Day 317 - "The Beach" & the tsunami

Today was possibly one of my favourite days in Thailand. In fact, I think it was my most favourite. I'm writing this almost 2 weeks after it happened - a sure sign that I've been enjoying myself way too much - and nothing's topped it yet. So I dedicated a whole posting to a 4-hour event. Anyway, on with the day...



So, its our 4th day on Ko Phi Phi. Yesterday we were supposed to be jaunting around the island in a boat but the weather decided to betray us, so we're here today, 9am, mildly hungover from an evening of watching bad lady boys dance to bad gay pop music to the open-mouthed reception of hundreds of western tourists. More on that another day, but for now, its sufficient to say that I'm still a little drunk, giggling like a kid and overly excited about our day on the waves. Slapping on the factor 15 and clambering into our boat, the 6 of us head off across the crystal clear waters of Ko Phi Phi's east beach heading south.



After passing bay after bay of white sand beaches and cliff-side huts, decorated with wooden shacks and garland-covered long-boats, we stop in a small cove where the 10ft deep perfectly clear water covers a vast field of sparkling coral. No idea how deep it is from above the gentle waves, i'm the first to don my snorkel and mask and drop in. And within minutes we're all face down in the water, gazing at the gorgeous coral formations.



So, its not the Great Barrier Reef here. The water's not *quite* as clear, and the coral's not *quite* as colourful or varied. There's the odd Chang Beer can rusting on the needle-like coral bed, and occasional trees of coral the size of footballs snapped at the their root and fading from life rest against other more vivid sponges. That all said, its a pretty good alternative. This isn't the best place in Thailand for snorkelling, but its as good as it could be and for anyone thinking of visiting, don't be put off by what you get told. Its a nice ride, and we spent a good 30minutes lost in the abundance of fish, circling us as our boat driver throws banana skins in to attract them, and the warm sunshine penetrating our lotioned backs and glittering off the shallowest corals.



And the next 2 hours were pretty much this. Another stop - this time in deep deep water with thousands of fish bombing around in those amazing formations likes dynamic clouds. We'd dive deep to try and reach them and the cloud would gracefully arch away from us. Diving off the boat was amazing - the long boat we were riding stands high out of the water on the helm - perfect for perfecting backflip dives (I couldn't do it - some kind of fear of breaking my neck on the water - no doubt instilled in my from childhood - MUM!).



And after some more corals and a brief landing on a picturesque coral beach (we were expected to pay to disembark - we refused and I have no photos - take my word for it, it was beautiful), our comical guide throws us the map and directs us around the other end of the network of islands to "the beach" beach. "from the movie".





If you haven't seen "The Beach", starring Leo DiCaprio, you're not missing too much. Its good. Not as good as the book (of course), but good. The book itself was *the* traveller book to read if you were in thailand in the late nineties. Even now, its seen gracing the shelves of book exchanges across SE Asia and around these parts of talked about by travellers and locals alike. Some kind of selling point to thailand. Anyway, Lord of the Flies style thriller, Leo hears of the last perfect beach in thailand, uncorrupted by tourists and locals alike, and hunts it down to find a community of backpackers running the place. I won't go on - read it if you're bored.

BUT, the fact is that whilst in the book/film the untouched island paradise is located miles away from here on the other side of Thailand, the actually filming took place on a island off the coast of Ko Phi Phi. And we're heading for it. Its around the back of the most impressive of volcanic plugs that we skirt around, gawping at the sheer hugeness of the rising cliffs, undercut dramatically at the sea level and waiting to collapse at any time. And just minutes later, a mere 20min boat ride from our home island, we encounter The Beach.



I'm pretty rubbish at describing these things, so I'll let the photos do the talking, but this beach is now. Instantly recognisable if you've seen the film, the beach is surrounded by towering limestone cliffs and exudes a serene and tribal quality. Our boat driver, as is the custom for thai tourist-workers, decides to rip us off by charging us to go on the island - we're all well aware this isn't the case and pay up begrudgingly as he hides his face from us in some kind of shame-filled ritual. That aside, we swim in the chalky blue waters, Dan and I skim stones til are arms are tired, and sam skulks around in the shade of the surrounding cliffs to protect her burnt skin, over-sensitised by the anti-malarials we're routinely taking.





But we can't stay for too long - we have other items on the agenda, and after some more sight-seeing under the water (this time dogged by the those microscopic jellyfish that we all hate with venom), we take a slow casual ride around the amazing blues and greens of the coves of the island, claustrophobic from their imposing cliffs and water that radiates colour.





And just as the sun starts to make its descent, slowly at first and then rushing to submerge itself below the horizon about an hour later, our boat driver takes us to our last stop - the 25ft jump. I'm crapping myself. I HATE heights and I HATE climbing to heights and I certainly HATE jumping from heights. I'm nervous and agitated - he's dropped us not at the cliff-jumping site routinely used by these tours with a footpath to the top. No, we're at low-tide and need to clamber over sharp volcanic rocks, scaling the precipitous rockface in flip-flops and bare hands. I cut my foot. I hate this. I can feel the pressure of having to jump getting stronger - the lack of an easy alternative - no way of climbing down. I'll have to jump. I hate that.



