I am just finishing up 10 days in Jordan, traveling with James of Nomadic Notes and having gone to many of the most important attractions. Jordan is way more than just Petra (that’s not really surprising), and after this extended tour, I’m not sure where to begin blogging. The nights in the desert? The Crusader castles? Roman ruins? The Dead Sea? The Moses-related sites? How about our furthest point south? The Red Sea.

I went scuba diving with SeaStar Water Sports, a Red Sea dive shop just 10 minutes south of Aqaba. A great time! I’ll blog about that too. But for now, let’s do Travel Photo of the Week from a wreck dive just a stone’s throw from shore. Under the shelter of part of the ship we came across a half dozen lionfish with their beautiful (and poisonous!) “plumage” drifting slowly in and out of a huge cloud of tiny fish.

I have a short video clip of that as well which I will post when I get a faster internet connection.

TRAVEL PHOTOS OF THE WEEK 2012: Week 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16

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Our last island in our Thai island hopping trip was Koh Laoliang. Peung has been obsessed with it since finding information about the camping resort there at a travel/tourism expo at Queen Sirikit in Bangkok back in maybe 2008. There’s only one place on the island and when you pull up in a boat, you realize why.

From the water all you see is an impressive chunk of high-rise limestone covered with a bit of greenery. Tucked into a sort of crook of an elbow is a narrow strip of sand with a scattering of shade trees and a nice beach. That’s it. And that’s Laoliang Island Resort, a collection of about 20 large two-chamber tents on solid platforms with fans and lights run by a generator at night.

The manager Mike has been here since almost the beginning when he was invited down with a group of other serious climbers from Railay to make climbing routes. And that’s the biggest draw here, the climbing. It is quite a remarkable setting with the sheer karst limestone that looks like it’s melting in the sun. Climb up from the beach or go around to the other side of the island where there is none and do a little deep-water soloing. I am not a climber but I must say at least the “easy” routes and Mike or others on the ground with the guide ropes shouting encouragement ought to get one’s enthusiasm going. Yes, beginners are welcome.

Laoliang Island Resort opened for the 2003-2004 season, and then early in their second season was the tsunami of December 26, 2004. Fortunately, the resort is on the east side of the massive rock and the water rose 2.5 meters above the highest point on the shore. No one was lost. “Everyone says it’s too bad we are not on the west side for the sunset, but if we had been there everyone would have been lost,” says Mike. After the tragedy, the cancellations started coming in. The resort had thus far been a best kept secret for the Thais, but when the climbers came to set up routes for them, they suggested the foreigners would love this place. A lot of Germans come to these islands. Babies in tow sometimes.

It’s an all-inclusive deal with all you can eat simple buffet meals, functional, simple fried rice and a soup. Free coffee and tea all day. Nutella, jam, and a loaf of bread.

The cliffs like frosting melting in the sun, white, rust, gray, charcoal, even pink streaks. Swim throughs at high tide. A rope along the snorkeling zone to keep you oriented or to tie up a kayak while you jump in.

Be aware that the season is November 15 to April 15. Tents and equipment gets packed up each season and taken ashore.

What’s To Do Besides Climbing?

At night folks gather around the little bar for reasonably priced drinks, and out come a couple of community guitars. This could mean Pink Floyd and Bob Marley covers (whatever you might feel about that) or if the Thai are on the island (or the staff have the instruments) it can be one of my least favorite Thai camping events.

Snorkeling equipment is on site and you can float across the area in front of the beach for a bit of coral and reef fish – though none of this compares to Koh Kradan. Swimming through the areas along the cliff face during high tide is fun too and an unusual snorkeling experience for most.

For such a small speck in the sea there is enough nature to love: sea eagles, kingfishers, swallows, swiftlets. Reef herons find perches up where the rock climbers go, or stand atop the rocks and coral just beneath the surface when the tide is out.

If you are a fan of the little things in Nature, then you’ll enjoy low tide. Shrimp gobies linger just a few steps offshore and with a mask and snorkel you can watch the lazy googly-eyed fish stand watch while its two lobster-looking shrimp flatmates do all the heavy work of tossing out shells and scoops of sand. I’m always amused. Simple pleasures, OK?

