loquitohermoso

So, we’d arrived in Thailand. A good three days of beach bumming, but there always needs to be something to break it up a bit. Having looked around previously Khao Sok National Park seemed like a good shout…not a million miles from Phuket and definitely somewhere interesting to visit.

Having looked around, various places were offering tours, from the high end to the budget basement. Planning this three months in advance was my first glimpse of how busy Thailand was going to be this season…I’ve visited the country to various degrees five times now, and have never, ever booked in advance. Here I was seeing things block booked into March.

Thankfully, whilst the first choice of Elephant Hills was solidly booked, Khao Sok Riverside Cottages was available…albeit a day later than planned. Website looked comprehensive and reviews generally good, with a 2 night, 3 day all inclusive tour around £220 for both of us.

Having debated travel options, we initially booked a hire car from Phuket Airport to Krabi Airport for 3 days. Having enquired with the tour company however, we could have a driver each end for slightly less money…and a boatload less faff. So that was sorted.

We didn’t really know what to expect, but definitely didn’t anticipate it being quite as Indiana Jones, with comfy little treehouse bungalows and monkeys clambering over the roof. My first encounter with jungle bugs in the treetop restaurant wasn’t ideal…some huge jungle bee was repeatedly buzzing me, and I realised that out of all the tables I could have chosen their nest was burrowed into a leg of mine. We moved. Bee went home.

That afternoon there was a choice of activities…either rafting or a Thai massage. I think Mark really fancied the latter, but I bullied him into some good outdoor fun and shortly after I was perched on the back of a pickup…Pickup rides are my travel happy place, with fond memories spanning from Tanzania in 1997 when that was literally the only way to get to the village, to recent history, accepting a lift across the Northern Argentinian desert having been stuck in a town for approximately 2 days too long. That was a dusty one.

We hadn’t really had much of a briefing, so I didn’t know what to expect…I rather thought that we were going to paddle ourselves but arrived at the riverbank to be presented with a Calais-spec makeshift rubber ring affair and someone to paddle us in it.

This was actually a fairly pleasant way to spend the afternoon, drifting down the river. It being dry season there really wasn’t quite enough water and on several occasions I had to lift myself up on the rings…it was definitely my 15 stone which was the blocker, but the guide was kind enough not to mention it.

This being a nature trail there were at times, apparently, animals spotted. I am someone who just cannot pick such things out. I have learnt from bitter experience that it’s just better to ‘see’ the thing, rather like false surprise at a definitely expected Christmas present. People’s reactions to this are often quite odd… the guides get a bit sad and even more insistent about pointing it out, and fellow tourists get angry at me not seeing the thing. So I definitely did see the snake in the tree.

We reached a beach on the river, and the guides pulled us in. Again, having no idea of itinerary I was faintly alarmed when they started whittling bamboo and starting a fire. Surely human sacrifice isn’t still a thing here?

No, actually this was a lovely homely activity, heating water in bamboo tubes over the fire and then having a nice cuppa. Even Ovaltine. Remember that?

I finished the day submerged in the river beside the cottages. That’ll do. Truth be told, I’m a crap swimmer, but I do love a dunk, especially on a roasting Thai day.

I’m not sure I’ve ever not enjoyed a meal in Thailand, and this was no exception. Early to bed, and hope that not too many bugs join us.

The next morning, we were torn unceremoniously from our pleasant jungle retreat, into a ubiquitous Hiace minibus for the 2hrs down to the lake. Here you start to realise the nature of these things-bundling.

You see, these tourist endeavours don’t have enough visitors individually to make it pay, so you’re all bundled onto group tours. And then stuffed onto a full Longtail. Hey, this was cheap.

I love a good boat ride, but this was a bit much…about an hour crammed onto teak seats. I suspect the feeling will return to my left buttock some time in June.

The floating village was a good degree more rustic than expected. I mean, a good degree. The literature from our tour had warned of the rooms not having AC and shared bathrooms, but nowhere did they mention the lack of bed, sheets, etc etc. This would be fun. I mean, the setting couldn’t have been better.

The afternoon ‘jungle trek’ did not in any way appeal, partly due to the prospect of another packed Longtail, so we opted instead to strike out aboard kayak for the afternoon. Magical.

Nightfall was nothing short of magical. Dinner a buffet style affair, rustic but decent, including delicious fish caught from the lake. My cognitive dissonance was on point this weekend, managing to completely forget the over-water toilet block both during my consumption of shitfish and during my morning constitutional swim.

What I couldn’t ignore however, was the gaggle of gap yah kids sharing the ‘village’ with us. As much as I’d like to be down with the kids, I definitely am very well past the backpacking ‘scene’. I finally drew the line when Hey Jude started getting murdered.

I’m genuinely not sure if it is a generational thing, but people just aren’t that friendly any more. Although even I decided against engaging the lad/lass with the “Free Scotland” T-shirt on as I didn’t think it would end productively.

Sunrise was predictably magical, even with a thoroughly limited night of sleep behind us. I’m fairly confident that I managed to wake up our entire raft with my night time elderly toilet mission.

A quick ‘morning safari’ in which, thankfully, I saw the monkey in the trees and then back on the Longtail to the Cheow Larm cave.

No Wookey Hole, but a decent enough interlude, aside from the slightly odd situation of being in loco parentis of a young Dutch girl whose mum freaked out at the cave entrance, and then predictably daughter freaked out around halfway round. Awkward.

So that was that. As soon as it had started, we were back on terra firma, with a minivan driver ready to whisk us to Krabi. To be honest, this felt like sweet relief. Tours are a mixed bag, and I didn’t really click with the clientele, although Khao Sok was undeniably lovely.

Arriving in Krabi, we checked into definitely the cleanest hotel I’ve ever stayed in, with a Thai mum immediately on hand to keep us in line. Shoes off outside the lobby and pop them in the shoe box, I kid you not.

We headed out for the evening. Thai Mum immediately popped up at the window to give us a few tips. You can’t beat a good night market, mind. In hindsight I should have sampled a few more things, but we did have a 4hr boat ride in the morning, so discretion rather than valour prevailed.

The markets had everything. Cheap beer too, big bottle of Chang and a few hours of people watching? Ideal, prior to a blissful night in an actual bed.

The 9th House was only a couple of minutes from the ferry port, and Thai Mum had already sorted us tickets on the more civilised 11.30 departure to Mook. I had a vague idea on breakfast, but once again Thai Mum popped up at the window to dispense a tip regarding a preferred venue.

She was correct.

Moral of the story- always listen to your mum, or surrogate.