Koh Tarutao

I'm writing this entry on a laptop on a rickety table in a glorified shed on the National Park island of Tarutao. Not too sure how stable the connection is – or the table for that matter – but we'll see how we go.

So on Monday night I caught the train from Kuala Lumpur north. I'd had a hell of a time actually booking the thing. First the website said email them 60 days prior to departure. So I did this. No answer. After a few days, I get a reply: email us 30 days before departure. So I do this; again no answer. A few days after that I get an email: send us some more details. I thought I'd sent everything they need, but I do this. Again no answer. At least four days after that they reply: sorry, no first class berths left. At this I exploded and told them I thought the service they offered was very unprofessional. I then thought, well, I need something, so I emailed again for a second-class berth. Then I realised the speed at which they operate, they'll all be gone too. So I rang and booked over the phone (this in itself was a 45-minute fiasco, but it was all preparing me well for Asia).

About a week later I get a reply to my angry email that said, sorry, our mistake, there were first-class berths available, so we've booked you one. I had hoped that my phone call would connect up with my emails and they'd sort out the bookings their end. No such luck. The next day I get a reply to my email request for a second-class berth – they've booked me one. So now I have three separate bookings! It took another phone call to Malaysia to sort that out.

At any rate, I booked the ticket and paid for and collected it when I arrived in KL. I'd booked the whole cabin; it was about NZ$71 in total for a twelve-hour-plus journey. It was very nice, as you can see ...

After I dumped my stuff, I asked an attendant if there was food onboard. He looked like I'd offended him. "Yes, next carriage." So I asked him, "Can I lock my cabin from the outside?" Now I really had offended him. "But I am here," he said. So with that I wandered down to the restaurant and bought some chicken with noodles. Nothing to write home about.

Here's a self-portrait with celebratory rum and Coke (for having made it on to the train):

I got a pretty good sleep. I went for another wander and took this next picture of second class. It looked nice enough. The beds, which run down the side of the train, are shielded by curtains. I had a lot of baggage and just didn't want to take the security risk. Not that the lady in front was doing any thieving ...

At some point I felt like a cigarette. I'd bought some beedies – small, natural Indian cigarettes – in KL. I don't really smoke now, but one indulges on holiday. I asked a uniformed guy – I couldn't work out if he was a policeman or a train official – if it was okay to smoke. He said, "Open the door." "Right, I thought." So there I was, at the end of the carriage, with the outside door a couple of feet ajar, with the train hurtling along. One serious jolt might have been a challenge. This is one of the things I like about travelling in Asia. It's like playing an X sport.

We got to the border town of Pedang Besar and went through Malaysian and Thai immigration, and then sat about waiting. Apparently there was an engine missing and it was some hours until it was likely to show up (they hoped). After a while a few of us decided to walk into the small town and look for a minivan. It was the wildest way I've ever entered a country: walking along the railway tracks and hopping a fence. But as we'd had our passports stamped at the station all should have been well.

I had a boat to catch to the islands and was running out of time. Luckily a minivan was leaving pretty well straight away for Hat Yai, Thailand's largest southern city and the place I'd catch a van to the coast from. In the van I got talking to a couple of smart young Americans – a brother and sister. We talked about all manner of things, but what struck me was that their parents were both Republicans and neither of them were. I asked why, and they just said it seemed a pretty silly thing to be. The Republican Party was unrecognisable now – hijacked by ultra-conservative Christians – and they simply couldn't take it seriously. Not that they were staunchly Democrat, but they could recognise silliness when they saw it. Or words to that effect.

When we got to Hat Yai, I had to catch a ute to the train station. I'm not sure what you call these. They're utes with benches in them and they function pretty well like buses – hop on and get off when you want. At the station I went to the minivan place over the road (I'd been here before on my two previous visits to Koh Lipe, the next island I'm going to after Tarutao). Unfortunately there were no spaces left in minivans to the coast. There were only two more going, and they were all booked up. The only option was a taxi. It worked out at NZ$53 for a two-hour taxi ride – and I'd brought the cash with me for just this contingency. And it wasn't like a taxi. It was more like a brand new limo – very comfortable.

I got to the coast about twenty minutes before the last boat left. I must admit, I hadn't been worried at all. Things seem to work out, and there's not much point in worrying. It seems a crime to worry on a holiday. I remember once catching the fast boat out to these islands and one passenger got off before it started, after loudly reprimanding the captain (not that there really was one, but the young fella behind the wheel) that the maximum boat capacity according to the sign on the boat was 50 passengers, and she'd counted 80. I thought, lady, where do you think you are? Go holiday somewhere with insurance and oversight committees and all that. These boats are effectively an unlawful roller coaster - if it's choppy, man does that boat bounce.