A paddle around the island in one of the resort’s kayaks (included) reveals the steep cliffs over deep water on the west side – perfect for deep-water soloing – but not much else. Still, the trip takes less than an hour and is something one does because it is there and can be done and the scenery just never gets old. Then paddle over to the sister island Laoliang “Phi” (“big brother,” as it is the bigger of the two rock islands, though its livable terrain is but a tiny strip of beach). Laoliang Nong (younger sibling) is where you are actually camping.

A snorkel trip to Koh Takian might not be what it once was as coral in the Andaman Sea is dying the last several years. However, it is still a decent collection of a few colors and varieties of hard coral, with patches of dead staghorn fragments between the good spots. I saw an eel, a few schools of small to mid-size reef fish. For those who don’t snorkel a lot, it should be fine. The current can get a little strong but your boat will trail a life jacket and rope so you can stay in one place without much effort. A thin sandy beach backs up the coral garden for a shore break. Kradan still outdoes this site in health, variety, and area. None of them comes close to Satun’s outer islands of Tarutao National Marine Park (Ko Rawi, Ko Adang, Ko Lipe and the surroundings)

Climbers should definitely come out here and spend some time. I was good for two nights (maybe more with a good book) and I am happy I can count it as visited – the scenery is certainly worth it.
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That wraps up the islands on this trip, but what we figured would be just a wait-for-the-plane stay in Trang City had us wondering if Trang isn’t a little overlooked, like a Krabi Town even more removed from the beaten path. Our stomachs loved it. But you’ll have to wait for the Trang City posts a bit. We interrupt this trip recap for a little bit of Israel and Jordan these first few weeks in May… stay tuned!

Some weeks I just can’t even get around to posting a simple single photo. I have 10 minutes to post this and then it’s off to the Bangkok airport for a flight to Amman, Jordan. As this is my first return to the Middle East (outside Turkey, which I don’t necessarily count as M.E.) I thought this week’s travel photo ought to be from my last trip there. In fact, my last country visited there: Bahrain.

Nothing fancy, just a shot from a local neighborhood as I wandered around in the streets. I never would have imagined just four years later protesters would be rising up in the streets. Tomorrow I land in Amman, spend one night, and then head overland to Israel for a week of hitting the highlights, mostly Jerusalem. Then back to Jordan for 10 days of what looks to be another amazing trip. From Petra to diving the Red Sea. Stay tuned!

TRAVEL PHOTOS OF THE WEEK 2012: Week 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15

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The sun was setting, the tide was out, the longtail boats were wedged in the sand among the scattered rocks and shells. Every direction seemed a great photo and so off we went. The little jungle-covered island just offshore from Koh Libong’s easterly point was now connected to the mainland, a collection of tide pool creatures holding out for dear life for the sea to recover them. Locals walked the wet land bridge searching for clams and were coming back with bags of them. We passed them, trying to get to the island like a mountaineer rushing to the summit to plant a flag: We claim this in the name of us.

The last man coming across had two kids in tow, playing with shells and rocks along the way, but keeping up with dad who appeared to have some place to be.

We said hello in Thai and he responded in kind, paused, and then asked us what we were doing. Going to look over there, Peung said, pointing at the other end of the rocky path. He looked back at it as if there were perhaps something other than what he knew that we might be pointing at. He nodded, and continued on back toward shore.

I saw a half coconut shell among the rocks and as I approached there was a clattering noise as if someone had dropped a fistful of tiny poker chips into a plastic cup. I leaned forward to look inside and the bottom was a tangle of tiny crabs – perhaps hermit crabs – all having loosed their grip at the same time to roll into the bottom of the shell and withdraw into their own from the approaching giant. They must have all been almost to the lip of the coconut shell, nearly escaped. I’m guessing one of the kids had imprisoned them there before heading back.

Peung stopped to check out some interested coral pieces and I made the last few steps to the other side where a path was cleared of shells and stones to a small clearing on the shore where someone could still stand with dry feet when the tide is high. Fishermen likely took breaks there during the day.

That’s when Peung shouted to me, “Hey, we should get back before the tide comes in.”

Ach. “Oh, OK, honey,” I said in my Homer Simpson voice, “we better run or the tide will catch us.” But I took a furtive look at the water’s edge trying to ascertain if it was really coming in fast, like those places where the grade is really low and the inching water can travel a mile in a moment. “Like a galloping horse,” I’ve heard said of a place in France, or was it Belgium?

Sure enough when we got halfway back to the mainland we could see the sky reflected in an unbroken band before us, connecting the divided sea.

