After the beautiful, motorboat, discotheque craziness of Phi Phi we decided to look for somewhere more off the beaten track. And settled on Ko Jam.
Also known as Ko Pu (tee hee), the island is only about 10 kilometers from Phi Phi, but being a bit of a backwater, there are no direct boats.
Instead you have to take a ferry to Krabi Town (an hour and a half), sleep over and then take another ferry (an hour and a quarter) down towards Ko Lanta. This ferry then stops about a kilometre off the Ko Pu coast, and a longtail boat putt-putts out to fetch you.
Luckily for us, as we slept in our Krabi Town hotel room, a storm ripped through the area, turning the sea into a sloshy mess. And when we arrived at the ferry departure point, we were told, “Sorry, farang. No boat today.”
Instead, they put the three of us in a bakkie and drove us through the countryside.
The driver’s English was limited and we had no idea where he was taking us. But we were heading in roughly the right direction, so we relaxed and enjoyed the view, cruising through the suburbs of Krabi Town and then out into rural Thailand.
After about half an hour, we arrived in a tiny fishing village called Ban Laem Kruat and saw our next mode of transport. It looked like a mixture between a traditional Thai longtail boat and a D-Day landing craft. Suddenly we weren’t so relaxed.
As the bakkie driver carried our luggage onto the already overloaded vessel, a toothless fisherman cackled with laughter.
I wasn’t really getting the joke. Was it about how much luggage we had? The worried look on our faces? Or were we about to experience hell on the high seas?
We clambered on board. I joined Nicola, Sam and a group of Thai women under the roof, while the local men sat in the open air, on motorbikes, boxes of supplies, or wherever else they could find a space.
I very responsibly decided not to go out and join them. We’d heard that the sea was a mess, and if anyone was going to get washed overboard by a freak wave, better it was someone who knew which way to swim.
The boat left the shore and the small fishing village got even smaller behind us. The sky was brooding grey. The wind whipped a salty spray from our wake. But the water stayed surprisingly flat. And we quickly began to enjoy ourselves.
Our route from the mainland was protected from the open sea by Ko Pu, Ko Siboya and a few other small islands. They also provided the view as we passed lush green jungle, a scattering of tiny fishing boats and the occasional limestone cliff.
The hour-long boat ride was over sooner than we would have liked. The D-Day landing craft dropped its hinged gangplank and a collection of motorcycles, noodles, potato chips, fruits, canned foods and one ferang family with a lorry-load of luggage invaded the small island.
A man called Mango was waiting for us. And as he heaved our luggage onto the back of another bakkie he briefed us on the next chapter of our odyssey.
Our resort was on the other side of the island. Normally you’d reach it by longtail. But with the seas being so rough, that wasn’t an option. The only way was by road. But we’d have to walk the last 500m.
We cut across the island, passing a scattering of houses, rubber plantations and grazing land before stopping at the top of a hill overlooking the ocean. Then we began to walk.
Nicola carried the sprog. I carried my daypack (filled with Sam’s milk, fruit juice and yoghurt), the pram and a large grocery bag with nappies and other baby stuff. Mango carried Sam’s travel cot and the small suitcase (27kg). The other local got to carry the ‘Big Bitch’. A massive, unwieldy Samsonite suitcase that weighed well over 30kg. It had earned its nickname by being big and a bitch to carry.
500m turned out to be a small, white lie. It was a kilometre at least. The road was a mess of mud that sucked the flip-flops from your feet. And mudslides had left rocks, trees and tractors strewn across it.
It was hard work.
The local carrying the ‘Big Bitch’ saw me struggling in my slippery slops and cheekily offered to carry my grocery bag as well. But a few more hills soon wiped the smugness off his face. And when another set of hands arrived, he quickly set the ‘Big Bitch’ down.
The two of them then found a sturdy tree branch, slotted it through the suitcase handle and continued along like a pair of cannibals carrying a missionary to the cooking pot.
After another few hundred metres of slipping and slopping through the jungle we finally reached our resort. It was beautiful. Set on a hillside overlooking the ocean and opening onto a large, deserted beach.
It had only taken us 25 hours to get here. And as we finally stepped down onto the beach, the sight of Phi Phi’s silhouette was there to greet us. Just a hop, skip and a jump away.
