The Ultimate Globe Trotter -Thailand Part 2

Hua Lamphong Station, Bangkok, and waiting for the train to Surat Thani. Well, I was anyway. Many of the people waiting were heading for Chiang Mai for Thai New Year (Songkram) festivities it seems

There was only one thing for it: get out the map and the finger, close the eyes and make a stab at it. As I opened my eyes to see my destination of choice, I briefly wondered where I would be taken. A deserted tropical hideaway I hoped, with empty, white sand beaches, quaint little bamboo huts along the water’s edge, clear blue seas full of fish… As my eyes focused on the end of my finger, I lifted it to see where the hand of destiny would take me…

Oh b*****ks. Patong. Not quite what I was hoping for. Faced with a dilemma: i.e. do I bin my new, albeit temporary, ‘Diceman’ rule and ignore it the first time it doesn’t take me somewhere I want? But I decided to go and have a look anyway, much against my better judgement…

I lumped my monster rucksack into Hua Lamphong station in Bangkok, and queued to order a ticket. The place was packed due to the Thai New Year celebrations (Songkram) kicking off that weekend, but eventually I booked a ticket to Surat Thani. Having looked at the pricing options, I couldn’t believe how cheap the cost was, so I booked onto a 2nd class sleeper seat in an air conditioned carriage for my 12 hour overnight journey for about 9 quid, and some couple of hours later the train pulled out of the station at bang on the precise time.

Hua Lamphong Station, Bangkok, and waiting for the train to Surat Thani. Well, I was anyway. Many of the people waiting were heading for Chiang Mai for Thai New Year (Songkram) festivities it seems.

Krabi Rocks. Well, actually it’s fairly quiet this time of year, but the beaches are still nice

After arrival at Surat Thani, and another four and a half hours on a bus to Phuket Town (another 120 Baht), and, finally, 300 Baht later (after making a proper arse of myself) the tuk tuk pulled up in Patong. The next morning I was leaving, I’m afraid. I’m sure if I was with some of my mates it would be really good fun, and I can honestly say I’m not one of those ‘inverted travel snobs’. You know who I mean:

“Oh realllllly, but surely if you haven’t eaten a monkey’s brain while staying with a local Bedouin tribe and got off your head while sitting cross-legged in a loin cloth licking toads and sipping palm wine then your experiences just aren’t valid you know…”

But as the couple of blokes in front of me discussed with their wives whether they would be back to the same bar for the Full English (breakfast) the next morning, only to look up from the menu, whistle loudly, and give the startled fat bloke with the really bad sunburn on the opposite side of the road a synchronised middle finger each, I realised I was yet to find my travel Valhalla in Thailand.

This time the map/finger combo produced Ao Nang (well, nearest to it anyway), a small town on the coast in the Krabi District. I had heard of it, but knew nothing about it, but it looked a good deal more promising.

Buying some Pla Mook (Squid) for glua (bait) at the market was an experience in itself

A couple of days were spent getting some bearings about the place, and the lovely old lady who ran the guest house really did me a favour once I had somehow communicated that I wanted some bait, and she sent me off on a moped to the local market with one of the other ladies who worked there so I didn’t get lost. Soon we had the bait, we had the technology, and it was time to do a little bit of fishing. After a bit of evening/morning fishing from the rocks at the western end of the beach, and catching loads of different reef species I have yet to get identified, I realised that as much as I enjoy catching as many species of fish as I can, and part of my idea behind making this journey is to see just how many I can rack up, the proper angling excitement lays with things a little bit larger than the palm of your hand.

So with this in mind, and the fact that if I paid ‘normal’ tourist game boat prices I’d be home by the end of May, I walked the beach to see how many boatmen were about during the daytime, lounging about like driftwood swept up the sand. I consulted a Swedish dive shop owner about what it should cost (about 800 Baht, he said), and took my new inside information down to the beach the next morning, and it took only seconds for a stony faced bloke to approach, and after a nerve-racking few minutes of negotiation, a 5 hour trip was bought for… 800 Baht.

