The little bit of information I had managed to glean on Koh Mook suggested that there was a cave to kayak to, and a viewpoint to hike to. Based on the level of development on the island though, I knew that neither one of these activities would be bubble wrapped with well marked paths for tourists. Being a small female traveling alone, that left me in a bit of a pickle. How to go about the backcountry adventures without a buddy to notice if something went wrong? I may be intrepid but I’m not irresponsible enough to wander into the jungle alone. There is a line between bravery and stupidity. Maybe I should have stayed at the prison hostel to meet some people after all. 

Travel has a way of working things out though. When I returned home to my bamboo bungalow the first night, the usually quiet husband of the couple who ran the place, Won, asked what I was doing tomorrow. I told him I didn’t have any plans yet, and he suggested in his soft, broken English that I could go island hopping. Eager to find the figurative trailhead to Koh Mook’s outdoors scene, I said that sounded like a fine idea. He led me over to two Hungarian guys who were sitting at the common area’s lone table, sharing a watermelon. 

They explained that they had hired a longtail boat for the following day to bring them and a French family on an island hopping and snorkeling tour. The price was for the boat, so the more people they gathered, the cheaper it would be per person. With me, it would be 800 baht each. I agreed to meet them at 10am the following morning. 

The Day of Island Hopping 

I awoke the following morning to a horrendous noise from a static speaker that seemed to be on the straw roof of my bungalow. My initial thought was tsunami alarm, and I instinctively tried to remember which direction the rusted evacuation signs had been pointing that I had seen the previous day. Fear turned to annoyance as I realized I wasn’t listening to a siren, but something with more melody. This was a Muslim island, so even though I hadn’t noticed anyone dressed in anything other than worn out shorts and t-shirts, perhaps it was the call to prayer. Annoyance turned to laughter as I realized that I was listening to the Thai national anthem. This place didn’t have hot water or a/c, and was constructed entirely out of bamboo and cement. Where in the world had a speaker that could reach that volume come from? 

Sometimes Even Breakfast is an Adventure 

Dazed and still half asleep, I stumbled out of my bamboo hut to order breakfast, and asked Won if he had a menu. He handed me one, and I tried to order a breakfast set with fruit and coffee. He glanced back at the kitchen, then gave me an apologetic look and said, “You come with me.” 

He hopped on his bike, so I sleepily hopped on the back with no shoes and teeth unbrushed. Maybe he was out of fruits and taking me to the shop down the road to pick out which ones I wanted… 

We drove halfway up the Road leading to Charlie Beach, and he dropped me off at another set of bungalows, these bigger and newer, with glass windows, and a restaurant. This one was run by his wife, and I later had someone explain to me that this was the newer location. The old location was getting run down, so they built a new one, but hadn’t decided yet if they were going to renovate the old one or just close it completely. For now, they were running both, but only the new kitchen was stocked.

After breakfast, the wife, Kokai, insisted on giving me a ride the short distance back to my bungalow. There I found the Hungarian guys, Tebor and Joseph, about to head to the beach on their rental bike. Tebor said he was going to drop Joseph off, and then come back for me. I would have walked the short distance down the road, but they were already gone before I could protest. 

Meeting the Island Hoppers 

On the beach we met the French family: two parents, and two teenage girls. The parents were friendly with kind smiles, and introduced themselves as French people who could actually speak English! And then proceeded to never speak another word of English the rest of the day. The girls were typical teenagers who were glued to their phones the entire day, and had to be carried between the beach and the boat when they had had enough of getting wet. 

Snorkeling the Koh Chias 

Our longtail captain brought us to a rock island that he introduced as Koh Chia. Here we were invited to get into the water for a snorkel. There wasn’t anything special to see, but I was happy to be in the water again. 

At the second rock island, I asked the name, and the captain once again said, “Koh Chia.” The Hungarians got a good laugh out of that, and asked if every island was going to be Koh Chia. The snorkeling on this Koh Chia was slightly better. An eel called this Koh Chia home, and was happy to say hello. 

Discovering Koh Ngai 

Our next stop was to Koh Ngai, one of the other islands I had looked at going to, but had crossed off the list on account of it only having luxury accommodation available. Luxury accommodation, or tents for $30, and not the posh, glamping kind of tents either. When I had mentioned Koh Mook to a dive instructor I had talked to back on Koh Lipe, he had listed off a few of the surrounding islands. “Koh Ngai is where you really go to get away from it all,” he had said. I was anxious to see what this island, out of my league, was going to be like. 

I have to say, I wasn’t impressed. There were way more people than there should have been for a place you go to “really get away from it all.” Granted I only walked the one stretch of beach, which was maybe 2 km long, but it felt like a few too many resorts had sprung up to accommodate the number of resort vacationers looking to get away from it all. Koh Mook grew on me a little bit in that moment. I had chosen the right island. 

Koh Kradan – the Place That Was Almost Paradise 

The longtail captain brought us to Koh Kradan, an island I had never heard of prior to my speed boat trip from Koh Lipe. The boat had made a stop on Kradan before dropping me off on Mook, and I had eyed its mysterious shores with curiosity. Our captain dropped us off a ways from the shore for a snorkel, and this was the best marine life of any of our spots yet. I was delighted to find a juvenile harlequin sweetlips, which is an adorable little Nemo-looking fish that wiggles around like a flatworm to fool its predators into believing that they will be poisoned if they try to eat it. It then grows up into a rather boring-looking fish who just sits still all day like a bump on a log. Ask Fletch to do his juvenile harlequin sweetlips dance one day. It’s almost as entertaining as the fish itself. 

