I’m slumped in a camping chair on my guesthouse balcony. Looking out over the foliage I can see dozens of limestone karsts poking up out of the Andaman Sea. I can faintly hear a scooter going past, but any road noise is usually drowned out by the buzzing crickets and birdsong.
One of the resident geckos just chirped somewhere above my head, and as I looked up mild sunburn tingled on the back of my neck. The sun is shining, although there are a few more white clouds around than yesterday.
There will probably be a storm out to sea this afternoon, the same as there has been every day since I got here. Lightening crashes and thunder booms in a ferocious display, although there hasn’t yet been a drop of rain.
I am unbelievably content, but I have a dilemma.
I don’t want to write this post.
I mean that in two ways, actually. I don’t want to write this post right now, because in all honesty I’d much rather walk the three minutes down the path and go lie on the beach for a while.
But I also don’t really want to write this post at all.
I’ve finally found my perfect Thai island, and I kind of want to keep it to myself.
Don’t get me wrong, this is not “The Beach”. There are roads here, power, even internet. A few restaurants that cater mainly to foreigners line the coast. Some expensive-sounding resorts are marked on my photocopied map, and I think I saw one from the beach the other day.
Most of the beaches are lovely at high tide, but quite rocky when the water recedes. Those postcard shots with fine white sand and crystal clear waters weren’t taken at low tide out the front of my guesthouse, that’s for sure.
But you know what?
I like it like this.
If this place had the geographic perfection of Koh Phi Phi, it would be Koh Phi Phi. Busy, polluted and with dive shops and happy hours every few metres. Instead, the fact that it isn’t perfect makes it … well … perfect. Does that even make sense? Probably not.
It is still peak season here, supposedly. I counted seven people in the more popular of the two bars within walking distance last night. The other one was empty.
Lauren and I hired a motorbike yesterday and rode around the island. Twice. A little boy waved as we rode by. He had plenty of time to – nobody goes much above 20km/h here. There’s no hurry. The few other people on the road grinned at us we went past, calling a greeting over the engine noise.
We feel genuinely welcome on this island. Most of the local families are Muslim, making a living from fishing or rubber plantations. There is a safe, friendly vibe in the air. People leave their keys in their scooters, and stop to offer a lift if they see you walking down the road by yourself. The guy that owns our guesthouse is also a local policeman. I can’t imagine he is rushed off his feet.
While in the north of the island we found a hand-written sign pointing to Had Yao beach 3km away. The paved road quickly become rutted dirt and stones, and some of the steeper sections through the rubber trees made for interesting riding.
Any concerns were forgotten when the track ended a metre from the sand. The beach was long, clean … and utterly deserted. We stayed there for a couple of hours, swimming and sunbathing, and weren’t joined by another soul. I could see a yacht anchored in the distance, and a longtail went past once just to prove that there were other people on the planet. I had kind of forgotten.
Ok, so that’s great, I hear you saying … but where the hell am I? Some tiny little island in the middle of nowhere, impossible to get to, right?
Wrong.
I’m on Koh Yao Noi. It is the smaller of two large islands barely an hour from Phuket or Krabi. Ferries and speedboats run here every day, at least in high season. Given its location it should be completely over-developed and overrun by tourists, but somehow – wonderfully – it isn’t.
This is not a place to party – you’ll probably be in bed by 10pm. It’s certainly not a place to hang out with other backpackers, since I’ve seen maybe half a dozen in the last three days. What it is is somewhere to relax, meet genuinely friendly local people and do not much of anything.
Ride a scooter now and then, maybe take a kayak or longtail out to some of the tiny unspoiled islands nearby, but you’ll spend most of your time on the beach with a book and a bottle of water.
If that sounds like paradise, then come to Koh Yao Noi.
Just … well … not too many of you, ok?