Speed boating through the Andaman Sea and after a week in southern Thailand, I am still awestruck at the soaring jagged limestone peaks jetting out of the jade water. The white sandy beaches a dime a dozen. The sun shines warmly in the late morning sky, which is airbrushed with thin cirrus clouds. The dark sea is deceiving in its welcoming feel. Empty looking, it is full of life of another world. Calm seeming, it is full of power. Safe feeling, it is deadly.
Looking out the open-ended tail of the covered speedboat, the vast sea sparks internal reflection. Life is amazing. Simply a series of events bringing you to exactly where you are and need to be. I watch the wake of the two 225 “four stroke” Honda motors. Of the miles and miles of deep blue water my eyes focus on the crashing of the foamy wake.
At this time of the day, the water seems to lay still and wait for the boats to slice through it; individual droplets jump high in victory. The potential energy of the entire ocean is only prevalent in the trail of these white waves. Similar to the potential energy of the human race, only being prevalent in the few that jump out of the huge pool of those of us who are just living.
The boat is full of 20 strangers whose lives have also brought them here. Sure, we brought ourselves here through efforts of hard work (or the beg, borrow, and dream method!) but not everyone could get here. The barefoot girls begging with their kid brother on their hips by the coconut stand in India will doubtfully have an attainable path here. Similarly, the fisherman on their family’s long tail boats that we pass may never be on the top of an untracked snow covered mountain, another magnificent paradise.
The sun fills me with energy. I couldn’t be more thankful for the series of events in life that have brought me to this paradise. I wonder if I was just in the right place at the right time like the water the happened to be pushed into this splashing wake. (I am a fortunate woman full of luck!) But are we not always “in the right place at the right time” if our mind is in a constant paradise? Maybe… but getting out of my thoughts and back to the view!
"Krabi is the most beautiful province in Thailand. It’s the kind of place that comes to mind when you’re daydreaming about paradise. A fairytale creation of dramatic krast formations juxtaposed, and sometimes enveloped, by a warm emerald silk sea.”
-The Lonely Planet
Since arriving to Krabi we have toured this paradise through several modes of transportation, a pimped out taxi van, the back of a pick-up truck, a motorbike, a speedboat, and a long tail boat. The long tail boat is the traditional fishing boat used in southern Thailand and was my most memorable day.
We are picked up at the villa at 8 a.m. The crew for the day includes my parents, the Peterson parents, Lexie, and myself. Mot meets us at the pier holding the nose of the 30-foot (or so) beauty of a boat. It looked ancient, the wood looked thirsty for varnish. Personalized by the blue and white scarves wrapped around the tall rising bow of the craft. Covered by a tarp for weather protection, there were three benches for us to sit on. The boat swayed with every step we took as we made our way to our seats. I don’t know much about building a boat, but the floorboards were not laid out by a perfectionist. A variety of size gaps through the floor, showing the belly of the boat filled with water or small piles of garbage. The life jackets that are strung by a disintegrating orange cord would not have saved anyone- completely faded in color by the years of sun and ripped at most of the seems. Still, I feel very safe in water, and I trust this man who must have spent every day of his 20 –some years in this boat. We trade a few sentences in Thai and I find out that he has a little English in his vocabulary. With the start of a ridiculously loud motor (a reconstructed an old car) we set off toward the open water.
It is one of our first days in Krabi and the warmth is truly enjoyed by the Minnesota visitors. The water is calm in the absent winds of the morning. We hit our first of four island stops after 40 minutes of wind and salt water kissing our faces. It is absolutely breath taking and we only have to share it with a few other families. The tropical forest is such a brilliant green and rock formations dramatically jets skyward. The beach so clean and white, meeting the endless ocean that is a color blue I have never seen before. We walk around the hiking trails that barely introduce us to the islands ecosystem. After a few hundred meters inland, the trail brings us to three mangled long tail boats. They look sick and resemble death. There is a sign that elegantly explains the power of nature. On December 26, 2004 these boats were thrown from the ocean into this forest. We discuss the sadness of this natural disaster. The severity of it stays in the forefront of our minds for the rest of the day, as we explore the areas that only four years ago was ripped apart by this tsunami.
The long boat island tour was perfect. We were on our own schedule, hopping around semi-secluded islands witnessing the raw beauty of a true paradise. We went to four islands, each beautifully pristine with nothing less than Eden to offer its visitors. We played for a few hours in the warm water with soft sand tickling our toes. After the first island we were brought to a hidden cove that had a sandbar full of scurrying crabs. We watched the tide peacefully come in as we boarded the boat to our next destination.
Bringing our own food and water, and having a modest mode of transportation, was refreshing. I was getting tired of all the touristy events. The beaches were quiet and the boat ride was family, everything about the day was wonderfully chill. The last part of the journey with Mot, he snuck us into a canal where I think only kayaks were “allowed.” He was heading full blast toward the shoreline; At this point I was confused with exactly what our plan was. Only a few hundred feet away, the entrance was completely hidden from view. We entered a narrow waterway, with 70-foot canyon walls decorated with vines, trees, and families of monkeys!
The motor clicked off and we floated through this hidden trail system. It snaked deeper than expected, and it had a few side routes sneaking off through mangrove forests. An enormous tree narrowing the waterway to a width only a kayak could squeeze through made us turn around. On the float tracing our steps back to the ocean, we stopped on a tiny beach that held an entire neighborhood of monkeys! Really. We jumped out of the boat and when I asked about the dilapidated wood structure that was on this tiny hidden beach in the shadows, Mot’s eyes light up. Through two verbal languages and a lot of signing I only understood that when the Tsunami hit this area Mot was in his boat. Three waves possibly as tall as 20 meters tried to shake his life from him. The waves took this small lunch spot that was created to feed the visiting kayakers, but it has never been replaced. This is one of the spots Lexie and I are considering opening our Pina Colada stand. Another ten minutes in the boat brought us back to the pier with the pick up truck. A lovely day had by all.
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