It reminds me of my first trip to India – my first trip to a developing country – in the 1990s. Rohan met me at the airport (where there must have been around 200 people sleeping in gutters and on benches and the like) and brought me back to the hotel he'd found. I remember lying on the bed looking up at the ceiling at the gigantic fan that covered most of the room and was whirring round at a fair clip. It had detached from the ceiling and was dangling by two wires. Those two, thin wires were all that stood between me and death. Oh right, I thought, you give up attachment in these countries. And since then that's the best thing about travelling to places like this.

The boat took about half an hour to reach Koh Tarutao. It's the main island in a marine National Park at the bottom left-hand corner of Thailand. It's known among travellers, if you want to avoid the tourist sites of Phuket and Koh Phi Phi, this is a good area to do it.

If you know the Malaysian island of Langkawi – another tourist trap from what I've read – you can see where Tarutao is in relation to that. I'm spending six nights on Tarutao and then going to Koh Lipe for four nights to meet up with some Dutch friends, Pat and Mat. We're hoping to do a day trip to nearby Koh Rawi.

I was supposed to catch up on Tarutao with my friend Greg, who was coming down from Laos. But sadly he had a family bereavement the week before we were to meet up, and he had to go back to NZ. Knowing my fondness for these islands, I have a feeling we'll meet up on one of them sooner or later.

One of Tarutao's claims to fame is that it was where Survivor Thailand was filmed. Being an avid Survivor fan (frankly it's hard for me to take anyone's viewing habits seriously if they're not a Survivor fan), it's one extra reason for coming. Apparently the area where it was filmed has the best snorkelling on the island, so I'll check that out today or tomorrow.

Here are some photos. The first is of my bungalow (600 baht or NZ$26.50 a night with ensuite bathroom, though a cold shower), taken when I arrived, a slightly overcast day:

A concrete path runs down most of the length of the island, which makes it easy to get to the next National Park camp and to the remote beaches.

These are of the beach in front of my bungalow, Ao Malaka, and the surrounding area, taken the next morning:

The next day I hired a bicycle and went to visit Ao Molae, where the other National Park camp is situated. It's not in use at the moment because the generator's broken. So I had the bay to myself for most of the afternoon. Really stunning place – white sand, glass-like water. I had a long, refreshing swim.

I took my hammock with me and set about stringing it up. This turned out to be on a par with the train booking fiasco. Every set of trees I found were either to far apart or too close together. Or were pole-like, without a cross-branch to stop the hammock from sliding down. When I finally found two that looked good, and had the thing half set up, I noticed a big pile of dog or monkey s--t underneath the hammock. So I wandered off to try again. Then I had to untangle the hammock. Luckily my friend Tamsin's husband, Dayan, had trained me in tying hammocks so this one the one thing that went relatively smoothly. So after forty minutes or so, I got it set up. And oh man was it comfortable. Dayan, who grew up in hammocks in Guyana, had told me it was a very good quality one. It was handmade in Mexico. I'd taken a cushion with me (not to mention water, MP3 player and book), so I really had a relaxing afternoon. That lagoon and hammock swing really was what this trip's all about (in case you hadn't guessed from the name of this blog).

Here's the view from my hammock:

And here's a close-up of some stitching, just so you can see the quality ...

Towards the end of the afternoon I cycled back to the main camp. There was a mother of a hill to get over. But it was fun hurtling down it. I spotted some potholes a little too late, but managed to stay upright.

The food on the island is pretty good considering. I mean, this is a National Park (targeted mostly at Thais). There are no hotels here, no resorts, no shops, no restaurants except for the camp one. I've had a nice pad Thai and a couple of nice curries. One time I ordered a fried curry rice with shrimps and I got given a chicken curry with steamed rice, but it was probably the best thing I've had while I've been here.

This morning at breakfast I spotted a little monkey headed towards me at great speed. He just kept on coming – he was actually on my table before I realised, Oh, he's not stopping. Presumably he was going to swipe my food. Two camp workers had spotted him and ran towards us yelling. The monkey high-tailed it. One camp worker came up to me and pointed to the glass ash tray and then gestured as if to throw it forcefully at the monkey. "Is okay," he said. Well not where I'm from, I thought. I've actually got pretty good reactions – it's what made me a good frisbee player. I was planning on batting him out the way with my left hand as he reached me. But it made breakfast rather exciting.

Well that's all for now. I think I'll go hunt another lagoon.