1,600km of Wonder

FROM TOWERING KARSTS AND COLOURFUL SEAS TO ROLLING HILLTOPS AND INTERCONNECTED WATERWAYS – WE UNFOLD ADVENTURES ALONG SOME OF THAILAND’S RICH TOPOGRAPHICAL WONDERS.

WORDS BY DAVID LUEKENS

Centuries ago in Siam, foreign travellers marvelled at towering cliffs of limestone, crystal turquoise seas and dense jungles blanketing the mountains. They navigated a confusion of waterways that nourished one of the most productive agricultural basins on the planet. So enchanted by the land and the people, some decided never to leave.

JUST AS THE RIVERS MEANDER FROM NORTH TO SOUTH...

Back then, travelling in the region usually involved a methodical – and somewhat mythical – journey by river or sea. When the water became too shallow for boats, voyagers continued on foot, often employing elephants or water buffalo to carry their cargo. Along the overgrown trails, confronting a wild tiger was a constant worry.

Much has changed over the past century. Siam updated its name to Thailand in 1932, and its landlocked neighbour, Laos, celebrated independence 17 years later. Few wild tigers remain, and even the farthest-flung outposts are now accessible by roads, railways and airports. Yet the topography of these countries continues to evoke adventure, just as it did for those early travellers.

Anantara and Avani hotels offer a plethora of trips and activities that evoke this ‘golden age’ of travel. From the northern Thai and Lao mountains to the majestic Mekong River and the sublime islands of the south, each property was designed not only for maximum comfort with a graceful aesthetic, but also to make it easy for guests to engage with the surrounding landscapes and the people who call them home.

Elephants at the tip of Thailand

Conical mountains form the southeastern foothills of the Himalayas amid the relatively cool climes of northern Thailand, where our journey begins. Draped in jungle and dotted with terraced rice paddies and tea farms, the highest Thai peaks reach above 2,500m. Switchback lanes curve up and down many of their slopes, affording vistas of layered ridgelines.

Mist yawns off the hilltops as we lace up our boots for ‘Walk with Giants’, a programme that introduces guests to elephants in a humane way at Anantara Golden Triangle Elephant Camp & Resort Set near Thailand’s northernmost point, the property stretches to both the Ruak River within shouting distance of Myanmar, and the Mekong River across from Laos.

The camp is home to some 20 elephants rescued from street begging, illegal logging and abusive tourist sites, and now cared for by the non-profit Golden Triangle Asian Elephant Foundation. Two of the residents, 17-year-old Da and 43-year-old Pum Pui, meaning ‘Plump Belly,’ have developed a touching relationship, says camp manager Laddawan ‘Ou’ Yonthantham.

“Da worked as a street-begging elephant in the city from the age of three,” she explains. “Pum Pui also worked in street begging and was hit by a car, leaving her with a painful limp. Both are very scared of cars and trucks, and now they’re inseparable. If a car passes nearby, they trumpet back and forth as if to say, ‘I’m here with you! Don’t be scared!’”

We step into one of the resort’s extraordinary Jungle Bubbles as chillier air welcomes the twilight. Elephants freely saunter past our bubble’s circular shell made of stiff, high-tech polyester – so transparent that we feel like we’re outside while enjoying luxurious comforts within. After dark, we lie back and gaze halfway across the Milky Way, or so it seems.

Taming the Golden Triangle

The borders of Thailand, Laos and Myanmar merge in this remote region, which was notorious for drug smuggling well into the 1980s. Back then, Thailand’s late King Bhumibol led a social outreach campaign that persuaded many hill tribes in the area to give up on growing opium and start cultivating alternative high-value crops, such as roses, arabica coffee, oolong tea and strawberries. Affording tremendous views from its 1,389m hill station, Doi Tung now exemplifies this remarkable transition. To reach it, jump in a sidecar attached to one of Anantara Golden Triangle’s Royal Enfield motorcycles, or ride in one of the classic Jeeps or tuk tuks

Down the Mekong

From its origins as frigid water dripping off Tibetan glaciers to its final leg in the steamy delta of southern Vietnam, the 4,350km Mekong River has anchored civilisations for millennia in what we now know as Thailand, Laos and beyond. For more than 2,700km, the two countries share this life-bringing river.

We step aboard the 41m converted rice barge, Gypsy, from Huay Xai, Laos, located only 70km from where we dozed in Anantara’s elephant bubbles. Aboard we watch life pass us by as it has since time immemorial; an elderly woman’s iron pot steams out the scent of lemongrass as her companion uses a pestle to pound green papaya with fermented fish sauce, fresh lime juice and chillies, as chickens cluck nearby.

