The Emerald of the East

Travelling through Thailand you come across stories from the same iconic places. Phuket, Bangkok, Chiang Mai, and a host of tourist hotspots litter the map and minds of tourists. When I look at maps, what jumps out at me first and foremost is the empty green areas. The areas where roads are a rarity, void of named places. These are the areas I often seek out in all my time outdoors. After Koh Tao, we began to travel north towards Bangkok, and those green places on the map seemed to became more spread out, less present. This was troubling to me. Concrete jungles filled with crowds, noise and lights can be enjoyable, but nothing can compare to jungles where crowds, noise and lights are welcomed and rare sight. Looking desperately at where to go next I noticed a small green patch sticking out amongst the endless networks of roads and towns. Khao Sam Roi Yot National Park. The park was nestled in along the eastern shores of Thailand, fifty kilometres from everywhere. I knew this was somewhere for a tourist like myself.

Khao Sam Roi Yot, roughly translates to “the mountain with 300 peaks”. Nestled amongst the 300 limestone peaks that rise sharply from the earth was Thailand’s largest wetlands, and a network of deep large caves. The park is home to endangered species of primates, and geckos only found in this dramatic landscape. The mountains butt up right to the turquoise sea, rising up and towering over the beaches and coral below. It was a place where pictures of the landscape were magnificent, and I knew that it would only be more impressive in person.

We left Hua Hin in the twilight of the morning. The faint blue sky was becoming increasingly lighter as we left the city on our rented mopeds. Zig zagging through the waking streets, we crossed lush rivers, arid farmlands and tiny closed markets, who’s patrons were still asleep in their homes. In the distance, lit by the fresh morning light were a series of peaks that lifted the horizon skywards. As we pushed further the traffic declined, the villages became sparse and the mountains now encircled us. The landscape was different than I had ever experienced. In the valleys, agriculture and aquaculture were the dominant force. Empty fields and marshes were filled with Egrets, Herons and shorebirds of varying sizes, wading in search of food. Cattle moved slowly through the fields, leaving behind a trail of muddy footprints. Above the fields were vertical rises varying from dozens to hundreds of metres. The limestone peaks punched through to the sky, showing open rock faces, weathered by millennia. At the tops of these peaks were the hardiest of Thailand’s fauna, clinging to the rocks, fighting for the few inches of soil. It was as if we had left eastern coast and been transported to the western shores of Thailand, leaving the busy cities and farmlands and entered the coastal towns of Railay and Phuket. Our first destination in the spread out park was a beach called Haw Khao Thian on the northern side. The reason we chose this beach first was it was the beginning of the trail leading to the most famous and photographed part of the park, Phraya Nakhon cave. This enormous cave was hidden just off the coast, only accessible by longboat or hiking a steep jagged trail over and around the limestone cliffs cutting off the access. As we pulled up to the beach, a family of long tailed Macaques sat on the roadside, unbothered by the few tourists just beginning to arrive. Above them in the trees were a few Dusky Langurs, an endangered primate, having breakfast on leaves before the commotion of tourists scared them deeper into the impenetrable forests and cliffs. We began to hike up the rocky path leading up and over the cactus covered cliffs. The trail followed along the crest of the hill, giving us large open vantage points out onto the empty sea. After the first rise and fall we came to another beach, void of road access but still filled with campgrounds and a small café. The well packed trail cut deeper inland down the beach and led to the bottom of another steep rise. Up we went, climbing up cut out stairs heading further from the shore and into the hills. Finally we met the opening of the cave. The large open entrance was lined with stalactites, looking like rocky icicles. The first chamber of the cave was well lit by two large openings, over a hundred metres above our heads. A small lush forest filled with life sat at the bottom of the cave, a stark contrast to the rock and sand that dominated the dark underground cave. All you could do was look awestruck. It felt like wandering in a high arched cathedral, complete with skylight and a mural of abstract art made by stones and shadows.

Although every noise echoed loudly in the empty cave, we all sat in silence, unable to fully process the magnitude of the natural creation we sat in. We left the first chamber and followed the path deeper into the cave. The second chammer was even larger and more impressive. The high rock walls arched above our heads, leading to a hole in the top filling the room with early morning light. In the middle of the massive open room was a blue and gold covered monument, shrouded in the only light entering the cave. The dust of the cave floor kicked up and filled the light, showcasing the beams that illuminated the pristine sanctuary. Without a doubt the cave was the most beautiful sight I had ever seen. I climbed up a hill of rock and sand on the far side giving myself a vantage point of the entire chamber, while deep in personal reflection and meditation. From this vantage I looked down on the rest of the cave. To my right was the small temple, covered in golden beams. To the left, still tucked in the shadows was another forest, lost in the cave, surviving only on midday light. A lone Dusky Langur sat idly in one of the trees, working its way through a meal of green leaves. I wondered to myself if the curious langur had ventured into the cave and stumbled upon this natural oasis just like its primate cousin, humans had done. Whether by accident or opportunity the Dusky Langur also seemed at peace in the cave.

Eventually throngs of tourists began to enter the cave, and the empty silence was now filled with whispered wonderments in various languages from around the globe. We felt self righteous in our timing, getting quiet reflection in what was now becoming a bustling tourist attraction. It was then we decided to exit the cave, filled with satisfaction and admiration.

By the time we reached the beach, it was only noon, but already it felt like we had completed a full day. We took off from the beach and cruises around the quiet roads, basking in the sunshine and the beautiful landscape. On the south side of the park was the main ranger station, and home to a few trails ranging from mangrove boardwalks to towering mountain overlooks. We pulled up to the ranger station and were greeted by dozens of Long tailed Macaques. Some rested peacefully on the manicured lawn, others lounged in the shade of trees. Some were curious and climbed all over our rented mopeds searching for anything to get ahold of, others were timid and kept their distance, unsure of their newest onlookers. I was overwhelmed. I darted frantically attempting to capture their pictures, but it seemed once I trained my lens on one primate another would catch my eye. The most stunning part was realness in their eyes. I instantly felt the connection of our common ancient ancestry. It was unmistakable, and so unlike making eye contact with another type of animal. Wildlife photography has given me many opportunities to lock eyes with animals but this time was so much more impactful. I used our body languages to communicate with them showing I had come as an ally, and they replied by becoming relaxed and going about their day.

At one point a large male Macaque marched over to a garden tap near where I was sitting. He confidently strutted up, turned on the tap and began to drink from it. He clearly knew what he was doing. After his drink, he went and laid on a nearby picnic table in the shade and spread out and began stretching and yawning. Two younger Macaques wandered up and drank the split water on the ground, and tried to get every possibly drop to help cope with the heat. Once again using my body language, I slowly approached and gently turned on the tap, allowing the two curious youngsters to get a drink. They took turns catching the falling water in their mouths, sharing their newly discovered refreshments. It was clear on their faces that they were enjoying the cool drink, while letting each other both take turns.

After a few minutes, the two wet monkeys left the tap and headed back to their favourite hangout spots, both looking for a great place to have an afternoon nap. With a mindful of new memories and a memory card full of new pictures, I left the primate paradise with a new found appreciation and respect.

Khao Sam Roi Yot is full of caves wetlands and jungle just waiting to be explored. It’s a place where around every corner is something new. After a full day in the park I had barely broken the surface of what lies inside. I left the park wondering about caves I never went into, peaks I never climbed, beaches I never swam at, and animals I never met. With all that yet to be completed I left feeling full. As I write this on a train, I can see the faint outline of the jagged cliffs in the distance. The topography explodes from the landscape, like a beacon drawing all those who seek adventure, mystery and exploration, but on a map it just sits there, a small green emerald of the east.