“I told you!”

It was pretty fast indeed. Ankles in some parts, almost to the knee in others, but we waded across before it became a swim.

MORE PHOTOS:

At low tide many of the boats rest on the rocky shore until the water returns.

When the tide comes back in, it does so quickly here, eventually covering the entire gap from the beach all the way to the small island offshore.

I found this little octopus — its body about the size of my fist — hiding in a small water-filled hole at the edge of the beach. I only noticed because it was pushing water through its funnel causing the surface to surge up rhythmically.

Sunset from Koh Libong

It’s like a manatee, they tell us. A plump, lumbering mammal that snuffles along the sea bottom, eating vegetarian meals.

Anyone we ask tells us we will be lucky to see one, but I’d say the dugong is the lucky one. Their numbers were nearly wiped out in these parts and our boat captain/guide tells us 18 of the last 20 times he’s gone out they’ve seen them. They are far easier to find in artwork and logos as Trang province has adopted them as a sort of mascot. A similar thing happened to the endangered (and once feared) Gurney’s Pitta in southern Thailand. Not long after a horrified birdwatcher recognized one on a spit, the rare bird went from random jungle menu item to annual festival icon. People can change; endangered species can be saved.

Our boat captian, Bung, is a mild-mannered local, barefoot and relaxed as he manipulates the massive, noisy engine and its long “tail” with the propeller on the end. (“Bung” is an honorific title for Muslims similar to the Thais’ “Khun,” but he prefers it to his real name which is “luke-ma” meaning “puppy.”)

Bung takes us out past the southern point of the island and angles toward the open sea. I’m wondering where we’re going and about to ask when he kills the engine and we drift. This is it. This is the magic spot of open water where the dugong might appear as it waits for the tide to roll in. They start feeding in this patch of open water that doesn’t look any different from anywhere else along the coast. From here they move to the west into waters that are inaccessible to them when the tide is out. They eat the plants that grow here in the shallows.

“When I was a kid, I used to eat dugong,” Bung admits. “Until I was about 10, then everyone stopped.” There were more people then on the island, and they were poor. Today the population is much lower, and beyond the handful of resorts, the primary industries are fishing and rubber-tree plantations.

Something breaks the surface of the water behind us and when we turn it plunges quickly back under the reflecting sky. “Tao,” he says. Turtle. A short while later we watch a long fish races across the surface of the sea like someone skipped a rock, chasing the smaller fish. Extraordinary!

Another splash and turn of a fin. Turtle. We remain squinting into the slow undulating reflection of the sky.

Then there is a hiss of air off to the left, like a snorkeler just resurfaced with a lungful of spent air. Our eyes find the tiny spray of water off in the distance. Then the body of the dugong curls up through surface air, a glint of light off its wet skin, and rolls back under in just a second. A dugong. In less than a half hour of waiting.

The dugong is, in fact, related to the manatee, and both are related to the elephant. National Geographic tells us the dugong may have been “the inspiration for ancient seafaring tales of mermaids and sirens” but this tells us less about the appearance of dugongs than it does about the effects of loneliness on men at sea without women.

We see two more dugongs (or the same one) surface in the space of the next half hour, along with three more turtle sightings. The dugong, says Bung, can stay underwater for up to an hour. If that was true or nearly true, there were three dugongs we weren’t going to hang around to see again. (As it turns out it’s six minutes. Nevertheless, they were either exceptional breath holders or we were consistently looking the wrong direction.)

We headed around the end of the island to the national park headquarters where park rangers were riding in motor-powered parachutes to survey the land. Unconventional, and I looked back at Bung to see if he was joking about who they were. I admit it would be an effective low-budget method of doing what a helicopter could do.

Out in the middle of the water – and no doubt connected to the land or its own little island during low tide – was a collection of trees submerged halfway into the sea. Colonies of birds took shelter there on a spit of sand and among the branches. Egrets and herons sat in the trees, an occasional kingfisher. The sound of the engine made the spindly-legged gathering of sandpipers and plovers suddenly nervous and they took flight and circled in a massive flock until we had passed.

