Thailand

When sailing in Thailand, we spent many hours gazing at the stunning scenery created by the lush limestone cliffs that jutted out of jade colored waters like slabs of bearded giant fingers, called karsts.

Thailand means, 'Land of the Free', and has never been colonized. Being an ancient crossroads of Malay, Chinese, and Indian traders who first arrived for the nutmeg and cinnamon spice trade - once considered more valuable than gold itself! – we immersed ourselves in sanuk, the local Thai word meaning to celebrate life with friends over food and conversation. So with our dear friends on “Mahi-Mahi” and “Ocelot”, we cruised the outlying islands, and best of all – Adam and Warren were back for a visit from jobs and college to join us!

Thailand is a diving mecca, so with friends in tow, we sailed under light winds to the Similan Islands off the northwest coast to anchor in gem-colored waters nestled in quiet coves. Turtles puttered about coral heads, lion fish fanned with scarlet fins, moray eels peek out of lairs, and majestic manta rays whirled and cart-wheeled around Adam, Warren and the clan, as it was all captured on videotape at 75' depths. Ligia said it was so incredible, she only surfaced after several hours to dump her Scuba gear to eat and drink fluids. See:

The annual Vegetarian Festival occurs during the 1st nine days of the lunar month, and we were lucky enough to witness it, as few westerners were present. Chinese followers of this tradition abstain from eating meat and adopt inhuman acts of self-mortification like walking piercing skin with sharp objects, walking on hot coals and climbing knife-blade ladders.

Participants act as mediums for 9 emperor gods invoked by the festival in a trance-like state. The entire atmosphere is a religious frenzy, with deafening fireworks and ritual dancing.

Temples were overflowing with the faithful practicing incense burning, ringing of the gong and prayers to their gods. We strolled along with the Chinese dragon at dawn to take in this incredible and rarely seen ritual.

This strenuous, and at times dangerous path, led us to Holy Princess Pool, a hidden lagoon lying at the bottom of slippery cliff walls. But first, we had to climb up and down 15' cliffs using frayed ropes strung over slippery tree roots thick as linebacker’s legs. The prize was stunning views far below in Hat Rai Leh bay.

The hike isn't for the vertigo inclined adventurer, like myself, however. Adam and Warren assured Pete and me the pool at the bottom was indeed magical. Instead, we amused ourselves at the summit by warning high-heeled ladies toting shopping bags to turn back.

Atop the arch that led inside Emerald Cave, a large troop of monkeys chattered and clacked, upset with our intrusion when we passed beneath in our dinghy. Inside the long, dark passageway of the narrow cave, bat guano thickened the aromatic air. We could hear their squeaky sounds echo from the high ceiling above, where they hung upside down, with red beady eyes glowing back at us. Using flashlights, we groped and paddled to the river’s end, where a magnificent Hun unfolded before us – an open cathedral fringed by lush, draping foliage. We peeked out from what was left of the exit hole due to the rising tide. “Go in there, and you won’t get back in for 6 hrs!” warned a fellow adventurer earlier. Guess we missed the window of low tide!

Rumor has it; pirates frequented this cave to steel swiftlet saliva, a cement-like secretion highly prized in the Orient for birds' nest soup.

With the Hacking Family on “Ocelot”, we clambered into our dinghies to explore the mangrove river of Ko Tarutao. It’s infested with crocs, which is why it made a terrific penal colony during WWII. The prisoners were eventually left to fend for themselves, having been abandoned by the government, so they all basically became the legendary pirates of Tarutao. We never found the river’s end, after following Jon inside a honeycomb of estuaries, bordered by roots sticking out of gooey mud like witches brooms. Fish hawks soared overheard, and we heard the call of the crab-eating macaque monkeys, as puppy Bella always draws them in, but we never saw them.

Inside a large limestone mountain, we boarded a bamboo raft to pull our way into the depths of Crocodile Cave, using moldy, frayed ropes. Of course, we forgot the flashlights! But with all our camera flashes combined, we managed to clumsily navigate our way for a kilometer before it became too narrow to follow without grounding.

Nestled against a limestone mountain, we anchored off a Muslim stilted village in Ko Adang, just a short jump from Langkewi, Malaysia. Life seemed unchanged from 200 years ago, when two Muslim seafaring families emigrated from Java to settle into small villages to launch their own commercial trade fishing trade, using large ocean-going dhows.

These youths were grilling fish aboard when we met them at a dock while filling our water jugs. At night, we saw them anchored offshore, jigging for squid and catching shrimp.

The sign announces how far to run for safety to other hamlets from an approaching tsunami.

Our three families gathered on the beach during sundown, sitting on mats, to share fresh pineapples while watching the sun plunge into the sea, feeling a bit sad with our forthcoming departures. “Mahi-Mahi” and “Ocelot” were taking the S. African route back home, while we were headed up the Red Sea into the Med. We’d known one another since the Caribbean 3 years ago, when we’d all launched our world circumnavigations. Many evenings, such as this, had been shared over heartfelt, animated conversation. Parting is always sad.