atop stilts over a rocky outcrop jutting out to sea, directly facing the amazing sunsets you get here. As you sit on the decking, the waves lap the rocks below, crabs shuffling among rock pools. It’s stunning.

But it also scares me. We’re just recovering from one disastrous five-metre fall, and the balcony rail here is so low that every time my girls stand near it I find myself tensing to sprung and catch them should they fall. Even with strict warnings about acting sensibly near the edge (together with constant reminders), I just cannot quite relax. The rocks below are sharp, and of course, very hard.

I really don’t want any more accidents. And Koh Phayam looks like it has very soft beaches.

Koh Chang is Beautiful

by Evie

Koh Chang is beautiful. It has a big beach and a small beach with rocks in between. The beaches have a layer of white sand over the top of black sand and we like it because it’s soft. Mummy doesn’t like the sand because it’s sticky and a bit muddy. She had to wash our bikini bottoms seven times and it’s still not gone. We’re going back to the beach again today. Poor Mummy!

If you try to go in the sea, you get stings all over your body. We think this is because it’s too salty.

The sea has crabs in it as do the rocks and the flat sand. So watch where you’re going! The crabs have snippers but the ones on the flat sand are tiny. They get out of your way so Tettie is not scared of them any more.

From our balcony, I once saw two crabs running away from a larger crab. They went really fast. I don’t like crabs. I don’t even like pickled crabs or barbecued crabs. But worst of all are big, living crabs. They look scary.

We live at Koh Chang Resort which is on the rocks in between the two beaches. Our bungalow is in the sea when the tide is in but we don’t get wet because it is on stilts. You can hear the sea washing around underneath you. It makes me fall aslee… zzzzzz

Island Life

It’s taken a while, but finally we’re here. We’ve travelled for well over a week from Laos to get to this island off the Andaman Coast (although admittedly with a few stop, first to get Scarlett’s cast removed, then to idle in Prachuap Khiri Khan), but now we’re ready to start our two month, 300-mile, island-hopping tour down to Malaysia. The island is Koh Chang, the northern-most island on the West coast (not to be confused with the more famous Koh Chang on the Gulf of Thailand).

As I write, I am lying in the Mexican hammock my dad bought me before my first backpacking trip in 1999, a brilliant present that proved invaluable to loafing around Thailand then and is just as seductively comfortable now as it was all those years ago (provided that three 8-year olds aren’t also trying to fit into it – fortunately they’re all now asleep). The day’s two-hours-per-day of electricity are over and, as the waves lap around three sides of our bungalow that hovers over the bay on stilts, I can either look across the sea to uninhabited, jungley Burmese islands, with fewer lights than any country I‘ve ever known, or up, to see more stars than are ever visible at home. This finally feels like being in the Tropics. This is the first time I’ve strung it in all the places we’ve visited this time. Finally I feel like I’m back to the Thailand I once knew.

I’d begun to think that this Thailand had vanished. In 1999, Janet and I backpacked for a year around Thailand. We never booked ahead. And we mostly paid £2-3 a night for flimsy bamboo bungalows, and maybe 30-40p for meals.

Even then the bamboo beach hits were fast disappearing in Koh Samui but it seems now that they are relics of a bygone age. And we find ourselves rarely spending less that £20 for a room nowadays (and nearer £2 each for food). Sure, we need spacier accommodation with 5 of us to squeeze in, but Thailand has moved on in 15 years. There are a lot more tourists, Thais are wealthier and the bungalow operations realise they can get a lot more for their beachfronts.

Still, the places we’ve visited have perhaps not been representative. Koh Samui, Koh Tao, Pattaya, Hua Hin: we’ve somehow made our first month and more a tour of the most developed resorts in the whole country. And, Koh Tao apart, these aren’t the kind of places we dreamt of revisiting.

But now… little Koh Chang. No bamboo beach huts, perhaps, but hammocks, lapping waves, sunsets, starlight, no electricity; just cheap food, warm seas and wonderful beaches. This is the Thailand I loved.

I hope the next two months can live up to its promise.