Many and varied reef species impaled themselves on the hook….

All aboard, and off we sailed out to the deep blue yonder. He wasn’t the most welcoming of skippers, or, it turned out, a fisherman either, but at least we were afloat. We spent an hour or two fishing close to some of the near vertically sided rocks jutting out of the sea in the area, and soon several fish were caught on the tiny ‘foil’ feathers which Thorke had left for me, as they skittered across the surface surrounding the boat- so at least bait was not a problem! So a livebait went out on a 20/30 class outfit, while a fish-head went out on a lighter set up. Within seconds it was seized by something a little larger, and soon a nice multi coloured snapper species fluttered into the boat. Despite my inane mimes and best efforts I still couldn’t squeeze a smile out of our man for the picture, but at least he was good enough to hold the thing up.

I have no idea how many fish followed- several I know, and all of them would have looked great in an aquarium, but after a while the bites dried up and I looked at the boatman and said “Try Pla Isaak?”. Suddenly he looked a little more enthusiastic! The 20/30 rod was brought in and a trace tied to the end, and a few minutes later a large Rapala was being trolled around the rocks in an attempt to snag (literally) a Barracuda. Some hour or so past without any interruption, when suddenly, just as we circumnavigated another rock, the rod lurched over violently in my hands, and I found myself attached to a lively Barracuda as it tried to regain its freedom. A short but frenetic scrap later, and a few kilos of psychopathic fish was clattering about in the bottom of the boat.

The Laughing Boatman and a string of bait taken on the feathers Thorke left for me. They really worked a treat

As much as I always like to practice catch and release wherever possible or practical, in this case the fish was quite badly hooked, making it unlikely to survive in any case, so it was despatched to the bottom of the ship to meet its maker. As we pulled ashore a short while later, we finally got a smile from the boatman, when I did some more hand signals indicating that he could keep the fish himself, which was a nice way to finish the day, really.

Next stop on the Andaman coast was Koh Lanta Yai. Getting there involved taking a bus journey and a ferry across from the mainland. A little time was spent getting some bearings again, and to be honest, after doing so I wasn’t really sure what to make of it. On one hand it could be an idyllic tropical island, and on the other it could have been a Manila landfill site. Of course, everywhere you looked it was impossible to miss the evidence of tsunami damage, but I’m not sure that all the crap laying around was actually caused by it… Still, it was a lovely beach, lovely sea and I hoped to be able to sort out a bit of fishing somewhere along the line. Some very cheap accommodation was also found in the form of a bungalow right on the beach- a lovely little place, once I’d put out the cockroaches each night.

But at last a grin… Not right away, but he did, just briefly, later on when I told him he could take Harry ‘Cuda home with him

The moped ride up and down the island had me gasping for air as the passing trucks kicked their huge clouds of dust high into the sky, and it was all a pretty unpleasant experience as sand and grit continually filled my eyes. But eventually reaching the village of Saladan at the top end of the island, a search was instigated for bait.

Simple, you might think, being right next to the ocean and all that. Unfortunately it didn’t prove to be so. I asked at the couple of dive shops which were still open and operating- they had no idea where I could buy any. So I asked at two restaurants proclaiming that they were specialists in seafood- surely they would know where I could buy some squid or shrimps? Nope.

Even after drawing pictures and saying Pla Mook and Koong (prawn) a lot I still drew a blank.

So, as I stood, dripping with sweat and covered in dust looking up and down the main street, I have to say that things have usually looked a little more hopeful! As I wandered the dusty street, one last beacon came into focus- another cafe/restaurant with the word ‘Seafood’ painted in large, bright letters on the front of it. ‘Here goes’, I thought as I entered. And there, in front of me were half a dozen large polystyrene cool-boxes full of different types of fish… and some large squid, all on ice. At last! The strange thing is that this place was no more than 30 yards from either one of the dive shops or one of the restaurants I had asked at, and yet none of the people I asked even indicated it’s existence. Spooky.