On our way back to Libong Beach Resort we stopped to drift in the shallow waters where I could see the plant life the dugongs like so much along the bottom. A fishing village lies at the end of what must be a very shallow bay; an absurdly long dock reaches all the way across its center presumably out to a point where one can still land a boat during low tide. Overlooking it all is a green-capped thrust of limestone karst standing like a monolith at the end of the island. The waves slapped and sucked at the dark hollows along the waterline. We sat quietly, enjoyed a bit of fried rice that the resort had sent with us, but we never saw another dugong. The wind and the waves had already started to pick up, and we paused again at our first stopping point in the open water before deciding we’d have to be satisfied with what we had for the day.

MORE KOH LIBONG PHOTOS:

A fishing village not far from where the dugong feed.

A fishing boat off Koh Libong

A long dock at a Koh Libong fishing village reaching out to where boats can still moor when the tide is out.

Bung, our boat captain and guide for the day.

Eurasian Curlews in a tree offshore from Koh Libong. A trip out here by kayak would be ideal for birders.

We left Kradan in a leaky boat (cue Split Enz, skip to 1:30), water streaming in between the planks at an alarming rate. And when the boatman gunned it a bit toward the end of the crossing, there was a vertical squirt of water with every surge of the bow. While the amount of water after a journey of nearly an hour must have been concerning, it seemed he must have had a decent bilge pump at the stern. When the bow was slapping the water at high speed it sure incited the imagination. What would I attempt to save? Is the shore swimmable from here? Would he have time to phone for help or would we sink lickety split like the Edmund Fitzgerald??? But moments later the prow wedged into the sand of Libong and we hopped ashore.

Koh Libong was a much more substantial island than Kradan. Some rising karst in several places, plenty of rich tree cover.

Hotel Review: Libong Beach Resort

We chose to stay at Libong Beach Resort (right next to the visually less appealing Le Dugong.) Nice little resort.

We had agreed to Trang travel agent Gift’s (see Arrival on Koh Kradan) price of 500 baht for a simple bungalow with fan, set back beyond a creek that cuts through the property, and the owner seemed irritated that Gift had offered that price (250 baht off).

But no worries, she upsold us on beachside bungalows with sliding glass doors and a/c for 1000B (a considerably bigger discount but obviously double what she would have gotten, and they weren’t exactly sold out). Electricity runs 24/7 here unlike on Koh Kradan where it is generator-dependent and varies from place to place.

Our goals for this island were to rent a motorbike and go find a fishing village, and take a boat tour in hopes of sighting the rare and endangered dugong.

If you are looking for peace and quiet, even far beyond that of Koh Kradan, Libong has plenty of it. Libong Beach Resort faces west for great sunsets. The beach is not powdered sugar or anything, but it’s nice enough and a few hammocks swing in the breeze under the palms along shore. Beneath the water is a bit of coral amid scattered rock and the calcified coral of yesteryear (not worth snorkeling at all).

There is certainly nothing wrong with the fan cabins. They are small but decent for that price. The a/c in the expansive beachfront bungalows, however, made this more “flashpacker” than backpacker. We were cool with that.

The food was great. We ordered fried fish for 250 baht ($8.40USD) and out came a huge golden beauty that we made ourselves sick trying to finish off. It was so much food I wondered if she had meant 250 per person.

We rented a motorbike for half the day and spent the afternoon riding through rubber tree plantations, down rough roads into the trees and out to a couple of coves, and then finally into a couple of towns where fishermen came and went and local life was uninterrupted by tourism or tourists.

Kids played soccer in the dust. Others gathered blossoms from the trees in a park and road around, three of them to a motorbike making any Western parent grit their teeth at the potential for something untoward to happen, (mai pen rai – never mind). Most of the locals were Muslim and women would ride past, their headscarves fluttering in the wind.

We had a delightful time, chatting with curious kids, shooting photos, and stopping to check out a guy processing the milky white latex of the rubber trees. (see the Koh Libong photos – the photos of the kids are cute!)

This is an island to bring a book to. The breeze off the sea kept the heat at bay, and if the waters had been a bit more stable, we may have ventured out to Koh Rok for a snorkeling tour. But we were quite content to take it easy, eat, drink, and be lazy. When the tide went out, we explored the tide pools. That got us into a mild inconvenience at one point. (An upcoming blog post – check back or subscribe and receive it automatically)

See the Koh Libong Photo Gallery on The Mad Traveler main site and come back to see how our Dugong Watching went…

(see the complete Trang Island itinerary)

On the second day on Kradan we strolled the beach only to find that our sunscreen was apparently past its expiration date. Ouch. We returned to camp to a lingering smoke from burning trash. At the pavilion I asked for a cold Fanta and the attendant reached into the large cooler of Arctic water and floating ice chunks in attempts to find one. He failed several times, his arm in almost to the armpit, his face held in a painful grimace, so I took a Coke to spare him.

