Sea Canoeing in Southern Thailand

 

The limestone spires of Phang Nga Bay have always exuded an air of mystery. Sea canoeing expeditions open up the very hearts of these islands, where wildlife and nature abound.

 

Story and pictures by Prisana Nuechterlein

 

Exploring Phang Nga Bay

 

“Look up, but keep your mouth shut,” Joe whispers. I look up at the dark cave ceiling, trying to see the bats I hear squeaking overhead. They flit and flutter in the dim beam of my flashlight under sparkling stalactites that drape down the cave wall like a glistening ice curtain. Then suddenly, it is pitch black. The flashlight has gone dead and we bump up against the cave wall in the blinding darkness. 

“Don’t worry,” Joe says reassuringly, “I know the way out.”

Joe, a young Thai sea canoe guide, has taken hundreds of guests into Bat Cave over the past two years. They have all survived, despite having “Crazy Joe” as their guide. Like most Thais, Joe loves drama. Earlier in the day, we had nearly paddled over a giant crocodile. The ‘giant crocodile’- a viciously jagged rock, was yet another creation of Joe’s vivid imagination. A short time later we encountered a ‘wild elephant’ – a limestone formation that actually did look like an elephant’s head.

Escaping from Bat Cave

 

After a few moments of drifting in total darkness, I begin to feel like a bat. The pungent odor of bat dung envelopes us. Joe turns the canoe and we hit another cave wall. He grabs the flashlight, fumbles with it until it comes back to life. 

“Watch your head,” he warns. 

I duck just in time to miss a low hanging stalactite. Slipping underneath a rocky archway, we suddenly emerge into the blinding sunlight of Bat Hong. 

The dramatic limestone islands of Phang Nga Bay are regarded as one of Thailand’s most mystical and stunning seascapes. A compelling geological masterpiece; the colossal spires are world famous for their collection of what once was described as “secret” hongs – hearts of islands, containing natural sanctuaries of unsurpassed beauty.

Lying only an hour away from Phuket, the hongs (literally meaning “room” in Thai) are hidden tidal lagoons, completely enclosed by sheer limestone cliff walls. The only way to access these amazing hongs is through sea caves – some so narrow they resemble rocky cocoons.

We glide over the calm water inside Bat Hong, absorbing the primeval world around us in quiet meditation. The hong buzzes with swirling insect noises and melodic bird songs. Towering mangrove trees soar above us covering the jungle-fringed cliffs. Joe points to my left. A large owl stares down at us. Mudskippers jump across giant mangrove roots. Tiny silver fish dart under our canoe. We retreat to a shady corner and sit in silence absorbing the marvelous view around us. Joe continues paddling, taking us through a narrow passage into smaller hong. He taps my shoulder and points up into the treetops. I see a brown blur and then spot a group of monkeys sitting atop the branches. 

Back on board the support boat, the delicious aroma of lunch greets us. Boom, our talented chef, has prepared a feast of spicy prawns, lemongrass-coconut milk and shrimp soup, grilled fish, ginger chicken, mixed vegetables and fried rice. We are in culinary heaven, practically licking our plates clean.

 John "Caveman" Gray

Sea canoe trips to Phang Nga Bay first began in 1989, after conservationist John “Caveman” Gray, also known as "Ling Yai" (meaning big monkey in Thai),  discovered several sea cave windows leading into the hongs. From the vantage point of his trusty sea canoe, Gray observed the tidal movements at various caves and diligently recorded the intervals between their closing and opening. After months of exploration and observation, his findings provided him with the tidal knowledge necessary to lead sea canoe excursions.

Today, there are numerous sea canoe companies competing for space in the once pristine hongs. Occasionally, there is even a “traffic jam” of canoes waiting to enter the caves. It is a far cry from the secret world Gray first shared with his truly fortunate guests, but still well worth the trip to Phang Nga Bay. 

We head out to Mangrove Hong and enter a sea cave scarcely large enough for our sea canoe. The tide is high now, making the “window” or access way inside the karst monoliths, nearly impossible. “Please lie back and keep your arms and legs inside the canoe,” Joe warns. The jagged, oyster encrusted opening passes only a meter above my nose. I imagine what Caveman must have felt upon entering the cave for the very first time, not knowing where the dark claustrophobic cave would lead him. For us, it is a thrilling adventure, especially having an expert like Joe to guide us.

Back out in the open sea, we circumnavigate Koh Hong. The sound of the ocean echoes eerily, rocking back and forth underneath the limestone overhangs. Joe spots a huge sea lizard climbing out of the slapping water onto a rocky ledge. The lizard freezes for a moment, gives us a curious glance, then scrambles away into the water.

After a brilliant day of hong exploration, we return to Phuket quenched with a wondrous feeling of having seen the best that Nature could create. 

"This place is perfect nature,” Joe remarks. 

Perfect in every way.