A cast-net fisherman stalks the beaches of Koh Lanta Yai

Having finally secured a source of bait, and carried out some local reconnaissance, it was time to secure some fishing. A couple of evenings were spent under beautiful tropical sunsets down on the beach, hoping that a Stingray or some other such scavenger would put in an appearance (it didn’t). However, several small and brightly coloured species did take some small strips of squid on a light gear, and it was nice to at least have something on the end of the line and a bend in the rod again, but looking at the vast expanse of clear blue Andaman Sea in front of me, it was obvious that to reach anything of any kind of substance, a boat was going to be required. And arranging this- and the resulting day on the “ocean”- was a passage fraught with… well…

Waiting for the big pull from a Stingray as the sun sets. It never did put in a cameo that evening…

It all started when I asked the nice lady running the bungalows whether there were any longtail boats that could take me out fishing on the ocean; “Pishing no problem- me get pishing man come talk you.”

This sounded quite promising. An hour or two later, this bloke turns up with a money pouch draped over his shoulder, looking like he could actually supply you with anything and everything from pop-socks and dusters to marijuana and Uzi’s.

“You wan go pishing man?” he slithered.

“Yes please. Out on the ocean”, I gestured towards the deep blue sea in front of us. “You know, Pla Isaak, Pla Kapong Daeng, Pla Mong.” (Barracuda, Red Snapper, Trevally).

“Issss no problem. No problem. Ow long you wan go?”

“Don’t know- five, six hours maybe.””Ok. No problem. Costing 4000 Baht.””Kinell!!” I spluttered, nearly choking on my Chang Beer.

“How much you wan pay ven?”

“About 500 hundred mate!”, I said, trying to bring the bartering process back onto this island.

“Ok. I go thinking. Speak you later.”

And later he appeared. Slinking into the coconut grove like a ferret in flip-flops. “Ok. Me do trip 2500 Baht for you,” he offered.

Please insert your own joke about ‘English bloke goes to Thailand and catches crabs’

After much to-ing and fro-ing (Jesus I hate bartering) a price of 1500 Baht was settled on, for five hours out on the deep blue ocean (and I was deliberately quite lucid about the ‘deep blue ocean’ bit, by the way). I still wasn’t confident, and I really didn’t like the bloke at all, and it was perhaps quite a bit more than I really wanted to be paying. Still, I reasoned that if it was any good, and got me into the right place, then it would be money worth spending. Hmmm.

Right. So where do I start? I guess I kind of sensed all was not going to be quite as it should be shortly after reaching the boat. Another guy sat waiting in the longtail (obviously his mate), and once we stowed everything aboard, off we went. Now, for some reason the boat turned right out of the channel at Saladan, which even with very limited knowledge of the place told me we were heading east towards mainland- and therefore the mangrove swamps covering that part of the island. Giving them the benefit of the doubt, I hoped we were just either going to collect some bait, or we were just taking a bit of a short cut. Ten minutes later the engine cut, right at the confluence of two narrow mangrove channels.

“We trying here for Snapper pish first,” said the ferret, dropping the anchor- which hit bottom after 0.3 seconds (give or take).

“Oh. Challow here. Still we do trying anyway,” he said with an embarrassed smile, obviously realising that any veneer of being a local fishing guru had been shattered right away.