The tsunami warning system stood above the beach on a tall pole. With the maintenance of the park in mind, I wondered if it worked.

Signs in the foliage pointed out the route to higher ground 1100 meter to the north (with a dogleg to the west). Hopefully the warning system gives enough advance warning to run or one would have to surf the last several hundred meters. What’s **your** best time for one kilometer in loose sand? Signs were spread out about every 50 meters to keep you hopeful you were making progress I suppose.

As dusk descended on the island, the rays of the setting sun — invisible to us in the shelter of the island — struck the gathering clouds in the east turning them, and silvery surface of the sea, into pink cotton candy and orange marmalade. As the color show dimmed and darkened to purple, the park generator awoke with a sputter.

Though the darkness was dispelled throughout the tents, another ominous visitor arrived in the camp. This tireless spirit haunts all campgrounds in Thailand and nothing short of a monsoon can release its horrible grip on the campers. It’s inevitable. It’s inexhaustible. Guaranteed to make you wish you could stop up your ears with sand. What I might refer to as Slow Painful Death by Saccharine in the Key of D minor (the saddest key), doesn’t actually kill anyone, though one might hope for death or consider causing it.

Thai campground singalongs. You’ll see them coming: a group of enthusiastic young Thai guys with no intention of sleeping until next week sometime, tumbling out of the pickup or longtail boat with the telltale classical guitar. God help you if they have alcohol with them.

At first we heard the clatter like natives in the distance were going to war but couldn’t find any drums but a 10-gallon plastic bucket. (I was right about the bucket. With the lid to a pot for the riding cymbal.) But as we got closer we could hear the strumming and the crooning. The clink of a beer bottle and we knew we were in for a cursed night.

We walked past, forcing weak smiles at them, but they were lost in the rapture of some awful romantic ditty, the kind that will greet you at the gates of hell.

Exhausted, we lay in our narrow tent, radiating back the excessive rays we had absorbed throughout the day and trying not to touch each other, the tent fabric, or even the ground itself.

“How many songs can they possibly play?” I asked, partly to Peung, partly to cruel fate.

“Ten,” said Peung. (Fate never replies but sends a crescendo through the crooners outside so I know it’s listening and enjoying the moment.)

“Only ten? I admit it all sounds like the same song over and over, but…”

“No, I mean they will play until 10, I think, when the electricity goes out.”

I doubted darkness would deter them, but fortunately, it did. Without the light or a campfire, perhaps their fingers couldn’t find the chords. Whatever the reason, the Romeo chorus of Thai campers left us to smolder in our own skin in silence at least.

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On Nature

Kradan Island has a good amount of protected forest, a lot of green space, though not much of the rising karst you can see on many of its sister islands. A ten-minute hike from the east beach past Paradise Lost Resort (a simple but well-regarded collection of bungalows run by an eccentric American named Wally) takes you through some lovely forest to a sheltered rocky cove on the west side. The perfect place for the sunset.

We saw all sorts of critters, from soaring sea eagles and kingfishers to frogs, toads, colorful butterflies, and an insect that was easily mistaken for a wood chip – until legs emerged and it scuttled on a bit before you turned your head back. Funny thing, Nature.

Take a flashlight for the beach at night as hordes of hermit crabs crawl out from under the leafy areas and go wandering the sands. You’ll see their tracks have completely crisscrossed the beach as if hotel staff had raked it all night while drunk. The largest one we spotted was just outside the restrooms at camp. Big as my fist, no exaggeration.

The campground typically serves some simple and cheap Thai food in the pavilion (but the cook was gone for the week we were there). Bored? Watch the tiny geckos around the fluorescent lights there, like a short documentary on hunting and territorial battles among these tiny lizards making their little kissing sounds like a Burmese man calling a waitress.

Under the Waves

The snorkeling is good, solid “good.” And most have told us it is the best in Trang. Low tide brings the tops of the coral and rocks all too high for snorkeling over. The good area stretches from the national park all the way to the southern point of the island. Quite a swim if you tackle it all. (I did with fins.) Sizeable coral heads, almost entirely hard coral with good color and very abundant schools of tiny to mid-size reef fish. An anemone and Nemo could be found a couple times, a couple of lobsters here and there.

