Thailand...Indiana Jones Style

Skull rock
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Railay Bay is small but full of idyllic charm. Yeah, I stole that from the brochure, but they're not glamming it up. The whole place is decidedly upper-class with some legendarily expensive and beautiful hotels. There is a backpacker scene here but the bay is split. Essentially, backpackers in the east, the posh hotels in the west.

The hour-long ferry was pleasant enough - I'd slept most of it on the open deck, the tramadol keeping me mellow. What we hadn't realised, is that although we knew Railay was accessable only by boat, there was no pier and consequently the ferry was unable to dock anywhere near the shore. Only the flimsy longtail boats would allow us passage in. One at a time, we passed down baggage and then carefully lowered ourselves into the glorified canoes; dwarfed by the hefty blue ferry. What we also didn't realise was the water was so shallow, (knee deep), so far out, that there was still a good long walk in from what seemed like the middle of the ocean. Most were prepared defacto: flipflops and shorts, but those less suitably dressed for a paddle had to quickly change in cramped quarters or simply jump in. I had the grossly inconvenient misfortune of a bandaged foot that wasn't going to survive the water, or the rocks. It was either my foot or my dignity, and since I was trying to rest it for diving on Koh Tao, I swallowed my pride. Looking indecisive, the older American guy next to me asked, "Hey, can you get that wet?", "Er...not really", I replied. "I can piggy-back you in, just let me dump off my rucksack!" And with that I was off.

From Pha-Ngan to Phi Phi we'd heard stories of the treacherous vertical climbs, of slippery verges, and of fallen comrades.

Filthy
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Back on dry land and some funny photos later, we hunted out what was to be the nicest accomodation we'd had. A european-style villa, of which we had the top room, and a balcony. While there weren't creature comforts like air-conditioning or a hot shower, the views were pretty amazing, and it was much less built up compared to the islands. The girls had just 5 or 6 days left so we agreed on the just the one night.

West Railay
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The main attraction other than the scenery was the mystical 'lagoon' located deep inside an ex-volcano. From Pha-Ngan to Phi Phi we'd heard stories of the treacherous vertical climbs, of slippery verges, and of fallen comrades. Since this was really the only thing to do, we'd get up early the next day (darkness setting in now at 6pm) and spend the morning taking our lives in our hands before our monster trip to Koh Tao at 2.30pm.

The evening was very pleasant and a more sophisticated job than the all-out liver-intense amazing party-times of Phi Phi. We strolled in the moonlight for 15 minutes to west Railay and had dinner in a comparatively posh restaurant on the beach. Good conversation, reflections on the trip so far and a decent meal all set a good-humoured tone to the night. Strolling back to the resort, we turned in early and set the alarms for stupid o'clock.

Too much for Natalie, and a brave smile from me
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6am, and a hearty breakfast of muesli, yoghurt and fruit and we were ready for whatever the lagoon could throw at us. The gruffly spoken ladyboy at reception pointed the lagoon volcano out along the beach and we set off to west Railay. As we walked along the narrow path between the two bays we saw a sign for the lagoon. Officially, the sign pointed left, sort of straight against the side of the steep cavern we were in. Not looking particularly closely and on a paved brick path, we presumed it meant straight on. We appeared on the beach and looked around. The closest 'path-looking' area was a good way out overhanging the sea. Surely the tide didn't go out that far? Confused, we asked for directions, and by directions I mean we barked "LAGOON?" at the nearest fruit seller and made unfathomable hand gestures. Most likely a seasoned professional at dealing with language-shy bastards, she pointed back the way we came. "Maybe we just missed it when the path split between east and west?", Natalie theorised, as we ambled back. With keener eyes it wasn't long before we spotted the lagoon sign again. "But it just points at the...oh....shit", I remarked, and duly filmed our incredulity.

Arriving in Railay
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This time, I was prepared defacto: Walking shoes and outdoor gear. The girls on the other hand, had large day bags and flimsy trainers. Wearing the day bags like rucksacks, we were now all on the same dignity playing field. Scrambling up the cliff with just a single rope for each 'hard' bit, it took a good forty minutes to reach the top. It was made more challenging by others coming down in the opposite direction. Particularly the Australian man and his small baby strapped to his front. Wailing loudly, we could all understand where the little chap was coming from. Bad parenting, or a typical Australian nursery field trip? After all, I'm sure the late great Steve Irwin didn't become a nutter by fingerpainting in a sandpit!

Total Legend!
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The humidity was intense and we were drenched, but proud. We hiked round to the 'viewpoint'; a tiny clearing in the jungle, with no fence, at the edge of the mountain. This was definitely worth it, providing a vast view out across the entirety of Railay. The overwhelming response from others to our questions of "How's the lagoon?" was "impossible!", and we soon agreed as we hiked to the other side. We made it down the steep cliff to the 'entrance', but could go no further. Six visible vertical drops of seven metres or more with just a single frayed rope for each. It was also slippery and therefore, easy to die. I dropped down to the first ledge but made the wise decision to climb back up.

The interesting melon-carvers of Thailand
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Hot, soaking and thirsty, we descended slowly back down the track and headed back to the posh beach in the west. Every hotel or restaurant was at least four star and the average age of the clientel was markedly higher than in the east. The weather up to this point had been quite good; a little overcast maybe, but warm and pleasant. After a half-hour on the beach it turned for the worse and began to rain. A good time for lunch we decided, and made a break back towards the east in preparation for our journey.

Along the lagoon path
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To be fair to Thailand, all of our 'joint-ticket' journeys (bus, ferry, etc) so far had been excellent; efficient and good value. This had lulled us into caring little about our travel that day. More about arse on seat and a two-player game of monopoly on Louise's iPod. This time things were difficult from the off. Many other travellers were being ferried to their longtail boats in carriages shunted by tractors. No such luxury for us, as we waded out to sea. I was in pain, hobbling across sharp rocks, while the girls had to carry their heavy suitcases in the air. As we approached the boats, it began to thump it down and out of nowhere powerful winds whipped up sharply. It became a struggle to stand in the water and the waves were getting dangerously high. The small longtail boat, overloaded with luggage and us, rocked violently left and right, water spilling in over the sides. The rain was by now torrential and we were in the midst of a full blown storm. This was certainly more frightening than the ferry to Koh Samui. Charging over waves, we hoped the driver had done this before, and he probably had, since we made it to Krabi. We clambered into the sea once more and trudged off to the bus terminal. Thankful at least for a roof over our heads, we sat disgruntled and wet and awaited our 'VIP' bus...

The lagoon tree
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A bad end to a brilliant day.