Recommended Sea Canoe Company

 

John Gray Sea Canoe Co., Ltd.
124 Soi 1 Yaowarat Rd., Taladyai, Muang, Phuket 83000, Thailand
Tel. (66-76) 254505-7 | Fax: (66-76) 226077
E-mail: info.web@johngray-seacanoe.com
Website: http://www.johngray-seacanoe.com/

A True Cliff Hanger in Phra Nang, Thailand

Phuket climber Nicola scaling the heights of Phra Nang

Rock Climbing in Krabi

 

The jagged cliff face soared hundreds of meters above me. “There’s a handhold on your left,” my climbing instructor yelled from the beach below. I reached up and felt my way over the rough limestone rock. “There, you’ve got it.” Got what? I thought. I gripped the miniscule handhold and shakily held the rock wall called “Massage Secrets” as I desperately searched for my next move. 

The colossal karst cliff formation containing “Massage Secrets” also known as “One-Two-Three,” is Phra Nang’s most popular climbing site. With its easy beach access and varied levels of 10 to 26 meter bolted routes, the area offers thrilling challenges for both beginners and experienced climbers.

Located less than three hours drive from the resort island of Phuket, the stunning Phra Nang peninsula in southern Thailand was once considered remote attracting mostly beach loving backpackers. Today, however, the narrow sliver of land that separates the palm tree-fringed Railey beach from Sunset Beach is home to several five-star hotels, numerous bungalows, and known worldwide as a climber’s paradise.

Phra Nang’s steep pinnacles first captured the attention of European climbers in the mid-1980s. 

 

Then in 1990 two Frenchmen, Francois Burnier and Domonique Potard arrived in a tangle of ropes, hauling massive amounts of climbing equipment, including 400 bolts. Through their painstaking and ambitious efforts, a large number of bolted routes were established.

At the same time, their fascinating ascents inspired a few local Thais to learn the art of rock climbing. Among them were three friends: Somyod “Tex” Thongkaew, Somporn “King” Suebhait (the founder of King Climbers) and Vichit “Dean” Sayom, who all swiftly became Thailand’s first well known rock climbers. Due to their devotion and enthusiasm, combined with that of other talented climbers, the formerly “secret” Phra Nang area in Krabi emerged as one of Asia’s most remarkable climbing locales with hundreds of spectacular bolted climbing routes.

It had been 17 years since my last rock climbing attempt in Mexico, where I nearly plunged to my death (or at least it had felt that way), so my first question upon reaching Dean’s beachfront office was whether anyone had ever died while rock climbing at Phra Nang.
“It’s a lot safer than diving,” an instructor assured me after learning that I was a scuba diver. “Don’t worry, no one has died. We have a strict safety policy here – none of us drink or smokes – and we never rent out equipment to people who ask for those ‘thingies.’”
“A carabiner?” I offered, surprised that I could remember what a “thingy” was.

“Right. But real climbers call them ‘beaners.’”

After asking a few dozen other questions and seeing the company’s inventory of brand new equipment, I happily signed up for a beginner’s course. A 9 a.m. the following morning I arrived back at the office and joined three other climbers and Dean. I was excited but definitely nervous. A short stroll down the beach took us to a massive karst limestone cliff formation. It was a busy morning, and more than two dozen climbers were already milling around the shady climb site.

“You’re lucky you weren’t here in December,” said Dean. “People were waiting sometimes over an hour to climb.”

With trembling anxiety I took my turn on the user-friendly sounding rock wall called “Massage Secrets” (relieved that we wouldn’t be climbing “Definitely Makes You Whinge,” “Primal Scream” or “Apocalypso”) and checked my harness for the tenth time. But my nervousness soon turned to total embarrassment. No matter how I contorted my body, I couldn’t manage to climb above the first rock overhang. Finally, with a big boost from Dean, I “cheated” and at last started my ascent.

Slowly, I inched my way upward from one handhold to the next. Dean was telling me to relax, to have fun and to trust my legs. Trust? No way. My legs were shaking insanely on toeholds that he called “great.” I stared up at the rope, “beaners” and bolts with absolute distrust. Then suddenly one meter from the top I got completely stuck. Meanwhile every muscle in my body was screaming.

Finally, there was no choice but to let go. “I think I’m going to fall,” I called out fearfully. But instead of faaaaaalllling (like I had in Mexico) when I let go, the rope held me in practically the same spot. What I hadn’t realized was that I was doing what is called top rope climbing, meaning the rope was attached to my harness and secured to a bolt at the top of the climb and controlled by Dean from the beach, instead of how I had been belayed in Mexico, where my instructor had belayed me from the top of my climb. The wonderful difference is that top rope climbing doesn’t allow you to faaaaalllllllllll. After that, the fun began. Instead of worrying about falling, my main concern was how to top the climbs.

This article was originally published in the Asian Wall Street Journal.