(I’d have loved to have provided photos here but I bought a brand new Canon S100…which jammed before we could even use it on this trip. And Canon’s warranty is complete shite so we are out an underwater camera until we can get back to the US to service it. More on that in a later blog post when the Canon service nightmare story is complete.)

During mid-day, boat tours come in from other islands, but generally don’t anchor right at the park camping area but in the next bay over. Avoid them. Anyone with the tiniest bit of eco-consciousness will cringe when the Thai descend upon coral heads like they were stepping stones. You will recognize the Thai daytrippers rising impossibly out of the waters with their bright orange flotation vests as they are horrible swimmers.

Moving north along the beach the bottom becomes sandy and quite shallow so that at one point a second strip of sand rises up 30 meters out in the water toward low tide. A few dogs wander in and out of the shade, and toward evening the mosquitoes are small but active. Anantara Si Kao Resort over on the mainland keeps a beach club here which is eerily vacant until a group and some staff come over for the day.

Camping on Koh Kradan

I don’t mind roughing it. I mean I camp a bit for some of my income (see Best in Tent Camping Wisconsin, and my next book: Camping Michigan). But I take issue when the discomforts are not just those of the hard ground, resident critters, and whimsical weather, but of human sloppiness. I’d prefer to answer nature’s call in nature rather than in a poorly maintained latrine.

As one might expect, not a lot of budget money gets out to all the national parks in Thailand, particularly those in faraway places with minimal traffic. Khao Yai does alright, but Kradan falls into the “atrocious” category. The rinse water for the squat toilets appeared to double as a frog breeding farm (and a resident frog guarded the door to the men’s restrooms each night, clinging to the rim of a terra cotta pot that once held water to rinse the beach off one’s feet before entry, but now housed the next generation in an inch of cloudy water). The sinks didn’t run water (so bring your hand gel) and the “showers” were large barrels of water and plastic bowls in oversize toilet stalls in another building. Without hooks or any manner of hanging your things above the personal Songkran festival of hygiene.

The park’s policy of burning its trash is a nuisance. Not only does it seem a bad idea from a green perspective, but the smell is awful, the smoke drifts slowly through all the tents and drying clothes depending on the wind, and afterward there is a lingering scent of death, perhaps rotting meat or unfortunate critters that had taken shelter in it all. It also doesn’t help that the young Thai staff, sweet as they may be, down a few beers at night and the men redistribute them off the edge of the central pavilion/restaurant patio.

Camping Costs

National park fee for foreigners is 200 baht.

30 baht per person/per night with own tent
300 baht tent rental, per night
50 baht per day for a mask and snorkel rental
Dorm rooms for 500 baht (600 baht = private bath) per night. Fan only but electricity only runs 6pm-10pm anyway.

So camping can be quite cheap, but there’s a dark side to camping in Thailand…

MORE PHOTOS:

See the sunrise right from your tent. With the islands on the horizon it’s quite awesome.

A pair of sea eagles circled overhead each morning, sometimes perching in the tall trees above the campground.

See what I mean about the hermit crabs? Every morning the beach is completely riddled with their tracks. Watch your step in the dark.

Kingfishers are common on the island.

The keeper of the latrines. This is the little feller in the water pot by the door.

The sunrises are superb and we only crossed for sunset once as they just weren’t as impressive.

(see the complete Trang Island itinerary)

We flew early on Air Asia from Bangkok and at the Trang airport we found no taxis to take into town. Two tour booths were herding arrivals into vans for the transfer or selling complete package transfers to the islands: a van to the appropriate port plus a longtail boat to the chosen island. The price was about $30USD per person, around 800-900 baht. That seemed like too much and we circled the wagons with a couple from Europe and decided to pay the 90 baht for just a transfer into Trang Town to the area near the railway station. From there we booked a transfer package ourselves for 450 each to Koh Kradan (350 for the two going to Koh Mook on the same longtail boat) with Gift at Andaman Island Tour and Travel (66/8 Satanee Rd, Trang, near train station, 089-647-2964). (She also gave us a good price for a place on Koh Libong which we would later call and commit to.)

The people from the airport were a bit angry at the tour operator, basically for breaking their airport lock on the price gouging. (We were told the two booths operating there are essentially the same company or at least in agreement on the price.)