After our snorkel, the longtail captain brought us to the beach to explore. His instructions were to be back in an hour fifteen minutes, and it was ok to go either direction. 

I looked in both directions at happy sunbathers and a surprising number of children, trying to decide which way looked best. Then I saw the sign pointing at a path through the jungle that said Paradise Lost Resort. Paradise Lost you say? If that doesn’t excite your curiosity, then you’re reading the wrong blog. 

The path was less than 1 km from one side of the long, narrow island to the other. At the halfway point I found Paradise Lost Resort, which had a bunch of kid’s toys littered out front and was filled entirely with families. That was a giant disappointment. Don’t name a resort Paradise Lost and then fill it with crying babies. Although now that I think on that name again, the sense of “paradise” is lost at the sound of screaming kids. How sneaky. 

The path continued on the other side of the resort, this time with a sign pointing to Sunset Beach. I had already come this far, I might as well check out the beach. 

The well-maintained, dirt path led up a small slope, and then descended again and spat me out in the sunshine. 

Oh my. 

This was it. 

This was my beach! It was perfection. This was the beach stamped all over the postcards in my mind’s eye, the one with the crystal clear water and jungle on all sides. The colors were vibrant. The vegetation was lush. I wanted to go grab one of those $30 tents and bring it here. The only other soles around were an elderly couple and another solo girl. Someone had even picked up the plastic trash brought in by the ocean and piled it all above the tideline behind a rock, out of sight. 

I waded out into the gleaming blue water and stared at this paradise lost until it was time to head back to the boat. Perhaps I would see how much a couple nights at the resort would set me back. Perhaps I would splurge. My bubble was burst into a million little teardrops on the hike back when I passed two parents carrying their double baby stroller up the path. I think my jaw dropped for a moment. 

I did check out the resort’s rates just out of curiosity. $40 for a basic room was way more than I was willing to spend to be surrounded by kids. Paradise lost indeed. 

The Majesty of Emerald Cave

By the time everyone reconvened on the longtail, I was feeling pretty drowsy from a fun day of exploring in the sun. Three snorkeling spots and two islands was quite a generous itinerary for 800 baht. The drowsiness immediately went away when I realized that we had saved the best for last: Emerald Cave. 

The cave was only accessible at low tide, which was why we had saved it for the end of the day. The mouth of the cave was so low to the surface, that I never would have noticed it on my own. A chill came over me as I though about getting caught in there at incoming tide. 

The captain donned a headlamp, and the rest of the boat pulled out their snorkels. I had had the forethought to charge my dive torch, and readied it as we jumped into the water. 

The mouth enveloped us, and the light dimmed behind us. There was actually a point in the very middle when there was no light on either side. That is what differentiates a cave from a cavern in dive terminology. In a caverns, you can always see the light at the end of the tunnel. 

The swim felt like a good ten minutes, but that could have just been nerves. I hadn’t really expected the tunnel to be that long. Kayaks were allowed to pass through as well, and so we had watch out that no one accidentally paddled into us. A few tourists in the middle of the cave were screaming in delight and I was reminded of the rides at Water World growing up. People always liked to scream in the darkness on those. 

And then we emerged onto a beach, a great, sunken beach down at the bottom of a massive sinkhole. There was jungle and sand down here just like at any other beach. Except this one was surrounded 360 degrees by towering cliffs, at least 100 meters tall. No one said a word. We all just basked in the majesty of it all, while listing to the distant echos of birds singing their songs high up above. Koh Mook, you mysterious island you. Hiding such a magical place out of view. While the rest of Thailand’s islands were having their beaches plundered by the masses, Koh Mook was keeping hers safe, out of sight, like a dragon hoarding its valuable treasures. 

Koh Mook wasn’t the only one hiding treasures here. A sign informed us that back in the day, pirates used to use this spot to stash their troves. I would too if I happened to find it and had things to hide. Actually, I’d probably just move in. Except for the whole getting trapped in at high tide part… That wouldn’t be ideal…  

I tried to take photos, with the camera, with my iPhone, normal photos, panoramas around the circle, panoramas up the wall, none of them even came close to capturing the view of standing in a giant sinkhole with no entry or exit except for the one 80m-long cave. You’ll just have to believe me when I say that it was awesome. And I don’t mean the general term awesome that we use for everything now; I mean the jaw-dropping, awe-inspiring, mind-boggling meaning that the word originally implied once-upon-a-time, back in the days of pirates storing treasures on hidden beaches. 

I could have stayed there, turning in circles for ages. Our boat captain was very generous with the amount of time he let us ogle, but it was still too soon when he politely suggested that it was time to leave.  Goodbye, Emerald Cave. This won’t be the last you see of me. I’ll be back. Even as we swam out through the dark cave, I was already planning on returning with a kayak. I was enthralled. 

To be continued… 

Transcript of the sign inside Emerald Cave:

Had Chao Mai National Park 

Marakot Cave

Marakot Cave, or “Tam Nam”, a local name, has an entrance which is narrow but wide enough about 80 metre long. The local people used to came [sic] here first for the bird’s nest. Because in the past there were many swallows. Later the pirates brought all the valuable [sic] that were robbed and kept in the cave for a while befor [sic] remove [sic] it to store eleswhere. [sic]

When you looks [sic] around it look [sic] as if you are standing in the volcano. 

There are also many kinds of hard to find plants, beaeh [sic] forrest many more. 

Marakot Cave is the most impressive points and fantastic. [sic]

We wish to keep it in the best way for our yougester [sic] get a cnance [sic] to see. 

Please stay on the left side of the cave until you [sic] the cave entrance. 

National Park, Wildlife and Plant Conservation Department