And this was just the start. I guess Graham didn’t need a 4 page list of all the cock-ups, mishaps and misdemeanours that occurred that day (I’ll leave that drivel and moaning for my own site), so I’ll leave it here for him, but, suffice to say it was not the smoothest day on the water I’ve ever had that culminated in a full frontal view up ferret’s mate’s sari as he was trying to, erm, ‘calm’ an infection over the side of the boat… And the final twist of the knife came when as we set out to move spots from one duffer to another. Yup- you’ve guessed it, the engine wouldn’t start. Finally, another fisherman was flagged down and he towed us to a nearby island a couple of miles away. By way of his payment, he took several of the fish we had caught, and the one large intact and remaining Calamari I had bought the day before and had on ice – I just didn’t see he had taken it until he hopped back from our boat to his. So that knackered up the evening beach session I had planned as well…

West coast of Koh Lanta- always a lovely sundown. Guaranteed. Unless it’s cloudy of course

Eventually the boat got jump started again, and because a) they dare not stop the boat again in case it wouldn’t start, and b) so much time had been wasted fannying about, back to dock we went. A great day indeed… When I asked for a reduction in cost due to, well, everything, he just said “But my friend… we are very, very late back.” I didn’t get his business card for some reason.

Next up was Tony, who worked at the bungalows. He said he knew some of the sea gypsies on the island, and he could talk to them to arrange a night out on the ocean. This did sound much more interesting though, and after a couple of chats and the exchange of a handful of Baht, we were on for a full night out on the waves. And a truly unique experience it was too. We set off a couple of hours after dark and headed perhaps 3 or 4km out to sea (where I wanted to be before!). The evening was hot, humid and calm, and a full moon lit up the whole landscape and ocean around us, casting sharp shadows on the bottom of the boat. The anchor was dropped in water 25 metres deep, and I opened a beer and set up a couple of rods.

Baby Grouper that liked the look of the Isotope ‘Teaser’

Soon, a multitude of Snapper and Grouper of different species were winging their way into the boat, and nobody was without a fish on for many minutes all evening- nothing huge- although my deadbait anchored on the bottom set off with a ratchet-scream at one point, only to be dropped before I could strike the hook home.

As we sat fishing, clouds had gathered over the hills towards the centre of the island, and in the far distance on the horizon, more had formed over towards the north west in Phuket direction. And there, as we sat afloat under the bright full moon, on a mirror calm sea, we were treated to the most spectacular light show from two directions as monsoon storms illuminated the skies.

“We get rain?” I asked, in that horrible pigeon English that I seemed to have mutated into speaking since arriving on the island (at this point I couldn’t remember the last English person I’d spoken to).

“Maybe. Waiting waiting- may missing”.

Suddenly a chill (and I use that word hesitantly, cos it’s all relative isn’t it?) split through the air, ruffling the water’s surface. Within seconds waves replaced what had only moments before been oily calm.

Koh Lanta sea gypsy shows off a lovely Snapper taken on a handline

“Rain come. Winding. Going”. And with that all lines and the anchor were retrieved, the engine spluttered into life, and we were crashing through the surf on the way back to shore. As we cut through the heavy whitecaps now bursting onto the beach, the hull of the boat bounced onto, and then slid up the sand- just as we could hear the torrential rain rattling its way closer and louder through the forest, before bursting over us just seconds later, soaking everyone and everything to the bone in an instant.

The day after, a morning was spent trolling Rapalas in and out of the nets (of which there were hundreds- again), with one of the Gypsy blokes and although we only had the one ‘Cuda that hung itself, enough marine life was also seen (trying to work its way in and out of the nets!) to make it all interesting. I guess the capture of the Barracuda itself was amusing, in that as it neared the boat, my gypsy friend readied the gaff. I indicated that it wouldn’t be necessary, and then lifted the fish into the boat by the use of the wire leader so I could unhook and return it to the water… at which point, as it hung for a second or two in mid-air calming down, he suddenly thacked the poor thing over the head with the blunt end of the gaff like he was trying to slap it for a home run. Oh well…

The delivery boy from Cuda Hut was late as usual

So that’s about it this far. I have since moved on from Koh Lanta, but have only just got round to writing this load of waffle (so I’m a bit behind- please bear with me…). Tight lines.

The ‘full version’ of this report with more words and pictures can be seen at: www.gulliblestravels.co.uk.