The van took almost an hour to Kuantungku Port where we boarded a longtail boat. We stopped at Koh Mook to drop off the other couple, and there in the bay was quite the crowd floating in the midday sun, strolling the beach. When we disembarked on the beach of Kradan Island a short time later, we saw a much longer stretch of sand, an island lower to the water, and a smattering of beachgoers. Unfortunately, we had to carry our bags to the end of the island as the boatman dropped us and the one passenger destined for the midrange Kradan Beach Resort right in front of her accommodations.

Koh Kradan National Park area consisted of a couple of rows of dorm rooms, a pavilion, two concrete bathhouses, and several semi-permanent park tents. Tent camping is allowed (see next post on What You’ll Find in Koh Kradan). The jungle rose steeply behind it all on a steep hill and the beach ran right along the front of it. The beach and rocky hill closed in on each other at the southern end of the camp so that the only way to continue walking south of there was to enter the water or sneak past the rock outcrop at low tide. At the beach a swing dangled from one of the trees that hung out over the water. On concrete pilings tucked right up against the steep hill, were the beginnings of villas. The park manager told us they had been started 10 years ago and never completed. A pity.

We checked in and pitched our tent, right next to the beach. In the evening we had a view of the east so the sunset was a short trek across the island. But also worthy of watching was the reflection of the sunset in the clouds to the east and their reflections on the still waters.

Up Next:

What You’ll Find on Koh Kradan

MORE PHOTOS:

The view of Koh Kradan as we approached by longtail boat. Compare its profile with the next photo of part of Koh Mook:

Koh Mook shows much more of that towering karst but lacks the snorkeling of Kradan.

It takes close to an hour to motor out to Koh Kradan and you may drop passengers at Koh Mook along the way.

A photo of what could have been. These national park villas were started — and abandoned — about 10 years ago.

Sunset means a hike through the jungle and down a rocky path to a secluded beach on the west side. From the camp it’s maybe 15 minutes walking.

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So getting off the beaten track becomes a bit tougher. The islands of Trang, the province between Krabi and Satun, are yet to be swamped. As we hadn’t been to any of these yet, we chose Trang for our recent island hopping trip. And we skipped already popular Koh Ngai, lovely as it may be, and Koh Mook, famous for an 80-meter swim through a limestone tunnel to a hidden cove. Too many tourists already. The cave/tunnel gets boatloads of people every day – a circus I definitely wanted to avoid, especially if we were swimming together with all of them through a narrow tunnel in the dark.

Instead we stopped for two nights in each of the more southerly islands, Koh Kradan, Koh Libong, and Koh Laoliang. We found peace and quiet, natural beauty, and minimal tourists in all three.

(Click this link to the interactive Google Map of the area)

Read about each of these islands in the next series of blogs and see a lot of great photos to go with them. But for starters here is

Our Trang Island Hopping Itinerary:

Sunday: Fly Bangkok to Trang (city) on Air Asia (1 hour 15 min), transfer to Kauntungku pier, take a longtail boat to Koh Kradan, camp at the national park (our own tent)

Monday: Snorkeling in the national park, enjoy the beach, see the sunset on the other side of the island

Tuesday: Depart for Koh Libong and check in at Libong Beach Resort. Rent a motorbike to explore the island, explore the beach area around the hotel.

Wednesday: Take a boat tour in search of the rare dugong (similar to a manatee), see birds, explore tide pools, relax

Thursday: Depart for Koh Laoliang, snorkel off the beach, shoot photos of the amazing karst formations

Friday: Take a kayak around the island, join a snorkel tour to nearby Koh Takien

Saturday: Depart for the mainland and Trang (city) for the night. Drink Trang coffee, eat at the awesome night markets

Sunday: Morning flight back to Bangkok with Air Asia. (Nok Air also serves this route but from Don Muang Airport, not Suvarnabhumi International)

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The Details in Blogs

Day 1: Arrival on Kradan Island
What You’ll Find on Koh Kradan
Trang Islands Day 2: Terror at a Thailand Campground
Trang Islands Day 3: Going to Koh Libong
Koh Libong: Getting Caught at High Tide
Trang Islands Day 4: In Search of Dugong
Photo Gallery: Koh Libong
Trang Islands Days 5 and 6: Koh Laoliang