In Luang Prabang, a UNESCO World Heritage city that brims with restored French-Colonial architecture and exquisite temples, we sip local Lao coffee amid the languid lanes. The city served as the capital of the once-powerful Lan Xang kingdom, we learn, from the 14th to 16th centuries. In stunning mosaic, sculpture and lacquer, traces of Lan Xang artistry are everywhere.

With a heritage ambience that fits seamlessly into the heart of the old town, the balconies of the Avani+ Luang Prabang Hotel provides a perfect vantage point to enjoy the dusk light as it casts a tropical glow over the golden spire of nearby Phou Si, the ‘sacred hill.’ Lan Xang monarchs once climbed its slopes to bow before gilded images of the Buddha.

The watery cradle of Thai civilisation

As our journey through the dense jungles and the main artery of Thailand draws to an end, we settle into the Anantara Riverside Bangkok Resort and watch banana-shaped longtail boats zip across a bustling stretch of the Chao Phraya River. After a pleasurable talk with the concierge, we find ourselves cruising on a guided boat tour the next morning.

We find that an older way of life persists among the many khlongs, or canals, that reach west from downtown Bangkok into the Thonburi part of town. Donning a straw hat, a woman rows her sampan over to our longtail boat to offer a bundle of fresh bananas. Boat vendors like her are still relatively common in Thonburi, even as skytrain stations now overshadow the khlongs in places.

“Some families still take their kids to school by boat,” says Waiyawit ‘Diamond’ Thongserm, a Khlong Guru employed by Anantara. He points out households where the families produce fish sauce, shrimp paste and pickled vegetables, accounting for the powerful scents that grab the air. From the drooping stoop of one house, a boy tosses rice kernels to the catfish.

Back at the resort we climb into a luxury barge, the Loy River Song, and churn up the Chao Phraya River to Ayutthaya. From the 14th century to 1767, when a Burmese invasion forced the Siamese to move their capital 80km south to Bangkok, Ayutthaya stood as one of Asia’s largest cities. Its skyline of twinkling gold spires impressed many early travellers.

Two more rivers – the Lopburi and the Pasak – meet the Chao Phraya to encircle Ayutthaya’s riverine island, where the ruins of palaces and religious monuments tower beside modern Thai markets and schools. Old teak houses, Buddha images, mosques, churches and Chinese shrines combine to hint at the cultural diversity that defined this city centuries ago.

Jumping in one of Ayutthaya’s signature frog-shaped tuk tuks, we head out of town to climb the 14th-century Chedi Phu Khao Thong. From the upper platform of this towering cone-shaped edifice, we gaze over bright-green rice paddies dissected by khlongs. In the distance, water buffalo relax as white herons drive their long beaks into the mud. A farmer naps, his bare feet protruding from a thatched hut.

To round off the day, we lie down for a Thai massage – an ancient healing method recognised by UNESCO in 2019 as ‘Intangible Cultural Heritage of Humanity.’ Carefully applied pressure releases bodily stress as we reflect on how, in the landscapes we’ve seen, a sense of continuity reaches through time.

Above: James Bond Island is accessible by day trip.

Left: Koh Mae Koh lagoon.

Right: Some of the 42 protected islands, collectively known as Mu Ko Ang Thong National Park. ‘Ang Thong’ means ‘Golden Bowl.’

Into a karst archipelago

Our journey now takes us from land to sea, yet the presence of towering jungles and densely-packed greenery remain a constant in our vista, if only to throw cooling shade while relaxing.

Off the large island of Koh Samui in southern Thailand, the wind pulls our chartered sailboat into a magnificent chain of 42 protected islands, collectively known as Ang Thong or ‘Golden Bowl’. Cliffs begin to dwarf our boat, concealing sea caves as a school of angelfish saunter past.

We dig our toes into powdery coral sand before ascending to a viewpoint set over a lagoon, rimmed on all sides by vertical limestone. Here in the lagoon of Koh Mae Koh, the water shines like molten emerald and jade.

These karst massifs originated as coral reefs, we learn, which petrified into limestone after tectonic movements thrust them above sea level more than 200 million years ago. They were once part of a colossal reef system that splotched the region from modern Sumatra to southern China. Look closely – ancient seashells and marine fossils are still embedded in the rock.

Back on Koh Samui we enjoy the private plunge pool fronting our sleek villa at Anantara Lawana Koh Samui Resort. After watching sunrise over the Gulf of Thailand the next morning, we hop in an open-topped Jeep and rumble past rubber trees lined up in neat rows amid the island’s rolling inland groves. A coconut falls with a plunk, freed from its branch by the salty breeze.

