Lying back in the kayak, I tried to follow my guide’s instructions to make myself as horizontal as possible while he propelled our two-man boat into the mouth of the sea cave and through a narrow tunnel.
“OK, now turn on your torch,” Olay said. “Look, bats!” Just a couple of feet above my face, dozens of small, grayish bundles hung like macabre Christmas decorations. I shrank down further, willing them to stay put and trying not to swallow the repulsive stench of bat guano that grew stronger the further in we floated. At last we came swerving out into a perfect, circular lagoon of blue-green water, surrounded on all sides by high cliffs, vines and vegetation clinging to the vertical habitat.
“There are only two ways into the lagoons,” Olay had said as our group’s motorized escort boat set off into Phang Nga bay from Phuket’s Ao Por Pier, “by boat or by helicopter, and I’m afraid we don’t have a helicopter.”
But there can be no better way to explore the emerald bay on the western Andaman coast of Thailand than by kayak. Over 160 limestone islands litter its breadth, characterized by sheer cliffs rising straight from the sea and, in some cases, hongs (hidden lagoons) at their centers, scenery brought to our attention by the blockbuster film The Beach in 2000. The area has been dramatically influenced by tourism since then. As part of the backpacking generation who flocked to Thailand a decade ago, I remember being totally alone on the famous jungle-backed beach where the film was set.
Sadly now, Olay reported, hundreds of tourists visit the beach daily, and the bay’s most famous “paradise” spots — Phuket in the west, Krabi on the mainland in the east, and Phi Phi Island further south — have come to symbolize the ruinous capacities of tourism, with big hotels jostling for space, and refuse, sewage and pollution problems. Yet, particularly if you travel by kayak, it is still possible to find an unspoilt side to Phang Nga. Californian John Gray was the first to bring commercial sea-kayaking to the bay back in 1989, importing a business he’d established in Hawaii (and has since rolled out to Vietnam, Fiji and the Philippines), and discovering lagoons, caves and tunnels unknown even to locals. Many other operators now run kayak tours of Phang Nga, but as the original, and an active environmentalist, John has earned local respect. Accompanying me and 20 other tourists on his signature “hong by starlight” excursion, he admitted feeling guilty about how busy the bay had become, and explained he is trying to get the industry to “green up” by educating guides and encouraging them to collect floating rubbish. “Be careful — what you’re standing on there is the mangrove’s lungs,” he said, pointing at the little nubs of root sticking up from the mud, as we squelched over one island’s interior. “I’ve seen photos of people doing pull-ups on the branches. Please don’t touch.”
The excursion’s selling point is that each customer has their own guide to paddle their sit-on-top kayak and point out wildlife — monkeys, birds and lizards — as you explore several stunning lagoons. As dusk fell we ate a delicious buffet of curries on the deck of the big boat that ferried us between kayak spots, and made kratongs, floating offerings of flowers and candles that we released to bob about a starlit lagoon. Romantic, but a tad schmaltzy, plus being paddled by the guide felt cosseting. Ideally one would explore the bay independently, but local operators won’t rent kayaks to inexperienced tourists without a guide (due to dangerous currents and complicated tides), so I had booked an extended camping and kayaking “mini expedition.” While the rest of the punters headed back towards the dazzle of Phuket, our small breakaway party — with leader Olay, Welsh guide Martin and assistant Pung — paddled out into the darkness.
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