Forgotten Island
After a quick stint in Bangkok I was called to duty and just returned from an island off the coast of Krabi, Thailand. An Australian gent told me if I wanted peace and quiet, not a party scene, to go to Koh Jum (Jam) Island. I followed his instructions loosely and landed on Koh Jum.
I’ve been coming to Thailand since 1988 and have seen the changes as the country morphs into its contemporary state. My original memories are of Koh Chang Island on the Cambodian border where I spent a month in a bungalow with an Australian girl friend before we ventured into Burma, back when Ne Win open fired on civilians demonstrating before it became the Rangoon massacre. I paid 200 baht/night and the U.S. dollar was 48 baht/1 USD, basically $4/night for a bungalow within 10 feet of high tide waves and phosphorescent algae. Today that same price is hard to find but available if you know where to look.
From Krabi town, Koh Jum is about 40 kilometers south by truck taxi, 100 baht, and a forty-minute boat ride to get you there, 70 baht. The Australian told me of a place to stay that was only 200 baht/night; I was instantly taken back to the old days of cheap lodging and good Thai food, I had to go.
The dock and harbor are nothing more than a speck on the shore between mangroves, rubber trees and red earth. There was one truck taxi, several motorcycle taxis and a store. The red dirt road headed off into the interior and to the west coast of the island where all the bungalows hide between palms and trade winds. It’s a steady breeze of 10 knots and keeps the bugs and mosquitos at bay. Clouds roll by and lightening lights up the night sky and the breeze embraces you. I knew instantly that this island had been forgotten and now I know why.
As suggested I went to a bungalow place called Bodaeng. There is no advertisement; there is only one humble sign at the entrance. I walked in as a carpenter hammered on a new bungalow of hardwood set back in the trees. A couple of skittish dogs let the owner know that a stranger was approaching and they scampered off into the under brush. The place, like all the others on the island, was disserted. Palm leaves had fallen to the ground or hung limp on the trees after a recent storm, leaves rolled by with the breeze, it was ghostly. All in all, the island seemed abandon and silent. I put my meager bag down at the restaurant and walked to the sea only 20 meters away. The trees held the bank and the ocean took the rest.
The woman was as round as an apple with a contagious laugh and the heart of a giant. She showed me to a bungalow for 200 baht/night and I gladly accepted. She asked if I had eaten and she made me lunch on the spot. Historically, she is a Thai gypsy from Langkawi and all the other islands to the south and loves the king of Thailand for all he is and has done for her people. So do I.
The world stopped around me. There is no Internet, no power during the day, just the crash of the waves and a steady breeze to remind you that you’re alive. I read a couple books and I walked the entire beach with a stray dog chasing crab on the low tide as a companion; 5 km. Kite birds glide on the wind above the trees and the churning sea. The breeze remains steady at this time of year. This is the best Thailand has to offer and I am grateful to be apart of it.
I walked the length of the island the next day. I went out to find a store and didn’t come back for most of the day. I walked the road that took me through a town and then miles of rubber trees. There were very few locals on the road and if they were they were on motorcycles and disappeared into the green down trails or up onto the mountain. I saw 10 farang (Foreigners) in 3 days. I had the best food offered in Thailand. The ocean was wonderful and clear. I won’t forget this forgotten island. I’ll be back.
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