Dan's up first. He reaches the top - its about 5 storeys high, and none of us really know if its deep enough. He's nervous (although not scared), but Tom isn't, so he skirts past me (clinging to a tree) and dan, takes a firm grip on his removed flip-flops, smiles for the camera, and he's gone. I see his head disappear over the edge and seconds later a splash and the cheers from the girls in the boat. Dan's itching to get moving too, so edges forward, hesitates a little, then he's gone too. He screamed on the way down - I feel justified to be scared now.



And then its me. Unable for a few seconds to let go of the tree holding me back, I edge myself across the sharp weathered rocks - the deep grooves and razor-like ridges of rocks exposed to the elements for hundreds of years but too tough to let themselves erode gently - and peer over the edge. It so far down. My heart is racing and all I really remember is shouting expletives as I searched for the balls to make the jump deep in my stomach. I look at Sam - she's pleading me on with her eyes. The whole boat now is cheering and shouting but I'm zoned out. Its too high. And I'm scared. I can't do this.



But I did. That hidden part of your brain that hates your fear and hates your weakness grabbed control of my motor-nuerons, zapping them with enough electrical activity to make me step, almost outside of my own control, off the edge of the cliff. Melodrama aside, falling those 5 storeys was more than just a cliff-dive. I remember lucidly the rushing of the air past my ears, the speed at which the water's surface zoomed towards me, the pain as my feet slapped the concrete-like floor and the depth I sunk too, surrounded by an all-encompassing spray of bubble, before clawing my way to the surface.

Its funny. I take this whole experience way too seriously. I shouldn't. It was just a bit of fun. But my whole life I've been hounded by dreams of falling. Dreams of hanging above huge drops, letting go, falling for long enough to compose my thoughts and realise my impending impact, but waking before it happens. And here I was, dropping through the sky. The ground rushed me, its perspective doubling, tripling in size as it comes towards me, only my feet and water seperating what feels like a near-certain death. It was poignant. A realisation that those dreams were accurate. How did I know it would be like that, all those years that i've been having those dreams. How did i know how potently acute that feeling was?

Anyway, I survived. The adrenaline kept me reeling about it for the next hour, and despite the slithers of blood of my feet from the rocks I'm beaming and ready for some more action sports. Maybe not another cliff-dive. But something fun nonetheless. And with that, our boat trip comes to an end and we head back to Ko Phi Phi, where we part company for an hour from the others as Tom and I decide to head up to the viewpoint, high on the cliff overlooking the approaching sunset and a vista over the developed part of the island.





And here is probably a good time to talk, just briefly, about the tsunami. Ko Phi Phi was hit pretty bad - remember we're on the Andaman coast now, west of mainland Thailand and in direct fire of any approaching tsunami's from the Indian Ocean. I've studied some of this stuff, so its not that new to me, but the practicalities are pretty different from my text-book education. The locals here aren't that keen to talk about what happened - when Eve decided to sing the Manic Street Preachers "Tsunami" chorus on the boat trip, the driver berated her quickly and refused to entertain the subject any more. 300,00 people died on Boxing Day, just over 3 years ago. The whole of Ko Phi Phi as I know it was destroyed. Tsunami warning signs around the island point people towards the higher ground that Tom and I are hiking towards to catch the sunset.



I didn't probe much about this stuff - so many people died here, and all around the Indian Ocean that its likely that whoever you speak to probably knows someone in their family, or one of their close friends who died. Especially those people here. But what I did find out was encouraging. One fisherman on Ko Chang told me that as the waters recede (prior to each 10ft high wave to hit the coast, the water recedes back almost a hundred meters out to sea as the wave gathers water), exposing land never seen before by human eyes, fish are left stranded on the seabed. It was at these times, perfectly timed to prevent anyone coming to harm, that fishermen, their children and their wives, would run out to the seabed with baskets grabbing as many of the stranded fish as possible, before running back inland and bracing themselves for the next wave.



And now that Ko Phi Phi has been rebuilt, its as charming as I imagine it ever was. The tourists have returned (after a serious lull that further destroyed a lot of the local businesses here), the evacuation routes and alarms have been installed and everyone keeps a quiet eye on that falling tide, just incase it doesn't come back in. Life has moved on. And as we clamber up the steepest incline I've done in months (since china in fact), we eventually make it up to the viewpoint with just 10 minutes to go before the sun slips out of view. The place is overcome with tourists, some of whom seem to have been sat here for hours waiting for the same thing. But its quiet and contemplative. A book stands outside a shop selling photographs of the damage and destruction caused by the tsunami, at key points that can be picked out from here. But its not tasteless. In fact, its informative and done without unnecessary pity. More a success story in rehabilitation than of defeat by nature.







And with an evening of goodbye drinks with Dan and Sarah, we party into the night, stumble home drunk and prepare for an early rise to head off to Ko Samui, a day's travel away from here but with the lure of more beaches and cheaper prices.