Meeting the sea turtles

Venturing over to the west coast of Thailand’s portion of the Malay Peninsula, the last of our adventures await, this time beneath the sea. We check into the Avani+ Khao Lak Resort for a sunset-facing outlook along a stretch of the Andaman coastline that immediately soothes us to the bone.

Occasionally visited by nesting leatherback sea turtles, an endangered species that ranks as the world’s largest turtle, Khao Lak’s golden sands extend for miles before disappearing into vast mangrove forests, which can be explored by kayak. Stepping onto the beach that fronts our pool villa, we spot a family in the distance building sandcastles on an otherwise empty stretch of sand.

Snorkels in hand, we hop in a speedboat and cruise out to the Similan Islands, a petite archipelago where silky white sand embraces crystalline water that is ideal for diving and snorkelling. On Koh Miang we hike up to a boulder, known as Donald Duck Rock, that appears to balance atop a cliff and affords a dazzling view of boats and snorkellers dotting the Andaman below.

Along with many other Thai islands that have been folded into Thailand’s 26 national marine parks, the Similans’ officially protected status keeps them safe for wildlife. Dusky leaf monkeys swing through undisturbed forests, where you might also spot a rare Nicobar pigeon or collared kingfisher.

For many visitors, the vibrant underwater world is the highlight. Ranging in colour from hot pink to ice blue, coral grows in the shapes of mushrooms, bubbles and brains amid reefs that extend throughout the island chain. Hunting the tropical fish are black-tip reef sharks, leopard sharks and the largest shark species of all, the whale shark. Fortunately, all three of these species are just as gentle as the green sea turtles that swim past slowly, delighting our group of snorkellers.

From winding through hilly jungles by motorbike and sidecar to greet elephants, to cruising the vast rivers by barge, longtail boat and khlongs that connect ancient cultures and bustling cities, to the white sand and turquoise invitation the oceans offer above and below the horizon, this topographical journey is complete.

Houseboats And Barges

In cities like Bangkok and Chiang Mai, wooden houseboats once sat moored to the riverbanks as permanent, mobile residences. Common in their day, they made it easy for occupants to catch fish, take baths and do laundry using the water flowing beneath their feet. A step up from the houseboat in terms of size was the rice barge (pictured), typically a teak vessel with a broad sloped bow, wide storage belly and cabins on deck for the merchant and crew. Though houseboats and rice barges have all but disappeared, the waterborne ways they represent remain an important aspect of Thai culture.

BANG KOK OR BANG KOH?

Thai people refer to their capital city as Krung Thep Mahanakorn, meaning ‘Sacred City of Angels,’ but the older name, Bangkok, has stuck among foreigners. Many historians believe this name combines bang, meaning ‘village close to water,’ with makok, an olive-like fruit that is known to have grown in the area long ago. Khlong Guru Diamond suggests an alternative view, pointing out that a canal dug in the early 16th century shortened the path of the Chao Phraya River and created a riverine island, or koh in Thai. Part of Thonburi today, the original settlement that materialised on this island might have called itself Bang Koh, ‘Village of the Island.’ Over centuries of mispronunciation by foreigners, this easily could have resolved into the name, Bangkok.

Spirit Of The Longtail Boat

Found in various parts of Thailand and Laos, most of these slender and agile vessels are powered by modified truck engines attached to long steel tails with propellers at the end. To steer, drivers use their own strength to glide the tail through the water. Some longtail boats, or rua hang yao in Thai, are made from the sturdy wood of the thong takien tree, in which a feminine spirit is believed to dwell. This spirit is thought to transfer into the bow of each finished boat, explaining why colourful ribbons are often tied there in her honour. The best longtail boats are so sturdy that, with regular maintenance, they can keep cutting the waves for a century or more.

Many Faces Of The Tuk Tuk

Not all of these motorised tricycles, the signature road vehicles of Thailand, are made equal. In Bangkok they come compact with a seat for three passengers behind the driver. In the northeast they’re powered by the front half of a motorcycle, complete with chopper-style handlebars. In Ayutthaya and parts of the south, the tuk tuks resemble frogs with bulging fronts. Sukhothai flips the design, placing passengers up front and drivers seated behind. Larger four-wheeled tuk tuks with seating on two sides, fitting up to six passengers, are common in Phuket and Hua Hin. Then there are the personalised modifications, from thumping sound systems to flashing lights and imaginative paint jobs. No trip to Thailand would be complete without a tuk tuk ride.